Chapter Fourteen

Zoe

 

“Okay, I am so not going out in public like this.” I surveyed myself in the 3-D mirror-like thing Sarden had called out of the wall somehow, the same way he’d accessed the closet. How did he do that anyway? It seemed to be a series of taps but when I had tried it, nothing happened. Maybe it was just keyed to his fingerprints?

I didn’t know and at the moment, I didn’t care. I was more concerned with the weird Majoran outfit Sarden had gotten Al to make for me.

It was see-through.

I’m not kidding, either or saying that it was really sheer fabric—I’m talking totally transparent. As in, I might as well have been wrapped in Saran Wrap—which actually was kind of what it felt like. The dress—(if it could be called a dress)—really was just one long strip of fabric which was wrapped around me and somehow adhered to itself like it was Velcro. But there was no Velcro scratchiness—the fabric was as soft as silk. In fact, I rather enjoyed the sensation of it against my skin—although I would have enjoyed it a Hell of a lot more if it actually covered anything.

“What’s wrong with it?” Sarden asked, frowning. “You look gorgeous.”

“I look naked,” I pointed out.

“Not true. The modesty patches cover your most private areas.”

“Barely,” I said.

In fact, the three black dots he’d given me to paste over my nipples and crotch reminded me of the stick-on stringless bikini I’d seen once while looking for a new bathing suit on the Internet. Almost no coverage! Our most daring suit! Turn heads everywhere you go! screamed the site that was selling it. At the time, I had assumed that only porn stars would want to buy and wear such a thing. I had certainly never imagined putting my own size sixteen ass into one.

And yet here I was—looking like a plus sized porn star wrapped in cling film. The shoes that went with it didn’t help either—they were platforms with three inch heels, more like stilts than shoes. I totally looked like I should be pole dancing to dirty, sexy music somewhere.

I sighed and looked at myself again. What is it they say about when life hands you lemons? No wait—a lemon would cover more than this freaking outfit. I wished someone would hand me a good sized lemon right about now. I’d put it to good use, damn it!

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe that the women of Gallana go around dressed like this,” I said, looking at myself again. The only good thing I could say for the Saran Wrap dress was that it had good support. My boobs had never looked perkier—or more exposed.

“Actually, you’ll be dressed more conservatively than most. Only virgins wear modesty patches,” he said, pointing to the three black dots again.

“Well I’m not a virgin,” I said tartly. “But I’m not a freaking exhibitionist either!”

“I promise you, you’re dressed like every other female on Gallana,” he said patiently. “They believe in showing off their divine beauty.”

“Because they’re all like some kind of manifestation of the Goddess of Mercy, right?” I said.

“Well, one of her aspects, anyway. Most of the galaxy worships the one Goddess. She created the Ancient Ones and commanded them to sow the seeds of life throughout the galaxy,” Sarden said, reaching out to adjust the part of the dress that went around my shoulders. “But to the Majorans the Goddess wears many faces. The Virgin, the Whore, the Lover, the Healer, the Comforter…and too many more to name.” He sighed. “It’s a complicated religion but then, Majorans are fucking complicated by nature.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “The whole idea of worshiping a woman pisses you off, doesn’t it? Careful, Sarden—your misogyny is showing.”

“I’m no Sahjist,” he said, with surprising vehemence. “So don’t insult me. But I believe that males and females are equals—neither one needs to worship the other.”

“You’d better put a pin in that attitude if you want to get this deal done,” I pointed out. “What am I supposed to do, anyway?”

“So you’ll go?” he asked, sounding surprised. “You’re done complaining?”

“Oh, I’m not done complaining—not by a long shot,” I said dryly. “By making me wear this dress, you just gave me a free pass to complain as much as I want. But yes, I guess we’d better go. Just tell me what to do.”

“Simple—when we get to the mechanic, just treat me the same way you see every other female treating their male. That should do the trick.” Sarden said, though he didn’t sound very happy about it.

He held out an arm to me and I looked at it, surprised at the courtly gesture. Apparently the male escorting a female on his arm wasn’t just an Earth custom.

“Well?” he asked. “Are you ready to go?”

I took a deep breath and smoothed down my transparent dress. My women’s study professor back at USF would either be extremely proud or totally horrified by this outfit. I decided to go with proud—I wasn’t objectifying myself or letting anyone else objectify me, I told myself. I was owning my curves and revealing my inner beauty—projecting positive body image all over the damn place.

I hoped.

I took Sarden’s arm and looked up at him.

“Let’s go get ‘em tiger,” I told him. “Go big or go home.”

Or in this case, go naked but I was trying really hard not to think about that.

 

Sarden

I couldn’t help feeling both proud and possessive as I squired Zoe into the spaceport proper through the entrance designated only for males accompanied by their females. Or goddesses, if you believed the way the Majorans did. I didn’t but I had to admit, my little Earth female was looking particularly divine in the Majoran garb. Her beautiful curves and lovely freckled skin were fully exposed in the thin, silky dress and her wild, curly auburn hair floated around her shoulders like a burning corona.

Gods, she was fucking gorgeous. The whole world was more vivid now that she was mine. And she was still mine—at least for a little while longer. I wouldn’t have to give her up to Tazaxx until we reached Giedi Prime. I pushed away the emotions that tried to rise at that thought and concentrated on the business at hand.

I had left Al back with the ship to get the Scoop ready for repairs. I missed having him at my back but I wanted everything in readiness as soon as I lined up a mechanic. I just hoped the one Doloroso had recommended was good.

The entrance to the spaceport was a big place—a high dome with duty-free shops and merchants of all kinds lining its wall. It was packed with people from every known species in the galaxy going here and there. Yet even in that busy crowd, Zoe stood out as I had known she would.

All around us, I saw the other Majoran females catching glimpses of the little Pure One and talking among themselves, buzzing like a hive of Rigelian bees. Some of them even changed their skin color to match hers on the spot, though none of them managed to copy her charming pattern of her freckles with any kind of accuracy.

Zoe caught sight of what they were doing and gasped. She looked up at me and jerked her head at a Majoran female with the traditional long, blue hair who had just turned from deep lavender to Zoe’s own creamy pale shade.

“How did she do that?” she asked, under her breath. “How are any of them doing that?”

“Majorans are chromatacromes,” I explained. “Able to change their skin color at will. Some can also change hair and eye color but that’s much more challenging.”

“So they just go all day changing all the time? Like chameleons blending in with their environment?” she wanted to know.

I barked a short laugh.

“Hardly. If anything, the Majoran females want to stand out. That’s why they’re copying you—see?” I nodded at a female who must have been especially skilled in the ways of her people. She had managed to copy not only Zoe’s skin color, but also the warm, changeable ruby-auburn of her hair and the blue of her eyes.

“Hey! That’s creepy,” Zoe protested, moving closer to me uneasily.

“No, it’s a compliment,” I corrected her. “They recognize your beauty. I knew they would.”

“Well…thanks, Sarden.” Her skin grew pink and I realized she was blushing, as she did so often when she was embarrassed. It struck me again that she didn’t understand how lovely she was, though it was hard to comprehend how she couldn’t. She was the most stunning female I had ever seen. It amazed me that she couldn’t see her own beauty.

“Ambergeis for sale here. Buy your goddess that which compliments her beauty,” a voice shouted, almost in my ear.

“Ooo, what’s that?” Zoe slowed to stare at what the merchant—a swarthy Fenigan with a mustache above his first mouth and a beard below his second—was selling.

“Ambergeis, lovely goddess,” the Fenigan merchant said, holding out a small silver pot with a yellowish paste inside. “Made from the purified nectar of the ish’tha flower.”

“What does it do?” Zoe wanted to know.

“Ah, it is truly wondrous,” the merchant said, both mouths speaking as one. “You put just a tiny dab behind each ear and a dab on your wrists and soon your scent is irresistible.”

“Is it some kind of perfume, then?” she asked.

“It enhances your own natural scent,” a new voice answered her.

It was one of the Majoran females who had copied Zoe’s skin color, though at least her hair was still blue. Behind her was a Majoran male. His skin was a warm, neutral brownish-tan at the moment, though I knew that could change according to mood or whim…not his, of course. Though the female’s skin color would be dictated by what she thought fashionable, the male’s color would be dependant on the mood of his female. At the moment the soft, neutral color was an indication that she must be feeling well.

“How does the, uh, Ambergeis enhance your scent?” Zoe asked, turning to her.

“By bringing out your natural musk, my goddess,” the merchant assured her.

“Your musk?” Zoe wrinkled her pert nose. “Um, sorry but I don’t want to smell musky.”

“He doesn’t mean it will make your skin smell unpleasant, only that it will intensify the natural scent of your skin,” the Majoran female explained.

“Yes, for it takes on the scent of your skin and magnifies it.” The merchant nodded. “It can also be put on articles of clothing if you wish. In this way if you have to leave your mate for a time, he is able to keep a little of your scent to comfort him during the loss of his goddess.”

“Leave my mate? Goddess of Love prevent it!” The Majoran female sounded shocked and her male, who had been silently watching, came forward to comfort her. His skin was as blue as his hair now—the color of sadness, which she was obviously feeling at the idea of the two of them being parted.

“Come, Leelah,” he murmured softly. “Don’t fret. You know I’ll not leave you.”

He put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, obviously drawing strength from his embrace. For a moment I wondered what it would be like to have Zoe trust me enough to lean on me that way, to seek me out when she needed to be held and touched—then I pushed the idea away.

“I did not mean that you would leave him forever,” the Fenigan merchant said smoothly. “Perish the thought! But any absence, no matter how brief, may be traumatic. Think how he must feel when you go to spend time with your friends and he is left without you. The scent of your skin on a scarf or other such object would comfort him greatly.”

“Sheesh,” Zoe muttered to me. “He’s acting like her guy is some kind of sick puppy who can’t stand to be without her for an hour or two while she has a girl’s night out. That’s ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” the Majoran female, who had unfortunately overheard, gave Zoe a very cool look. Her skin remained pale and creamy, like Zoe’s, but her mate’s skin suddenly went a deep maroon indicating anger and offense.

“Oh, uh…” Zoe seemed taken aback. “I…I didn’t mean…”

“Prether is very attached to me, aren’t you my darling?” she asked, looking up at the tall male beside her.

“I would rather die than live without you, my goddess,” he rumbled and there was a sincerity in his eyes that told me he truly felt that way.

“Oh, Prether…” The female entwined her arms around his neck and began to run her hands through his hair. “You’re so sweet.”

“And you are the star which sheds light into my otherwise dark life,” he murmured, drawing her closer. His skin had turned from maroon to a deep violet now, indicating passion, I guessed.

They were eye-to-eye, running their hands all over each other and I thought they might start mating right there. However, the Fenigan merchant wasn’t about to let love-making get in the way of his spiel.

“As you are so attached to your goddess, good Sir,” he said, addressing the male. “I would think you would want her scent with you at all times.”

The couple ignored him, however. They were far too wrapped up in each other with the male murmuring, “Oh Leelah, my goddess, how I long to worship you,” into his female’s hair as she writhed against his caressing hands.

“Sheesh, get a room” Zoe muttered, but in a softer voice this time. She turned to the merchant. “So this Ambergeis stuff…it just smells like whoever wears it only more so?”

“Exactly.” Seeing that he had lost the Majorans completely, he leaned forward eagerly, offering the little silver pot to Zoe. “Try some, my goddess.”

Shrugging, Zoe leaned forward and reached for the pot with one finger.

“Oh, no-no-no!” Both the Fenigen’s mouths turned down at once giving him a double frown. “Forgive me but I must give you the trial with a neutral object. The moment you touch the pot with your fingers, it will smell only like you and it will be useless as a sample thereafter. Now, here…” He dug in the folds of his voluminous purple robe and came out with a long green yillo reed. Delicately, he dipped just the tip into the pot of Ambergeis and put a tiny amount on Zoe’s outstretched forefinger.

“Thanks, I guess.” She pulled her finger back, looking at the little dab of yellow paste as though she didn’t know quite what to do with it.

“Dab at your pulse points—go on.” The merchant nodded eagerly.

Zoe looked at me and I nodded.

“It should be safe,” I told her.

“Okay.” Shrugging, she dabbed the Ambergeis on one wrist and then rubbed it against the other, rubbing the tiny amount of yellow paste into her skin. Then she looked at the merchant. “Now what?”

“Now let your male scent you, my goddess.” His purple eyes gleamed. “Let him decide for himself if he likes the change.”

“All right.” Zoe looked up at me, her blue eyes filled with mischief. “Would you like to scent your goddess, my darling?” she asked in a breathy imitation of the Majoran female, who by now was lost in the crowd with her male.

I wasn’t about to play along with her act—not until I had to at the mechanic Count Doloroso had recommended, anyway. But I took her arm and brought her wrist to my nose, inhaling deeply.

Immediately her rich, feminine smell filled my senses, making me almost dizzy with desire. Her personal aroma had a sweet note deepening into a luscious feminine musk that made me think of the delicious scent of her sex. I’d only been between her legs for a few moments but already I longed to go back, to taste more of her nectar, to hear her moan my name as she pulled my hair and caressed my horns while I tasted her sweet sex…

“Gods,” I muttered hoarsely and Zoe looked at me, clearly concerned.

“Does it not smell good? Should I wash it off?”

“Possibly,” I growled. “But not because it doesn’t smell good.” I couldn’t help remembering the Majoran male telling his female that he longed to worship her. I felt the same way about Zoe—I wanted to drop to my knees and worship her pussy with my tongue.

No—get hold of yourself. You’ve got business to conduct.

With an effort of will, I released Zoe’s arm and took a half step back. There. Better.

All this time the Fenigen merchant had been watching me sharply.

“It is intoxicating, is it not?” he asked, smiling with both mouths. “There is nothing more bewitching as the scent of the female you love. And remember, once she touches the Ambergeis in the pot, it will take on her scent. Then you can keep it with you for always.”

I thought of the long days ahead after I made the trade with Tazaxx and Zoe was gone from my life forever. I thought of never seeing her again and a fierce ache started in my heart.

“How much?” I heard myself asking.

“A thousand credits,” the merchant said promptly.

“That…seems like a lot,” Zoe objected. “Unless credits are like pesos or something. But if they’re on par with dollars or pounds or Euros then that’s way too much for a little pot of perfume.” She sniffed her wrist. “It really doesn’t smell like much of anything at all.”

“I’ll take it,” I told the merchant. After the price I’d gotten for the Assimilation equipment, I could afford it. And I wanted it. Wanted a way to keep her scent…the memory of her, even after she was gone.

“But, Sarden,” she protested. I ignored her and waved the temp chip card I’d be using for all transactions on Gallana. It was untraceable and theft proof.

“Very nice doing business with you, good Sir.” The merchant nodded agreeably and handed me a little silver pot filled with the yellow paste. “Have your lovely goddess put another dab behind her ears for extra added effect.”

I nodded back and took the pot, then pulled Zoe along by the hand before she could protest any further.

 

Zoe

 

“Hey!” I protested, digging in my heels to try and stop our forward progress. “Hey, why did you do that?”

“What?” Sarden looked down, stopping at last along one wall of the huge area. The spaceport reminded me a little of a cross between a crowded stadium and an airport. The center was filled with people and creatures—because they weren’t all humanoid—hurrying this way and that, probably to catch a flight or get to meetings in the spaceport. But the outer edges were filled with shops and had a colorful outdoor bazaar kind of feel to it—a little like a high end flea market, if there is such a thing.

Merchants everywhere were selling things from exotic looking fruit that looked like pink bananas, to elaborate orange pastries that made my mouth water, to square brown cubes (I assumed they were candy or some kind of supplement because the merchant kept chanting “sweet—delicious—gooey—nutritious,” over and over), to tiny, chittering creatures that looked like green and purple monkeys only as big as my finger. There were also long, furry scarves in every color of the rainbow, tiny silver disks that flew on their own and rained colored mist over their owner, and so many other things, my head was spinning. Not to mention perfumes like the kind Sarden had just bought.

Speaking of which, why had he bought it? Was it a welcome home present for his little sister when he got her back? But it didn’t seem like something you’d give a sister or relative—more like a gift for a lover.

“What’s wrong?” he asked me again. “We need to get to the mechanic.”

“But…but why did you buy that stuff? It’s so expensive!” I protested.

He frowned. “How I spend my credit is my own business. But to answer your question, I bought it to…to…” He cleared his throat. “To help our act. It’s definitely a present a male who worships his female as the Majorans do would buy.”

“That’s a pretty expensive prop, Sarden,” I pointed out. “You could have just bought me one of the little green and purple monkeys. Those guys are adorable.”

We were standing next to the monkey vendor as we spoke and I leaned forward to point at an especially cute pair of monkeys. They had their tails entwined and were sitting up in their cage and chattering in high, squeaky voices.

“Buy you a nib-nib? I don’t think so,” he said shortly.

“I’m just saying if you can afford the alien equivalent of Channel number 5 you can certainly buy your ‘goddess’ a monkey,” I grumbled. “At least it would be more entertaining than a boring pot of perfume that doesn’t smell like much at all.”

“It doesn’t yet…but it will. Here—put a dab of it behind your ears, like the merchant said.”

He held out the tiny pot of Ambergeis to me—it really was only about the size of a large coin—but I drew back.

“What? But…if I touch it, the whole pot will be contaminated with my scent. Wouldn’t you rather find something, uh, neutral for me to put it on with?”

“No,” he said simply. “Go on, Zoe—touch it.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” I wasn’t sure where we were going with this but I dabbed my finger in the thousand dollar—excuse me, thousand credit—paste and put just a little dab behind both ears. Then I sniffed my fingers. Honestly, I didn’t smell a thing. I looked up at Sarden. “Um, I really think we should go back and ask for a refund. I’m telling you, this stuff doesn’t smell like anything at all.”

“Not true.” He put the little pot to his nose and sniffed deeply. His golden eyes went suddenly half-lidded and he started giving me that look again—the hungry look that made my insides feel like Jell-O. “It smells like you, Zoe,” he rumbled. Then he closed the tiny silver pot and tucked it carefully into a pocket of the black vest he was wearing before taking my hand again. “Come on—there are only two hours left in the light cycle. We need to get moving—don’t want to be caught in Gallana when it goes dark.”

I still had no idea why he’d really bought the alien perfume but it didn’t look like he was going to tell me. I followed him out of the crowded area until we reached three vast exit arches with alien markings floating above them in light up holographic lettering.

Sarden took us through the middle arch and then we were out of the airport terminal/flea market part of the port which he told me was the docking area, and onto a paved road. The road was lined by tall, skinny houses built right up against each other. They reminded me a little of pictures I’d seen of Amsterdam, with one big difference—the colors. The narrow, squished-together buildings were painted in jewel tones—deep blues and greens and purples with the occasional splash of ruby red and burnt umber thrown in for good measure.

It was really pretty in an Instagram over-filtered kind of way.

There were moving sidewalks on either side of the road and Majoran women and their husbands, or mates to use Sarden’s word, were riding them and speaking in low, intimate voices. The women were dressed like I was, just as he had promised, so at least I didn’t feel out of place. But even though I blended in with the crowd—at least fashion-wise—I still felt pretty naked, though I tried not to think about it.

I think what surprised me the most was the sky overhead—it was pink. But also, it was a sky with puffy white clouds and everything.

“Hey,” I said to Sarden, pointing up. “I thought we were in some kind of enclosed building or area like the International Space Station. So how is there a sky? Come to think of it—how is there even gravity?”

“The spin and rotation of the spaceport provides artificial gravity, of course,” he said as though it was obvious. “They have no need for gravity generators like I have aboard my ship.”

“Yeah, but what about the sky? The clouds and everything?”

“A projection,” he told me. “The actual ceiling is bare metal and only fifteen flarns above our heads. But the sky is more aesthetically pleasing and since Majorans are all about aesthetics, they went to the trouble of making the illusion.”

I had no idea what a flarn was but the idea that the very real-looking sky above us was completely fake kind of caught me off guard.

“Wow,” I said. “Okay. So what now?”

“Let’s see…” Sarden consulted his ring, which made a green, holographic map appear in front of us. “Looks like we have a ways to go. We’d better ride,” he remarked. Putting his hand to the small of my back, he guided me to the entryway of one of the moving sidewalks.

There was a Majoran couple ahead of us and I watched them carefully to see how they acted. Just like the couple at the perfume seller, these two were obviously deeply in love. The male held his mate’s hand and helped her carefully onto the sidewalk, then jumped on behind her, making certain to stand so that his chest was directly against her back. She leaned trustingly against him and he stroked her hair gently as they glided off on the moving walkway.

The little scene of silent gallantry and love was sweet, if a bit mushy—and it wasn’t unique, either. All around us I saw Majoran males treating their females with gentleness and deference, as though they were precious treasures to be guarded and cared for. Clearly they really did worship them as goddesses.

It was nice and certainly not what I was used to. I thought back on my time with my ex, Scott. He’d never held open doors or pulled out chairs for me, which I didn’t really mind, because it was kind of old fashioned. But he’d also never gone out of his way to hold my hand if we were walking together. Mostly he was too busy looking at his phone to bother. I didn’t see any constant use of hand-held devices here in Gallana—just lovers looking at each other longingly and whispering intimately as though they couldn’t wait to get home and get busy.

The Majorans were tall people—with most of the males being almost as tall as Sarden—and good looking too. Except for the way they changed colors all the time, it was kind of like being in the middle of a romance novel come to life. I glanced at Sarden to see if he was going to treat me the same way, or just wait until we got to the mechanic to put on a show.

He gave me a slight, sardonic smile, almost as though he knew what I was thinking. As we got to the walkway, he held out his hand.

“Allow me to help you aboard, my goddess,” he murmured.

“Why, thank you.” I took his hand and he helped me onto the walkway. Then he stepped up beside me and pulled me back against him. “Hey!” I protested a bit breathlessly.

“It’s all right,” he murmured into my ear. “Just making sure you feel safe and protected, my goddess.”

He braced his feet on either side of the walkway to keep us steady—which was good because it was moving way faster than would have been considered safe on Earth—and we watched together as the tall, skinny, jewel-toned houses and buildings rushed past.

We went through a business district, a colorful marketplace, and an expensive looking residential area before Sarden consulted his ring again and decided it was time to exit.

“Time to go—come on,” he said, pointing to a curving exit ramp.

“All right.” I got ready to jump although the stilt-like stripper shoes I was wearing were going to make it a risky proposition at best. Still, never let it be said that Zoe McKinley isn’t up for a challenge.

Sarden, however, didn’t seem to think I was. He took a look at my shoes and the awkward way I was standing in them and then scooped me up in his arms with no warning.

“Hey!” I exclaimed.

“Can’t let you exit the walkway like that—you’ll break your neck,” he said gruffly.

“I’ll be fine,” I protested. “I’m short so I’m used to wearing high heels. I mean, not stripper heels like these, but the concept is the same.”

But Sarden was already hopping off the speeding walkway as casually as though he was simply stepping off a street corner. Even holding me, he managed it with grace and ease and we found ourselves in an area that looked kind of like a warehouse district. The buildings here were wide and squat and painted a dull, brownish-gray that contrasted sharply with the colorful houses and shops we’d passed in the other districts.

“Okay,” I said once we were clear of the walkway. “You can, uh, put me down now.”

He looked around, frowned, and shook his head.

“I don’t think so. I don’t like the look of this area.”

“Well this is where Count Doloroso sent us. I thought it was supposed to be safe.”

“I did too. He said they were reputable.” He sighed. “We’re not far from the mechanic he recommended so we’ll at least have a look. But I want you close to me. Very close.”

“But…but I can be close and still walk,” I protested. “You don’t have to carry me around like a baby or a damsel in distress.” Which made me remember how he’d carried me into the purple bathtub and held me so tenderly while he got the slime of the awful tentacle tank out of my hair. But I pushed the thought away hurriedly—there was no need to bring it up now, especially when we were so embarrassingly close and I was next to naked in the Majoran dress.

“Look at the road.” He nodded to the pitted, rutted pavement beneath his feet. It was a lot rougher here and there were plenty of potholes that looked like a twisted ankle waiting to happen. “A Majoran male would carry his female in this area, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s not as nice as the road by the docking area,” I acknowledged. “But I could still manage.”

“Why should you when I prefer to carry you?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“You’ll throw your back out,” I warned him, trying again. “I’m not exactly a hundred pound Hollywood starlet you can tote around all day like it’s no big deal.”

“Are you saying I’m not strong enough to carry you? I did before, you know.” He frowned and began walking as we talked, which kind of made the conversation moot, but I’m no quitter.

“No, you’re obviously plenty strong. And I know you carried me, uh, before.” I blushed, remembering the slime tank incident again. “But that was just the length of your ship. I’m just saying I’m not exactly skinny enough to—”

“Oh, this is about your planet’s strange ideas about stick-thin females being more attractive, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Well, I guess sort of…in a way,” I admitted.

“Such a strange concept.” He shook his head. “I picked you from the Alien Mate Index because of your curves—not despite them. Remember that, sweetheart.”

“All right,” I said, feeling like the conversation had somehow gotten off topic but unsure how to get it back.

Sarden must have seen my uncertainty because he gave me one of his rare smiles.

“Just relax, Zoe—I’ve got you.”

“Fine,” I said a bit stiffly. I wished I could do as he said and completely relax—wished I could pillow my head on his broad chest and just watch the scenery go by. Maybe I would have been able to—if I hadn’t known that my ultimate fate was to be traded away. But as it was, I was afraid to relax against him, afraid to let myself enjoy being carried so gently because I was frightened of what I might start to feel for the big Alien.

Just deal with it and don’t get too close, I lectured myself as Sarden carried me past several deserted looking buildings. It’s going to be over soon and besides, he’s only carrying you because that’s what a Majoran male would do for his female. But in the end, Sarden’s not going to treat you like a goddess—he’s going to trade you in like a used car he doesn’t want anymore. So there’s no point getting all warm and fuzzy just because he insists on carrying you.

The thoughts made me sad and a little bit angry. True, I’d agreed to be traded and I stood by my decision. It was, after all, for a good cause. But giving up your freedom and any chance you have of ever going home—even for a good cause—is hard. You go through a grieving process for your old way of life—the life you’re never going to have again. And isn’t one of the steps in the grieving process getting extremely pissed off?

It’s a step in my grieving process, anyway.

By the time we turned down a long, dark alleyway and finally found the entrance to the “extremely reputable” mechanic Count Doloroso had recommended, I was in something of a stew. I was feeling sad and homesick and also irritated with myself for being upset about something I couldn’t change. I was upset with Sarden too, for kidnapping me in the first place. After all, if he hadn’t picked me from that damn Alien Mate Index, I’d still be back at home bitching about my job and having girls’ nights out with Charlotte and Leah.

God, I missed them!

“Here we are—finally,” Sarden remarked, setting me down on my feet at last in front of a stained and pitted iron door with no sign of any kind that I could tell.

“What? How can you be sure?” I demanded, looking at the door and then at the area around us uneasily. The pinkish daylight didn’t penetrate very far into the mouth of the alley we found ourselves in and there were shadows everywhere which made me distinctly nervous. It looked like a really good place to get mugged—if I hadn’t been with a seven-foot tall alien, I might really have freaked out.

“The map says so,” Sarden said, showing the map that projected out of his ring again briefly.

“I don’t like it.” I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered, still looking around.

“It’s only for a moment,” he assured me. “As soon as I can secure their services for tomorrow early, we’ll leave and go back to the ship.”

“Will you buy me a nib-nib monkey on the way back?” I asked hopefully. I was thinking that the little green and purple monkeys could keep me company once I was in my new habitat in Tazaxx’s zoo. Having a pet around can make you feel a lot less lonely.

He sighed. “I really don’t think you’d like them, Zoe.”

“What are you talking about? I love animals,” I protested. “I’d have like seven cats if my apartment complex would allow it. In fact, I fully intend to be a crazy cat lady when I get old.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head.

“As usual, I don’t understand your cultural references. Please just play your part well here and I promise I’ll buy you something you want in the docking area.”

“Like a nib-nib, right?” I persisted.

“You’ve got a one track mind, don’t you? No, I won’t promise a nib-nib,” he growled. “Now will you please come with me and act your part? We need to make this deal before the light cycle ends and it gets dark.”

“Fine.” I was pissed off but determined not to show it. “Lead the way.”

“Thank you. I will go first but only to check for danger.”

Sarden pushed open the metal door which gave with a rusty creaking sound and we entered a dimly lit room with a single counter against the far end and nothing else.

“Hello?” Sarden called. “Is anyone there?”

“Hello, good Sire and lovely lady-goddess.” A man popped up from behind the counter so quickly he looked like a jack-in-the-box suddenly released by its spring.

I gave a startled little scream and took a hop backwards, almost overbalancing in my stripper heels. Sarden grabbed me by the arm before I could hit the ground, however, and hauled me back upright.

“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, stroking 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.”