Sirens of the Belt

***Author's Note: Chapter 7 of "Mark of the Incubus" will be posted next week. Chapter 3 of "Sirens of the Belt" may be posted the week after depending on how much time I have between work hours.

Chapter 2

"You wouldn't dare."

Faro eyed his friend Jay who stood with a knife at the ready.

"Oh I would," Jay said his voice full of intensity. The men stared each other down. Their silence worse than a scratching on a chalk board.

"Then do it," Faro goaded. "If you have the balls."

Jay set up his target then launched his knife. The knife sailed through the air and hit the apple resting on Faro's dark head, knocking it off and nailing it to the wall. A cheer roared from everywhere in the Canterbury bar. Faro and Jay perhaps laughed the loudest.

"Still the best shot in the Belt," praised Faro, roughly patting Jay on the shoulder as he drank his beer. The Cant was a bar that the low working caste of Chione frequented. After long months of ice harvesting, Ice Chippers would come back to celebrate their safe return with veterans from the army and other riff raff drinking Chionian scotch and whiskey and share stories.

"I may be slipping," Jay joked. "I was aiming lower." Faro hollered jovially. He and Jay had a grim sense of humor only they understood.

"I owe you a beer then," Faro signaled for the bar tender for another round. Faro and Jay were a stark contrast in physical appearance. Where Faro had swarthy, sepia skin with dark hair and liquid black eyes, Jay was fair with rust colored hair and bright blue gray eyes. Faro was also slightly leaner while Jay had a bit more muscle.

"No no no," Jay held his hands up in surrender, his balance wavering. "I have to get back and sober up. Got a job to do."

"Breaking in some new talent, Jay?" asked a bar patron wickedly.

"Someone has to," Faro called.

Everyone raised a glass in agreement.

"Just one more drink, Jay," Faro asked quietly. "One more drink won't kill you, brother."

Jay wanted to drown out the horrible memories that came rushing back every day with fresh detail. Even after 5 years the screams of the innocents he cut down were like blaring sirens. He drank until his head swam and the ghosts were no longer real, a blur of color and noise.

***

Constance waited on her bed, her hands wringing in her lap, playing with her lapis lazuli prayer beads. She had picked out a name: Jay Ransom but she didn't see him in the group bath. The picture was a handsome profile though there was this sad look in his eyes that touched something sympathetic in Constance.

Unable to quiet her mind, Constance got up and tried to read a book but just as she was opening to her first page, someone came busting in. Constance turned around quickly to see a tall man with rust colored hair and a pale complexion wavering in the door way.

"You are...," Constance began.

"Your Erotic... Instruct... Instructor...," the man hiccuped.

Constance was doubtful. Jay stumbled into the room, knocking a vase over.

"Oops," he muttered. "Okay... let's get started." Jay clumsily removed his shirt to reveal his fair muscular form. He wasn't cut but the muscles were modestly firm. He had broad shoulders that seemed to carry a heavy weight.

His chest had small copper hairs that Constance wondered how it would feel to press her bare skin to them. Would they tickle? His idiot smile lit up his drunken face but it was infectious. Constance was fighting to stay serious.

"You're really drunk right now," Constance stood looking at him sternly though a part of her was laughing. He had an interesting musky scent muddled by alcohol.

"No," he argued. "I'm not... you're just blurry." Jay stumbled onto the bed. Constance moved out of the way. Then her eyes caught sight of a burn scar on his left forearm.

"What happened to your arm?" Constance tried to touch it but Jay roughly pulled his arm back as if her very touch would rankle the scar, make afresh.

"Don't worry about it... uhhh..."

"Constance."

"Constance?" Jay's tongue stumbled over the name as he smiled broadly. "Weird name. But you're so nice and so pretty." Constance looked into Jay's eyes. They were a grayish blue like steel and were foggy from alcohol.

Then he passed out unceremoniously on her bed. Constance stood in disbelief. Seeing no other option, Constance placed a blanket over Jay's slumbering body and sat in a chair, trying to focus her confused feelings on her prayer beads instead.

***

Faro played with his zippo lighter. A flame sparked and Faro lit his cigarette. Faro wanted the nicotine ones like the highest caste did. Julian Sulla stood before his Confidential Informant. The station was abandoned at this time of artificial night. A tram car whizzed right above their heads causing the light to go in and out.

"Something I want you to do for me," Sulla pulled out a USB drive and handed it to him. "Give these new hacking codes to your superiors in Rekhyt."

"And where did I get these?" asked Faro taking a puff of his algae cigarette.

"Tell them whatever you like," Sulla shrugged. "They won't know it's a trap until it's too late."

Faro stuffed the USB drive into his jacket pocket and saluted mockingly, "Anything for the safety of Chione."

***

Leila lay in bed in the faint lighting as she heard the door open and close. She looked over to see Theo. He was in his mid 30s. Theo had hazel nut skin. His Latin heritage very prominent in his features, which made him more exotic to the women he encountered. Even Leila wasn't immune though in the pit of her stomach she wished he was someone else.

"Good evening," Theo greeted with a charming smirk. "Shall we begin?"

Leila mutely nodded. She hoped that her fear didn't show. Theo was a man who liked to get to the point of things. He didn't say anything. He was perhaps used to women just opening their legs for him or maybe it was because he was here the longest.

Leila's heart jumped into her throat as she felt Theo's soft hand touch her leg then slowly travel up over her knee along her thigh towards her quivering womanhood. Leila closed her eyes then swallowed hard, breathing deeply through her nose as her loins tingled.

"Don't worry," Theo whispered as Leila felt his weight on the bed. "I'm great with virgins. I'm always gentle... the first time." Theo leaned in then lightly kissed Leila's dazed plump lips.

"Though you are a bit skinny," Theo sighed. He always liked a girl with some fat on her. Nevertheless Theo climbed on top. He went in for another kiss but stopped. Leila's eyes were still shut. He chuckled in good humor.

"If it helps," Theo offered. "Just imagine I'm someone else." Leila opened her chocolate eyes. They were deep with anxiety but that look abated. She nodded shortly then Theo proceeded.

Leila didn't imagine a man on top but a woman... Naomi. Sweet Naomi. She had long dark brown tousled hair that always looked like she just got out of bed and fair skin with red wine birthmark on her right thigh that looked like a mass of land.

She had pouty pink lips, a voluptuous figure and soft looking round breasts. But her eyes were her best feature. Lavender eyes that sparked with mischief and full of life.

Naomi was loving even when they were thirteen. Nights were often spent practicing kissing. She would walk around the room naked and unashamed while Leila would feel gaunt and unattractive. Sometimes when Naomi would catch Leila looking she would silently make a show of it. Naomi was daring her to come to bed and try something and she would have welcomed it. Sometimes Leila did.

So right now as Theo undressed her, Leila imagined it was Naomi. She imagined Naomi's plump, seductive mouth on her small yet swelling breasts; Naomi's tongue flicking her engorged dark nipples. Leila arched her back as Theo trailed kisses down her fluttering stomach.

He could feel her getting nice and wet as he rubbed her pussy. Sure enough it was soaking wet. Who was she thinking about? Theo shrugged. He was secure enough not to get jealous. Whatever put the girl at ease.

As Theo began licking Leila's sopping pussy she imagined Naomi's tongue again. Naomi knew just what to do down there. Leila remembered the feeling of Naomi's soft lips cupping her shaven pussy, sucking her lips then flicking her tongue over her fattening clit. She would suck on that erect clit like a little cock.

Leila began rocking her hips, fucking Theo's face as his tongue went deep. He pulled out and his experienced mouth began French Kissing her weeping pussy. Leila groaned but bit her lip before the name she was thinking could escape and ruin break the spell.

Liquid fire pulsed through her body as Theo tongue fucked her little wet cunt. Leila's mind went blank for several seconds. Then she opened her eyes to see Theo hovering over her.

"You're good and wet now," Theo smiled, himself now hard with erotic intrigue as to the mystery lover this girl was imagining. "I won't ask who you're thinking about. I have to admit it makes it more of a turn on for me with the mystery."

"Good," Leila nodded feeling emboldened. "Because I wouldn't tell you."

Theo carefully pushed his throbbing rigid flesh inside of Leila's tight wet sheath. Leila struggled a bit. Theo had more girth than length.

"Relax your muscles," Theo instructed. "Don't panic on me now. Just close your eyes and imagine that other someone..."

And Leila did. For the whole session that lasted an hour Leila imagined Naomi. Perhaps after this session she would wait for her in their room...

***

"You seem to forget who you're dealing with," Magistrate Gilroy fumed.

"And you seem to forget who my Master is," said Sulla with contempt.

The tall thin Magistrate Leonard Gilroy's high cheek bones reddened as the nostrils of his aquiline nose flared.

"You will regret this," Gilroy finally said. "Innocent blood will be on your hands!" Then he stormed off leaving Sulla to reflect on his words. A few minutes later the Viceroy Victor Seneca himself entered Sulla's small office that was just outside his own.

"Gilroy is as pleasant as ever I see," Seneca grinned.

"He's an honorable man," Sulla mourned as he sipped the scotch, though the taste seemed to sour in his mouth. "Honorable men don't make it in politics."

"I take it he didn't react well to my edict," Seneca asked as he helped himself to Sulla's scotch bottle and poured himself a glass. Seneca's stocky build reminded Sulla of paintings depicting Henry VIII in his later reign. All Seneca was missing was a ridiculously large turkey leg.

A set of beady obsidian eyes that could swallow a man with his vexed stare with a small thin mouth and graying beard and hair slicked back on his round head.

"I passed on that you wanted the families of suspected Rekhyt agents to be executed in the square by the morning after today," Sulla spoke grimly. "But even I have to question such a ruling."

"We can't be making martyrs of the agents," Seneca reasoned. "But if we hurt their families then they will rethink their actions before bombing another government building or stealing ration cards."

"I can't help but feel like we'll just make more rebels if we start going after innocent people," Sulla gulped the amber liquid tasting the saltiness of Chionian ice and the bitterness of today's events.

"These people have been harboring terrorists, Julian," Seneca shrugged. "That's high treason."

Sulla had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He played with the cloth of his silky black glove thinking about the new bodies that would be hanging in the square before they were turned into fertilizer. It became Seneca's policy to punish the people who harbored Rekhyt terrorists and even chop off the hands of sympathizers.

The Viceroy was determined to turn the public against the so called rebels but Sulla had his ear to the ground and knew that public fear was turning into resentment. Resentment breeds rebellion.

"With the refugees pouring into Chione and closing down public buildings to house them, important buildings such as charity houses and even churches," Sulla wondered aloud. And the courtesan training houses. Many low caste women were vehement about their closing. "The public is already on edge."

"I've never known you to be the weak stomach type, Julian," Seneca mused as he took his swig of wine.

"I do what is necessary, Sir," Sulla's crystal blue eyes grew steely.

"The people need to know who the real power is," Seneca stated. "The Earth Confederation has given them food, water, and shelter. Without us the Athena Belt would be in chaos. Marauders would take every transport and the terrorists would blow up every building with innocent clerks just to make themselves feel good. We provide order."

Sulla leaned back in this chair touching his gloved hand, his scotch became sour all of a sudden.

"Oh, Viceroy," a sweet melodious voice called from Seneca's office. "Don't keep me waiting or I'll have to punish you severely."

"Coming, darling," Seneca called sweetly. He turned to Sulla gravely, "Remember, Sulla, we keep order. See that it's done."

"Yes, sir," Sulla spoke grimly as Seneca practically skipped to join his beautiful ebony courtesan. Sulla managed to catch a sight of Seneca's love goddess before the door slid shut, she was wrapped in black leather that lifted her breasts to make them seem bigger. The Viceroy had odd tastes but Sulla wasn't one to judge. Perhaps he could use some distraction as well.

***

"I don't want to talk about it," Constance fumed. Leila had her hands behind her back as she looked at the sleeping drunk on Constance's bed.

"You must have worn him out...," Leila tried to lighten the mood but Constance's bejeweled eyes were stormy.

"I seriously don't want to talk about it now," Constance got up, "Let's go to our morning bath I need to let off some steam."

"Shouldn't we—"

"If he was capable enough to stumble in here he's perfectly able to stumble out!" Constance placed her hands on her hips. Leila saw that she had left him some aspirin and a steaming cup of coffee beside the bed.

The young girl learned that it was in Constance's nature to be nurturing even when she was angry with someone. Leila quickly followed the steaming Constance not wanting to darken her friend's mood any further.

Constance submerged herself into the steaming water, scattering the scented rose petals and making angry ripples. She resurfaced, face red either from frustration or the hot water. Constance then started to comb her black hair but her hands were trembling.

"Here let me do it or you'll rip your hair out," Leila offered. Without waiting for an answer, she took the comb from Constance and began parting her long raven locks, smoothing out the tangles. Leila admired the comb.

Constance said that her grandmother gave it to her before she left to become a courtesan. After a few minutes Constance began to calm down. Leila began talking about other things like dresses and jewelry to help Constance take her mind off things. Though it didn't help...

"He just came in drunk, nothing much else to say," Constance remembered with less irritation.

"Handsome Ransom? That's what most of the girls call him," Leila said. Yes he was handsome even though being drunk distorted her image of him. Those slate gray eyes glazed over from too much alcohol, his hair a dark rusty red and stubble that she imagined would chafe against her fine sensitive skin. His lips she imagined would taste like bourbon or beer.

Then she remembered his smell of leather and alcohol but also a sweet smell she found familiar. A sweet smell mixed with a more masculine scent. From what Constance touched she remembered his firm muscles. Nothing too impressive but he had a strong frame, broad chested. She began to imagine what it would feel like to have that body held against her.

"He is as handsome as he is rude," Constance sighed tiredly though a part of her was still laughing.

"Who is?"

Leila and Constance turned to see Aurelia looking a bit more cheerful than she was yesterday.

"Constance didn't have that great of a night with her instructor," Leila explained.

"Leila!" Constance admonished.

"Oh really?" Aurelia smiled more broadly this time, unwilling to hide the satisfaction on her face. "I suppose those emerald eyes didn't work in your favor for once."

Aurelia's smugness made it all the more humiliating. Constance may have been raised in Ashoka, a religion of non-violence, but she seriously considered breaking her vow of peace and punching Jay Ransom next time they crossed paths.

***

Jay woke up to the morning light in his face. The dome of Chione had an artificial sun as the ice moon was almost always in the shadow of Europa. His head pounded as if a monkey was banging on his skull with a hammer. He needed coffee more than he needed... or maybe he needed an aspirin first...

Jay turned his head to see a steaming cup of coffee with a bottle of water and an aspirin on the night stand. Then it suddenly came back to him. He stumbled in last night but instead of doing his instructing job he made a mess of things. He slapped his palm over his eyes and groaned.

"Shit..." he muttered miserably. The girl... what was her name? Connie? Constance! He remembered her eyes. Eyes like emeralds. The other details were blurry but that was what Jay remembered most. He needed to fix this...

***

Constance was in an Ashoka shrine that afternoon. Hedone accommodated any religion it's students worshipped. Constance usually went to the shrine when she was in a crisis or just feeling homesick. Right now she was in crisis.

Constance burned some incense watching the blue perfumed smoke twist and writhe like a serpent as it ascended. She took a deep breath holding her obsidian prayer beads, putting her negative thoughts into each bead. She stroked the black satin tassel as she did so.

"You look tense but I can help with that."

Constance turned around to see Ion, smug while leaning against a pillar of the shrine's entrance. She frowned.

"I came here to be alone," she turned back around trying to focus on the burning incense.

"I come in peace," Ion spread his hands holding them up in surrender. The memory of his kiss was still a sizzling imprint on Constance's lips. Constance ignored him as she attempted to recapture her meditative state. Ion came in without invitation lighting another incense stick then placing it in a brass prayer bowl knelt next to Constance.

"I never know how to meditate in these places," Ion confessed.

"A tip is one should be silent so as not to disturb others," Constance focused her energy on her prayer beads.

"So I'm guessing things didn't go so well last night with your instructor."

Constance fidgeted on her satin pillow, avoiding Ion's piercing gaze.

"What makes you say that?" she asked curiously.

"In my experience a woman who loses her virginity doesn't spend the next day praying her frustration away... unless you're a Covenant girl," Ion chuckled. Constance sat in silence. Ion's intense gaze made her cheeks burn. She took in a deep breath to calm her racing heart beat.

"He came in drunk," Constance answered after a while. "He just passed out on my bed."

"Scoundrel," Ion hissed. He inched closer to Constance who remained very still. He boldly moved her hood an inch back, moving pieces of her raven hair away from her face getting a view of her sparkling green eyes that were so distressed.

The graze of Ion's fingers made her shudder. Whether it was from indignation or attraction or both she wasn't sure but Ion made Constance feel something. The silence was becoming awkward combined with the intimate touching. Constance stood up abruptly saying, "This is inappropriate. You shouldn't be touching me and looking at me like..."