by Candace Sams
She couldn’t possibly be from Telescopium. Denizens from that world were bright green and their eyes were mounted on stalks. Nor was she from Lupus. Their citizens were covered in thick blue fur and had glow-in-the-dark, silvery eyes. He was absolutely certain she couldn’t be from Voluptua. Women from that planet had three sets of breasts and never covered them.
Indeed, the Earth-looking but well-covered rack he now surveyed was a nice C Cup. An unexpected but welcome handful coming from such a dainty woman.
He dismissed each intimate and inappropriate thought and got back to the mind-pounding chore at hand.
****
Charlie stood before him, smiled, and lifted one hand to tuck the short ends of her page-boy style, blue wig behind her ears. “May I sit?” she softly asked.
“Please,” Datron checked his electronic score pad again, not offering to pull out the chair this time. He was sure that if he got up once more, he’d pass out from the pain blasting through his skull. “I’m sorry,” he told her, “I don’t seem to have your entry form on my computer. Are you sure you have the right judge?”
“Oh I’m sure,” she confirmed. “I was inadvertently left off the roster this evening, but the pageant coordinator told me it’d be okay if you did my interview.”
Datron sighed heavily. “Fine.”
She waited for him to punch up a new judging form, arching one brow at his surly response. Just because he didn’t want to do this, it didn’t mean he had to act so brusque. She wondered how many girls who hadn’t complained were equally subjected to his offhand treatment.
“All right. I have a fresh score card,” Datron informed her once the electronic pad posted the proper document. “To save time, why don’t you just let me fill out the particulars? You can get with the judges later and make sure this interview score is added to your file.”
“That’s fine by me.” Charlie simply smiled.
Even though he stared at her expectantly, she just kept smiling.
He briefly rubbed a spot near his left temple and prompted her to give him the information he required. “What’s your name?”
“Ima…Ima Krotch. Uh…that’s Krotch with a K.”
For the longest moment, he just stared. A light sparkled in his eyes reminding her of a scientific expedition where she’d watched a sun go nova. Something of that same explosive quality rested in his expression.
“Okay, Miss…Krotch!” He quickly entered the name and asked the next question. “Planet of origin?”
“I’m from the outer ring of Harpy Prime.”
He put his score pad down and stared again. This time, an added hint of suspicion expanded his volatile expression.
“I’ve never heard of such a place.”
“Well…that’s not surprising. It’s some distance from here. Near Hades’ Sphincter.”
Datron tilted his head. “Hades’…Sphincter?”
She affected a laugh. “Oh…goodness! I meant to say, Hades’ Wormhole. Gosh, everyone in my neck of the woods just calls it the asshole of the galaxy. It’s sort of a local joke.” She smiled even more benignly.
He narrowed his eyes. “And your official title coming into the Miss Milky Way pageant?”
“Our little pre-pageant was brand new. All the eligible girls from several crab nebulas entered.” She shrugged. “Someone just came up with the name for the winner. You can call me Miss Crab Nebulae.” She smiled even brighter. “Hey… I never thought about it but, if you melded my title with my name, you could say that I’m…Miss Ima Krotch Crab.
He tossed the score pad to the end of his table. Actual fury lit his eyes now. Charlie simply stared back at him.
“Okay…who sent you?” Datron demanded. “Who’s in on the damned joke and what’s your real name?”
She tried hard to suppress a laugh, but the absolute ire on his handsome countenance was priceless. She put one hand to her face, then the other and couldn’t stop laughing. The man’s feathers were actually ruffling and beginning to stand on end. He looked like someone had thrown into him a dryer minus the static cling spray.
“Are you done?” he asked as his hands clenched into fists.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I j-just sat down to take my turn at a last interview. Just like all the other girls.”
“All right, Miss Crab Nebulae…or whoever you are…why don’t you tell me what your talent will be tomorrow night?”
Charlie tried to control her wicked sense of humor. She leaned forward and crooked one index finger at him to indicate he needed to come close.
Datron leaned forward.
Charlie glanced both ways, as if the talent she’d describe was top secret. Then, she put her face very near his. “Have you ever seen a stone melon from Altair?”
“Yes. What about them?” he angrily muttered.
“Well, my talent gets right to the heart of the problem of how to open them.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You see, I put the melon between my thighs and squeeze really hard…instant melon cooler.” She merrily shrugged and leaned back in her chair again.
Datron sat back and stared at her in silence. Then, despite the ire he’d been so obviously displaying, her stupid comments actually had the opposite effect she’d been trying to achieve. The corners of his full, beautiful lips turned upward.
“And…does this melon-crushing technique always work?”
“Every…single…time. Back home, I’m considered the life of every party.” She deliberately let her gaze fall to his mouth, then stared into his dark eyes and sent him a come-hither look she’d been told was no less than simmering. “Besides melons, there are other things I can manipulate between my thighs.”
“That’s…quite a claim,” he softly told her as he openly smiled.
“If you’re interested, Captain Mann, we could meet somewhere and I could show you the specifics.”
“You know it’s against the rules for me to fraternize with contestants.”
“Not after the contest is over,” Charlie advised. “Once the winner is announced, I can show you anything I want.” With that, she slowly moved her brows up and down suggestively.
“But if you’re the winner, being seen with me would engender a lot of negative publicity. Some might think you coerced a judge to get your title,” he softly warned.
“Oh…don’t worry. I won’t win,” she assured him. “I’ll be totally free after the pageant is finished.”
He leaned forward again. Their noses were so close they almost touched.
“What makes you think you won’t win and who are you?” he insistently asked again.
She couldn’t ignore his practiced, smoldering stare. She was sure he’d used it on dozens if not hundreds of eager women. But she wasn’t falling for it or him.
“Go out with me after the new Miss Milky Way is announced, Captain. Surely you’re not afraid?”
Charlie’s taunt seemed to prick his interest. He slowly nodded and glanced to his left then right before speaking again. “Name the time and place.”
She picked up his discarded electronic score pad and opened a new document, then entered her room number and a time before handing the device back. “If you’re not there, I’ll understand. It will take a brave man to face a woman who can use her thighs the way I can.”
His response was to look her over slowly. The hunger in his eyes was another affectation a practiced man of his age and position would acquire. Still, she was glad she’d worn the low-cut, black sequin halter dress for this part of the judging. She loved the dress—it fit in all the right places and was short enough to show off her legs. The blue wig, a consultant had insisted she use for the sake of Oceanus fashion, would help keep her identity from the prying, keen mind of Sir Grouch for a while longer. She could leave and go to her room with her dignity intact, if not her impartiality.
He stood when she did and took her outstretched hand when offered.
“I think I can handle what you have to offer�
�Miss Krotch.”
“Midnight tomorrow then?”
Without waiting for an answer, Charlie sauntered away—making sure she gave him the best view of her derriere. Once she rounded a corner in the room, she let out a gasp and almost ran for the nearest turbo lift to the fifteenth floor.
What the hell got into me?
No man of her acquaintance had ever been worth the chicanery she’d just employed. What confused her most was why she’d done it. Her original intent was to simply play a sophomoric prank to get even with his attitude. Somehow the charade had gone way too far.
Now what was she supposed to do?
In her current mode of dress she’d somehow taken on a different persona, almost as an actor might.
The seductress Captain Mann just met didn’t exist.
Surely he wouldn’t show up. He must know her come-on was a joke. In fact, the man probably agreed to the little tryst she’d devised for no other reason than to get a little of his own back. He’d seen through her ruse all along and knew she was no contestant.
Luckily, the lift she took was empty. The pageant contestants and their entourage would be celebrating their last interview sessions in one of the many hotel bars. Indeed, the contestants would be partying until the early hours.
With no one to see her, she pulled off her electric-blue wig just as the lift doors to her floor opened. She stepped into the hallway leading to her room, pulled off a restraining hair net, and shook her real locks free. Once inside her room with the door locked behind her, she undressed, showered, and took a good long look at herself in the bathroom mirror.
“What the hell! Of course he won’t show up,” she muttered.
The man would forget all about the incident once he left the ballroom. Snorting in disdain, she pushed back guilt and threads of disappointment.
Her actions had just entrenched Captain Mann’s lowly opinions of her gender. The entire scene had been childish. But it was over and done. And thankfully, he didn’t know her true name.
From now on, it would be more appropriate to let the girls make their own complaints to the proper contest officials. Those authorities could do more to offset Datron Mann’s behavior.
Charlie shook off the events of the night with a toss of her head, slung her damp towels over the shower rod, then made her way to bed.
“Stupid stunt!”
****
Datron watched the little siren sway out of the ballroom. Parts of his body responded to the lure she tossed out though he knew his responsibilities prohibited putting one finger on her sweet, tight little butt. Taking several moments to recover, it took a few more to get his head wrapped around the silly scene that had just transpired. He could go after the girl and find out what was going on or he could go one better.
Seeing Electra Galaxy across the room with Gilla and Clitus, he got up and approached his friends. He knew he was still smirking like an Aldorian constrictor, but he couldn’t help himself. For the first time that long week, he actually felt joy. His unnecessary and inexplicable melancholy fled along with his headache.
On seeing his approach, Gilla tilted his head and smiled in greeting. “Ah, Datron…I was going to ask if the aspirin I’d given you worked, but you seem positively radiant, assuming one might use that term to define a male of your species,” he merrily announced.
Datron rubbed his hands together in expectation and glanced at each of the smiling faces in the small group. “I need some help, my friends. I’m on the hunt for a woman!”
The trio before him glanced at one another before chuckling and facing him squarely for his explanation.
“Seems there’s a contestant, or someone claiming to be, that I didn’t have on the roster,” he said. “She says she’s from an outer ring of Harpy Prime near Hades’ Sphincter.”
“There is no such place,” Electra blurted as she shook her head in denial. “I’d have surely remembered a galactic address like that.” She put one hand on his shoulder. “I believe someone’s playing a practical joke.”
More chuckles emanated from Gilla and Clitus, but Datron remained resolved.
“I know,” he agreed. “That’s exactly why I want to find out who she is. The little comedian told me she’d only reveal herself if I agreed to meet her tomorrow night.”
“Why not wait until she shows?” Clitus laughingly asked. “Why try to figure out who she is at this particular moment?”
“Because she might not show at all! I don’t want to take the chance she’ll have second thoughts.”
“Crodus’ Blood!” Clitus barked as he presented Datron with a bright smile. “What do you care for some woman in this competition? Have they not proven vexing in the extreme? You’d only get yourself into trouble for disobeying your judge’s oath.”
Datron shook his head and waved one hand in denial. “She’s no contestant. This girl was simply the most intellectually stimulating woman I’ve run across in a long time. The story she made up was meant to make a point though I’ve yet to understand what. At any rate, it took gumption to come up to me and…well…never mind. I just think she’s got some brass and I value that in anyone. Her charade intrigues me, and I mean to see what she’s up to.”
“Are you sure it’s just your intellect that’s stimulated?” Electra quipped.
Datron held up both hands to further quell rounds of laughter coming from the small entourage. “Aside from all that, I want to know how she got into the ballroom when it was supposed to have been reserved for pageant personnel.”
“I believe I might have a complete roster of all those connected with the contest,” Electra informed him. “But I think I’ll keep that information to myself. Whoever this is, your attitude has greatly improved. That, in and of itself, is worth whatever the woman is up to. Besides, this little mystery will provide a source of amusement as we share drinks in the bar tonight.”
“Indeed!” the two other men stated in unison.
“It’s your enigma to solve,” Electra said. “But do tell us what comes of the situation, my dear. I’m sure we all want blow-by-blow details.”
When Electra, Gilla, and Clitus walked away sniggering, he put his hands on his hips and shook his head.
The obvious security risks posed by a strange woman entering a restricted area were of no consequence other than the results of amusing gossip. Everyone, including himself, should assume if the girl had wanted to do any harm, she’d had ample opportunity. The situation wasn’t serious. He just wanted to know what prompted her actions. If he had a target on his back and some siren was looking for justice, he’d know why or not call himself a man.
Deciding to search the immediate area, he strolled into the lobby then toward the turbo lifts.
No hotel staff was in the vicinity. In fact there were no crowds of any kind. The place was deserted. That made sense. Employees were catering to the dining needs of their customers or waiting on the throngs in several of the many themed bars the hotel boasted. Which meant there’d likely be no witnesses to the girl’s departure. This didn’t surprise him. She knew her surroundings, and had known exactly how and when to approach him with her little act.
He took stock of the situation, what he knew of it, and why he needed to know more. Why was he making so much of someone’s prank?
Familiar with women and their styling paraphernalia, he was certain his anonymous Miss Krotch had been wearing a wig. The girl had deliberately made herself more noticeable than her real appearance might present. That meant she could be some innocuous employee, barmaid or even one of the cleaning staff.
But his question still remained. Why pick on him and why now, at the end of the competition? There’d been other men in the ballroom. He passed one hand across his chin and tried not to let go of the sudden rush the moronic encounter provided.
For months, he’d been slipping into an abyss based on nothing more than life seemed to have lost meaning. He’d pondered the origins of such morbid thoughts, having one excuse for another
pop into his brain. Duty bored him. His friends’ happiness in some small endeavor wore thin. In short, life stretched into one tedious day after another. This encounter, however ridiculous and minor it might seem to his friends, had lifted his spirits, and he didn’t want to lose the resulting elation. He needed the emotion.
That was why he fixated on what was undoubtedly some simple joke. He’d desperately desired it to be more than it appeared. In a weird way, he hoped the mystery would continue just so he wouldn’t go back to the way he’d been.
The absolute monotony of life was aging him beyond his years. He felt old and would soon look the part.
Shaking his head in bewilderment, Datron finally headed back to the Protectorate airfield and his quarters aboard the Valiant. The small encounter had become far more important than some girl intended. Still, he couldn’t let it go.
As he walked, shunning transportation that wouldn’t let him think in silence, sudden dread filled him. He stopped in front of a closed shopping mall and stared at himself in the glass storefront.
What if she wasn’t as intelligent as he’d sensed? What if he had endowed her with magnificent traits she didn’t have? Their conversation had been short, and she’d pissed him off in ways that not even the criminals he pursued could match.
His mind grasped the answer to his questions though he’d never admit the solution to anyone else. Not his friends, co-workers, or even his god.
Loneliness.
The one emotion he never spoke about, let alone admitted to feeling.
He wanted someone in his life whose wit and courage put him in his place. He needed someone who could approach him and tell him just where to get off, not just drool over what they saw. He refused to be just another piece of meat to be ogled by women who’d care little for him as he got older. Nor be a man young contestants ran after with their little autograph books in hand.
Datron never wanted to be a contestant in the Mr. Interstellar Feller pageant in the first place. At first, it had been exciting, and a grand assignment to catch intergalactic smugglers who’d fled to Earth. But then the roof fell in. He’d actually taken second in the damned competition, runner up to his own captain and best friend, Keir Trask.
