Desire: Ten sizzling, romantic tales for Valentine’s Day!

by Opal Carew

  “Um, are we going to be able to get out of here all right?” I asked, trying not to sound nervous and failing miserably.

  “They’ll let us out the same way we came in,” Sarden assured me as the black border of the bubble passed over us. It swallowed the shuttle whole, leaving us in a big parking area that looked like a warehouse. “Hopefully with Sellah and Teeny in tow.”

  “From your lips to the Goddess’s ears,” Grav muttered, adjusting the knives he had clipped to the spiked leather straps criss-crossing his muscular chest.

  “Everybody be quiet now—here comes Tazaxx’s emissary,” Sarden muttered. “Remember, we need to get in and out of here as quickly as possible. The saphor solution I took to change my skin color has a time limit on it.”

  “How long are we talking?” Grav wanted to know.

  “One solar hour—two max. But hopefully it won’t be a problem—we should be in and out of here fast—Tazaxx isn’t known for prolonging business deals.”

  “Can’t you just take more if it starts to wear off?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way. The solution has a two solar-hour recovery time on it—it won’t work again after it wears off until that time is up.”

  “Oh, okay. Then I guess we’d better be quick,” I said.

  “We will be,” Sarden said grimly.

  “All right—let’s go. I’m ready.” Grav cracked his knuckles again, making me shudder. He might be Sarden’s friend but the fact that he was such a big, scary guy and a confessed murderer meant I was still kind of nervous around him.

  “All right—I’m popping the hatch,” Sarden said.

  The door to the shuttle opened and I leaned forward eagerly, trying to see the emissary.

  What I saw was a giant piece of crap wearing a rainbow-colored cape.

  At least, that was what it appeared to be. A giant, man-sized poo that had somehow managed to stand up on end and learned to move.

  Okay, sorry for the gross mental image but seriously—that’s just exactly what it looked like. It slid forward smoothly and I looked behind it, wondering if it was leaving a trail of slime. There was no slime, though, and after a minute I saw why—its bottom half had about a million tiny little legs and feet all over it and they were moving kind of like a caterpillar’s legs to carry it along.

  It had a vaguely human looking face in the middle of its lumpy head—by which I mean it had two eyes, a sort of nose, and a round, lipless mouth. Out of the mouth came a nasal, croaking voice like a bullfrog with a cold.

  “You are Baron Van’Dleek?” it demanded, waving a lumpy arm at Sarden.

  “I am.” Sarden, who was dressed in his Miami Vice best with the baggy white trousers and black, boxy jacket stepped out of the shuttle and looked down his nose at the moving piece of crap who was apparently our guide.

  Sarden was looking good, despite his new light blue skin and the Van’Dleek mask. It was amazing how well the smart-fabric conformed to his face—it even hid his horns. And the fact that the jacket hung open, revealing his mouthwateringly muscular torso didn’t hurt either.

  I noticed, though, that he was careful to keep his trousers closed when he moved, so as not to expose himself by accident. Which was a good thing—a wardrobe malfunction is one thing but letting his entire wang dangle outside the white pants would definitely ruin the cool, 80s look he had going.

  “You and your entourage will have to be scanned before being admitted to the main compound,” the moving crap informed him as he stepped down.

  Sarden gave our guide a condescending sneer. “Of course. But make it quick—I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  I stared at him in surprise as I scrambled out of the shuttle with a helping hand from Grav. Wow, he was nailing the rich douche-nozzle part right off the bat!

  “Of course.” The piece of crap—at some point we would probably learn his name but he was always going to be POC to me—nodded stiffly.

  He produced a large instrument that looked like a bullhorn from under his colorful, rainbow cape. Pointing it at Sarden’s face, he pressed a button. A blue light illuminated Sarden’s features for a moment, then went dark again.

  POC consulted a screen that was on the back of the bullhorn and frowned. “Hmm…these readings are most…peculiar,” he said in his nasally bullfrog-with-a-cold voice.

  “What are you talking about? Hurry up! I don’t have all day,” Sarden snapped.

  “But…these readings…” POC looked worried and he wasn’t the only one. My stomach did a little flip. Was it possible that the smart-fabric wasn’t smart enough to do the job? Could the scanner POC was using see through Sarden’s disguise? If so we were so screwed…

  “I can’t help it if your equipment isn’t up to par,” Sarden barked, scowling at POC.

  “But—”

  “You have exactly two solar seconds to finish this scan and let me pass,” Sarden snapped. “If you’re not done by then, I’m getting back in my shuttle and leaving and I’m taking my credit with me.”

  “But—” POC said again, helplessly.

  “Nor will I be at the auction later, though your Master specifically invited me,” Sarden continued, giving POC a withering look. “I didn’t come all this way to be insulted.”

  I had to give Sarden credit for his performance—he sounded like every rich, South Tampa customer with a snotty attitude I’d ever dealt with back when I was working retail in college. Poor POC was obviously bowled over by it too. Seeing the look of abject terror on what passed for his face, I almost felt sorry for him.

  “Forgive me,” he burbled in his bullfrog voice. “Master Tazaxx very much wants to meet with you, Baron Van’Dleek. Please come right this way and bring your entourage with you.”

  “That’s more like it.” Sarden straightened his jacket with a few huffy jerks and flicked at an imaginary speck of dust off one immaculate sleeve. “Lead on. And I hope you brought transportation. I don’t walk.”

  “Of course—of course.” The POC made an obsequious bow which almost tipped him over—he was kind of top-heavy—and led us from the large landing area, which appeared to be in some kind of vast warehouse, to a large door.

  The door slid open at our approach and I caught my breath. The scene here was in direct contrast to the outside of the black bubble.

  The sky overhead was a pale, lovely purple, filled with sunlight and big puffy white clouds floating by. We had stepped out onto a kind of rolling meadow, covered in thick, neatly clipped dark blue grass. There were wildflowers and trees with purple bark and blue leaves. Here and there I saw little furry creatures that looked kind of like a cross between a cat and a raccoon nibbling the lush vegetation. Really, except for the color palate, it looked like something out of a Disney film.

  “Wow,” I breathed, looking around as POC lead us to a device that looked kind of like a large bright green golf cart with caterpillar treads instead of wheels.

  “Fuckin’ nice,” Grav agreed under his breath. Sarden said nothing, just looked around with a faintly bored expression on his face as though he’d seen it all before and this was no different. I wondered how he had learned to play a rich, entitled jerk so well.

  “If you’d care to take a seat, Baron Van’Dleek,” POC burbled, indicating the cart. “I’ll be happy to drive you and your entourage to the main house.”

  “That’s acceptable,” Sarden murmured coolly. He settled himself in the back of the cart, leaving POC to take the wheel at the front.

  Grav sat beside POC and glared at him, presumably for extra intimidation and I sat beside Sarden, at his feet.

  “Hey—you don’t have to be down there,” Sarden muttered to me, his voice pitched low so POC couldn’t hear him.

  “Yes, I do,” I whispered back. “You’re playing your role and I’m playing mine.” I batted my lashes at him and leaned against his leg, looking up at him with a flirty little smile.

  He rumbled laughter and reached down to stroke my hair, an
action my nib-nibs objected to by chattering angrily and running to the other side of my neck. Their little claws gave me a ticklish feeling but I was more interested in the sensation of Sarden’s long fingers caressing my curls.

  I had only meant to get into character—the adoring slave girl staring up at her master. But his hand felt so warm against my head—so right. I nuzzled my cheek against his palm and looked into his eyes. His face looked different because of the mask but the expression he was wearing was unmistakable—desire and tenderness that made me catch my breath with yearning of my own.

  Stop it, I told myself. He’s playing a part—that’s all! But somehow I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his until the garish green golf cart came to a jerky halt.

  “And here is the main house of Master Tazaxx who is expecting you,” POC said.

  I tore my gaze from Sarden’s at last and looked up to see a large, rounded dome-shaped building that looked a lot like the black bubble dome we were in. But this one was pink. Not pastel pink or even rose pink—it was full on, blazing pink—a shade so bright it hurt your eyes to look at it.

  There were doorways and windows on the curving side of the hot pink dome and all of them were outlined entirely in what appeared to be solid gold. Apparently Tazaxx liked to flaunt his wealth.

  “Wow—classy décor,” I muttered to Sarden.

  He just gave me a look.

  “This way,” POC said and led the way up a curving pathway made of smooth, electric blue stones which might have been some kind of sapphires to the front door. I stared in disbelief. The doorknob was an enormous diamond. Ostentatious much?

  I wished I could twist it off and stick it in my pocket for a souvenir because Leah and Charlotte were never going to believe all this without some proof. But that would be stealing—plus, the Slave Leia outfit I had on didn’t have pockets. It was really sexy though—I’d thought Sarden would swallow his tongue when he first saw me in it—which, if I’m honest, was the exact reaction I was going for. I liked the way it swirled around my legs as I walked, even if I did feel a little exposed in it.

  But enough about my sexy disguise. POC was leading us into the garishly expensive pink dome-mansion and we all had to be on our toes.

  Speaking of toes, POC opened the gold encrusted, diamond-handled door and ushered us into the hot pink dome…and right into a half-inch puddle of water.

  “Oh!” I jumped back but my toes—and the rest of my feet—were already wet. Then I looked at the vast, pink marble floor (yes, the neon pink theme continued inside too) and saw that it wasn’t just a puddle—the entire floor was flooded with a half inch of water. Was Tazaxx having a plumbing problem? “What the Hell?” I muttered to Sarden.

  “Apologies but Master Tazaxx is going through his molting cycle at the moment and requires moisture,” POC told us. “Be so kind as to leave your footwear outside the door if you do not wish it to get wet.”

  Molting, huh? That sounded interesting. I took off the little strappy sandals I’d had Al synthesize for me and left them on the hot pink doorstep. Sarden and Grav did the same and then rolled up their trousers. Then we all filed into the house barefoot.

  Inside, POC led us through several large empty rooms with high, rounded ceilings that had strange artwork on them. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was because it kept moving and changing—shifting colors and forms that didn’t seem to have any kind of pattern. After awhile, my neck started getting a crick in it so I looked down and stopped trying to figure it out.

  Finally we came to an area about as big as a ballroom with only two things in it. The first was a raised dais about two feet tall.

  “This is where your interview with Master Tazaxx will be conducted,” POC informed us. “If you will please ascend to the platform?”

  Well, at least it looked dry up there, which would be a vast improvement over the wet marble floor—my toes were getting pruney. It also faced the only other thing in the room, which appeared to be a giant mud puddle.

  “Um, what are we supposed to do?” I asked Sarden in a low voice as we all climbed up onto the platform. It was a high step for me so he simply lifted me by the waist and set me down beside him.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen Tazaxx during his molting phase,” he murmured. “This is all new to me.”

  “If you will please be patient, Master Tazaxx will be ready to speak with you in a moment,” POC said. He hadn’t climbed onto the platform with us, (maybe because his tiny little caterpillar legs couldn’t reach that high?) and was still standing in the inch-deep water on the floor below us.

  We stood silently on the platform—which was carpeted in the same dark blue grass we had seen outside—and faced the mud puddle. It looked brown and thick—more like a mud slick than an actual mud puddle, I guessed. In fact, the more I looked at it, the more I thought it seemed to have patterns in it.

  There were two swirls at the top of it that looked almost like eyes, and then another swirl below and between them which could almost be a nose, and a wide curve below that which looked like a frowning mouth.

  That was when the curve opened and a thunderous voice asked, “Who dares to disturb my molting?”

  I nearly jumped right into Sarden’s arms.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped. “It spoke—the mud puddle spoke!”

  “That’s no mud puddle,” Grav growled softly from his post behind Sarden. “That’s fuckin’ Tazaxx.”

  “Master, this is Baron Van’Dleek of Frellex,” POC said quickly. “I informed you earlier that he had come to Giedi Prime early because he wished to see your private collection before the auction. You told me to allow him entrance to the compound. Do you remember?”

  “Remember?” roared the mud puddle. “Of course I remember. I’m molting—not mentally incompetent, Floosh.”

  So that was POC’s name. Hmm, not much of an improvement as far as I was concerned.

  Then the mud puddle—or Tazaxx I guess—began to shift and change. A man-sized column of mud suddenly rose out of the puddle and began to mold itself into something else.

  I watched, fascinated, as arms and legs formed and then a clearly defined torso, head, face, and even hair. It was like watching an artist sculpting clay in fast-motion—only there was no artist and the clay was sculpting itself.

  Soon a mud-man about six feet tall, stood before us. It was brown all over and completely naked. Its rather large, uh, equipment, lay against one thigh.

  “There,” the man said in the same thundering voice the mud puddle had used. “Now I am better equipped to speak to you.”

  “That was amazing,” I blurted, before I thought about it.

  “I was merely being polite,” Tazaxx assured me. “Of course, the main part of my being is still on the molting room floor.” The mud man nodded at the vast mud puddle, which didn’t seem to have shrunk at all. “But I am able to animate a part of myself for a considerable range away from my central mass.” He stepped forward and held out a hand to me. “And you are?”

  “Oh, uh…I’m Zoe. Nice to meet you.” Uncertainly I let him take my hand for a moment in a kind of shake. His mud-fingers were cool and damp like wet clay. I had the immediate urge to pull my hand away and wipe it off but forced myself not to, knowing it would be considered rude.

  My nib-nibs, however, weren’t quite as disgusted as I was. Or maybe they were just curious. Two of them ran down my arm to take a closer look at Tazaxx.

  “Well, well,” he remarked. “And what do we have here?”

  “Zoe is my bonded concubine,” Sarden growled, pulling me firmly away from the handshake, for which I was grateful. “And those are simply her pets.”

  “Mmm, a most enchanting creature.” The mud man took a step back from the dais and actually licked his fingers, as though he wanted to taste where we had been touching somehow. Ugh. I tried not to make a face as the nib-nibs ran back up my arm to take their place in my hair. “I don’t believe I have encountered one of your kind before,” he remarked
to me, still licking his mud-lips with a brown mud-tongue.

  “You do us honor, taking our shape to speak with us,” Sarden said, clearly changing the subject. He gave an abbreviated bow which Tazaxx returned.

  “Then why do you not do me honor in turn?” he demanded, his mud-brown eyes narrowing.

  “I am…not certain what you mean.” Sarden frowned. “We are standing on this platform as your, uh, as Floosh instructed us. What more do you want?”

  “Floosh said you were Frellian, did he not?” the mud man demanded.

  “Well, yes, but…ah.” Suddenly Sarden seemed to understand what Tazaxx was talking about.

  I remembered at the same time—the mud man was naked, exposing his equipment—apparently he expected Sarden to do the same.

  Well, so much for not caring about Frellian customs.

  “Forgive me. I was…transfixed by your transformation,” Sarden said in a flat voice. He reached into the flap in his loose white trousers to pull out his shaft and that was when I saw it.

  His equipment wasn’t blue, like the rest of his skin anymore. Or at least, not all blue. The broad, flaring head of it was the dark, maroon red—his natural skin color.

  Oh no! Oh my God! my mind babbled. What the hell was going on? Then I remembered Sarden’s words before we left the shuttle—he’d said that the saphor stuff he’d taken to change his skin color wouldn’t last very long. But surely it was supposed to last longer than this? How long had we been here, anyway? Maybe he had gotten a bad batch?

  Whatever the case, he couldn’t go exposing the fact that he wasn’t all the same light blue color Van’Dleek was supposed to be anymore. But if he didn’t, Tazaxx would take offense and probably refuse to sell us Sellah and Teeny. Something had to be done, and quick.

  I did the only thing I could think of—I dropped to my knees in front of him and took his long, hard shaft in my hands, hiding his multicolored member with my face and hair

  “Zoe?” Sarden was plainly startled. I was pretty shocked myself—it wasn’t like I was used to doing this kind of thing on the spur of the moment—or in public for that matter. But since I was playing the adoring, sex-starved slave girl, I decided to really go for it.