Trying to still her breath, she squeezes tighter against the wall, her form all but disappearing in the shadows behind the cantina. Through the dimly lit crevice where she's taken refuge, she can see them--four and moving slowly. "Oh please don't let them see me," she whispers to herself.
Finally she heard their footsteps getting softer as they move into the distance. Yet still she waited.
Dusk has started to settle. One of the two suns of this strange world she's found herself on has already set and the other is getting lower in the sky. She welcomes the coolness of the shadows after the stiffling heat of the day-time of this arrid world. "Just a little longer," she coaches herself, "then you are finally free."
Earlier, as she was readying for her escape, she'd heard the crew as they mentioned their launch schedule. They'd landed here to pick up supplies and other more illicit substances that her captor--she still couldn't bring herself to say the word even though he had an official piece of paper that proved his rightful "ownership" of her--craved to fulfill his baser needs. They were cleared to launch as the first sun left the sky. Something about the radiation masking the sensors which would otherwise detect the cargo they had so carefully arranged to pick-up on this out-of-the-way world.
The second sun dipped below the horizon. Still, she waited.
The noises from the cantina grew louder and more raucous. The smell of food wafted out into the night air. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in more than a day. Finally, she slipped out of the crevice she'd been lucky enough to find when she realized his men were still looking for her.
She went back to what she'd been doing before she'd seen them wander into the cantina. She watched the patrons--especially the graceful dancers and musicians. Some wore next to nothing, and it was clear that dancing wasn't their primary occupation. Others, though, were more graceful and simply provided entertainment from a far. "I could do that," she thought to herself.
Moving silently to the back room where she'd earlier left a small bundle of clothing hiding under a table, she sighs, thankful to discover it was still there. Grabbing it, she slips into one of the back dressing rooms and changes. The fabric (a specialty of her native world) clings tightly to every curve of her body, leaving little to the imagination. Not as revealing as the clothing of the more risque 'dancers' but more than enough to be enticingly appealing. Perhaps she could earn just enough to provide her with some dinner and a place to rest for the night.
Walking back into the main room, she found an open spot in a less crowded area. Letting her body sway seductively in one of the traditional dances of her people, she loses herself for a moment in the music.
Hearing shuffles and scuffles, she opens her eyes and gasps in fright. A military trooper has entered the cantina and is moving towards the area where she is dancing. "ID please" she hears him ask one of the patrons.
Heart pounding, she tries to meld back into the shadows but he's facing her direction and she can feel his eyes on her as he hands the ID back. Pausing to check another patron's ID, he continues to glance in her direction. Finally, moving with long strides he crosses over to her.
"ID please, Miss."
Barely able to speak, she tries to keep from trembling. "Just a moment," she says, and makes a show of pulling her top away from her skin as she reaches for the inside pocket. From his height, she is fairly certain he's gotten a good view of her left breast, nipple and all. Her eyes widen and she looks up at him and swallows. "I, er um, Sir it doesn't seem to be here. I must have left it at . . . ." Her voice trails off as she lets go of her top, letting it snap back tightly against her skin.
Though she can't see his face behind his helmet, she can tell her ploy didn't work. "No ID? Then you'll have to come with me." He puts his gloved hands on her elbow and she nearly trips as he turns her towards the door.
