“You want this?” he murmured into the nape of her neck.
In response she just pressed back more causing him to groan. He hugged her tightly then pulled away much to her confusion. She remained still not sure what she had done wrong when she heard the crinkling of a packet. Her stomach leapt twisting with delight and impatience. His arms wrapped around her pulling her towards him her back pressing against his chest. A knee nudged her legs apart to be replaced by his cock. He began to roll her over onto her stomach at the same time he gently nudged into her pausing until she wriggled back letting her set the initial pace.
Pushing back she pushed him deeper into her enjoying how good having him in her felt. Wrapping his arms tightly around her he began to move pushing himself deeper then moving out before quickly getting into a rhythm that sent shivers through her. Moaning deeply she pressed herself against Robert, pushing back as much as she could, enjoying the feel of Robert’s weight pressing down on her, his moans filling her ears.
The rhythm increased and with a cry of release Rachel felt his cock throb and pulse deep inside her. Neither of them moved for a moment but when they did there was a tinge of embarrassed awkwardness.
Robert looked at her as she pulled on her dress again trying to pull closed the bodice section but somehow managed to fail each time. Her body felt worn out and all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep. As if unsure what to do he retrieved his camera and clutched it tightly.
“I...won’t be using those shots then. Not unless you want to do a somewhat X-rated calendar.” He coughed and shifted his weight nervously.
Rachel looked at him and laughed shaking her head.
“Now I don’t think that would be a good idea somehow,” she paused and looked at him wondering where they would go from here. Robert gazed at her and smiled faintly.
“Well that settles it; we need to get together for another photo-shoot the sooner the better if you want to get the calendar done. Maybe we should book a full day in case further distractions occur.”
Rachel’s stomach tightened and fluttered nodding; smiling brightly at Robert wondering what Becky would say when she told her.
“It’s a date then.” Was all she could manage to say.
The End
Her First Taste
Tamsin Flowers
By 3013, human beings have colonised space, with outposts on a myriad of earth-like planets in our own galaxy and beyond. Minerals and precious metals have become common place now that man can plunder the universe - but one substance remains rare and valued. Chocolate is the new gold and cocoa beans the currency of choice for trading across the solar systems. So valuable is the rich brown substance that few people alive in the 30th century have ever tasted it - it would be, quite simply, the equivalent of eating diamonds. But for those who have, the taste is addictive...
Colonel Coco Murgatroyd straightened up the brass-buttoned tunic of her Command Fleet uniform and tucked an unruly chestnut curl back under her peaked cap. It was time to put in her first appearance on the bridge of her new ship, the Silver Dollar. Although she could leave the flying to First Officer Chilli Matthews, as the new commander at the outset of an important mission, she needed to make sure that everyone on board knew who was giving the orders.
With a wave of her hand through the air she slid open her cabin door and closed it just as easily behind her, locking it with a carefully aimed thought wave. The curved corridor was empty in both directions as she turned left towards the bridge but round the next corner she heard the clunking footsteps of a Galpurnian crew member coming towards her. Galpurnians were the only aliens allowed on Command Fleet ships and were used mainly as engineers and flight technicians due to their mathematical genius and ability to withstand much higher temperatures than humans.
Coco tried to close off her train of thoughts as the heaving maroon creature lumbered into view, but she couldn’t help but pick up his mind waves as they passed.
‘...so fucking hot... to touch that arse... and she’s commanding a ship before she’s twenty-three...’
‘Keep your thoughts to yourself, steam boy,’ she snapped after him, even as she felt a flutter of heat rising in the part of her anatomy he’d referred to. And she hardly needed reminding that she was the youngest colonel in Fleet Command.
‘Sorry, Colonel.’
That was the trouble with having Galpurnians on board, their high fucking sex drives. And even though inter-species relationships were frowned upon by Fleet Command, widespread screwing around was one of the inevitable consequences of mixing humans and aliens on the ships. Coco had always favoured a softly-softly approach, turning a blind eye to on-board relationships if they didn’t cause any trouble, but as commander of the Silver Dollar she had to be above reproach.
Fanning her cheeks with her hands to reduce the flush of heat, she took the express lift up to the bridge. Mission Control would initiate countdown in less than fifteen minutes on the most important mission of her career so far: the Silver Dollar and seven other Fleet Command ships would be leaving the Earth Orbit Station for the Outlying Galaxies. Six of them were decoys but one - and even the ships’ commanders didn’t know which one - was carrying a huge consignment of cocoa beans, almost a hundred tons, destined for the Outer Galaxy Banking System.
The lift door swished open and Coco stepped out onto the bridge, her bridge, where her word was law. Once they had disengaged from the Orbit Station, she set rules and was chief arbiter for the crew of more than a thousand humans and Galpurnians that manned the Silver Dollar. And as steam boy in the corridor had so succinctly pointed out, she wasn’t even twenty-three.
‘Colonel, good to see you on the bridge.’
‘First Officer.’
She acknowledged Chilli with a nod. They had to keep things formal up on the bridge, though if they’d been down in her private quarters, Coco would have greeted him with a fond hug and a kiss. Chilli Matthews had entered Fleet Command training on the very same day as she had, ten years ago, and had been her right hand man ever since. They’d bonded over fajitas and illicit margaritas on the first evening, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Chilli was as gay as the day was long, she’d often speculated that they might have been married by now.
The rest of the bridge personnel saluted in order as Coco took her place on the sumptuous white leather captain’s chair that was the focal point of the bridge.
‘Everything in order, First?’
‘All ready for take-off,’ said Chilli.
She grinned at him, unable to suppress her excitement any longer. It was what they’d always dreamt of, flying one of Command Fleet’s biggest ships across the galaxies together. Chilli grinned back, his dark eyes sparkling in his beautiful, boyish face as his cowlick of jet black hair bobbed with laughter.
Mission Control counted them down and then with a gentle lurch they undocked from the Orbit Station.
‘As soon as we reach the boundary markers, throw her into warp drive,’ said Coco. ‘Our destination is Trajan Minor in the Serpent Galaxy.’
A flurry of excitement rippled round the bridge personnel. The Serpent Galaxy was at the furthest reaches of the Galactic Human Alliance’s territory, a space frontier frequented by bean pirates and Galpurnian slave ships. Coco had never been as far from the Central Galaxy and, to hazard a guess, neither would any of her thousand-strong crew.
‘We’ll reach the Earth boundary in approximately three hours from now,’ said Chilli.
‘And once we’re in warp drive?’
‘We’ll be approaching the Serpent Galaxy four hours after that.’
‘Good. Then I’ll leave the ship in your capable hands, Matthews. I’ll be in my office.’
With a wink for her wingman, Colonel Murgatroyd left the bridge and made her way down to her office. She had a conference call scheduled with the other commande
rs on the mission as soon as they went into warp drive; although they were not travelling in a convey, they were under orders to keep open communication channels and go to each other’s aid if bean pirates attacked. It wasn’t something that Coco was particularly worried about. As the least experienced of the ships’ commanders, it was a cert that her role was only to act as decoy and the professional pirates would have worked that out too. But if the closest ship to the Silver Dollar came under attack, she and Chilli might see their first action in command.
Closing the door behind her, Coco pulled off the heavy uniform tunic with a sigh of relief. After a week of frenetic mission preparation, she needed a rest. She climbed into the tiny office sleep pod, set the alarm to wake her once they hit warp drive and pulled a satin eye mask over her eyes. Sleep gas flooded the pod and carried her away.
Three hours later, fully refreshed, Coco emerged, tossing the eye mask back into the pod behind her as she shook out her chestnut curls.
‘Computer on,’ she instructed and the glass screen that took up a whole wall of the room flickered to life. The wallpaper was a shot taken in her grandmother’s back garden, a sea of hollyhocks, lupins and marigolds that always lightened her mood. She filled a mug with coffee from the dispenser on the wall and dropped into her chair.
‘Incoming call: bridge,’ said the computer.
Damn Chilli! He knew she was about to join the commanders conference call.
‘It had better be good, Chilli,’ she snapped, as the cottage garden on the screen dissolved and the bridge of the Silver Dollar came into focus.
Oh, fuck! It wasn’t good. Chilli was still sitting at the navigation panel but his face was contorted with fear: and the reason was standing directly behind him, a dark figure holding the barrel of a titanium pistol flush to his temple.
‘Scan up,’ Coco hissed so she could see who the gunman was.
‘Hello to you too, Colonel Murgatroyd.’
The voice was a lazy drawl with an Outer Galaxies accent and then its owner’s face slid into view.
Coco gasped.
The visage was lined and craggy but the piercing blue eyes that met her own were unmistakeable, as was the curl of the lip and the tangle of blond hair swept casually back from the high forehead. It was a face she’d seen on a million ‘Wanted’ eblasts, the face of the most hunted man in the Outer Galaxies or, for that matter, the Inner Galaxies. Standing on her fucking bridge and pointing a gun at her best friend’s head.
‘Titus Bonaparte!’
‘At your service, Colonel.’
The bean pirate dropped a deep bow without for a moment relaxing the pressure of his gun muzzle on Chilli’s head.
Coco didn’t wait to see more. She had to get to the bridge. As she pulled on her tunic, she pressed the button on her wrist mike.
‘Guard Captain Flint to the bridge now,’ she said with her mouth close to the tiny speaker.
‘That won’t work,’ said Titus Bonaparte from the screen above her. ‘Look.’
His image dissolved and was replaced by an image from the guards’ mess. Captain Flint and most of the other guards were crouched on the floor in a huddle. They were surrounded by a gaggle of armed Mercuriats, jabbering loudly in their own language and waving their titanium pistols around freely.
‘Fuck!’
Coco left her office at a run in the direction of the bridge but before she’d gone ten metres down the corridor, five Mercuriats barred her way. The fact that they were all at least a foot and a half shorter than her made no difference given that five gun sights were trained upon her. With a sigh, she put her hands above her head and allowed herself to be marched the rest of the way to the bridge. She could as good as kiss her career goodbye now, and there was only a slim chance she’d get out of this predicament with her life. Titus Bonaparte had a reputation for ruthlessness and when he found that her ship wasn’t carrying any cocoa beans at all, she was sure he would vent his fury on her.
The door to the bridge swished open and Coco became aware of fifty more gun barrels instantaneously turning her way.
‘Wow, you all look pleased to see me,’ she said, determined not to give way to the quaking in her core.
Titus Bonaparte drew his gun away from Chilli’s head and stashed it in a holster on his hip. He walked towards her and in the flesh he was taller, broader, younger and, oh my god, so much sexier than Coco would have imagined possible. Her breath caught in her throat as his unnaturally bright blue eyes took her captive in his stare.
The bean pirate came close enough to invade the Colonel’s personal space but even as she felt his hot breath on her face, Coco stood her ground. He leant forward a little so that his mouth was by her ear.
‘So, what they say about you is true,’ he whispered.
Coco turned her head a couple of centimetres until her cheek brushed against his.
‘And what would that be, bean pirate?’ she said loudly.
Bonaparte stepped back, laughing.
‘That Command Fleet’s youngest colonel is feisty. And beautiful.’
He reached out an enormous hand and ran the soft pad of his thumb along her jaw line. But when he reached her chin, he grasped it between his thumb and index finger with a grip of steel. His face was close to hers again.
‘The bean pirates have a little wager on your account, Murgatroyd. Would you like to know what it is?’
Coco glared up at him.
‘No. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’
‘Every captain in the pirate’s alliance has put up a ton of beans for the man who sleeps with you first. That’s eighteen tons of beans on your head - or should I say between your legs - and look how close I am to claiming them as mine.’
His hand dropped from her chin to pinch the mound of soft flesh between her legs. She pushed her hips forward with a soft exhalation of breath and watched Bonaparte’s eyes flare wide. Then she took a sudden step backwards that left his hand grasping at air.
‘I’m wondering if what they say about you is true,’ she said.
‘And what’s that?’
‘That you’re the only pirate with any brains.’
‘I made light work of taking control of your ship.’
‘By using overwhelming fire power, I would imagine.’
Coco had been secluded in her sleep pod when the pirates had boarded; now she wondered how many of her crew members were dead.
‘With a hundred tons of beans in your hold, I wasn’t taking any chances.’
It was Coco’s turn to smile.
‘That’s where you’re wrong, Bonaparte. The Silver Dollar is a decoy. We don’t have any beans on board. But I’ll do a deal with you instead. I’ll win you your eighteen tons of beans in return for the freedom of my crew and my ship.’
‘No!’ cried Chilli. ‘Don’t, Coco.’
The pirate nearest to Chilli cuffed him hard enough to send him sprawling onto the floor. Then the brigand pinned him there with his boot.
‘Let him go,’ said Bonaparte, before turning his attention back to Coco. ‘It’s very tempting, sweet Colonel...’
He closed the ground between them, forcing Coco to step backward until she could go no further. Suddenly his big hands slammed against the wall on either side of her head. She was caught in the private circle of his arms.
‘I think I would enjoy winning that bet very much,’ he said, virtually undressing her with his eyes.
Coco squirmed, heat pooling between her legs as she took a deep breath. He smelt of musk and spices and... Chocolate. She sucked in the air again, closing her eyes as she savoured the unfamiliar fragrance.
‘Have you ever tasted it?’ he whispered in her ear.
She shook her head, and her lips parted like ripe fruit ready to fall.
‘Take the de
al,’ she murmured.
But Titus Bonaparte turned his back on her.
‘Eighteen tons that I will have to collect ton by ton from each of the captains or one hundred tons sitting in your hold? What do you think?’
There was a sneer in his voice that made Coco’s blood boil over.
She stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him round to face her again.
‘I told you, bean boy, there’s no chocolate on this ship.’
Bonaparte threw back his head and laughed.
‘And I say there is.’ He scanned the motley band of pirates that was lounging around the consoles of the bridge with their guns trained on Coco’s crew. ‘Bizet, bring the cocometer over here and show Colonel Murgatroyd your readings.’
A small, plump man materialised from amid the pirates and came over to them. He was completely bald but his eyes sparkled with a boyish charm that made Coco think of a happy toddler. In one hand he held a small electronic device.
‘Bizet is my chocolatier,’ said Bonaparte. ‘The only man in the Outer Galaxies who can turn bitter beans into the food of the gods. Show her the cocometer, Bizet.’
With a wide grin, Bizet thrust the gadget he was holding under Coco’s nose. She looked down on a series of dials and digital displays that meant nothing to her.
‘So?’ she said.
Bizet waved a surprisingly elegant hand in front of his machine.
‘So, what this tells us is that there are in excess of one hundred tons of cowcow within a kilometre radius of this precise spot.’ He spoke with a strong German accent. ‘In other words, on this ship or floating free in space around it.’
Coco closed her eyes. Shit! If what he said was true, the Silver Dollar wasn’t a decoy; it was the main cargo carrier. They could have fucking told her...
Twelve hours locked in her cabin hadn’t improved Coco’s mood. She’d lost her bargaining chip and she was scared for Chilli and the rest of the crew. They’d flown warp speed straight into a trap and the pirate with brains had correctly second-guessed it that Mission Control would put the cargo on the least likely ship. The one with the commander who was still wet behind the ears. Bonaparte had boarded while she’d been asleep and in all likelihood they hadn’t even managed to send out a distress signal. At least the fact that she’d missed the conference call would alert the other ships that something was wrong but that didn’t mean they’d get here in time or be able to mount an effective rescue.
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