by Beva John
As Raan considers the final result, he looks at me carefully with his head slightly tilted. “It is not a complete transformation, but hopefully the brothel employees will be paying more attention to me than to you.”
“What about Timka?” I ask. “How is he going to escape?”
By this time, Timka is wearing a common gray uniform. His job is to monitor the recording and make sure it does not falter as Raan and I prepare my disguise.
Raan says, “Timka will take care of himself. If necessary, he will pretend to have gotten lost.”
Timka smiles. “I won’t be the first Namvire to wander into a brothel by mistake.”
I still think the entire plan is dangerous, but I know it is my only hope.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RAAN
As an officer on various intergalactic ships, I have faced danger many times, but nothing has frightened me as much as stepping out of the room at Anno Dar’s brothel with Sylvia by my side.
I know how risky our plan is. I know what the consequences could be.
But I am so proud of Sylvia. She is intelligent and brave, and I will do whatever it takes to protect her.
We walk down the halls to the front reception area.
The native female who spoke to us before is surprised. “So soon?” she asks, rising to her feet. “I hope your stay was pleasing.”
“It was adequate,” I say with a wave of my hand and exit the building quickly, keeping a firm grip on Sylvia.
I have already arranged for transportation, which is waiting for us outside. It takes only a few minutes for us to enter the transport and lock the doors behind us. “Enset station,” I order and the vehicle lurches forward.
“What now?” Sylvia asks.
“We are going to travel to another planet and wait there a few days before traveling on to Bataa. I don’t want to take the expected route.”
“Good thinking,” Sylvia says. “But this all sounds very expensive.”
I smile at her. “You are more than worth the cost.”
SYLVIA
Three days later, Raan and I are on another planet, SSru, which is known as a resort. The landscape is lush, with acres of trees and gardens, and the weather is perfect, like southern California. After having escaped from Enset in disguise, I feel as if Raan and I are in a James Bond film.
We are staying at a ritzy hotel with separate beds and fortunately, I no longer have to pretend to be Namvire with that heavy dress, awkward tail and high heeled sandals. I am happily human, wearing a long sarong-type dress and eating brownies. How Raan found them, I have no idea, but I appreciate the gesture.
He spends a lot of time on his data screen, choosing false identities for us, so we can go outside and enjoy the resort.
“How many false identities do you have?”
“Three at present, but I can create more.”
I am impressed.
He says, “What human name would you like to use while we are on Ssru?”
If he were James Bond, I would have some ridiculous name like Honey Ryder or Pussy Galore. “How about Hot Chick?”
He looks at me, puzzled. “You wish to be called a Warm Fowl?”
The translation device behind my ear is good, but there are still some glitches. I say, “All right then. What about Natalie Wood?” She has always been one of my favorite actresses.
He repeats the name with his Namvire accent, making it sound even more exotic.
We go outside, enjoying the gardens and a beach. Raan tells me about his planet Bataa, which is mostly desert with pockets of water and civilization.
Everywhere we go, people stare at me, because there are almost no humans on SSru. I do see a few women at a distance. Several aliens – mostly Katolls, approach Raan and speak to him in low tones, offering to buy me.
“No, thank you,” Raan says. “I am not selling.”
When they’re gone, I say, “I thought you said it was illegal to sell humans.”
“That’s why they are whispering. Technically, you have been hired as my assistant, and they would create a similar fiction, but the truth is, human females are sold everywhere.”
We attend an outdoor concert with strange, complicated music that makes Jimi Hendrix sound like Bach.
Raan asks me if I like it.
“It is all new to me,” I say, trying to be kind. Truthfully, the discordant music is giving me a headache.
After the concert is over, we walk back to our hotel. We hold hands with our fingers intertwined. I look over at him, admiring his broad shoulders and confident air. As strange as this is, it feels like a date.
But as we are about to enter the building, two Katolls grab me, covering my mouth and trying to drag me into a vehicle.
There is a brief tussle with Raan shooting both of them in the head with the gun he keeps at his waist. They drop dead, their accomplices drive off, and suddenly the street is full of policemen or hotel security – some Brune, some Katoll. A crowd of hotel guests gather as well.
I hear someone say, “It’s the human.”
“Say nothing,” Raan tells me in a low tone. “No matter what the question is, tell them you don’t understand anything.”
The officers quickly cover the Katoll bodies, escort us inside and disperse the crowd. I am shaken, but Raan walks beside me, squeezing my hand to reassure me.
The next two hours are tense. The security officers ask a lot of questions and review film evidence of the attempted kidnapping.
They ask me how long I have worked for Raan and I play dumb. “I don’t understand your question.”
After a few tries, they ignore me completely and speak to Raan instead. He shows them electronic documentation of my employment on his data screen and eventually, we are released to go back to our hotel room.
One of the blue officers says, “I recommend that you don’t take it out in public.”
It. He calls me an ‘it,’ like I’m a dog.
“Understood,” Raan says.
When we finally reach our room, I sink down onto a bed. “Are we safe now? Is there going to be any more investigation? Are you going to be arrested?”
Raan smiles. “No.” He touches the data screen on his arm and makes some motions. I see alien symbols flashing across the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Thanking the various officers for handling the matter so expeditiously.”
“A bribe?”
Raan shrugs. “A precaution, nothing more.” He looks at me with concern. “But what about you? How are you feeling?”
I look at him with incomprehension. He just killed two men, aliens, whatever he would call them, without hesitation. I feel like I’ve stepped into the Wild Wild West. “Is this going to happen for the rest of my life? Are random aliens going to pop out from every corner, wanting to kidnap me?”
Raan says, “It is a risk, but some locations will be safer than others. I thought Ssru would be safer. It has a better reputation, but I see that I will have to take greater safety measures with you.”
I look down at my blood-stained dress. “I want to take a shower and change clothes, if that is all right with you.”
“Do whatever you wish,” he says and smiles at me, baring those fangs.
Afterwards, when I am dressed again – this time in a long-sleeved blouse and long multi-colored skirt, I say, “I want to have my own weapon. I don’t want to have to rely on you saving the day.”
Raan looks offended. “I will take care of you, Sylvia.”
I shake my head. “No, I know you mean well, but I need to feel safer. If I really am a hot commodity, I need to be prepared. I want a gun of some kind. And I want one of those arm screens.”
Raan looks at me for a long moment, then says, “I will do it.”
“Thank you.” I reach over to kiss him and he stiffens. “What is wrong?” I ask.
“You don’t owe me a kiss.”
Now I am offended. “This isn’t a payment. I want to kiss
you. Do you want to kiss me?” I ask because I’m trying to figure out our relationship. I think we’re more than friends, but I don’t know.
He looks uncomfortable, but those golden eyes look at me with passion. “Yes,” he admits and then his lips are on mine.
This time it is different. For the first time in our relationship, no one is watching. It is only the two of us in a hotel room, kissing.
He doesn’t know what he is doing at first, but he’s eager. When I press my tongue against his lips, teasing them, he groans and lets me slide in. At that point, everything changes. He is emboldened and takes charge. Suddenly it is his forked tongue in my mouth, sliding against my tongue. He is a fast learner.
I do think there is something special in his saliva because my lips and mouth tingle, making me want more. I suck on his tongue; he sucks on mine.
His hands go to the neck of my blouse, unfastening it. “Yes,” I murmur. I want more of this. I want to feel his hands on my skin.
Then his lips are on my jaw, my throat, my collar bone. When he reaches my shoulders, his fangs graze my skin, not breaking the surface.
I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
My pulse races.
Hastily, I finish unfastening my blouse, baring my breasts to him.
“Ah, Green-eyes,” he says as his hands cup and rub over me. “You are so beautiful. You are so soft.”
I don’t feel soft. My nipples are hard like diamonds and I feel my pussy getting wet. I squirm as he lowers me down to the bed.
The feel of his fingers circling my nipples and pinching them lightly makes me moan.
Then his mouth is there, pulling my areola into his mouth and I writhe beneath him, clutching at his arms, his shoulders, his back.
I want more.
As he sucks on my breast, his hands loosen my skirt and I shift, helping him undress me.
My panties seem to stall him, but a quick flip of his claws rips them off me and I am bare before him.
“You are so sweet, so open,” he murmurs as his hand goes to my pussy, circling my slit, then up to my clit.
I am wet, I am dripping, and when one of his fingers slides into me, I buck, lifting my hips.
“Raan!”
“Is this what you like?” he murmurs. His mouth returns to mine, his tongue mimicking the plunging motion of his fingers. Over and over.
I can hardly think. I can hardly speak. The pressure is building within me. For a moment, I worry that I will not be able to come. That he will be disappointed in me. But his tongue continues to drive into me as do his fingers, for there are now two inside me, twisting and turning. Now that my body knows what an orgasm feels like, it is primed and ready. I let go of my fears. I feel my inner walls tightening, and then his thumb taps my clit and suddenly I am undone.
I cry out, shaking, my entire body shuddering with the waves of pleasure that course through me. My heart pounds and pounds. It seems to last forever, and then finally, I can breathe. I can think again.
I look up at him. I must look a mess with my hair all ratty and my skin filmed with sweat, but he looks down at me tenderly as if I am the most beautiful creature he has ever seen.
I am humbled by his adoration.
CHAPTER TWELVE
RAAN
Sylvia is so beautiful; I cannot look way. My blood races and I want to claim her. She’s mine. No one else will ever have her. I want to thrust my aching cock into her and –
And what? my rational mind asks. You know it’s wrong.
I groan and climb off the bed. “I am going to bathe,” I tell her as I adjust my clothing.
“Wait. What is going on here?”
I turn back to look at her, looking so appealing in the tumbled sheets.
“I know that technically you own me. You told the authorities here that I am your assistant. But what am I, really? Are we dating? Am I your girlfriend?”
She uses words that are translated into Brune terms that mean courtship. I tell her, “We don’t have words for that in our language.”
“All right then, what do you have when a male and a female have a sexual relationship and some level of commitment.”
“Namvire don’t do that.”
She groans. “So what am I? A casual fling?”
“I would never throw you.”
“Argh! I hate this translator! Let me try again. Am I just a one-night stand?”
“I hope you will stay with me for more than one night.”
I know my answer frustrates her because she lets her breath out in an annoyed hiss. She says, “What will I be when we’re in Bataa?”
“Whatever you want.”
“No. You have to explain. I need a description. A label. Am I your slave?”
“No.”
“Am I a pet?”
“No.”
“Am I a mistress?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then what am I?”
There were no words for what I want from her. No relationship that would make sense in my world. I say earnestly, “I want to be your friend, Sylvia. Your comrade. Someone who will always take care of you.”
She looks sad. “I guess that is better than nothing.”
I try to comfort her by saying, “We are different species with different perspectives, but we will gradually come to an understanding. And whatever your concerns may be, know that I will protect you with my life.”
SYLVIA
After spending a few more days at Ssru, we travel to Bataa, but this time I pretend to be Brune. Raan thought my traveling as a human might cause problems and he thought my Namvire costume was not convincing. It is much easier for me to wear temporary blue skin dye and some pointy ears. “I look like a Vulcan,” I tell him, but he doesn’t recognize the Star Trek reference.
What I really don’t like about my disguise is having to wear a tightly laced corset.
Raan helps me tighten the strings until I can hardly breathe, and I feel like Scarlet O’Hara being laced in by Mammy. I look at my reflection in a mirror and say, “How can the Brunes stand this?”
He shrugs. “It is the fashion. They have been doing it for hundreds of years. A small waist is a sign of better breeding.”
“We humans did something similar with corsets, but eventually we saw the foolishness of it.” Although to be fair, I must admit, my mother’s generation still wore girdles, which are only one step better than corsets.
“Then in that regard, humans were smarter than the Brunes.”
Raan helps me on with a dress which includes a gold belt to accentuate my now smaller waist. I’m also wearing a wig with white hair, cut in the pageboy style. I put my hands on my hips and turn around before him. “How do I look? Will I pass for a Brune?”
He frowns as he surveys me critically. “I think your waist is still a little big, but maybe they will think you are ill. Other than that, you are fine.”
I hoped that he would find me pretty, even in my outrageous get-up, but perhaps that is asking too much.
Later, once we are settled in our rooms on the spaceship that will take us to his home planet, I loosen the corset around my waist. “Thank goodness, I can breathe again.”
I would like to shower and wash off the temporary dye, but Raan thinks I should maintain my pretense of being a Brune until I am safely arrived at Bataa.
In order to lessen any interaction with other guests and crew members, we plan to stay in our room and have food delivered to us for the entire journey.
While we are hiding out, living together in close quarters, I learn more about Raan and the Namvire culture. Every morning Raan exercises for about an hour – doing a complex routine of stretching and strength exercises that looks something like Jack LaLanne, although Raan just wears soft, loose fitting pants instead of Jack LaLanne’s jumpsuit and he works silently rather than chatting. Watching his muscles ripple is a visual treat. When I compliment him on his athleticism, he shrugs it off. “All Namvires do this. Otherwise, h
ow could we retain our health?”
How indeed. I think maybe I should join him, but some of the moves may be impossible because he has a tail which changes his center of gravity.
Raan also shows me how to use the gun he purchased for me. It is smaller than his, and we practice shooting. Since we are on a ship, we use soft pellets that disintegrate on impact rather than the real bullets. He promises me that once we are Bataa, he will provide real bullets. “And I hope you never have an opportunity to use them except to practice.”
I agree, but I feel safer knowing that I have some form of protection.
“And when you are better trained, I can buy you a photon gun like mine.”
It sounds like something out of Star Trek.
He also gives me a small knife and a sheath that I can wear strapped to my upper arm or my leg, depending on my attire. “There are times when a gun is impractical.”
“Are you wearing a knife?”
“Knives. I have one in my belt and another in my boot.”
He shifts his clothes to show me and I say, “I guess no civilization is completely peaceful.”
“No, there are always a few who have no moral code.”
He reminds me of Lindsey, and I hope that she is doing well.
During the day, Raan stays busy doing something on his data screen. I ask him what he is doing, and he says tersely, “Buying and selling.”
Apparently all the Namvire are merchants and while Raan was working on the Silver Scrapper, he had a side business, buying obscure items on other worlds and finding customers. By pressing a few buttons, he would arrange a transaction and shipping and pocket the profit. In some ways, he reminds me of my Grandad who used to smoke and play solitaire for hours, lining up the cards on his bed in the nursing home. To Raan, selling products is a game, as simple and obvious to him as breathing.
“Did Captain Delk know about your side business?”
“No, and it was none of his business because it was done when I wasn’t on duty.” He looks over at me. “And I certainly don’t care what he would think now if he learned of it. Not after he double sold you.”