by MM Glenn
"Yes," Quinn said, eyes never leaving hers. "You can go away."
Never the less the moment passed, and she dipped the spoon into their dessert and brought it up to his lips. She watched with interest as he opened his mouth for the spoon, and wrapped his lips around it as she pulled it back. But she found herself disappointed when his tongue darted out to collect the purple crème that stuck to his lips. She had really wanted to taste it.
"You remind me of this boy I used to know," she confessed between bites, genuine happiness and pleasant memories warming her cheeks. "Back before I was in this life."
"I'm gonna hope," Quinn interjected, "that this is a good thing."
Playing with a puff of lavender meringue with her spoon, she continued, "He was rather handsome, and a few years older than me. Oh, I had such a crush on him." She couldn't stifle the nostalgic laugh as she thought of him. "What was his name...?" She took a couple long bites as she tried to remember. "That's right, Kazak. Hmm..." Eyes closed, memories flooded back, "He was my first kiss. We were in the same, ummm... training program." She tried explaining away, hoping he wouldn't press for more details. But why would he?
After a moment, Kaydia sighed. "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear about all that, huh?" She gave Quinn an apologetic look. "See, this is why I have that no honesty policy."
"Nah, didn't bother me." He shrugged a little, then cut the last bite in half with his fork and offered it to her. "I just hope it turned out better than my first kiss. A pretty brunette who attended the same school I did, and who actually went into the same line of work. It... ah... didn't work out so well." Eyes, that had gone a little distant and misty at the memory, turned hard, and his jaw set. "I thought we were in love. Right up until the moment when she framed me for murder and then tried to kill me to cover up her involvement in a drug smuggling ring. It's the kind of thing that kills a relationship, y'know?"
"What, you mean you two couldn't work things out after that?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood. Truthfully, she felt a bit of jealousy at his story. Not at the mention of the pretty brunette who broke his heart, but at the admission that they were in love, or at least Quinn thought they were. She wondered what that was like, and lamented the fact that she would likely never know.
"Well, I was going to make you pay for dinner, but not after hearing how your first love broke your heart with lies and attempted homicide. So dinner is on me, but you can get the drinks."
They walked out, arm in arm, Kaydia leaning into Quinn’s warmth. It looked the same as yesterday, as they moved through the Velvet Spire together, but it was different today. It wasn't an act put on for onlookers, but a desire for closeness, the culmination of connecting with him over dinner. " Tell me more about this bar you are taking me to."
"Tell you?" Quinn grinned. "Well, it's a little place called Munden's. Usually a quiet sort of place, out near the edge of the environmental dome. Not the best part of town, but the owner –a semi-retired merc named John Gaunt– ensures that the local toughs play nice." A pause. "The ones that the Digital Sun doesn't keep in line, that is." He opened the speeder door for her, then walked around and climbed into the driver's seat. "I think you'll like it," he said with a smile. "There's far more to it than meets the eye." The engine purred to life, and he pulled out into traffic.
***
The bar was, as advertised, in a run-down part of the city. One lit with a ruddy glow from the perennial lava fields beyond the environmental dome, and strewn with the signs of lax police attention and struggling humanity. Quinn didn't seem particularly concerned as he parked the expensive speeder in front of the squat, stone and concrete building with the simple sign "Munden's", however. He merely opened the door for her and locked the speeder after she stepped out. Offering her his arm, he escorted her inside.
The pulsing beat of the music, a slow-tempo electronic thing backed by synthesizers and the occasional horn, greeted them at they entered together. The interior lighting was dim, and it took a moment to adjust her eyes. There was a dance floor, and a few dozen people circulated on it, but most of the action appeared to be drinking.
Kaydia liked the bar. It had a rugged warmth to it, that she found she rather preferred to the sterile swank of the nightclubs she usually visited, when she spent her evenings riding out the high of Inertia. Couldn't conceivably be called glamorous, but authentic, in a way that made it seem superior to the high-end clubs. It wasn't a place where wealthy brats got stoned out of their minds until the crowd was filled with blank faces and empty expressions. It was far removed from the life she lived as Shadi, and she rather liked that. It made her feel more like Kaydia, even if she still wore Shadi's mask.
"Hey, Quinn," waved the bartender, a lean brunette man wearing a button-down shirt and black vest. "And who's this?"
"Hey Gordon," Quinn answered. "This is Shadi, an... associate of mine." Eh, whatever, it was fine. As long as he went home with Kaydia, at the end of the night.
"A pleasure, ma'am," Gordon responded, then looked back at Quinn. "Your regular?"
"Nah. I'm trying to impress her with my good taste. How about..."
"A little late for that," Gordon grinned. "She seems to have met you already."
"Ha. Ha," Quinn answered, deadpan. "Spiced beer, and a shot of whiskey."
"I'll have the same." They were served quickly enough. It seemed being on the arm of a regular had its perks. She clinked her shot glass with his, and downed her whiskey, chasing it with a long drink of the beer. The alcohol worked its way through her system, building towards a nice buzz that left her lightly flushed. The music hammered through her, to the point she was feeling it as much as she was hearing it. By the time she was done with her drink, the urge to dance was too powerful to resist.
"Come on, dance with me." Her head swayed side to side just outside her control. Her hands took his, pulling him to the dancefloor.
"Dance?" Quinn almost yelped, just barely managing to set his glass down as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the floor. "Oh, come on! I'm terrible at dancing!" But she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Instead she led him –dragged him, some might say– out into the midst of the other dancers. On the floor, away from the sonic baffles of the rest of the bar, the music pounded and thumped, vibrating their very bones. And despite his protests, he began to move with the music. Hells, with the vibrations of the bass, it would have almost been harder to not move.
Clearly, he wasn't as comfortable on the dancefloor as she was. It was cute, his slight awkwardness, especially since he had come off so slick and confident in every other regard. A sort of nervous shuffle of the feet and twitch of the arms, soon followed by flexing of the knees and a little pop in the hips. Kaydia didn't say anything, just smiled and closed her eyes, losing herself to the driving pulse of the music and his enticing, masculine scent. Before long, he relaxed, moving alongside her with something approaching skill. Then it was fun and exhilarating, as he twirled her out and pulled her close. She was dizzy and drunk on delight and more than a little tipsy and it felt a hell of a lot better than Inertia.
By the time of the second song, he'd caught her hand and pulled her close, gaining more confidence as she continued to brush up against him. Once, without even thinking about it, he spun her out and drew her back, drawing a deep breath of delight as she pressed against his chest.
With the third song, the band changed styles, going for smooth and slow and instrumental, clearly showing off their skills. By ten Quinn's shyness about dancing had evaporated and he held her close, swaying and moving against her in time with the music. Occasionally they would part, spinning and coming together in a swirl of limbs. When it ended, he held her in his arms, his gaze not leaving hers. Not until he closed his eyes, pulling her closer and lowering his face to hers.
Then his lips were on hers and they tasted of whiskey and longing as her tongue slid over and sought out his. Her breasts pressed into his chest as her arms tightened around his neck and his tighten
ed around her waist. She wasn't sure if she was sighing and moaning into the kiss or he was, or they both were, but she didn't care. She didn't want to stop, or pull away or even breathe, and one of her hand moved up behind his head, tangling in his hair. As their kiss grew hotter and more demanding, she could feel a flutter in her stomach, building towards a throbbing ache that made her knees weak.
For a moment or so longer, they were still pressed against each other, foreheads and noses touching, hot breath wafting over each other's face. She wanted another kiss, and another, cuddled in his arms as her hands explored his body. She wanted to taste more of him and to feel his lips tasting her. With a smile, she licked her lips.
"Should we get another round?" She asked coyly, pulling him close again until her lips grazed his ears, "Or should we go back to my place?"
"Ah..." he answered, sliding an arm down her back and resting a hand on her rear. "No reason why we can't do both." He smiled at her, hunger in his eyes. "I enjoy the taste of beer, and I can only imagine you'd add extra spice to the flavor." His hand squeezed a little, and she squealed. It suddenly seemed incredibly warm in Munden's. Then, shifting his arm so it was around her waist, he led her back off the dance floor.
"Can you add the drinks to my tab?" he called as he passed the bar.
"Yeah, under the circumstances," Gordon agreed, waving cheerily. "Have a pleasant night."
The air outside was warm and dry, a typical night under the environmental dome on Miruta. But it seemed cool next to the fire in her blood and the heat of the man next to her. They made it as far as the speeder before he pushed her up against the metal, hands exploring her curves as he pressed into her, his lips hungry on hers and his tongue filling her mouth. "I want you," he growled. "I think I've wanted you since the first night we met."
"Well, you did save my ass tonight." She moaned as his hand groped at that very ass, "I'd say you earned yourself a piece of it." She pulled him into the kiss this time, hands roaming his back, exploring his firm muscles, flexing under the suit and his skin. It was a deep, hard kiss, that left her gasping for breath once they pulled away again.
"Come on, before we get a crowd gathered."
Naked
Quinn hadn't really thought about what sort of living space Scarlet might have. Oh, he'd seen what Shadi had, but that was as much a mask as the blonde wig and the vapid expression. Scarlet was still something of an enigma –although one that he'd enjoy unraveling– and the small building in a nice but nondescript part of the city was a surprising choice. Not the kind of place he'd have guessed a successful and well-paid assassin would take. Certainly not what the holovids would have you believe. But then, according to the holovids, his living quarters should be ankle deep in liquor and whores.
The space was... spartan. It wasn't a large place, but it had crisp lines and an open floor plan. Much like her room at the Velvet Spire, it was devoid of personal touch, just distressed concrete walls and pale wood flooring. A wraparound couch took up most of the living area, with the foot of a large bed peeked out from the other side of the wall separating the room. Lush, lakeside scenery was projected against the windows, in opposition to the sprawling city that lay outside. The kind of living quarters maintained by someone accustomed to minimal personal possessions. The kind of place he'd grown up in, and that he was comfortable with. Which raised all sorts of interesting questions. If he searched, would he find a small satchel with her two or three most prized possessions, a weapon, and a few essential tools? The sort of thing that he maintained, everywhere he went?
Who was Scarlet, he wondered. Who had she been, once upon a time? Clearly, he'd have to find out.
"So, what did you want to drink?" she called from the kitchen
"Dunno," he called back, turning to watch her pull a stocky purple bottle out of the fridge. "What do you have?"
"I have some whisky, and a bottle of white wine."
He pursed his lips in thought as she placed the bottle on the counter and headed towards a door. "Some water, actually. And then some of the whisky," he decided. "Rehydrate a little, before I get back to drinking." A quick grin. "Helps with the hangover." He found the glasses and poured both of them two fingers of whisky and himself a full pint of water. The water went down twice before he was even ready to consider the liquor once more. By then, Scarlet had emerged from the bathroom.
She was magnificent. Nothing about Shadi was unappealing, of course. And he'd seen her without her wig or contacts just last night. But her fiery hair was a wild mane of tangled curls, and her eyes glittered like emeralds, and her stance and walk had changed. Shadi strutted, displaying herself as a professional advertisement. But Scarlet prowled, a sleek and dangerous jungle beast. He watched her, desire and admiration frankly displayed in his expression, and then slid a glass over to her. "Comfortable?"
"I am. You could probably stand to be a little more comfortable, though, couldn't you?" She slinked over to him, running fingers over the hem of his jacket before hooking her thumbs on the inside, pulling it off his shoulders. Her eyes traced the firm lines of his figure, broadcasting her appreciation as her glance made its way back up to his face. "Yes, much better," she declared, and her fingers brushed his as she accepted a glass. "So, how many more drinks do you think it's going to take to get you out of the rest of that suit?"
Quinn sipped his drink and made a show of contemplating the question. "About twice as many as it'll take to get you out of that dress," he decided, letting his eyes trace the collection of panels and straps that made up her outfit. "Alcohol lowers inhibitions, after all. And since I'm wearing more clothes it'll take more effort to lower mine..."
He swirled the whisky in his glass, contemplating. "Now, as a gentleman, I simply can't allow myself to take advantage of you and the clear fact that it'll take less effort to get you naked. So..." he took a drink. "I'll need to get started first. That was one." Another swallow. "Two. And now, your turn..."
He took a drink, holding it in his mouth as he slapped the glass down on the counter and pulled her close. His lips were peppery from the spiced liquor, and the sharp taste of the alcohol accompanied his tongue as it slipped into her mouth. He pressed her back against the counter as he let the drink flow into her mouth and dribble down her chin as he kissed her. His hands, hard and callused from years of fighting, were rough on her skin as he explored her shape, but his tongue was soft on chin and throat as he lapped errant rivulets of whisky from her skin.
"Almost enough," he murmured, voice husky with desire. Pressing his body against her, licking his lips at the feel of her curves against him, he groped blindly for his glass. Finding it, he raised it to his lips and drank. "One," he said, letting her taste the peppery heat as he kissed her. "Two," he declared, sloshing the glass and eying it critically.
He brought it to her lips, his cheek against hers as he did. "Your turn," he murmured, tipping it. The liquid splashed out, coating her mouth and chin, running down her throat and into the valley between her breasts. "How clumsy of me," he declared insincerely, a wicked glint in his eye. "Here, let me..."
Lips traced her chin and down her throat, and he moaned against her flesh as he savored her flavor mixed with that of the whisky. Pressing her back further, arching her back, he worked down to her collarbone. Then his teeth scraped gently over the swell of exposed cleavage, and his tongue followed the path of a rivulet of liquor.
Then he grinned up at her. "Well, hell," he laughed, examining a tiny damp spot on his shirt. "Guess I'll have to take it off..." He peeled the shirt away and tossed it aside, revealing lean muscles and a few scars, a testament to the life he'd led. Unexpectedly, his right pectoral, shoulder, and upper arm were covered with a single elaborate tattoo. An abstract thing of tribal design, all swirls and arcs picked out crimson and sapphire with black highlights. It rippled and seemed to shimmer as he picked up his glass and refilled it. "Care to wager on who'll be naked first?"
"Ah, wager. Yes, let's do that." She grinned up at him mi
schievously. "Let's see...the first person naked owes the other an orgasm. Sound good?" Her fingers wrapped around the bottle of whisky and brought it over his lips.
"So, let's take a drink," she announced, bringing the bottle up to his lips, with the same care he did, letting the alcohol pool in his mouth and drip down his chin and chest. Quinn had enjoyed his version of "let's take a drink". But he found he enjoyed Scarlet's version just as much –if not more. The whisky was cool on his skin and her tongue was hot and the contrast made him shiver with delight.
As her mouth found his once more, she stuck out her tongue to meet his outside their mouths, and poured more liquor over their outstretched tongues, clumsily splattering their mouths and lips. Teasing turned into an alcohol-soaked kiss, whisky trickling down both of their bodies now.
Her spicy kiss, and the feel of her liquor-slippery body against him as she did her best to shrug out of her dress while pressing against him. made his need for her consume him. He shoved her back against the bar then, pinning her in place with the weight of his body. His hands were between them, fumbling with belt and fastenings as he shimmied and ground and finally kicked his boots and pants away. The boxers he wore were loose but they did little to disguise the extent of his desire. He grinned at her, kissing her deeply as alcohol-scented fingers fisted in her hair. "What happens," he asked, voice husky as his desire pressed into her bare thigh, "if we both lose?"
"If we are both naked, at the same time?" Her fingers slipped between his boxers and skin and her alcohol-scented breath wafted hot across his face. "In that case, I think we both win. So are we calling it a draw or…” She backed away and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. Ever so slightly, she teased at them, pulling them away from her skin and lowering them, tantalizing him with what lay underneath, “Or am I about to lose?”
