She had a Cheshire smile.
It was meant for me and no one else in the crowded room. It made the bar lights dim as they considered the futility of their existence. It was a smile that kept secrets.
She sat down beside me at a miraculously open stool. The working girls at the end of the bar wilted visibly; several looked like they were considering a career change. The bartender started over, but she looked dismissively away; he ceased to exist though his body continued for a time to do bartenderly things.
"Nice entrance. Was it holography? A glamour? Pheromones?" I knocked back my 80 proof antidote and hoped the zombie behind the bar could still recognize an empty glass.
"Anything wrong with old fashioned style and grace?" Her voice was low and rich, with harmonics that made the auditory nerves swoon with pleasure. My suspicion went up another notch. A telepath?
"I never knew those to be in fashion in this port," I replied. "Buy you a drink?"
"Thank you Captain Drake, but I don't drink anything they serve here. But please go ahead." She raised a finger and a fresh glass appeared in front of me. That speed was going to put a blip in the bar's service stats for weeks.
I took a sip, along with a moment to study her. She wore a simple dress that fell from one shoulder, which accented but in no way concealed her graceful body. She moved within its veil like a glimpsed shadow, and I could tell that wisp was all she wore. She had flawless cinnamon skin, pale wheaten eyes and hair, and sensuous deep chocolate lips and nipples. She almost seemed like a photographic negative.
"So you know my name. If you're looking for passage, all the berths are full." They weren't, but the ones that were had paid handsomely for their privacy.
"I was more interested in your past voyages than your future ones," she said. My finger tightened on the needle gun in my pocket. Inquisitive folks are seldom good news in my line of work.
"Care to elaborate on that interest?"
"They say you are very ... experienced. They say you have charmed your way into many different arms. And tentacles. And pseudopods. They say you are the only man to have slept with a medusa and live."
I shuddered a bit at that. It was only because I had done everything but sleep while with her that I had avoided participating in her post-coital snack. The sex had been fantastic but the nightmares had lasted for years.
"And you want what? Some stories to sell to erotica readers? Some tales to keep you and your friends warm in the cold between the stars?"
"Oh, no. We're kindred spirits, you and I. I thought we might amuse ourselves matching stories of some of our exploits."
I barked a laugh. "Forgive me, but you seem too much of a hothouse flower to be making statements like that."
She leaned close and murmured in my ear, "Did you know that the Eularian guard caste have six-foot long prehensile penises? They're strong enough to rip a door from its hinges, but they pride themselves on developing the utmost delicacy of touch with them. They are wired to keep their women in continuous orgasm until the woman becomes pregnant or dies of exhaustion. Of course, being a different species, a human woman would never become pregnant ..."
She knew how to get my interest, all right. "And I presume you learned this first hand and lived to tell about it?"
"I joined a diplomatic mission to Eularia, and made a liaison with a lieutenant of the palace guard. He had worn me out most pleasantly, and had dropped off to sleep himself. His penis was wrapped around my leg to keep me from running off and the tip was buried inside, still caressing me into a frenzy. I could hardly think, but knew I had to get away then or never. I eased him out and gently unwound him from my leg. He started to stir, so I quickly looped his penis around his ankles and tied it in a knot. He roared and tried to catch me, but fell just short as I leaped naked from the window into a diplomatic flitter and escaped to the embassy ship. The Eularian War started the next day."
Had anyone heard? A few patrons were openly staring at her; the rest were wishing they had nerve to stare. She had breathed the tale into my ear; it glowed like she had just made love to it.
"Perhaps we do have some interests in common. Shall we move somewhere a little more private?"
We made our way to the lift. As the doors closed, I asked, "Somehow you know my name. How about your name?"
"In your language, it would be translated as Color of Air."
"How does it sound in your language?"
She pressed herself up against me, and lightly touched her lips to my lips. Her tongue gently caressed mine; flavors of purple mint danced across my palette, with a tenor of red pepper and a downbeat of lilac at the end. She drew back and smiled her secret smile. "That's how we 'say' it in my language."
"Well that's rather novel. Not very good for long-distance communication, is it?"
"No, it's not. My people live to touch. Perhaps it's why we never had any wars among ourselves."
Something caressed my ankle and started working its way up my leg. I went reflexively for my pistol, but her hand was there to hold mine; not restraint but reassurance. "Relax, Captain. I can promise you an interesting evening."
The lift door opened at the .7G level, my habitual compromise between comfortable sleeping and not having to chase stray items in the least breeze. My room was a half span spinward, giving me time to observe her as we walked. She was very good, but her eyes flicked to the door an instant before I turned to open it. She knew which one was mine; she had scouted me. Why?
Inside, she turned to me, eyes downcast seductively. She touched her right fingers to her right shoulder, the wisp fell away, leaving her naked before me. Naked? That implies a certain vulnerability, and she still wore a confidence that was magnificent enough for a court function.
I found myself with an armful of warm fragrant woman, teaching me new words in her language. I especially liked the one with tones of raspberry and cocoa that used black pepper for punctuation. I wondered what the translation was.
She pushed my jacket back over my shoulders, then stepped around behind me to ease it down my arms. She reached around from behind and began unbuttoning my shirt while nibbling artfully on my ear. Another pair of hands undid the clasp on my belt and eased the zipper down. Another slid within my shirt to explore the smooth muscles there, while another began to work its way under my waistband ...
Too many hands. She must have had an accomplice waiting inside. I whirled, going for the throats. My left hand closed on air, my right on ...
I held a many armed, three breasted goddess, who could have presided over an ancient fertility temple. She gently loosened my grip with two hands, placed one hand against my cheek, and continued to caress me with several others.
"This is the form I prefer, but it's just so hard to buy clothes for."
"It might have been safer to have given me some warning."
"I never felt unsafe." She opened a hand containing the clip from my needle gun, and another hand holding the empty gun.
This was my kind of woman. The kind that kept you wondering if you were going to get out alive. She efficiently plucked away the rest of my clothes and enfolded me in a many-armed embrace.
"At first I was thinking genetically-modified human, but now my money's on nonhuman," I said while trying to figure out how to return that embrace without getting tangled.
"'What's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.' That has always been a profound insight to me, since the scent of the rose is its true name."
"What's my true name, then?"
"It's more complicated with sentient beings. I taste desire, caution, confidence, and the lamb curry you had for lunch. I think we had better let that wear off, or I would name you 'Confident Garlic.'"
I chuckled. She was good with a one-liner. I was stroking her back, ostensibly in foreplay, but also noticing the multiple shoulder joints down her back, and deciding which one would be easiest to dislocate in a fight. Actually, it's all foreplay.
The space between us was full of breasts and limbs, and my not inconsiderable hardness. She pushed me back onto the bed and climbed on top. She sank down on top of my shaft and took me within. She felt soft and wonderful and strangely alien. I reached up and took a breast in each hand and ran fingertips over her hardening nipples. That left one breast unattended, so I pulled her down to take the third nipple in my lips. She moaned in basil-scented approval.
I concentrated on the sensations coming up from belowdecks. It felt less like a vagina and more like a mouth. Surely that was a tongue licking me from base to tip, no, multiple tongues, and an incredible sucking sensation. All the dials were in the red already and the containment field was overloading. Alarms were blaring as those tongues burned out nerve pathways all the way to the bridge. Control systems were offline; the core would breach at any instant.
The core blew. She accepted it, welcomed it, drank it in, drained it empty. Yin to yang, white hole to black, time stretched thin across the event horizon and collapsed into a private micro-verse. All screens went dark.
The smoke drifting through the blackness smelled of lavender contentment. That recalled me to the here and now and who. I opened my eyes to find her lying softly on top of me, regarding me with her pale eyes. I licked my lips and got my voice restarted. "Who set off the EMP in the cabin?"
She looked amused. "I'm sorry if I rushed too much. It has been too long for me, and I was ... hungry."
"Whew, I guess you were. I usually have more control. Did you make it?"
