Off World 2: Sanctuary

by Stephanie Vaughn

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  Off World 2: Sanctuary

  TOP SHELF

  An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers

  PO Box 2545

  Round Rock, TX 78680

  Copyright Ó 2007 by Stephanie Vaughan

  Cover illustration by James McPartlin

  Published with permission

  ISBN: 1-934166-117-4, 978-1-934166-117-6

  www.torquerepress.com

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.

  First Torquere Press Printing: August 2007

  Printed in the USA

  Dedication: For Rufus -- the inspiration for Alex. And for Don -- the inspiration for all the rest. My love and admiration, always.--SV

  Chapter 1

  D’abu lifted his gaze over the rim of his mug to the man writhing onstage, another man’s clenched fist inserted wrist-deep in his ass, and stifled a yawn.

  It was latex night at Durty Nelly’s, so everyone performing in any of the club’s various rooms was dressed accordingly. Some costumes were flesh-toned and so paper-thin the performers appeared nude. Almost. Others were thicker, colored in shades improbably and eye-catchingly bright.

  “Hey, baby. Buy a boy a drink?”

  Ignoring the rush of heat in his groin, D’abu turned toward the voice behind the bar. “Alex.” They both knew the drill. Nothing changed but the date on the calendar and the theme of the night’s shows. “Go hustle the tourists and leave the working stiffs alone, would you? And while you’re at it, tell your boss he needs to freshen up the act. That’s the third fisting I’ve seen this week.”

  The bartender tossed him a cheeky grin, unaffected by his brusque tone of voice. “Not everyone’s the connoisseur you are, Sandy. The tourists like it just fine.”

  Alex gazed pointedly around the room at the rapt faces of the crowd, to a man their gazes riveted on the latex-clad figures on the stage, before throwing a wink and a smile in D’abu’s direction and moving off down the bar. Letting his own gaze dip briefly to the perfect view of a very fine backside, D’abu turned back to his mug and drained it.

  He scrubbed one hand over his face and sighed. Alex was right. The tourists did like the show just fine. Just like Sandy had… the first eighty or so times he’d seen it. In his marine days, back on Earth -- half a lifetime ago it seemed now -- he’d had fantasies. Exotic, erotic fantasies, or so he’d thought.

  As things turned out, though, his kinkiest, most forbidden fantasy would be lucky to make it as the evening’s first warm-up act at Durty Nelly’s.

  D’abu tried his best to focus on the goings-on onstage and block out the picture in his mind’s eye. But, as he was finding with increasing frequency, his body overruled his head. Rolling his head, as though to ease a stiff neck, Sandy let his gaze slide sideways and pick up the tall, slim figure behind the bar.

  Like every other night, Alex was dressed entirely in black. Where the other bartenders and entertainment attendants dressed provocatively, some wearing so little that two handkerchiefs could have served as cover-ups, Alex was clothed from neck to foot. High-necked shirts with long, billowing sleeves covered his upper body, while loose pants that reached the floor bunched up around nondescript shoes and hid his long, elegant legs.

  Nothing could disguise the grace of that walk, though; loose-limbed and fluid, like a dancer.

  While D’abu gave cursory attention to the action onstage -- fisting man having climaxed and now being lowered, chaise and all, through the floor as stage hands began moving in a new set of props -- the bulk of his mental energy was focused on appearing not to watch the goings-on behind the bar.

  As D’abu not-watched, Alex leaned an elbow on the bar to talk to a customer, his cute little ass sticking out and causing problems for the other servers. Flirting and laughing non-stop, Alex worked the mark. Right on cue, never even realizing he was being worked, the customer ordered another Bomb Pop -- the glowing blue drink that would have kept Nelly’s in business even without the sector’s hottest sex shows.

  Card swiped.

  Five credits for the house.

  Alex smiled and, ever so reluctantly, moved on.

  As the night wore on, D’abu found his concentration wandering. A man couldn’t watch the same ten or twelve acts over and over without becoming at least a little bit jaded. After all, there were only so many orifices on the human body and no matter how creative the players might be, after a while it all started to look the same. Props and costumes could only carry things so far and, eventually, it was pretty much assured that Man A was going to insert Part B into either Orifice C or D.

  Abandoning his empty mug along with his coveted seat at the bar, D’abu worked his way toward the door and out into the lobby. Alex was too busy earning a living to notice if he left and he might as well see if any of the other rooms had anything more interesting going. What the hell.

  He hadn’t so much as poked his nose into any of the het shows in so long D’abu wasn’t sure if he even remembered how the other half did it. So he wandered in and found an empty table toward the back.

  Like most of Nelly’s, the Bird Cage room was done in the style of a pre-Republic Old West saloon. The ownership didn’t try to carry the theme as far as subjecting the clientele to outdoor plumbing or gaslight, but the floors had been manufactured to look like unfinished real wood and the general staff wore someone’s cheesy take on saloon gear.

  “Hi, honey. What can I get for you?”

  Sandy looked up at the pretty, blonde waitress with curves to spare holding an electronic notepad and gazing down at him expectantly. High cheekbones, a fantastic head of almost white-gold hair that reached half-way down her back, and legs that stretched from here to the next sector would have made her memorable even without the skimpy costume and pneumatic breasts. She gave him a big smile and tilted her head a bit as she pretended to check him out.

  Smiling back, D’abu glanced at the waitress’ nametag and forced himself to take a slow visual inventory.

  “Hi, Reesa. How about an Adrastean ale -- tap, not container -- please?”

  “You bet. I’ll be right back with that.” Winking discreetly, Reesa turned on her heel, the practiced move flipping up the back of her short skirt and giving D’abu a great shot of bare butt cheeks neatly bisected by her T-strap underwear.

  He did a quick dick-check, but it was just a formality. No interest -- as usual. At least, lately. Folding his arms, D’abu leaned back in his chair and tried to pick up on the action on stage.

  In keeping with the latex theme, the stage was decorated to look like… what? An old fashioned parlor, he supposed. D’abu thought the stuffed moose head on the wall was a bit much, but maybe he’d been away from home too long.

  Nah.

  Nelly’s staff did their research and if they had a moose head on the wall, there had to be a good reason for it. The guy in the chair being serviced by the latex maid looked more Sherlock Holmes than Wild West gentleman to D’abu’s eye, but maybe it was just him.

  A second maid, a latex hood covering her face in addition to the same type of short, tight dress worn by the other maid, was bent over the man in the recliner and alternately forced a more than ample breast into his mouth before using both to block the man’s breathing so long D’abu started t
o squirm.

  Smothering? Old West latex, for that matter.

  Whatever.

  Shuddering, D’abu looked around for his drink. Ah, there was the waitress, threading her way toward his table.

  A noisy gasp of indrawn breath pulled D’abu’s attention back to the stage, but the man in the chair had barely drawn a full breath into his starved lungs when the maid holding his head yanked him back and down, into her monstrous cleavage.

  “Here you go. Did you want to pay now or are you running a tab?” Traumatized, D’abu looked away from the stage and into Reesa’s smiling face. Absurdly grateful for the interruption, D’abu realized his relieved smile was being misinterpreted when the pretty blonde rested her elbows on the table and gave him a perfect view of her own bountiful breasts. “Or would you like me to come back later?”

  “No! Thanks. I’m good. I mean-- Here.” In a hurry to leave, D’abu shoved his currency card at her so hard he nearly bounced her off the table and onto her ass.

  Grabbing the edge of the table for support, the poor girl picked herself up and regrouped as she swiped D’abu’s card. He tried to tell himself that she was a professional and probably had a non-stop parade of horny men and women doing and saying God-only-knew-what to her all night long. He couldn’t be anything special in her cavalcade of strange. Mustering a smile despite his boorish behavior, Reesa even managed one last lingering glance. “Call me if you change your mind. Okay?”

  Another protracted gasp from the stage had D’abu up and moving. “Sure thing. Thanks, Reesa.” D’abu tipped his ale in the pretty waitress’ direction and fled. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Seriously? Was that what boys and girls did together nowadays?

  It wasn’t as though he’d been sheltered. D’abu and the rest of his unit had served all over the northern continent. He’d been sexually active since he was fourteen. But a night at Nelly’s was like living in dog years; worth a decade lived anywhere else.

  Fleeing back to the safety of the Men Only room, a lifetime of habit had him surveying the room in a glance. He took in the four men on stage. Ah, Nelly’s clientele did love their double-penetration and it looked like cute little Justin was the happy recipient tonight.

  Breathing easier already, D’abu finished up the visual sweep of the room, instinctively searching for Alex, finally catching sight of him behind the bar. It took D’abu a second to figure out why his gut was suddenly clenching tighter than a frog’s sphincter, but it didn’t take him long to put the clues together.

  Alex’s arms crossed protectively over his chest.

  That was Joe Sotheran, part-owner of Nelly’s, talking to Alex with his arm braced against the wall as he talked. Not exactly boxing Alex in -- just almost.

  Both men had their eyes focused across the room at the tall, good-looking blond man leaning casually against a pillar. It was the smile on the stranger’s face that had D’abu making a beeline for where Alex and his employer stood talking. It was the smile of a man who’d just found what he was looking for and had come a long way for the pleasure.

  That and the blank, emotionless look in Alex’s eyes as he stared back.

  ***

  Oh, no.

  No, no, no. Hell, no.

  His boss’ slightly nasal drone faded into the background as Alex’s vision narrowed and he looked into the bluest pair of eyes he’d thought he’d never see again.

  Prayed devoutly.

  Hoped like hell he wouldn’t.

  Cried buckets over.

  But the man was shoving away from the column and walking toward him, all rugged good looks and bad boy smirk. Alex had fallen for that wicked grin once upon a time, but never again, and just in time he found his voice.

  “Nick. Long time, no fuck over.”

  “Aw, c’mon Alex.” Silky blond hair falling boyishly over one eye, Nick Andrade’s smile only broadened. “You’re not still mad, are you?”

  His boss was the last person Alex wanted witnessing this particular conversation, but there was no help for it now. Without taking his gaze from Nick, Alex could still sense Joe Sotheran settling in beside him and he knew better than to be even remotely fooled by the politely dispassionate stance.

  “Mad? No, I’m not mad. Honestly, I barely remember it. But then again, that could just be from all the drugs they gave me.”

  The bastard had the nerve to wince and even look a little pained. “Oh, ouch. Would you believe me if I said I was sorry? I am. I swear I didn’t know—”

  A snort of disbelief erupted and Alex wouldn’t have stopped it if he could. “Please. You saved yourself. That’s all that mattered. So what brings you to Doradus?”

  “Business, actually.” The grin was back and Nick’s gaze slid sideways and came to rest on Joe Sotheran. “Joe, can I talk about it yet?”

  The knotted ball of nerves in Alex’s stomach grew when he turned his head and took in his boss’ answering smile. “Sure. Why not? Alex is one of the family.”

  One of the family? Dear God. Had the Borgias begun adopting?

  “I’m here to learn the business. I’m coming on as a partner and eventually I’ll be opening up a second location. As soon as my new partner and I decide on the best spot.” Nick stepped around the corner of the bar, drawing closer. “I didn’t know you were here, Alex, I swear. But now that I do,” Nick touched Alex’s arm, “I think it’s great. Maybe we can fix things. Redo what we messed up last time. Get to know each other again, like we never could have back on Earth”

  We? Alex’s mouth gaped. “We messed up?”

  Uncharacteristically oblivious, Joe clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Nothing would make me happier, Alex. You need to get out more. Maybe even think about performing again. All this self-isolation isn’t good for you.”

  Alex couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t catch his breath and the walls were suddenly claustrophobically close. His boss’ hand lay hot and clammy on Alex’s shoulder and the smell of sweating bodies was overwhelming.

  Alex stumbled. Hadn’t realized he was moving. He must have backed away, instinctively shying backward.

  “Alex.” Ducking sideways, Alex cast a startled glance at someone behind him calling his name. It was only Sandy, thank God. “You okay, buddy?”

  “Sandy.”

  Three pairs of eyes were staring at him. They must think he’d lost his mind. “Crazy tweaker. Fried his brain on Pink Diamond and grain alcohol.”

  Nick and Joe were openly watching him and Sandy now and Alex tried to see Sandy through their eyes: tall, broad, thick. His hair was shaved short, tribal tattoos running down the side of his face to his neck and disappearing beneath his brightly patterned shirt. No amount of clothing could disguise the layers of muscle that rippled easily under the smooth, coppery-brown skin, though. Intimidating as hell to most people, Alex had always thought Sandy was gorgeous. Too bad the feeling wasn’t mutual.

  His bosses didn’t know that, though, did they? Aiming for a warm, familiar tone, Alex smiled. “Hi, baby. I’m almost done -- just wrapping up here.” Turning away, Alex ducked under his boss’ arm and headed for freedom. “Nick, great seeing you again. Joe, Teddy’s closing tonight and I’m off now. So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  The key to a good bluff was a bold appearance and not giving the mark time to think -- or yourself, sometimes. Steeling his nerve, Alex took one of Sandy’s big hands in both of his, leaned up and brushed a brief kiss over Sandy’s beautiful mouth. “Thanks for waiting, baby. You ready?”

  Meeting Sandy’s startled gaze with his own, Alex shoved down the panic still beating at his insides and willed Sandy to read his thoughts. Please, just go with it. Get us out of here. Please?

  Alex could tell the moment Sandy made up his mind. A quick glance over Alex’s head to where Nick and Joe stood, then another down at Alex. “No problem, babe. I’m always ready for you.” Sandy dropped a kiss of his own on Alex’s cheek as he freed his hand to loop an arm around Alex’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.
”

  Concentrating on weaving their way through the crowded room and leading Sandy out the back through the employees’ entrance helped to keep Alex’s mind off the muscular arm that lay across his shoulders. He knew that, if only for appearances’ sake, he ought to have his own arm wrapped around Sandy’s waist, maybe even tucked into a back pocket. It was all he could do, though, to keep putting one foot in front of the other and not rip his body away from Sandy’s touch.

  The awful sensation of being able to feel his own blood pressure building was still with him, but the sensation of being a hair’s breadth from hyperventilating faded as they got further away from his boss and his ex-lover.

  Sandy pushed open the back door and Alex stumbled across the threshold and out into the dank air of night on a hollowed-out asteroid with a dodgy artificial atmo’ generator. The door slammed shut behind them and Alex stopped, hunched over, bracing his hands on his knees and gulping air as fast as his body could take it in. Flinching when Sandy touched his back, Alex recognized the touch for what it was only after he’d instinctively shied away.