by Tom Shepherd
Servants opened a glossy wood door, and Tyler followed Leola Rhautina from the carpeted dining suite to a small room with a single bench beside a stone wall. Leola pulled off her robe and handed it to a servant, who turned to the Queen’s Terran guest.
Tyler was unable to move. His body froze at the first glimpse of the mauve Queen au naturel. Her breasts were modest compared to busty Queen Veraposta, but perfectly shaped and tipped by oval areole and soft, suckable nipples. And the bushy triangle below was vivid lavender.
He silently thanked God that twenty-fourth century exobiologist Wolfgang Ziegler had been right about convergent evolution among bipedal humanoid species. Creatures in five-star humanoid form were not the only intelligent races in the known Universe, but there were enough humanoids to make moments like tonight possible. Sometimes, Tab A even fit snugly into Slot B.
The servant tugged at his sleeve and Tyler numbly disrobed.
“Let’s play in the bath.” Female servants pinned up her hair while two blue males slid a secret door aside and revealed a large wading pool lined with golden tiles. A series of gaily painted ceramic urns waited at poolside. Murals of bathing, naked Quirts covered the walls.
She slid into the clear pool and offered a soft hand to Tyler, who stepped into the warm water with her. Leola’s breasts bobbed as she spun to him, like a dance move that ended with her buttocks snuggled against his rapidly swelling penis. She moaned a little, twitched her tail at his crotch, and pulled away with a laugh.
Tyler checked the room. The benches remained stationary. Tall ceramic urns failed to locomote under their own power. She wasn’t hosing him with pheromones, goddamnit. This orchid-faced hottie was raising his flagpole the old fashioned way. He felt a tidal wave of guilt crash over his head. Then he realized a girl servant at poolside had poured an urn of perfumed water on him.
“Wash!” the blue girl ordered. “You must purify before entering the Queen’s second lips.”
He slashed water on his face, half in compliance, half to snap out of Leola’s spell. Second lips? No doubt a literal translation of Pharmaadoodil. Scary sexy image. I wonder if she bites?
Suzie! Think about Suzie!
He check the room again. Still nothing inanimate roamed free.
“You said we could converse while we bathe,” he called to Leola.
She rolled over in the shallow water. “What shall we talk about, Tyler Matthews?”
“Why did you invite me for Toorlabamba Closing Rites?”
“I have been curious about Terrans since mastering your language. I wondered if your species is good at sexual pleasuring. You are a Terran whom I find reasonably attractive.”
“I am flattered, but I don’t believe you.”
She took a mouthful of pool water and hosed his face with it, laughing. He flapped the surface, sending a retaliatory shower her way.
“Ohh! Unfair. Now my hair is wet.” She smiled wickedly. “Well, my pubic hair was already wet because of you.”
Still no movement from the wall murals. Maybe Leola wasn’t a pheremonist. If not, his theory of the crime needed serious revision.
“You dropped a major hint at trial today,” he said.
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“Don’t be coy. You suggested the unthinkable about your Sister Queen.”
She smiled. “I am pleased you caught my message.”
“Shall we quit playing hide-and-seek? You’ve already accused humans of plotting to overthrow your Empire, something you know is complete fiction. If you have something else to say, say it directly.”
“Quirt-Thymeans are what your sociologists would call high context, indirect communicators. We imply, and expect you to pick up the subtext based on the situation.”
“So, you invite me to your private suite and offer to screw my brains out. Very subtle.”
She laughed. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Terrans are not plotting an invasion of your empire. You know that, Leola. You said that to shift the context, regardless of how many people racial paranoia might harm. Why?”
“I am not an unfeeling woman, Tyler Matthews. You may not be party to the conspiracy against my people, but we both know it was Veraposta who killed my beloved Bandu.”
“Do we? So, why did you finger Prince Zenna?”
“Zenna-Zenn is a dupe, a pawn in her game. I care nothing if he goes free. But this Terran goddess you serve, Lady Justice, surely implores you to bring down the killer who wears the Quirt-Thymean crown.”
“I thought you and Veraposta were closest friends. I thought you brought her tea and biscuits each morning.”
“I did. And we laughed together and shared many happy hours in my first days at the Palace. But Veraposta quickly changed when she learned how much Bandu worshiped me. He wanted no other Queen Consort but me, especially after Second Queen Argalia Instaka died under mysterious circumstances.”
“Are you suggesting Veraposta killed her, too?”
Leola shrugged, dipping under the surface. The purple Queen emerged, wet hair flattened against her head. “Veraposta always hated her. When I came to the Palace, Bandu already preferred Argalia over the First Queen. He turned to me in his grief after her death. I suspect he knew in his heart who had killed his beloved.”
Tyler shook his head. An interesting story. Too close to the facts to be completely false. But who really killed the Blue King and his former Second Queen? Was it Veraposta because of jealousy, or Leola Rhautina because of ambition?
And why did so many innocent parties confess to Bandu’s murder? The only answer was a high order pheremonist who planted false memories in three innocent fall-guys. No other theory explained why Mr. Blue, Veraposta, and Yumiko confessed with enough fervor to convince Tyler they all believed they did it.
Veraposta was a registered pheremonist. She was capable of seducing a partner for the night, but she lacked the ability to weaponize her gift. According to Julieta, a high order pheremonist can convince others do her bidding, or change the way they remember past events. Leola had shown no indication of those capabilities so far.
Both surviving Queens had a lot to gain from Bandu’s demise. But if Leola murdered the King four years ago, why hadn’t she already sealed the deal by knocking off the First Queen?
Leola climbed from the pool and raised her arms. Servants appeared and wrapped her in gossamer fabric, knees to breasts. After several layers, she halted them and waited while a seamstress trimmed the bolt of see-through cloth. Leola tucked the ends to make a body-tight robe, then offered her left hand to help Tyler from the water.
He ignored the assistance, climbed from the pool under his own power, and searched for his robe. Without that particular garment, he had no defense against any pheromones she might release. Not that he was in much better shape if she weren’t a pheromonist. Even without mind control, Leola’s beauty and heart-throbbing sensuality already had him on a short leash.
A servant appeared with his robe and Tyler slipped into it with a sigh of relief. As though she had read his mind, Leola laughed and offered a hand again. He wondered if Esteban was obeying orders or following the mental foreplay, play-by-play.
“Want to retire to my bed chamber?” She flashed a smile that could have triggered a supernova. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Uh… sure. We can continue… uh… talking in there.”
She laughed sweetly. “Among other things.” Leola took Tyler’s arm and pressed against him and they swerved toward the bedroom like a pair of drunken sailors.
He had a terrible thought. What if I French kiss Leola, penetrate her, scratch skin and blood from her ass, take all the required specimens, and they prove she is not a pheremonist? Well, happy day. We can cross her off the list of suspects. My reward? I get to face Suzie and explain why I engineered a sexual encounter with the purple Queen that came up empty.
The bedroom was spacious but cozy, with a full set of windows and patio doors with glass panes—Terrans
would have called them French doors. Hand-carved, dark wood bed posts, headboard and footboard accentuated Leola’s golden sheets, canopy, and bed covers. A mountain of throw pillows dominated the head of the bed, and when the canopy disappeared in favor of a red sunset sky, Tyler suspected holographic imagery supported the décor and shifted by command.
He wondered if the bed itself was a materialized holographic projection. No matter. He sat on the edge of the bedspread and felt good support under him. If they really got it on, the bed would be firm enough to sustain vigorous sex.
He wished for a way to gather the evidence without betraying Suzie. True, she had cleared him for a landing in Leola’s secret pasture, but he did not want to look into Suzie’s blue eyes and see the hurt he had caused, even for the best of reasons.
A table beside the bed offered wine cups and a loaf of bread with a sharp knife stuck into the crust for carving, plus the usual tray of thick veggie sticks and a stack of fine cloth napkins. He moved toward the refreshments, suddenly hungry again, but she called him back.
“Tyler, I need help. Please unwrap your Toorlazimbaa present.”
Leola turned her back to him while he found the tucked edge of her translucent body wrap and began tugging lightly. She laughed girlishly and spun like a top as each level rolled off her body. In a moment she stood naked before him, available for the taking. He felt his member thicken and rise in silent homage to this lavender goddess.
A quick check showed nothing moving but golden drapes stirred by evening breezes off the patio. How do you recognize pheromonic illusion in a holographic bedroom, anyway?
“Does your species kiss?” she said coquettishly.
“We do.”
“Good! Some humanoids drool, suck and bite, which can be fun, but I love to kiss.” She licked her full lips. “Don’t you?”
“Well, sure.”
“Are you any good at kissing?”
“I’ve been told so.” He swayed unsteadily. Leola smelled delicious, like a tray packed with sweet desserts. He wanted to devour her. And one of the specimens Julieta wanted was DNA residue from Leola’s salivary glands, swabbed from Tyler’s mouth.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me? Do you need another royal summons?” She reached under the folds of Tyler’s robe, grasped his swollen penis, and gently tugged him to her.
Tyler could not stop himself. He took her face in his hands and they kissed, deeply, eagerly, like travelers who crossed a desert to drink cool, sweet oasis water at the end of their journey. She tasted too good. He hated himself for enjoying this so much. Her tongue darted and played with his, and he could not remember his name, or whether he’d kissed another woman before tonight.
Leola flopped on the bed, rolled to the center and lay against the pillows. She smiled and patted the bed. He tore off the bathrobe, dropped it on the floor, and scrambled beside her. The purple Queen opened her arms and they kissed and pressed naked bodies together and breathed in quick gasps. Why waste energy on trivialities, like oxygen, when lips and tongues found such pleasure when joined, probed, explored with another?
She rolled free of his embrace, crab crawled to the head of the bed, and raised both hands to the canopy, which promptly changed to a spun gold frame like a birdcage top. Through the windows and French doors, dark sky hung with glowing moons, red and pale orange, crescent and full. Tyler tried to remember—did sunset always happen so fast on Annistyn?
She stretched her body, spreading legs wide. “Tyler Matthews, your Queen needs extra energy to love you harder. Please slice some bread and pour two cups of wine. Then come back to me. We’ll have a nightcap and a little snack.”
He hopped off the bed to obey her request. The razor-sharp knife sliced the crusty bread with a slight hand movement. Tyler poured two cups of wine and juggled the refreshments to the bed’s edge where Leola dangled her feet playfully.
“I’m not hungry any more. I want something else.”
“Okay.” He placed the bread and wine cups on the table like an untouched communion meal. “What do you want?”
“Do you like this?” She rolled to the edge, took his penis in hand, and stroked gently as he stood at bedside.
“Ohhhhh…. Yes,” Tyler gasped. “Damnit. Yes.”
She emitted a little nonverbal squeal of approval. Leola’s expert handwork kept Tyler’s attention away from the holographic tricks. She paused to lick a drop of pre-cum from the tip of his stiff rod with her warm green tongue.
“Ummmm… you taste so good,” Leola purred. “I want more.” The mauve Queen wrapped her dark lips around the head of his penis and slowly bobbed her head until he was on the verge of exploding. She lifted his member from her mouth, kissed the tip and smiled with satisfaction. Leola waited for him to cool down, then resumed the leisurely hand action.
“Isn’t this nice?” she murmured.
Lost in her irresistible spell, trembling, unable to speak, Tyler nodded, eyes closed. Leola’s hand kept him hard but under control as she itemized her liturgy for the last night of Toorlazimbaa.
“Will you do something for me, Tyler Matthews? Will you do anything I ask? Or shall I stop this now?”
“No, please! That feels soooo good.” A dim memory flashed. Kissing Veraposta aboard her skiff...? And the thought disappeared, rubbed away by Leola’s expert handiwork. “Don’t stop. Wh-what do you want?”
“First, we’re going to fuck, and fuck, and fuck some more. Many times. I really am curious about Terran sexuality. I want you to slam me like a cheap whore. Will you do that, Tyler Matthews?”
“Okay…yes…” Wall murals danced lewdly, and beyond the windows and French doors a dozen multi-colored moons spun like an invisible goddess juggled them. Or was it the Virgin Mary?
“Next, after I am ‘well and satisfied’ in bed, you must do your duty to me. Will you do anything I ask?” She repeated the request.
“Anything…what must I do…?” He ached to be inside her.
“You will take that carving knife from the nightstand and go down the corridor to Queen Veraposta’s chambers.”
“To slice her bread?”
“No! Tell her guards you want to discuss the trial with the First Queen. They will enquire of their mistress, and you will be admitted. When you’re alone with her—”
“Sh-she’s a witness. I-I shouldn’t tamper… with a witness.”
“You’re tampering with me!” Leola quit jerking him off.
“Don’t stop, please!”
“Well, maybe I am tampering with you a little, too.” She smiled sweetly, wet his tip with a playful tongue, then opened her mouth and slid down the shaft to lubricate him properly. She withdrew and resumed the slow hand-job.
“Will you promise to do anything I ask?”
“Yes. Anything. Don’t stop.”
“Here’s what you must do, or I will end our night together, now.”
“No… anything. I…I promise.”
“Good boy. That’s better. After you’ve rested from our festival of lovemaking, go to the First Queen’s quarters. Hide that sharp knife under your robe. When she admits you, please stab Veraposta repeatedly until she is dead. Cut off her head and throw it into the hallway. Do you have any questions?”
“Wh-why must I kill Veraposta?” His mind reeled. He wanted to obey his purple lover… but… something felt…wrong.
She pouted but kept gently stroking him. “You promised! Tell me you will do this, and I will fuck you again and again, to excruciating bliss.”
He wanted her urgently. It hurt to disagree with the most beautiful creature in the Universe. “I want to please you. But I am not a dispatcher.”
“You are my soldier to command. You are the sword of Lady Justice. Veraposta is evil. Your mission in life is to defeat evil. You must kill her. To save Zenna-Zenn, Veraposta must die.”
Now it started to make sense. “Y-yes. Veraposta must die…” Tyler twitched. Something was still not right. He wanted to kill the blue Queen and make Leola
happy… but something was not right. His foot shuffled on the carpet and struck the discarded robe. He bent, reached into a pocket. Fingers touched a tube. I must do something with this tube. What? He drew the auto-injector from its hiding place.
Leola’s blue, bedroom eyes popped wide and white. “What is that?”
“Pheromone anti-toxin. I must…inject it… my thigh…”
“No!” She held out a hand. “Give it to me.”
“Give it to… you?”
“Yes! Put it in my hand.”
“Take… here…”
Enveloped by haze, desperate to obey his lover, Tyler jabbed the tube into the heel of her hand. Leola screamed and flapped her palm, but the auto-injector pumped itself empty before she pulled it free. The mauve Queen quivered, then slumped against a pile of pillows.
Gradually, Tyler’s brain re-booted. He was still groggy, but the impact of mind-controlling, high order pheromones receded steadily. He spun to her and satisfied himself that she wasn’t in mortal danger from the injection.
“You wanted me to kill Veraposta!”
Her voice sounded distant, throaty, void of its customary music. “She must die, or I will never be Empress.”
“You should slap yourself for even thinking that.”
Leola obeyed and sharply smacked her own cheek.
“Why did you do that?”
“You… told me.”
Wait a minute. Why is she following my orders? Julieta’s formula was supposed to protect from pheromones, but his cousin didn’t know for sure what would happen. It was a home-cooked concoction with no field testing. Did the antidote reverse Leola Rhautina’s powers, turn the pheromone effect inside-out? Tyler decided on a field test of his own.
“Leola, can you feel my hands on your body?” he said without touching her. “I am fondling your breasts.”
“Oh…yes,” she moaned. “Ummmm. Squeeze me harder…”
“Like this?” He folded his hands behind his back. “I am pulling your nipples now, milking you.” He took a full step backward from the bed.
Leola swayed to the words and replied in little gasps. “Oh, yes, yes! I can cum… foreplay alone…please don’t stop…”