by Opal Carew
“Be careful,” he growled. “I don’t need you breaking your neck on top of everything else.”
Well, so much for gallantry.
“So sorry,” I said icily. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by injuring myself in the ridiculous shoes you gave me to wear.”
“Well, you—”
“Is there a problem, lady-goddess?” the man behind the counter asked, interrupting our argument before it could really gather steam. “Is this male mistreating you?”
I keep calling him a man but that was a really relative term here. I assumed he was a man but he wasn’t like any man I’d ever seen before. He wasn’t Majoran, that much was clear. His hair wasn’t blue—it was green. Also his skin was orange and he wasn’t very tall—not much taller than me. In fact, what he most reminded me of was an Oompa-Loompa from the old Willie Wonka movie.
“Lady-goddess?” he asked, still looking at me anxiously.
I looked at Sarden, who was glaring at me.
“He’s not mistreating me, exactly,” I said, after pretending to take a moment to consider it. “He’s just not being as, ah, loving as he could be.” I threw Sarden a sidelong glance. “In fact he’s being rather rude.”
“Ah—too bad, too bad!” the little counter attendent exclaimed. “We cannot serve those males who do not reverence and worship their females. So says the boss-of-All.”
“And who might this ‘boss-of-all’ be?” Sarden growled.
“The boss of all who?” I asked. “Are there a lot more workers in the back?”
“No, no—of course not! The boss-of-All is the boss of me.” He poked his chest with his thumb. “I am All,” he clarified beaming.
“Wait—you mean your name is ‘All’?” I asked.
“Naturally.” He sounded really proud about it. “I am all the workers he has and so he calls me All, the boss-of-All does.”
“Right. Now that we cleared that up, All, I need to speak to your boss,” Sarden said, frowning. “Is he in the back? Can you call him?”
The little guy got a mulish expression on his green face.
“No, no—I’m afraid not! Not unless you show your lady-goddess proper respect.”
“But Count Doloroso sent us,” Sarden exclaimed, clearly exasperated.
“It does not matter who sent you—no it doesn’t!” All, the Oompa-Loompa, shook his head adamantly. “I will not call the boss-of-All until I see proper respect.”
Sarden looked at me and I looked at him and shrugged. Your move, buddy.
“I’m sorry, Zoe,” he said shortly and then turned back to the counter. “Now get your damn boss out here!”
“No, no!” The Oompa-Loompa shook his finger reprovingly at Sarden. “This is not proper respect. This is not worship.”
“Worship, huh?” Sarden looked like he wanted to punch the little guy right in his orange gums. Instead he faced me again, gritted his teeth, and got down on his knees, for all the world as though he was going to propose.
“Zoe,” he said, taking my hands in both of his and looking up at me—though he didn’t have to look very far—he was tall, even on his knees. “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. It was disrespectful and rude.”
“Yes, it was,” I said, smiling just a little.
“Can you ever forgive me?” Sarden asked. Turning my hands over, he kissed them gently, laying a tender kiss in each of my open palms in turn.
I have to confess, my heart took a little leap, even though I knew it was an act. Not that I was going to show it—I could act too, damn it!
“Maybe I’ll forgive you,” I said slowly. “If you promise to buy me a nib-nib.”
“What is it with you and the damn nib-nibs?” he growled in a low voice. “Really Zoe, I don’t think you’d like them—they scratch the inside of your mouth. And besides, you can make something that tastes just like them in the food-sim back at the ship. I’ll show you.”
“What? Scratch the inside of your mouth? What are you talking about?” I stared at him, totally not getting it. “Why would you put a pet in your mouth?”
“A pet?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Is that what you think they are?”
“What else could they be?” I demanded. “I—”
“Well now, All, why didn’t you tell me we had a customer?” a new voice boomed. Looking up, I saw it was a Majoran male with a dark blue beard and hair to match. His skin was the same tannish-brown of the male we’d met with his wife at the perfume seller’s place but he looked less refined and snobby—more of a man’s man, if you know what I mean.
“I’m sorry, Boss,” the Oompa-Loompa squeaked. “It’s true this male came in asking for service but he wasn’t showing his lady-goddess proper respect.”
“Well, he appears to be respecting her now,” the boss boomed. Except for the color of his hair and beard, he reminded me of a retired biker who had decided to open an auto body shop. He even had on a grease-stained coverall-type garment that looked like it had seen better days. He raised his voice—(like it wasn’t already loud enough—seriously, he could teach my old boss a thing or two about yell-talking) and roared, “Goddess, is your male treating you with adequate care and attention?”
I looked down at Sarden and lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Goddess,” he said in a low voice, really laying it on thick now. “I worship you—you know that.”
He pulled me closer, pressing his face right between my breasts as though he didn’t want even a millimeter of distance between us.
My stomach did a little flip at the feeling of his long, muscular arms wrapped around me so securely. I couldn’t help myself—even though it was an act, I still liked it. Taking pity on him, I decided to play along.
“Sarden,” I murmured, running my hands through his thick, black hair, just as the female Majoran had been doing with her mate back at the perfume seller. “Sarden, my darling, you know I adore you.”
Since they were right there, I started playing with his horns too. I’d always kind of wanted to touch them, almost from the moment I found out he wasn’t really the Devil dragging me down to Hell. They were fascinating, growing out from the sides of his temples in thick, short, sharp curves. They weren’t nearly as long as a bull’s horns, though that was what they mostly reminded me of. I ran my hands up and down them, swirling my fingers around their bases and sliding up to the sharp tips curiously.
Sarden trembled against me as I touched him and his grip around my waist tightened as he pressed his face fiercely between my breasts. “Goddess…Zoe, you shouldn’t,” he groaned in a deep, hoarse voice. Wow, he really was laying it on thick.
“Shouldn’t what, my darling? Shouldn’t forgive you?” I asked sweetly, laying it on a bit myself. Hey, I took drama in high school—I know how it’s done.
“Uh, goddess? Goddess?”
It took me a minute to realize that the big biker-looking Majoran was talking to me. He and his Oompa-Loompa were watching Sarden and me with wide eyes.
“Yes?” I asked, still caressing Sarden’s horns as I spoke to them.
“Normally I encourage all kinds of worship between a male and his goddess,” the boss said. “But…your male is a Vorn, isn’t he?”
“He’s part Vorn, why? Is that a problem?” I demanded, all ready to do battle if this guy started bringing racial bias into it. From what little he’d told me, Sarden had had enough of that to last him a lifetime.
The Majoran mechanic frowned.
“It wouldn’t be if you weren’t, ahem, playing with his horns,” he said, frowning.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “He’s just, uh, worshipping me like he’s supposed to—that’s all.”
“Yes, but some kinds of worship are best left in the bedroom,” he growled. “I can’t have the two of you pleasuring each other right here in my shop—how would it look if another customer comes in?”
“Pleasuring each other? What are you talking about?” I demanded. “I’m just, you know, s
troking his horns.”
“And look how they’ve grown!” All, the Oompa-Loompa, squeaked.
“Grown?” I looked down and frowned. Sure enough, Sarden’s horns did seem longer now. But how was that possible?
“A Vorn’s horns are erogenous zones,” the boss said bluntly. “Some say they’re best used to guide him when he’s…ahem…worshipping his goddess with his tongue.”
“What?” I took a quick step back.
Sarden released me—reluctantly, I thought—and looked up.
“Goddess,” he growled softly and I could see that lazy, half-lidded look of lust in his glowing golden eyes again.
“You could have told me,” I whispered fiercely.
“Why would I do that when you were playing your part so well?” he murmured back.
“You…I…” I couldn’t believe I’d been giving him the equivalent of a hand-job right out in public. And he’d been getting off on it!
This gave a whole new meaning to the word “horny.”
“Well, erotic interludes aside, it appears that you worship your female with proper respect,” the mechanic said, this time addressing Sarden. “So what can I do for you this fine evening?”
Sarden got to his feet smoothly—really, he was surprisingly quick and graceful for such a big guy.
“I was sent by Count Doloroso,” he said, abruptly all business.
“Count who?” The mechanic frowned. “Sorry, I don’t know that name.”
“Well he apparently knows you,” Sarden said, sounding exasperated. “He said you were a reputable mechanic and would give me a fair price on getting one of the panels for my Hydrogen Scoop replaced.”
The Majoran puffed out his chest with pride.
“Well, now, we are the finest mech shop in all of Gallana, that much is true,” he said. “What kind of ship do you have? And what kind of panel do you want as a replacement? I’ve got corrugated sythosium, lacquered geodesium or just plain sonium.”
“Geodesium?” Sarden frowned. “I’ve never heard of panels made of geodesium.”
“Oh, sure! It’s new tech—the best! In fact, if you have the credit, you can get them all replaced.”
“I don’t know about that—I’m in a hurry at the moment,” Sarden said.
“Well, if it’s just a matter of replacement—you can do all six panels in just a little longer than it takes to do one. And if it’s speed you’re after, well, lacquered geodesium panels’ll make your Scoop up to fifty percent more efficient and your ship fifty percent faster.”
“Is that right?” Sarden looked interested. “Do you have the stats to back that up?”
“Sure do—in the back. All,” he said to his assistant. “Go in the back and pull up the geo stats in full holo. Then pull out a pair of the geo panels for our customer to admire.”
“At once, boss-of-All!” the Oompa-Loompa squeaked and scurried to obey.
“He’s a good lad as Goolies go.” The mechanic smiled at Sarden. “Now about these panels—you’ve got to see them to believe them. Come on.” He made a motion, inviting Sarden around the counter to the back of the shop, which was located behind a large swinging door.
“All right.” Sarden started to go…then turned back to me. “But what about my…my goddess?”
“Well, she’s welcome to come too, of course,” the mechanic said, nodding. “Although it’s a mite dirty back there.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be fine here. I’ll just have a seat and wait.”
There was a lone stool, shaped kind of like a dirty gray mushroom, located (or possibly growing, I couldn’t be sure) in the corner of the shop. I walked over and plopped down on it, glad to take a load off. Those damn stripper heels really hurt after a while.
“Well, if you’re absolutely sure…” He was still hesitating, a little frown on his face.
“I’ll be fine, honestly.” As much as I was interested in alien culture and technology, I had no interest in going in the back of a dirty alien mechanic’s shop to look at engine equipment any more than I would have back on Earth. I made a ‘go on’ gesture at Sarden and he finally nodded.
“I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Take your time,” I remarked. “I’ll just be sitting here twiddling my thumbs.”
“I don’t know what that means,” he said. “But I’ll try to be fast—we don’t have much time left in the light cycle.”
“Sure. Fine.” I shrugged. I didn’t particularly like the idea of being out in the bad part of Gallana at night—or during their dark cycle or whatever they called it when they turned off the lights—but I was pretty sure I’d be safe if I was with Sarden.
“All right.” He turned and went through the swinging door with the mechanic, leaving me to sit on the gray mushroom and wait.
I hadn’t been sitting for five minutes, thinking how bored I was—seriously, couldn’t they at least have a magazine to look at? I mean, not that I’d understand what it said but at least I could look at the pictures—when the front door of the shop opened and the last person I’d expected to see walked in.
“Why hello, Zoe,” Count Doloroso said, smiling charmingly. “How surprising to see you here.”
Chapter 15
Zoe
“Why should it be surprising?” I asked, frowning at Doloroso. “You’re the one who sent us here.”
“Ah, yes. I did, didn’t I?” he mused, giving me that oily smile of his.
“Yes, you did,” I said pointedly. The way he was looking at me gave me the creeps. Especially since I was wearing the damn see-through dress. He looked like he was undressing me with his eyes only he didn’t have to—everything was already on display. “So…why are you here?” I asked, trying unobtrusively to cover as much of my goodies as I could with my arms.
“Just a little matter I needed to discuss with the mech tech,” he murmured. “But I suppose he’s busy with your master?”
“Sarden is not my master,” I said stiffly. “He’s just a guy who…” I was about to say ‘a guy who owns me’ or ‘a guy who bought me’ but that made it sound like he was my master, after all. “He’s just a guy I’m traveling with,” I ended at last, lamely.
“Is that right? Well, perhaps I should come back later. The dark cycle is coming soon, after all.” Count Doloroso opened the door and stepped halfway out. But before he got all the way back out to the alley, he reached into his long, black cloak—which was twitching oddly—and pulled out a yellow bag with a drawstring. Carefully, he opened the drawstring and extracted something from the bag.
I gasped when I saw what it was—a little purple and green nib-nib! Doloroso had it by the tail, pinched delicately between thumb and forefinger, and it chattered desperately in its high-pitched, squeaky voice.
“Oh my God,” I said, fascinated. “A nib-nib—you’ve got one!”
“More than one, actually. Would you care for one? They’re a bit crunchy but quite delicious.”
“What? What did you say?” I asked faintly. Please let him not be saying what I thought he was saying. Suddenly Sarden’s earlier words began to make an awful kind of sense.
“Some find their flavor bitter,” Doloroso went on, dangling the tiny monkey, no longer than my pinky finger—above his mouth. “But I quite like it.”
“Their…flavor?” I still couldn’t believe it.
“Yes, their flavor. They’re a kind of snack food, you know. A specialty of Gallana.”
“Oh no—you can’t be serious. You can’t be.” I was filled with a sick kind of horror.
“Of course I am. What did you think they were? A kind of pet?” He laughed and popped the screaming, chattering nib-nib into his mouth.
“Stop!” Modesty forgotten, I hopped to my feet and ran as fast as I could in my stripper heels, trying to reach him before he could bite down. “Spit him out! Spit him out!” I demanded, pounding on his chest. He was almost as tall as Sarden but the heels made him easier to reach. I slapped and punched and pushed a
s hard as I could. “Don’t you dare hurt him—spit him out!” I yelled.
More from surprise than from the effects of my punching, I think, Doloroso opened his mouth and spat the little nib-nib into the palm of his hand. The poor little guy was shivering and all nasty and damp from the awful man’s mouth but he didn’t seem to be harmed.
“What in the name of The Assimilation is wrong with you?” the Count asked, looking at me as though I’d grown a third eye. “I offer you a snack and you attack me.”
“He’s not just a snack. Give him to me! In fact, I want all of them—how many do you have in the bag?”
“Only two more. They’re quite expensive you know. And you’re acting unbecomingly greedy, young lady, if I may take the liberty of saying so.”
As he spoke, he moved backward and I found myself following. To my surprise, I found that my momentum when I had pushed and pummeled him to make him spit out the nib-nib, had carried us out the door and into the dark alley beyond. The ground under my ridiculous shoes was uneven and rutted and I nearly stumbled as I went after him.
Go back, Zoe—this isn’t safe! a stern voice spoke up in my head. But I couldn’t leave the nib-nibs to be eaten! Count Doloroso had the one he’d spit out clutched in his large fist with only its little head poking out. It was chattering and looking at me with such fear in its large, liquid eyes it twisted my heart. I couldn’t bear to think of it going back in his mouth to be ground up to mush. What a horrible fate—to be eaten alive by this creepy man!
Well, it wasn’t going to happen on my watch.
“Please,” I said, taking another step towards him. “Please, just give them to me. I…I’ll have Sarden pay you for them. He promised he’d get me some. He won’t mind. He’ll pay you double…triple even!”
“Aha, but what if I’d rather be paid in information than credit?” he asked, taking another step backward.
“What information?” I took another step forward—we were far down the alley at this point and I could barely see the pinkish light at the mouth of it anymore. I wondered where it ended.
