Finding the Zero-G Spot

by Sahara Kelly

  “Our digital readout system is not working at all. Many of our systems are now on backup generators. It is estimated that the score for this competitor would have been registered at…at…” He consulted a small palm device, hit a few buttons, double checked the result and shook his head.

  “It is estimated, Major Boralle North, that your orgasm was a twenty-two point nine four.”

  The silence was deafening. Boralle herself paled as she heard the judge’s solemn, and rather disbelieving voice.

  Dear God, she’d done it. They’d done it. She and Rory had fucked their way to victory and saved the galaxy at the same time.

  She sagged against the booth in relief.

  “There is no other option for us other than to declare you the winner and formally announce these games closed.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  “I have an option.”

  The harsh voice rang out over the crowd bringing silence in its wake.

  A Magan male leaped onto the dais and stood in front of Boralle, tail twitching, throat pouch pulsing and teeth bared.

  “This is a cheat, a fake. This Terran slut did something with that icon of hers. Magus Prime will not be defeated this way. I will not be defeated this way.”

  It was the Magan Commander, and Boralle recognized two things very rapidly.

  Firstly, he was seriously pissed off, and secondly, he was armed.

  She cautiously backed away, putting the booth between them. Facing an armed and pissed off Magan male while wearing a silk robe was not on the list of things she’d planned on doing today.

  Strip and orgasm in public? Yes. Mess with a furious Magan Commander sporting a wave pistol? No.

  “There’s no place to hide, weakling bitch,” snarled the Magan.

  Boralle sighed. He really needed to work on his threatening and intimidating dialogue.

  “Look, Commander,” she began. “The Galactic Legal system really frowns on anyone bringing a weapon into this sort of event…”

  The Magan snarled and moved a step closer.

  Right. Boralle moved a step back. She had just tried to thwart a furious Magan’s attack with a batch of legalities. Nice going, idiot.

  Unfortunately, she was now backed up against another booth. She was naked beneath her robe, and it didn’t look as though anyone was in a hurry to jump up onto the dais and place themselves between her and an angry Magan.

  Sheesh. What was the matter with everyone today?

  The Commander’s eyes narrowed and he raised the wave pistol. “You may be able to come like some screaming she-devil, but I know it’s a trick to win these games and defraud Magus of what is rightfully mine…”

  Boralle’s mind absorbed his words. Mine, huh? Little megalomania going on here perhaps?

  Whatever it was, it certainly meant that he was quite likely to flex that finger which she could see was, even now, lowering onto the firing button.

  “Well, I can take care of you, for a start. Then we’ll see about the rest of these games.” His eyes hardened even more as he stared at her.

  Her world seemed to slip into some kind of slow-motion vid as she watched him push the red button in as far as it would go.

  She braced herself, knowing that there would be no avoiding this pulse. Her heart cried out for Rory as she faced instant death.

  As if he heard her prayers, there was a sudden commotion, and before the pulse had left the barrel of the pistol, a cloudy vision had appeared above the sword, which was still in the booth.

  Grabbing the sword, this vision had leaped in front of Boralle and deflected the incoming pulse with the shining metal blade.

  Roaring, the Magan fired again and again, but each time the sword swung with lightning precision to an intercept point.

  “No…” screamed the Magan, flicking the weapon up to its highest strength.

  “Yesss…” hissed Rory from his vague mouth.

  The blast from the pistol was vicious and blinding, but Rory found it, stopped it and whacked it right back into the Magan.

  With a scream, he fell, a smoking pile of green ooze staining the nicely polished floor of the dais.

  Without a backwards glance, the apparition turned and knelt before Boralle, the solidity of the sword offering a visual contrast to his vaporous appearance.

  He offered her the sword. And a quick wink. “I love you, lass. See you back in our room.”

  Boralle took the sword in nerveless hands. “I love you too.” She sucked in a breath and tried to get her brain to catch up to what had just happened. It was impossible.

  Rory disappeared.

  She slid down the booth and ended up on the floor with a thump. On the other side of the dais she could see the nasty mess that used to be the Magan, and she could dimly make out the sound of one of the Cynerian contestants quietly vomiting. Cynerians were notoriously squeamish.

  Boralle blinked and breathed deeply.

  How the rass was she going to explain all this to General Morrone?

  * * * * *

  To judge from the enormously drunken grin that was pasted across the round face of General Morrone at the Terran-sponsored party/orgy/drinking binge later that evening, Boralle wasn’t going to have to worry too much about explanations.

  “Fine job, Major. Fine job. You—er—‘came’ through for us.” He guffawed at his own joke.

  One of his aides grinned at Boralle. “He’s been like this since late this afternoon.” The man’s whisper brought an answering smile to her face. “He got into the Frallien brandy, and it’s been sweet sailing ever since.”

  Nodding politely, Boralle eased herself away from her superior, trying not to trip over the Frallien partygoer who had managed to get a lawyer from Boralle’s ship flat on the floor and half stripped.

  The man was smiling foolishly as his dinner date helped herself to dessert.

  Boralle sighed.

  She loved sex as much as the next person. Well, thanks to Rory, she loved sex. Actually, she really only loved sex with Rory. But this whole scene was starting to grate on her already-frazzled nerves.

  She’d been feted, cheered, paraded through town back to her quarters, had a serenade dedicated to her by the Ageran drum corps from which she was still recovering, and to top it all off, she hadn’t had a moment with Rory since the contest had ended in such chaos hours ago.

  She’d had a bare two minutes to clean up and dress before there were knocks on her door summoning her to the celebration, and Rory hadn’t been there to greet her. She was caught—wanting Rory so badly, but knowing she had to finish up this whole business. Hoping he was all right, she left again, promising herself she’d get away at the earliest possible moment.

  Which was now.

  She wanted nothing more than to retreat unobtrusively back to her room, fall into bed with Rory and just hold him. Very tightly. Her common sense told her she might still be in shock, and her heart told her she craved the security she found only in his arms.

  But she had to suffer through this damn-near pagan orgy of celebration, seeing as she’d caused it in the first place.

  An older Frallien caught her eye and beckoned her over. Seeing as he was fully dressed and looked relatively sober, she judged it to be safe.

  “Major North. I trust you sustained no injuries today?”

  Boralle bowed her head politely. “Thank you. No, fortunately I’m fine. No injuries. Although I confess to still feeling a bit shaky.” She tried for a polite smile, but then caught a look of sympathy deep in this man’s eyes.

  She allowed her exhaustion to show through for a moment.

  “You are tired, girl. As well you should be. Let me just tell you something about what you have accomplished today, and then I’ll officially dismiss you to your rest.”

  He guided her to a secluded couch and seated himself, patting the cushion beside him.

  Boralle noticed a couple of aides making sure his privacy would be undisturbed. This wasn’t your everyday Frallien citizen,
she deduced.

  “You blew up our power system, Major North.”

  Boralle’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. I’m…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…”

  The man smiled. “I know. And you did no lasting damage, nor did anyone get hurt, so you can relax.”

  Boralle slumped back against the couch. What the rass else would fate dump on her today?

  “Actually, it was the best thing that could have happened.” His statement stunned her, and at this point she could do little more than stare at him. Her mind had decided it was long overdue for a vacation and had headed off to the Alpha Quadrant.

  “We had held on to the Sexual Power Technology for far too long. We were greedy. We wanted to be the only planet with such a renewable energy source. It put us in a position of power amongst our peers. It was the only thing we had. Great sex is all well and good, but not politically useful. Well…perhaps now and again…you know what I mean.”

  He paused, thoughtfully looking out over the mayhem in the large function room. “But it was the wrong thing to do, Miss North. It made our neighbors jealous and angry, and that’s not good when one of your neighbors is Magus Prime.” He smiled wryly.

  Boralle shuddered, remembering the look in the Magan’s eyes right before he pressed the trigger on her.

  “With the damage we’ve sustained, we’re going to have to ask for help from every scientist with any knowledge of power systems, and every physician who specializes in sexuality. It’s been so long since we’ve worked on our power infrastructure that we’ve simply forgotten how.”

  Boralle blinked, and tried to apologize, but the words caught in her throat.

  “Don’t, my dear.” He placed a hand on hers as it twitched on the couch between them. “There have been many of us who have yearned to change the way we handled the SPT. We’ve realized that the time had come to share. To spread this knowledge, not hoard it to ourselves. It had become a burden rather than a gift, something to be guarded, protected, and hidden. We were getting, to use one of your delightful Terran expressions, to be real tight-asses about it.”

  She choked back a laugh. “I find that hard to believe…” She smiled, also sparing a glance for the orgy that was now well underway.

  “Well, yes. I spoke metaphorically, of course.” He shared her amusement. “However, the Magans were getting increasingly demanding and warlike. It was a major concern for many of us. We love our planet, and certainly would not have wanted a war.” He paused thoughtfully. “Of course, with the data and information provided by that young Sub-commander, Magus is now back-tracking away from that Bendrick person so fast they’re tripping over their own tails. Even offered us their top scientists too. Don’t know if we’re going to take them up on that offer, but that’s not something you need concern yourself about.”

  He smiled gently at Boralle. “Thanks to you, the interplanetary situation in our little corner of the galaxy has now radically changed. In fact, I’m going to propose a constitutional amendment to the Frallien council in the morning. I’m going to suggest—no, I’m going to insist—that our Olympiad will now be a scientific one, not a sexual one.”

  Boralle gaped. Only one person could insist on anything to the Frallien council.

  The Frallien Prime Minister!

  “Sir…” she stuttered, unsure of what to say or do.

  “Thanks to you, my dear, there will be a new age of research and cooperation here on Frallien.”

  A loud scream of pleasure interrupted his words, and he winced a little. “Of course, our people will continue to enjoy their well-deserved reputation for wild and wonderful sex. That’s a given.”

  “Of course,” murmured Boralle politely.

  “But from now on, there’ll be a yearly Olympiad, and I have great hopes that there will be much good to come from it. In fact, it would please me enormously if you would permit us to rename it the Frallien North Olympiad. In your honor.”

  Well, okay. That would be it. The Universe, in all its mysterious glory, had finally delivered the ultimate blow to Boralle’s struggling brain.

  She simply sat there, jaw flapping, eyes wide, unable to do more than whisper the first words that popped into her mind.

  “Oh rass.”

  A very wicked grin crossed the Minister’s face. “Quite.”

  “I—um—er…”

  He laughed. “Go home, Boralle North. You’ve had a very busy day. Go and get your well-deserved rest.”

  Beckoning an aide over, the Minister rose, as did Boralle, although she struggled to her feet a lot less gracefully.

  “See Major North reaches her quarters. She is not to be disturbed.” He turned to her. “Thank you, my dear. On behalf of Frallien. I’d better go, or I’ll end up as drunk as that lot…” He nodded at the party, and grinned. “Much as I enjoy a good time, I have other duties to attend to.”

  He left, trailing aides and hangers-on in his wake.

  The remaining aide gestured politely for Boralle to precede him and she made her way silently through the competitor’s quarters to her room.

  Well, this had certainly been one hell of a day.

  It was heaven to hear the door close behind her and find herself finally alone. Almost alone.

  The door to the shower opened and there was Rory, in all his wonderful naked glory, smiling at her.

  She ran into his arms, thudding against his broad chest with a feeling of joy and relief.

  “Rory, oh Rory,” she babbled. “Rory, I blew up…the Prime Minister…Rory, the Olympiad…they want to call it the Frallien North Olympiad…oh Rory!”

  Grinning and holding her tight, he chuckled. “Easy, lass. First things first. Are you all right?” He ran his hands up and down her body, caressing her and making her sigh.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be all right again,” she said ruefully. “But I’m a whole hell of a lot better now.” She cuddled against him, which made it rather hard for him to get her out of her clothes.

  Being a resourceful Scot, however, he managed, and within a couple of seconds she was as naked as he was.

  He half-carried her over to the bed and lay her down, sliding beneath the covers with her and tugging her against him.

  “Ah, Boralle-lass. This is where I’ve wanted you for hours, now.”

  “Me too,” she mumbled into his chest. “Oh God, I’m so tired.”

  “I know, sweetheart. Rest now. Our job is done. No need to worry any more.”

  She snuggled herself onto his shoulder. “I have so much to tell you, so many questions…”

  He dropped kisses on her hair. “And I’ll answer all of them, love. But now, just sleep. When you wake we’ll talk. All right?”

  She longed to tell Rory everything, but given the last few hours, her brain cells were in the process of throwing up their hands, packing their bags and leaving town. She surrendered to exhaustion and closed her eyes, breathing in Rory’s sweet scent and feeling at peace for the first time in many hours.

  Rory leaned over and she felt him press light kisses to her eyelids.

  “We’re going on a wee trip, Boralle, ma love. A little vacation for both of us…”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Birds were singing. Very loudly.

  Torn between the urge to tell them to go shove their beaks up their feathered asses and leave her in peace, and a very strong need to pee, Boralle slowly opened her eyes.

  This was definitely not the competitor’s quarters on Frallien IV. In fact, she had no idea where this was.

  She was lying on a long couch, tucked up in a very soft blanket, and the sunshine was warming her naked shoulders. Through open windows she could see endless masses of brilliant flowers and tall trees, which were, presumably, home to the annoying chorus of birdsongs that had wakened her.

  Suddenly a sense of familiarity stole over her.

  This was the place from her dreams. Oh rass.

  She was in Anyela.

  “Ah, ye’re awake, my lass.” Rory st
rode into the room looking… well…looking refreshed, handsome and…damn it, he looked sooooo good.

  Boralle’s mouth watered.

  “I expect you’ll be wanting a wee freshen up then, sweetheart.” His smile could have charmed the songs right out of the birds. In fact, as she sat up and her head swam a little, she rather wished it would. They were very loud birds.

  “Um…” It wasn’t much, but at least her throat had made a sound.

  Rory laughed. “Come on, up with you.” He tugged her from her cozy bed and pulled her behind him to another room where there was a real water-type shower and what looked like a real water-driven toilet. Not a disposal unit in sight.

  Boralle sighed in pleasure.

  “Enjoy, lass. Make yourself at home. I’m going to see about some food.” He kissed her hard, and rushed out, full of enthusiasm. Within moments Boralle was investigating the bathroom and having more fun with the water than she could remember.

  Much refreshed and swathed in the soft towels she’d found next to the shower, she finally emerged, to see Rory seated at a small table by the window.

  He waved her over to the other chair.

  “We have fruit, some fresh bread and coffee. It’s not unlike that stuff you drink, only better.” He beamed at her as he seated her.

  “Rory…this place. I saw it in my dream. It’s Anyela, isn’t it?”

  He smiled appreciatively. “No flies on you, lass.”

  She looked around for insects.

  Rory chuckled. “It’s an expression. Never mind. Yes, it’s Anyela, and this is my place. I asked the Guardian if I could bring you here for a wee vacation, and he was pleased to say yes. Do you mind?”

  He looked inquiringly at her.

  She snorted. “As if I’d mind. I’m with you, aren’t I?”

  His eyes darkened and he took her hand across the table. “Ah, Boralle, I do love you so enormously.”

  She squeezed his hand in response. “I know. Me too.”

  Swallowing back some emotion, Rory passed her a bowl of fruit and made her eat. “After our meal, the Guardian has asked if he may meet you. Do you feel up to it, lass?”