His by Right (7 page)

            "Do you hear that?" Meredith called out inside the room. "I need some answers, and I want them now! Gleeth?"

            She pivoted and waited for the door to open for her. She knew the creature would answer to her. She didn't expect it to be this quickly.

            The alien's skin was turning blue when it faced her. "I do not appreciate you dictating to me," it snapped. "Kindness and consideration will get you farther."

            "I'm sorry, but I have several questions."

            "They could not wait?" The creature gave her once-over from head to toe. "By the way, congratulations on your first orgasm."

            "Exactly! I thought you said the clientele were not allowed to bring any sort of mechanical enhancement into the pleasuring rooms?"

            "They cannot. Everyone is scanned before being allowed inside."

            "Then how do you explain what just happened to me? He had both hands on me as he was fucking me, and he had another hand on my clit! What does he have? Three hands?"

            Gleeth tilted its head as the truth hit her. Flushing with embarrassment, Meredith covered her mouth and took a step back.

           
Oh, geeze. All this time I've been comparing the clients to Earth males. To human males. But these people are not from Earth. He could have had three hands. Or two heads. Or six dicks!

           
"I-I'm sorry, Gleeth. It's hard to think of the clientele as non-human."

            "Apology accepted." The alien's skin was back to its normal purple shade. "What else were you needing, or was that all?"

            "Umm, yeah. Is there any chance he might come back for seconds?"

            "The client was very pleased with your performance. We are currently traveling within his solar system, so, yes, I would say the chances are good he might return."

            Meredith showed her the marks on her inner thighs. "I need Sedilar, or someone, to come take care of these bruises."

            Gleeth bent over to examine the darkening flesh. "Sometimes this happens, especially after an enthusiastic coupling. I will send word to medical. What else?"

            "I need a brush and a razor. A toothbrush
and
a hairbrush. Please."

            "Why the brush?"

            "To keep my teeth and mouth clean. To prevent any cavities. And the hairbrush..." She held up a lock of her hair. Whenever she cleaned it, she did her best to comb out the tangles with her fingers, but the effort was mostly wasted once it dried. "For grooming."

            "You look fine."

            "But I feel like a mess."

            "Did you feel like a mess when you were with your latest client?"

            "Well, no."

            "You look fine," Gleeth assured her again. "Explain to me now what a razor is."

            "It's a cutting tool. It cuts hair."

            The alien reared back. "You wish to cut your hair?"

            Meredith snorted. "Not here," she said, holding out the lock again. "I mean under my arms, and my legs, and my...you know." She pointed to her groin for emphasis. "My hair is growing back, and I need to shave it."

            "Is this natural?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Are you not a hirsute species?"

            "You mean, hairy? Yeah, we are."

            "Then what is the problem? You are merely reverting back to your natural state."

            "But most men don't like women... Oh, shit. Sorry." For the second time, Meredith was reminded of the fact that she was equivocating her clients with human Earth males. No wonder Gleeth seemed unconcerned.

            "Besides," the alien continued, "allowing the products to have items which could seriously injure or kill them is forbidden."

           
I can see your point,
Meredith silently concurred.
After all, you won't even let me have a frigging fork or knife. How can I expect you to let me have a razor?

           
"What else?" Gleeth inquired.

            "That's it. Thanks for letting me know Turbo Dick was happy with me."

            The creature bobbed its head. "You are welcome. Did you sleep well?"

            "Oh, yeah. Like the dead." In fact, it was the best sleep she'd had since being abducted.

            "If it will make you feel any better, would you like for me to let you know if Terr Boh Deek informs us he would like to take you on as a permanent partner?"

            Meredith felt something leap within her heart, making it feel lighter. She smiled brightly. "Yeah! Would you? Please?"

            A tentacle patted her on the head. "I can do that. In the meantime, go eat. You need to recover your strength."

            She watched the creature leave, then turned to get something from the dispenser. She had hairy legs and armpits, she was growing a moustache, and her hair could be mistaken for a bird's nest, yet for the first time in her life, she felt truly beautiful.

            It was amazing what a fantastically satisfying fuck could do for the human spirit.

Chapter Eleven

Neeveer

            He sat alone at the bridge of the small transport ship and stared at his hands resting on the controls. The enormity of what he had discovered was beginning to overwhelm him, to the point where he couldn't grasp the throttles.

            His hands were shaking. The quaking was extending to his chest, until each heartbeat jerked against his ribs and every breath hitched in his lungs. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and the ache in his loins continued to burn through his gut.

            Neeveer bent over the console and buried his face into the crook of one arm. Perspiration rolled over his skin, making his uniform cling to his body. A low moan rumbled in his chest, until it reached his lips to escape as a soft groan.

            "This was to be a moment of relief. A chance for release. Nothing more. Nothing more." He could barely hear his own words above the sound of the ship's engines. "Nothing more."

           
I must control myself. Control. I must regain control of myself before I return to the ship. I cannot let anyone know the truth. I cannot allow anyone to believe this trip was anything more than what it appears to be.

           
There was a movement out of the corner of his eye. A Dahrre slug ship was oozing to a stop twenty meters away. Ahead, past the landing platform, the universe glittered in the shadow cast by the whoreship.

            He couldn't stay here. He needed to return to his vessel where he could retreat to his private chambers. He could think there. He could meditate, and allow the wonder of what had happened sink through him.

            He maneuvered the shuttle out into space, where its internal beacon honed onto the mother ship. Once he set the coordinates, he released the controls to allow the little craft to take him back. With his attention no longer needed, he swiveled his seat around to watch the retreating pleasure ship.

            As the distance increased, the more his skin stretched and thinned over his body, as if he was reacting to the length of space coming between them. Between him and...

           
Her name. What is her name?

            And origin. Who is she? Where is she from?

           
At that moment, he knew he had to go back to her. He had to have her again. If not to confirm what he knew was the truth, but to relish in the miracle that she brought to him. The miracle of her body with his. The miracle his people claimed occurred between true lovers, but one he never believed would happen for him. Never believed it, and therefore never anticipated it.

            Not until now.

            The journey back to the policing vessel seemed to take twice as long to return as it had to reach the whoreship. By the time he docked, he practically pounded the hull door open in order to go to his quarters.

            "Neeveer! We have been waiting for your return." The assistant tried to keep up with the big man's long strides down the narrow corridors.

            "Then you will wait longer," Neeveer gruffly admonished. Brushing the man away, he disappeared inside his chambers and sealed the door behind him.

            Once within the dark room, he collapsed on his bed, gasping for breath and peace of mind. Yet every moment, every stroke and touch he had shared with the woman, continued to play over and over in his mind. His hands remembered her warmth, her softness. Her scent continued to cover his skin. Lifting his fingers to his nostrils, he slowly took in her smell. Her musk. It sent heat racing through his blood, making his body tingle.

           
I have to go back. I must taste her again.

           
The realization was an absolute.

            Getting to his feet, he left his quarters and headed for the control room.

* * *

            Herist glanced up as he entered. "Welcome back. Better rested, I hope." He gave the commander a smile, which was not returned. The navigator wasn't surprised. The commander was not known for being jovial.

            "Have we received word of our next mission?" Neeveer's question was abrupt and all-business. Herist mentally shrugged. Sometimes the commander could be irritating with his gruff demeanor, but there was no denying the man was a brilliant strategist.

            "We have orders to proceed on course for Tars Argello as soon as you returned."

            Neeveer nodded. "Are we to intervene in their civil war?"

            "We are to be an active presence."

            The commander grunted. "In other words, we're to keep their war from expanding outward."

            Herist didn't answer. There was no need. These types of missions were common.

            "Are any other ships ordered to assist us?"

            "Four others," Herist replied.

            "Is there a timeframe?"

            "To how long we are to remain on watch?"

            "No. For our arrival."

            "We were not given a defining time to arrive."

            Herist watched as the commander paused in front of the display showing this part of the universe. His attention appeared to be riveted on the tiny blip not far from the image that was their ship. The navigator knew what the blip represented.

            "How long ago did we receive the order to Tars Argello?"

            Herist checked the scope. "Sixty tarans."

            "Delay us another two hundred tarans."

            The navigator gave him a confused look. "Two hundred?"

            "Inform home base we are investigating a small anomaly, which will detain us in reaching Tars Argello."

            Without explaining his order, the commander abruptly left the control room, nearly running over the young assistant standing on the other side of the doorway.

            Bajud stared in surprise at the retreating figure, then gave Herist a curious look. "Is there an emergency?"

            "He just ordered us to remain on site for another two hundred tarans."

            "Two hundred? Did he say why?"

            "We're officially investigating a small anomaly." The navigator motioned toward the display. "I cannot confirm my suspicions, but he appeared to be engrossed in the location of the whoreship."

            "He just arrived from there," Bajud confirmed.

            "Do you believe he'll return?"

            The assistant glared at him. Although Bajud was beneath him in command, Herist understood why the young man would not appreciate the question. Instead, showing due respect for the navigator's station, the assistant said no more of the incident.

            But the young man's silence confirmed what the navigator suspected. Their commander would be returning to the whoreship. An act that was totally unlike the man, and therefore one which worried them.

Chapter Twelve
Hieroglyph

            She was in the lounge, listening to Xath-Erac recount a hilarious story about a client who lost his reproductive member before he could use it, when Gleeth entered the lounge.

            "Merry."

            "What?"

            "Your Terr Boh Deek is waiting for you."

            Meredith whirled around on her pillow. "So soon?"

            Gleeth motioned for her to get up. "Hurry. We do not like to make the clientele wait too long."

            "But it's only been a day since he was here! No more than two!" Regardless, she rushed out the door and ran through the corridors, her bare feet making slapping sounds on the metal floor.

            She was breathless once she reached the pleasuring room. Quickly, she arranged herself on the table, tapping the cuffs with her ankles to make them shut. It hadn't taken her long to realize that until all the Is were dotted, and all the Ts crossed, the table didn't move. She had to be in the correct position before she was presented to the clientele.

            As the panel in the wall slid up, she wriggled in anticipation. She had dreamed of the man last night. If not for the slight soreness between her legs when she awoke, she would have believed she had imagined him.

             The puff of air letting her know the client entered the other room came as the panel was still sealing itself under her arms. She had no idea she was trembling until a hand rested on her sternum, above her heart. It reminded her to try and keep track of how many hands she felt on her at one time, but deep down it no longer bothered her. As long as the guy and his Mr. Bumpy continued to satisfy her, what did it matter if he had three hands?

            She stilled.
Or two heads? Or—