by E J Frost
“You’re a beautiful girl.” I poke her
again. “You don’t need to lie to me.”
She yawns. “I’m not. I just . . . you know,
I was around Nevie all the time. Guys go for
her anyway. But like you said, it’s not for the
right reasons. I didn’t want it to be like that. I
didn’t want to have any . . . regrets
afterwards. So I said no a lot more than I
said yes.” Another yawn. “Okay, I told you
mine.”
“Yeah, and?”
She nips my shoulder. “Tell.”
“Five.”
She looks up into my face. “Bullshit.”
“No bullshit.” I rearrange my hold on her.
“That’s how many women I’ve slept with.
Including you.”
“Five,” she says disbelievingly. “Wait,
you said ‘slept with.’ How many have you
had sex with?”
“More than five.” But the rest have been
pros. I paid them for an hour of relief. That’s
what I got. I don’t remember their names; I
couldn’t describe their faces, except for the
girl with the amazing lips. It’s not that they
don’t count. It’s just that it’s different.
“Cheat.”
“Truthfully, I don’t remember.” I tuck her
a little closer. Run my fingers up and down
the sweet curve of her upper back, avoiding
the scar. “They weren’t anything like this.”
“What were they like?” She sounds
genuinely curious.
“Professional.”
“Oh.” She’s quiet for a moment, studying
my face, although I doubt she can see much in
the dark. Then she says more emphatically,
“oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Wait a minute. You’re, what, forty
standard?”
Cheeky kitten. I reach down and pinch
her ass. “You’re just begging for another
spankin’.”
“I’m being serious!”
“Thirty-five.”
“Okay, thirty-five, and you’ve been doing
it since you were, what, fifteen?”
“About that.” I was probably sixteen
when Selly first came to me, but close
enough. “I see where you’re goin’ with this.
You are definitely gonna end up with a red
ass.”
She giggles. “I just don’t want to be alone
at the loser ball. So that’s like two a decade,
right?”
I cup her ass-cheek menacingly, but I’m
not particularly inclined to carry through on
the threat. I’m more than satisfied after our
last go-round, and spanking her is way too
much of a turn-on to do in any other context.
But I can threaten, which is part of the fun.
And I can always carry out the threat later.
“Seriously.” She strokes my shoulder.
“Why so few?”
“Seriously?” When she nods, I consider
it. Seriously. “Trust issues.”
“Because women come to you for the
wrong reasons?”
“Yeah.” And because I’ve always been
aware of my size and strength. Coupled with
the way I like my sex, there’s always been
more than a possibility that if I misread a
woman’s interest, I could end up forcing
myself on her. Something I swore, after Selly
taught me how much fun sex could be, I
would never, ever do. So paying for it has
been safer, as well as less complicated.
“And ‘cause I’ve spent long periods of time
in a same-sex environment.”
“Oh.” She ponders that for a moment.
“That was stupid, wasn’t it? I should have
asked how many men you’ve slept with.”
I rap her ass-cheek with two fingers.
“No, you should not.”
She giggles. “Sorry, I just thought—”
“What happened to takin’ a break from
thinkin’? That is definitely too much thinkin’
outta you.”
She cuddles close. Buries her face in my
neck. “I love that you’ve only really been
with four other girls. That’s so hot.”
“Yeah?” It hasn’t felt hot. It’s felt . . . no,
no point in thinking about how it’s felt. I
don’t need to feel that way anymore.
“Uh-huh. It’s like . . . no, I’m not saying
it.”
I roll so I’m on top of her. Hear a thump
from the end of the bed and realize I’ve
forcibly evicted a rabbit or two. That’ll
teach them to sleep too near my feet. “You
don’t get to keep any secrets from me.”
“God, you’re heavy when we’re not
doing it. Get off.” She pushes at me
ineffectually.
I settle more firmly on top of her, but
slide my forearms under her shoulders so I’m
holding my chest off her. She needs to be
able to breathe to tell me what she was
thinking.
“Say it,” I coax.
“No, you can’t make me sound like a
moron more than twice in one night. I’m over
my quota.”
“Waaay over,” I drawl.
“Prick.”
“My arms’re getting tired.” I settle a little
more heavily onto her. She gasps.
“Get off!”
“Can’t. I need to hear it.” And then I
might need to fuck again. Lying on her like
this, her soft body pressed all along the
length of mine, her thighs cupping the little
monster so I can feel each beat of my heart
pulse through it, is giving me ideas.
“Okay!” she gasps. “It’s like you’ve been
waiting for me. Which I know you haven’t!
So don’t give me that blank, sheesh, Kez is a
moron but I’ll keep her around ‘cause she’s
fun in bed look.”
Not waiting, no. One in a billion is long
odds, even for me. But I’m damn pleased
with what’s found me. “Is that that look?
Huh.”
She struggles under me. “You could at
least deny it! Now get off!”
Oh, I’m going to get off all right. And so
is she. “Kezra,” I say, dropping my voice
deep and low. “You wanna know what that
look is?”
She stills as soon as I use her full name.
Perfect. All of her responses are. She really
is one in a billion.
“Yes,” she says grudgingly.
“That look is blank ‘cause I’ve spent too
much time in places where showin’ what I’m
really thinkin’ woulda gotten me killed.”
“What do you—” She licks her lips,
thinks better of what she was going to ask
and tries again. “Will you tell me what you
were thinking?”
“Yeah, if you ask nicely.”
She smiles. “Hale, what were you
thinking?”
“I’m thinking it’s like watchin’ the sun
rise for the first time.”
“I—” She lets out a breath slowly. Slides
her arms around me. “Oh.”
“That all you got to say?” ‘C
ause that
would be a first.
“No, I, uh, I just don’t want to mess it up.
Does that, um, mean what I think it means?”
She’s right. She’s going to mess it up.
“Shut up, kitten.”
She sighs, and it’s a happy, contented
sigh. Presses little kisses on my mouth and
chin; squeezes me tight. Wriggles under me
and rolls her hips so my cock is nestled
between her thighs. Oh, we’re definitely
going to fuck again. Except maybe it’s not
just fucking. Maybe it’s something more.
Sometime in the early hours, the room
grows oppressively warm and Kez reaches
out of the tangle of our bodies and the sheets
to tap a control that opens a skylight. I watch
the stars twinkle through it, framed by
darkness, until I fall back to sleep.
When I wake again, the skylight is a
bright rectangle over our heads. Golden light
and the pink clouds of Kuseros’s dawn. Kez
is lying across me, her head on my chest, her
fingertips tracing the muscles of the arm I’ve
got wrapped around her. We lie like that for
a long while, insulated against the cool
morning air by the bedding and our shared
warmth. Kez kisses my shoulder from time to
time. Neither of us speaks. We’re both held
silent by the sense that words will burst this
fragile moment like a soap bubble.
When the knock finally comes, Kez
startles. As does a lump of rabbit that’s
returned to sleep across my feet. Kez
murmurs something that sounds like, “I’ll get
it,” and rises slowly. She doesn’t drag a
sheet with her or pull on clothes. Her
bruised, scarred back is to me, and she must
be aware of it, but she’s finally lost her self-
consciousness. That makes me smile as I
watch her cross the room.
“Yeah?” She puts a hand against the
door, holding it closed.
“Kez?” Gig’s voice. “Deal brought a
package. Said he was paid double to deliver
it first thing. It’s addressed to you.”
Kez cracks the door open and Gig’s arm
emerges through the crack, proffering a
small, black box.
“I’ve scanned it,” Gig says. “It’s clean.
Small piece of mech. No signal to or from.”
“Okay. Thanks, Gig.” Kez takes the box,
closes the door and returns to sit on the edge
of the bed.
“From Tyng.” It’s not a question.
She nods. She opens the box slowly,
takes out a flat plaz rectangle and sets it on
the bed between my knees. “Threedy deck.
Same as before.” She fiddles with the side of
the little deck. “There.”
She sits back against the wall, tucks
herself against my side and pulls my arm
tight around her. I turn my head and nuzzle
her temple.
The deck buzzes, a gentle vibration I feel
up my legs. A moment later, a voice issues
out of it. “Congratulations on the success of
your first run.”
Definitely a distorter. The voice is
completely flat, almost mechanical. Could be
a man or a woman, from anywhere. But we
both know it’s Tyng.
“Thank you,” Kez says.
“Is there a reason you have turned off the
vid?” Tyng asks.
She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.
Better not add anything to the conversation,
then.
“I’m not dressed,” Kez responds without
missing a beat.
“Ah, yes. It is early and you are young.
The young are fond of sleep.” There’s a
pause, then Tyng says. “I said I would
provide the details of your second run once
the first was complete. You will collect the
package from Zhonnys at noon today. Dock
Eleven B. You will deliver it to the
Cloudlands before midnight. Your pay for
successful delivery is fifteen thousand
credits. There will be no negotiation as to
the price.”
Kez lets her head hang forward. “Plus
expenses,” she says. Immediately
negotiating. I like her style.
“What expenses do you anticipate?” the
mechanical voice asks.
She glances up at me. “Docking fees.” I
mouth ‘a hundred’ at her. “Two hundred,”
she says. I raise an eyebrow and she shrugs.
“I’ll need to pay the Mirrormen for safe
passage to the shore. That’s another five.
And I might need to rent some finboards.
That’s another hundred. Call it an even
thou.”
“Agreed.” It’s such an insignificant sum
to Tyng that he doesn’t hesitate or quibble.
“Package type?” Kez asks.
“Organic. Less than a hundred kilos.”
“A lot less than a hundred kilos or a little
less? It makes a difference,” Kez says. She
taps her fingers against the back of my hand
as she speaks. I don’t think she’s aware of
what she’s doing. She’s intent, wholly
focused on the negotiation. Of course, it’s
her ass that’s at stake.
“To hazard a guess, sixty kilos. It would
be impolite to ask. Never ask a woman her
age or weight.” Through the distorter, Tyng’s
chuckle is the grating squeak of a rusty hinge.
“Is the package a woman?” Kez asks, her
voice rising a little.
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah. I don’t transport people.”
“Why not?” Tyng asks, incurious,
although whether it’s the distorter or lack of
curiosity is hard to say.
“They can’t keep up.”
“She will. You are cut from the same
cloth, you and she.” Tyng pauses for a
moment, then he says, “In any event, you will
transport anything I wish you to. Remember
what you owe me. What your family owes
mine.”
Kez hangs her head. I stroke her shoulder
with my free hand.
“So you’re asking me to smuggle a
person into the Cloudlands?” Kez says
finally.
“A person and her equipment. Try not to
get caught, or killed. Neither will do your
brother any good.”
“Fuck,” Kez whispers.
“Was that a no, Miz Kerryon?” Tyng
asks.
I didn’t know Kez had a last name.
“That was I’ll be there at noon,” Kez
responds grimly.
We bathe and dress in silence. There are
things to say, but neither of us is in a hurry to
say them. Kez takes out work clothes and this
morning I don’t argue with her. I watch her
pull on a black neopoly vest. The tight top
molds her slender curves. With her dreads
spilling over the shiny black fabric like
seaweed, she looks like an exotic sea
creature: smooth, sleek and extremely sexy.
The little monster stirs briefly in
appre
ciation, but he’s too chapped for
anything but a faint roar.
Kez takes my hand to lead me to
breakfast. I stop her before we reach the
bedroom door. Trace her soft pink mouth
with a fingertip before I kiss her. Grimace a
little at her morning breath.
She notices it, too. “Why don’t you ever
have bad breath?”
“Implants in my teeth.” Cheaper for the
military to bond the teeth of new recruits than
ship out a dentist with every company. My
teeth don’t decay, and the fact that they’re
reinforced is why I still have all of them.
“Last night—”
“Was the most amazing night of my life,”
she says earnestly.
I kiss her again despite her tiger breath.
“Yeah. We didn’t talk ‘bout the run.”
She grins. “Because we were busy doing
other things.”
Lippy kitten. I stroke her mouth with my
thumb. “What I’m tryin’ to tell you is,
whether or not you need my ship, I’m comin’
with you.” I’m not letting her out of my sight
again. Not until Tyng’s dead.
She smiles against my thumb. “I was
going to ask you to.”
“Now you don’t need to. But you do gotta
tell me the play.”
“Oh, right. I usually go over the day’s
runs with Gig after breakfast. Is that okay?”
I nod. I can wait. I want to hear her plans
before I formulate my own. Hers will likely
end with the run. Mine won’t.
Kez leads me into the kitchen, where Gig
and Chiara have already started breakfast.
Gig looks at Kez anxiously as we approach.
She smiles at him. His eyes flick to me,
seeking reassurance. Following Kez’s lead, I
nod at him as I pass.
There’s no sign of Ape, or the beautiful
girl, as we make breakfast. Kez, Gig and
Chiara whip up scrambled pagia eggs,
sausages, and roasted tomallos in less than
ten minutes. They move around each other in
the U-shaped kitchen with almost military
efficiency. Gig and Chiara banter lightly as
they cook; Kez doesn’t say much and I can
tell she’s thinking. Turning over what Tyng
has said. Maybe letting fear chew at her.
Other than touching Kez a few times to
reassure her, I stay out of the way, squeezing
the juice of the local dark pink citrus fruit
into a jug. Chiara takes the jug from me when
it’s full. She winks and says, “Strong hands,”
before handing me a towel so I can wipe off
the pulp.
I debate for a second. I could flex a
couple of muscles, show her how strong I
am, but Kez seems to have serious jealousy
