by Beva John
For a long moment we stare at each other – his hand still cupping my breast – his dark eyes gazing into mine.
His breath is labored as well as mine, but then he draws his hand back, breaking our contact. “Forgive me.”
I know my face is flushed.
“I think it is best if I leave now.”
He stands and is that his cock bulging in his pants?
Then without another word, he leaves, and I am left with a confusing swirl of emotions. My mind is in turmoil. I know sexual feelings mean little to the Brune. The Prince himself said it was no more significant than cleaning his teeth.
And yet, with his hand on my breast, for that moment in time, it felt significant.
How could such a tender moment move to what should not be and what cannot be? Definitely, I am troubled.
I should not fantasize about the Prince, although I have been.
In the mornings, as I prepare for the day, as I press the various assistors to my clitoris, I often imagine him, holding the wand, whispering in my ear.
Aided by my data screen, I have done more research on how to use the assistors and in that process, I have seen some viewings – porn, actually – of Brune males having sex with human females.
And sometimes, as I bring myself to climax with an assistor, I imagine the Prince lying on top of me, his muscular body between my legs, his thick beautiful cock entering me.
This is wrong.
I know it is wrong, but I am obsessed by him.
I think I am falling in love.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LOTTIE
“You are the luckiest girl in five galaxies,” Dorothy says as we both lie back on comfortable chairs in one of the palace gardens. “I feel like I’m on a movie set.” The temperature is comfortably warm, and the scent of flowers similar to roses wafts through the air. Dorothy is wearing a white tunic like me, but she has tucked it into her pants and accentuated her trim waist with a red scarf. Her short curly hair is what she calls Platinum Blonde.
I smile and motion for one of the servants to bring us refreshments – a bread with tasty paste and tea in the small bowls.
Over the past few months, Dorothy and I have often spoken through viewings on our data screens, but today she is at the palace. She has given birth and is planning to move to a different province, which is why I invited her for a visit.
It is wonderful to see her in person. I ask her about the actual birth – which she says was a piece of cake – and about giving the baby away – which was bittersweet. As Dorothy said, “I was happy for them, but I miss the little guy, you know?”
The parents of Dorothy’s baby didn’t want to hire her as a Nanny, so now Dorothy is going to work at a school several hundred miles away. Dorothy says, “I don’t think I can do the ‘surrogate thing’ again. The next time I carry a baby, it’s going to be my own.”
I place a hand on my stomach. The baby is moving more these days and the doctor says I am more than halfway through the pregnancy.
Dorothy asks me about Prince Magnar, and I tell her that I don’t see him very often – which is true – but I don’t tell her about our last meeting with his hands on my belly and breast and how I foolishly wanted more.
Part of me is dreading becoming this baby’s Nanny. Am I just setting myself up for years of heartache?
As we sit on our lounge chairs, Dorothy notices Christopher who is riding a vehicle that trims the beautiful green lawn.
“Who is that? Hubba Hubba.”
I have never heard that phrase before, but it is obvious she finds him attractive. “His name is Christopher. Would you like to meet him?”
“Sure. He’s a twin for Rock Hudson. All he needs is a plaid shirt.”
“Was Rock Hudson a lumberjack?”
“No, just one of the sexiest actors ever. You must see the movie All That Heaven Allows. He’s gorgeous.”
Over the past few months, Dorothy has recommended several movies and I have watched them on my data screen. I have enjoyed them – not only for the melodramatic love stories abut also as historic glimpses into Earth’s past.
I wave to Christopher and he joins us for a moment. I introduce him to Dorothy, and he says that it is always nice to talk to Humans. He is handsome, I think, but not as handsome as Prince Magnar.
He asks where Dorothy is from and how long she’ll be in the Capital City, but after a few minutes, he excuses himself to return to his work.
Dorothy whistles as he walks away. “That is one fine ass.”
“Shh. Do you want him to hear you?”
“I wish.” She sighs dramatically.
“Do you want me to get his data address?”
“No. There’s no point.”
“Because you are moving away?”
“No, because he was only polite to me. You are the one he is interested in.”
“You are joking.”
“No, it was obvious. His face lit up when you called to him and he has no interest in me at all.”
I don’t believe her. “How could he be interested in me when I’m so large?”
She shrugs. “Some men have a thing for pregnant women. But think about it – he knows you’re not going to keep the baby. And he knows what you looked like before. You should go out with him.”
I tell her that he asked me out before, but that I had turned him down. “He has always been kind to me, though. He has shown me several nests in the palace gardens.”
“You and your birds,” Dorothy teases. “What about the birds and the bees?”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“The birds and the bees – sex.”
“Oh.” I blush.
“I think you should give him another chance.”
“I don’t have time for that.”
She looks at me sharply and I know she is frustrated with me. She says, “You will have less time when you become a Nanny. Right now, all you do is sit around, letting that baby grow.”
She is right. I glance back at Christopher who is riding the trimming machine again. If I spend time with him will I forget my infatuation for the Crown Prince?
Dorothy senses my indecision and says, “You’re not getting any younger, Lottie. Do you want to be an old maid?”
MAGNAR
I am furious when I learn that Lottie is spending time with one of the palace gardeners.
I can’t stop her, because she is in my employ – not my slave. Not my property, unfortunately.
Surrogates are allowed to have sex with others – unless there are medical concerns regarding the health of the baby.
If Lottie wished, she could even marry this human.
The palace security guards provided me a surveillance viewing that I watch multiple times. In it, I see the gardener walking with Lottie. He holds her hand – damn him to hell – and he tries to kiss her.
Lottie turns her head so his kiss lands on her cheek rather than her mouth and they talk for a few more minutes. The recording is inconsistent, and I cannot tell what they are saying.
But Lottie smiles at him and I am consumed with jealousy.
Is this pale scrawny human what she wants?
I contact Serat the head of our Military Civil Intelligence and request a complete background report on the human male. When I read the report there is little information. Christopher Wilson immigrated to Allathone eight years earlier. He has been working at the palace for six years.
Politically, Wilson is more liberal than conservative. He saves his salary and regularly meets with other human males to play a sport called football.
I want to dismiss him. I want to banish him from the planet and send him back to Little Earth where he belongs.
“Keep a close watch on him,” I tell Serat. We speak via our data screens.
“Yes, sir.” Serat is deferential as always, but I know he is a spy, a keeper of secrets. He is old and his white hair is natural – not bleached like Jing. In many ways, he has replaced my fathe
r as my mentor.
I talk to Lottie’s bodyguard Urit and learn that Lottie is planning to go out with the gardener again. “Stay close to her.”
“Yes, sir.”
LOTTIE
On our second date, Christopher takes me to a small Human café where we drink coffee and eat sandwiches. I don’t recognize the music playing in the background, but the food is familiar. My bodyguard Urit sits at a booth across the room from us.
Christopher asks me about my bird studies and what Old Earth was like in my day. He tells me more about Little Earth and his childhood. He has three sisters who are doing well with high powered jobs. “I’m the adventurous one,” he tells me.
He watches me, smiling, as we sit across from each other at a little table, and I know that I cannot continue to spend time with him. He likes me much more than I like him.
On our first date, he tried to kiss me, and I turned my head. I made a joke about being an old-fashioned girl, and he said he was in no rush. “We can take it slow.”
I appreciate his consideration, but I know that if we continue to date, eventually he will want to have sex with me.
And I am not ready for that.
I know the Brunes consider sex to be merely biological, but for me, there needs to be an emotional commitment.
And as much as I enjoy Christopher’s company, he is a friend to me, nothing more.
Suddenly, there is a loud noise and a group of armed Katoll enter the café. Urit is shot and so is Christopher, who falls face first onto the table, the back of his head a bloody mess.
People are screaming.
I am grabbed and pulled to my feet.
I struggle, but I am quickly overpowered. Someone puts a hood over my head, and I am dragged out of the building.
I hear doors being opened.
I am carried into to a vehicle that later levitates.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand.
“Shut up, bitch,” is the response. “All we care about is the brat. You don’t need a tongue for that.” I feel the edge of a knife against my throat.
Some of them laugh.
Dear God. Silently, I pray to God or Goddess, whoever is in charge, that I and the sweet baby within me will be safe.
I lie still, waiting, and then someone presses a needle into my upper arm and suddenly everything goes dark.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MAGNAR
“How could this have happened?” I demand. I have been concerned about Lottie all morning and now I learn that she has been abducted and is held for ransom.
Serat bows his head. “I am sorry, sir. We had no reason to believe that more than three bodyguards were needed to protect the baby.”
At that moment, I am more concerned about Lottie. “Where is she?”
“We have tracked her medical bracelet and our last reading shows that she is currently being held in a neighboring province. Hopefully, she will remain on Allathone and not be taken to another planet.”
“Who has taken her?”
“A splinter terrorist group, holding her for ransom.”
“What are they asking?”
“A million dits.”
“Pay it.”
Serat says, “Your Highness, we have a policy of not negotiating with or paying terrorists.”
“Pay it. Ensure her safety and then kill them all.”
Serat nods. “Yes, sir. We will take care of it.”
“And keep this out of the news.”
“Yes, sir.”
LOTTIE
I am shuttled back and forth between several locations. I am kept blindfolded or in dark rooms. I am fed water and some kind of dried meat bar. I do not see who my abductors are, but sometimes I can hear them talking, joking about making money from Prince Magnar.
It is clear that they hate the monarchy.
I don’t talk because I don’t want to anger my abductors.
When they tell me to stand, I stand. When they tell me to lie down, I lie down.
Someone removes my data screen and my medical bracelet, which makes me feel lost and alone. I have no way to communicate with any of my friends or the prince.
When my hands are free, I place them protectively over my round stomach and I wonder if I am to blame.
Is this all my fault for leaving the palace?
I think of Christopher, obviously dead now, and as for my bodyguard Urit – I don’t know if he lived.
I knew from Prince Magnar that not everyone approved of the royal family, but I never expected evil like this.
I was foolish.
I was lulled into a sense of security by the beauty and wealth of Allathone. I was like a princess in a castle in a fairy tale, happily studying birds, thinking that I was safe.
But no one is ever completely safe.
I know from my day that although most humans were good, there is always a portion of society that were not. It is not just men. Men and women both can be selfish, immoral, or violent.
And it is the same for Brune, Katoll and Namvire.
No society is completely civilized.
Chaos and order.
Good and evil.
They will always exist.
So what can I do?
My room is locked and even if I could break down the door, I would be quickly overpowered.
I wait.
MAGNAR
Waiting to hear about Lottie is killing me. An ominous feeling of dread fills my mind. I pace back and forth in my office, checking my data screen every minute for updates.
I have never felt so frustrated by my inability to do things. Allathone has the best military in the five galaxies. I must trust that they will track Lottie’s abductors down and rescue her.
But if they do not?
After a few hours, I have more data from Serat on the exchange of the ransom payment and the return of Lottie.
Korak, First Commander of Allathone’s army speaks to me briefly via my data screen, outlining the various strategies that will be implemented, depending on the actions of terrorists. He is only a few years older than me, but has proven himself to be an excellent warrior, an excellent tactician. “We will do all that we can to protect your heir and the surrogate.”
“Thank you.”
“It is an honor, sir,” he says simply. “And once the heir is safe, we will eradicate the threat to the monarchy.”
I must trust his expertise. “So be it.”
Over the next day, I receive updates, but since the entire situation is kept secret from everyone in the palace except for the Queen, there are still social events where I am expected to attend. Lady Jing reaches out to me, irritated that I late to a luncheon with representatives of one of her charities – an organization that improves drinking water in our various colonies.
I hastily change into formal attire and attend the event.
My mother is there, smiling and talking to different people as if nothing is wrong. When I approach her, she offers me her cheek for a kiss. “Magnar, so good to see you,” she murmurs. When I lean closer, she adds in a whisper, “You look like death. You are taking this situation much too seriously. If something goes amiss, you can obtain a new surrogate.”
I am astounded, but I should not be. My mother has never met Lottie. She does not realize what a marvelous person she is. To my mother, Lottie is just a womb and easily replaceable.
I look around the room at the other guests – most of them Brune with a few Namvire and Katolls. They are all wealthy, well-intentioned travelers, wanting to do good in the universe, or in Jing’s case, wanting to be popular.
Goddess – I cannot mingle and pretend that the most important person in my life is not in danger.
Fortunately, I am notified of a message from Serat, and I excuse myself to watch the viewing in private.
My mother’s lips tighten – she is not pleased – but she nods, knowing that I will leave regardless of her wishes.
Once I am alone, I watch the message from Se
rat.
Lottie is back in our custody, but there are complications.
“What is it?”
“She is bleeding, sir.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LOTTIE
I am returned to the Brune soldiers, tied to a chair with a hood over my head. When the hood is finally removed and my arms are untied, I start to cry. I don’t think I have ever been so relieved to see a room full of armed soldiers in my life.
We are in a cavernous area surrounded by what I assume are spaceships. “Are you all right, ma’am?” one of the soldiers asks.
“I am fine, thank you.”
“They did not harm you?”
No more than a few bruises. I know it could have been much worse. “I am fine,” I say again.
There is commotion around me, and two new soldiers quickly escort me to another vehicle.
A medical doctor places a new medical bracelet on my right wrist, and I can tell from the expression on her face, some of the information she is receiving is not good. “How is the baby?” she asks. “Have you had any unusual aches or pains?”
“Not that I noticed. I’ve been worried, but the baby seems to have slept through all the excitement – particularly today.” I place a hand on my stomach, wishing that the baby would at least roll over or turn so I could feel her inside me.
The doctor says, “We will go to the hospital first to make certain everything is all right.”
In the next two hours, I am flown to a hospital near the palace. The walls are a light, cool blue. Everything is clean and calm. I am given medication that makes me sleepy and I feel as if my abduction was no more than a bad dream.
A nightmare.
I am washed, clothed in new clothes and placed on a large bed for observation. I am surrounded by doctors, who poke me and scan me with their various devices.
I feel some liquid between my legs, and I say, “What is that? Is there a problem?”
No one wants to answer me.
I grab the hand of one of the medical aids beside me. “What is it? What is happening?”
“Possible miscarriage,” the aid says and my heart sinks.
