Half Share

by Nathan Lowell

  “And you didn’t want it?”

  “Of course, I want it. I’m as healthy as anybody. I just didn’t want it with her.”

  “Well, then why me?”

  “Because you were the sexiest woman in the room and just watching you was driving me crazy.”

  “And because you figured if you could get me, you’d prove to Brill and the others that you didn’t need their help.”

  I shrugged. “Well, perhaps as a side benefit, but that wasn’t the main reason. I’ve been looking forward to tonight, to the possibilities, ever since the other day in Chez Henri. I really didn’t think I would wind up with you on my arm like this. I was prepared for you to cut me off at the knees.”

  “Well, then why?”

  We stopped and I turned to her. “I’ve been cut off at the knees before. It’s not that bad. And there was the possibility of something magical happening.” I took her face gently in my hands and moved close to hers, feeling her breath on my skin. I smiled but did not kiss her. Instead, I turned back and tucked her arm back under mine and started walking.

  “You bastard!” she said with a shaky laugh.

  “So? I found you fascinating, sexy, powerful, and beautiful—not necessarily in that order, and I thought I’d like to leave the bar with you at the end of the night. Is that so bad?”

  “Thought? Past tense?”

  “Semantic trap. I thought that then because it is in the past. That has nothing to do with the way I feel about you right now.”

  “And how do you feel about me?”

  “You are a fascinating, sexy, powerful, beautiful woman, and I’m enjoying every instant I’m with you. Now it’s your turn to be on the hot seat. How do you feel about me? Why did you let a common engineman dance with you?”

  “Oh, that’s easy…because you asked, and very nicely, I might add. And you should probably know that you are not a common engineman.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because a common engineman wouldn’t go to a bar wearing Henri Roubaille.”

  “Okay, you got me there. But why cradle robbing? You got a thing for young stuff?”

  “Truthfully, I was just dancing until we sat to talk. I had no intention of leaving so early with anybody when we sat down.”

  “What happened?”

  “We didn’t talk.”

  “I remember.”

  “I don’t know the last time somebody just sat with me without trying to impress me, get into my pants, or kiss up for one reason or another.”

  “Well, for the record, I was trying to get into your pants,” I said with a grin. “I was just waiting for an invitation.”

  She laughed again, and I found that I liked her laugh a lot. “Damn, you are good.”

  “I interrupted, please continue.”

  “Anyway, it was refreshing, so when we did start talking, and you still weren’t trying to impress me, it had the opposite effect. The more you weren’t trying, the more impressed I was. I’m still in awe over Roubaille and then to learn that you’ve talked to Bresheu as well. And you’ve impressed Brill beyond anything I’ve ever seen—and Al! My god, you impressed Al! I don’t know what’s more astonishing—Al or Roubaille.”

  “Well, I should probably not be telling you this, but she was my fallback.”

  “What?”

  “Next to you, she was the most fascinating woman in the place. And she said she’d take out some of the sharper bits of steel.”

  “She didn’t!”

  “Have I lied to you yet?” I asked.

  “Not that I’ve been able to tell,” she said warily. “You would have gone?”

  “Are you kidding? If you’d turned me down? She’s a fascinating woman!”

  “I think you’re pulling my leg, but anyway, after that I wanted to leave with you quickly before anybody else got their claws in you. Once word gets out that you were at Chez Henri, they’ll be knocking down your door.”

  “They’ll have to get through Brill, Diane, and Beverly first, I think.”

  “And that was the most impressive of all. Seeing Brill look at you like that. She’s not an easy person to get close to.”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  We walked along quietly arm in arm for a few ticks. It was quite pleasant.

  “Was?” she asked at last.

  “Excuse me? Was what?”

  “You said, ‘I was trying to get into your pants’ before. You’re not now?”

  I considered this for a moment. “In the first place, that’s another semantic trap. It’s past tense because it denotes action that occurred in the past.”

  I stopped and turned to her again. “In the second place,” I said, bringing my face close to hers and again teasing her with my breath and inhaling the delightful smell of her. “I think we’ve already established that. At the moment we’re only negotiating time and place.”

  I started to pull back again, but she caught my head and pulled me to her. “Not this time, you bastard.” Then she kissed me. Hard. Teeth were involved. Hers and mine. There were some other things that involved her sliding her arms up under my coat and holding onto me very tightly with those arms. I’m pretty sure, a leg was involved as well. It took a tick for my vision to come back afterward.

  “Well,” I said a bit breathlessly. “I think negotiations are almost over. You seem to have made a decision.”

  She grinned at me. It was a hungry grin. “Oh, yes. Some time ago. Have you?”

  “Here?” I asked indicating the corridor.

  “No,” she said emphatically. “I’m not in a mood to share you. At least not tonight,” she added with a very naughty smile.

  She took my arm and we walked a few meters to a small hotel where she had a room.

  “Planning ahead?” I asked mischievously.

  “Why, yes. I just didn’t know for what.”

  She keyed the room open and held the door for me. I stepped into what seemed like a large room after all those months in a berthing area. It was a typical hotel single with bed, bath, holo unit, and communicator. She followed me in, closed the door, and set the privacy latch. I felt her hands run up my back and across my shoulders. “May I take your coat?” she asked coyly.

  “But of course,” I told her and flexed my shoulders back so she could slip it off me.

  She held it and stroked her fingers across it. “This is amazing,” she said, and pulled a hanger from the closet. She turned her back to me and hung it carefully, kicking off her shoes in the process. “Much better. My feet were beginning to get sore.” She was putting on a little show for me and I was enjoying it. She arched her back and reached for the zipper at the rear of her slacks, pulling it down slowly. The widening V showed more and more of the delicious flesh of her back and then the lacy waistband on a pair of black briefs. She finished with the zipper and allowed the slacks to slide down her legs. Stepping out of them delicately, she bent down, picked them carefully up, and straightened them before hanging them as well. She crossed her arms in front, caught the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head. She shook it once and gave it a hanger of its own. She was, of course, wearing no bra and I could barely wait to run my fingers across the smooth expanse of her back. She stood there for a moment, back to me. Knowing I was watching—wanting me to watch.

  “You know,” she said turning her head in my direction to speak over her shoulder, “I am the second mate on the Duchamp.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed.” A little huskiness crept into her voice.

  “That’s as it should be,” I agreed.

  She turned then and started walking very slowly toward me. I was pinned by her flashing eyes and could not even look down to admire her magnificent body. “So, how about it, spacer? Can you obey orders?”

  Obey orders? I was not even sure I could breathe! “I’ll do my best, sar.”

  “You’ll do exactly as I say,” she said moving slowly, slowly cl
oser. “And execute my orders with speed and enthusiasm. Do you understand?” she asked with a special emphasis enthusiasm.

  “I can be very enthusiastic, sar,” I managed to choke out.

  She had reached me then and started unbuttoning my shirt. Slowly. She looked at my face and mouth, licking her lips before unbuttoning the next button.

  “I can be very demanding, spacer,” she warned me in a low growl.

  She unbuttoned another button.

  “That doesn’t surprise me one bit, sar.”

  She slipped the shirt off my shoulders, binding my arms loosely in the fabric before going to work on the belt buckle and buttons below.

  “Why, I do declare,” she purred after a few moments. “You do seem to be up to the task.”

  I did my best to follow her very explicit orders for the next few stans. And to perform them with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, which I had liked to believe was a great deal.

  Chapter 21

  DUNSANY ROADS ORBITAL

  2352-APRIL-18

  The sound of a shower running woke me and I glanced at the bedside chrono. 05:30. Diane would be getting ready to relieve Francis about now. She was probably in the shower, too, and the thought brought a little pang. The sheets were a crumpled mass and stuck to me in several places. I stretched languidly. My arm slid across the warm spot where Alicia had been. I did not want to move, and I was not terribly sure I could.

  She came out rubbing a towel across her hair and otherwise naked and proudly unselfconscious. That was a good sign, I thought. She smiled when she saw me. “You look pretty pleased with yourself this morning,” she teased.

  “Well, not to brag, but you look pretty pleased yourself,” I teased back.

  She grinned a little satisfied grin and made a hmm sound in her throat as if considering it. “Yes,” she said finally, “I am.” Then she giggled, not at all girlishly.

  “You have the duty?” I asked suddenly aware of the time, place, and circumstance.

  She shook her head. “Not until tonight, but I’ve got an officers’ briefing at 09:30 I need to back aboard for. What about you?”

  “My off-day. Clear until 18:00.”

  She finished toweling off and draped the wet towel on a chair. She stretched as unselfconsciously as a cat, arching her back and rolling her shoulders. I could see her eyes catch sight of my jacket hanging in the open closet. She padded over to it and stroked the corduroy as if patting some animal. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and asked, “May I?”

  I propped myself up on my elbows. “Sure,” I said, amused by her fetish for Roubaille.

  She slipped it off its hanger and slid it around her naked torso. I was surprised to see that it was a bit large on her. She had seemed, somehow, bigger. She pulled it tightly around her and I felt myself wishing I were that jacket, so she had wrap me around her naked body like that. Then I remembered that she had—just a couple of stans before.

  “What are you grinning at?” she asked.

  “What are you grinning at?” I returned.

  “This coat feels amazing against my skin.”

  “You’ll pardon my saying so, but it looks amazing against your skin,” I told her.

  “Oh?” she purred. “You like this look?”

  “Um,” I said with a considering tone. “I don’t know. Could you walk over there and back for me once, just so I can get the full effect?”

  She giggled in the back of her throat and sashayed across the room. The coat was not long enough, even on her, to cover completely. The glimpses as she walked away were as stimulating as when she started back. I was absorbed in the view.

  “It seems as though you do like the look,” she said. She let the coat fall open as she walked. She did not stop at the edge of the bed but crawled on her hands and knees until she was right on top of me—hands planted in the pillows on either side of my head and knees straddling my hips. She lowered her torso until her breasts just touched my skin and her lips were less than a centimeter from mine. “Yes,” she breathed, with an experimental rolling of her hips. “You do like this look. I can tell.”

  “Yes,” I gasped as she lowered herself onto me. “I think it’s a very good look for you.”

  ***

  Sometime later, I said, “I think you’re going to need another shower now.”

  She giggled into the side of my neck. “I was just thinking that you’re going to have to have the coat cleaned,” she said breathlessly. “What have you got in the pocket?” she asked sitting up on me.

  “My tablet?” I asked.

  “No, this pocket.”

  “Do you know what a whelkie is?” I asked.

  “Yeah, some kind of a St. Cloud spirit guide. The shaman on the south coast carve them. You have a whelkie?”

  “It was a gift.”

  “Somebody gave you a whelkie?”

  “Yup.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Help yourself.”

  She reached into the pocket and slid out the dolphin. “Oh,” she said.

  “Stop squirming,” I said, “or you’re going to have to go around again.”

  She ground her hips into me with a fierce look, “Quiet, you! I’m admiring. This is spectacular. I’ve seen a couple, but nothing like this.” She ran a finger tip along the dorsal fin and impulsively kissed it before putting it back in the pocket. “You’re just full of surprises, Ishmael Wang.” She caught sight of the time. “But we have to get moving. I want some breakfast before I have to put my Second Mate cap back on.”

  “I hope you’re going to put on a shipsuit, too.”

  She laughed and lifted herself off me with a small sigh. Well, at least one of us gave a small sigh. I am not really sure which one of us it was. She clambered off the bed and stripped my coat from her shoulders, laying it across the covers. “You,” she said pointing at me as I watched the light slip over her naked skin. “Stop admiring me and call for breakfast—coffee, eggs, sausage, and potatoes—enough for three people. Order something for yourself, as well.” She turned and strode back to the head and I could not bear not to watch her go.

  “Now, spacer!” she yelled from the other room.

  I laughed and got on the comm.

  ***

  Around 08:00 we stepped off the lift on the dock level. She had checked out of the room and had a duffel over her shoulder. “Work this afternoon, duty tonight, underway tomorrow,” she shrugged helplessly.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “Just thanks. See ya round the docks, maybe.”

  She growled, wrapped a fist in my shirt, and backed me up against the bulkhead. When she let me go, I felt thoroughly kissed. Several of the passersby seemed to think so, judging from their stares. I hoped she did, too. We did not say goodbye. She waved and headed to the Duchamp’s lock. I could not watch so I headed to starboard and back to the Lois.

  The docks were really chilly and I tightened my coat around me. I could smell her on it. I wondered if I could get it cleaned—not physically but whether I could voluntarily give up that scent. “You’re being stupid,” I told myself. I agreed with me, but sometimes being right does not help one bit.

  I keyed my way into the lock and signed aboard. Sandy Belterson had the duty. “Welcome home, Ish.”

  “Thanks, Sandy. Anything shaking?”

  “Well, you’re the talk of the ship. Again.”

  “Which part?” I asked.

  “Where should I begin?”

  “Great gods! How bad is it?”

  “No, no,” she said with a smile. “It’s all good.”

  “Okay, just the highlights?”

  “Chez Henri?”

  “Old news. Days ago.”

  “You trashed Murdock?”

  “Well, not trashed. I just didn’t find her that interesting.”

  “Brill spewed beer—twice?”

  “Just once. First time was a near miss.”

  “You danced wi
th Alvarez?”

  “True.”

  “The last time anybody saw you, Alvarez was dragging you out of Jump!”

  “False.”

  “False?”

  “I went willingly.”

  “Al offered to take you home?”

  “You do have good sources!”

  She looked at me sympathetically. “It’s hard, though, isn’t it?” she said softly.

  I shrugged. “Yeah. It’s just one of the things you need to get used to if you’re gonna be a spacer, eh?”

  “Pretty much,” she said a bit wistfully.

  “Well, I better get on with being a spacer then, I suppose. I need to get some stuff from my locker and head up to the flea market. Who’s up there today?”

  “I think it’s Rhon’s day to manage.”

  “Thanks, Sandy.”

  “You done good, Ish. Tough as it is,” she told me.

  Down in the berthing area, I pulled out the small bag of whelkies, intending to take them to the flea. I took the bag around to my bunk and started going through them, trying to remember what I had picked out. I opened the first one. It was a wolf in a pre-pounce pose, knees bent, head up with a kind of playful/predatory smile, haunches gathered. I wrapped it back up and tied the string carefully around it.

  The second was a fox, sitting upright with ears up and tail wrapped around its paws in front. I re-wrapped that one as well.

  The third was a peregrine falcon. It was in flight, wings swept back, talons ready, head and neck fully extended, eyes focused ahead—fiercely sleek and beautiful. The deep purple heart seemed to pulse in the berthing overheads. I re-wrapped it carefully, tying the red string snugly around the bit of cloth. I put the wolf and fox back in the bag and stowed it back in my locker. I slipped the falcon in my jacket and headed off the ship. I went to the Duchamp’s lock and rang the delivery buzzer. One of the ratings came out, and said, “Can I help you?”