Only fuck a man if he can do something for you.

That had been the first piece of advice Talia had received last year after entering the leisure suite, and she reminded herself to follow it nearly every day.

The hardest thing was figuring out which men could actually do her some good.

The leisure suite was only available to high-ranking Coalition officials or guests of the Residence of the High Director. All the men and women who had access were either rich or powerful—most of them were both. But sometimes the richest and most powerful people were also the stingiest with their money. They would refuse to offer donations to the suite in exchange for using its services.

Fucking a man who wouldn’t donate afterward was a wasted effort. Talia had made a number of those mistakes when she’d first arrived, and she was trying not to do it again.

She needed to fuck men who would do her some good—who would donate generously to the suite afterward—and it took practice and discernment to recognize which ones would.

She’d only been here for eleven months. She still had a lot of learning left to do.

“Try not to look so eager,” Jenelle murmured to her softly, leaning over so no one else in their section could hear her words. “Men are contrary, and most won’t want a girl who is easy to get.”

Talia groaned and leaned back in her seat. She and Jenelle were sitting in the leisure suite section of the central arena, where the next round of the Combat Tournament was about to begin. Talia didn’t really care for watching the fighting, but she needed to attend each of the weekly rounds anyway. The arena was packed. Everyone who had any status in the Coalition and was currently stationed on Earth or its surroundings was here. If she wanted to attract another man this week, this was where she would find him tonight. “Why did they even choose me for the suite? I’m terrible at this.”

Jenelle laughed. She was in her early thirties and was both beautiful and intelligent. She’d been assigned as Talia’s mentor when she’d first started in the suite last year, and she was still her friend. “You’re not terrible. Everyone has been very pleased with your services, and most of them have offered donations afterward.”

“Not very big ones though.” The suite might be designed to offer sexual favors to the Coalition Council and the High Director’s guests, but it was no different from any other workplace. In order to move up in the suite hierarchy and earn a better room, nicer clothes, and more replicator privileges, leisure escorts had to earn donations.

The larger the donations, the more privileges they earned.

Right now Talia was sharing a room with eight other girls—a step up from the common room she’d had to sleep in when she first arrived.

Eventually she wanted her own room like Jenelle. Real privacy in a space larger than the sleeping pod she currently possessed. Absolute quiet. Maybe even an allowance to purchase a few treats now and then. Real fruit. Even chocolate.

She’d never had her own room in her life, and right now the only food she could eat was the replicated stuff—food processed from base nutrients and designed to look and taste like the real thing. It was a far better replicator quality than what she’d had to eat as a child, but still… It simply couldn’t come close to real food.

But the only way to get her own room and an allowance was to earn as many donations as Jenelle earned, which meant she had to become the favorite of a powerful man.

Jenelle only fucked one man now. He was a trusted advisor to the High Director, and he donated enough to the suite to make it worth Jenelle’s seeing him exclusively. He was in his sixties and not particularly attractive, but he was kind, and Jenelle actually liked him.

It sounded like a dream to Talia. Only one man to fuck—and a nice one. Her own room. A little bit of freedom. Her goal was to get there before she was thirty, which meant she had twelve years left to go.

She’d never get there, though, if only the losers were interested in her.

“Stop worrying,” Jenelle told her, evidently reading her mind. “You’re doing just fine.”

“Sure I am. I’ve only fucked three men all week. Most of them aren’t interested in me. My body just isn’t right.”

Jenelle shook her head. “Stop it with that. You know very well that we need a variety of body types because different men and women all have unique tastes. Some men prefer bodies like yours.”

Talia believed that in theory. On her home planet, men had started staring at her with hunger in their eyes when she was fourteen years old. She had large breasts and rounded hips and a heart-shaped face. She’d grown up understanding her value was in her physical beauty, whether or not she always liked what she saw in the mirror.

It was different on Earth though. Everyone was sophisticated and cynical here, and they all followed whatever body type happened to be in fashion.

What was in fashion right now for women were elegant, slim bodies and slight curves in keeping with the life partner of the High Director. The slimmer, the better. Jenelle was built like that, as were a good number of the female escorts in the leisure suite.

Talia wasn’t fat or even overweight. She didn’t earn enough donations to eat much real food, and you couldn’t get fat on replicated food. But she was too curvy to be of interest to most men. Even the men who might have been attracted to her still didn’t choose her because they were trying to follow the current trends.

People were like clones, and the closer one got to the center of Coalition power, the more like clones people became.

The Residence of the High Director of the Coalition Council was as close to the center of power as one could get in the explored universe.

Older men—most of them over seventy—seemed to like her the most, and she was perfectly fine with that. Even with artificial aids, men that age rarely expected very vigorous sex. Some of them just liked to have a warm body in bed with them.

She was happy to be a warm body. It didn’t take any practiced skills for that, so her inexperience wasn’t a problem.

All she needed to do was find a generous old man who wanted to see her regularly, and she would be set.

When a gray-haired man walked by the leisure suite section, eyeing the women (there were also plenty of men in the leisure suite, but this man obviously preferred women), Talia straightened up.

“Not too eager,” Jenelle murmured.

Talia did her best to compose her expression into one of cool disinterest, as if whether this man chose her wasn’t a significant matter. When he paused in front of her, she moved her hand to the tie of her tunic so she could open it and show him her breasts to let him know she was available, but he moved on before she could.

She slumped back, watching as he ended up making an appointment with Breann, who was a few years older than her and had a similar body type to her.

Breann had the reputation of being very skillful in bed.

Talia hadn’t been here long enough to develop those kinds of skills.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jenelle said with an encouraging smile. “He looks like he’s tight-fisted anyway, so he’d probably be a waste of time.”

Talia was happy to hear that. She never doubted it was true because Jenelle was much better at reading men than she was.

“The fights are about to start,” Jenelle added, turning Talia’s attention to the masked Combatants who were filing out into the ten combat rings on the floor of the arena.

The ten fights in tonight’s round would occur at the same time. These Combatants had been whittled down from the hundred who began the Tournament three weeks ago. After tonight, the winners would go on to fight next week and so on until there was just one fight in the final round and then just one Combatant remaining.

The Tournament only took place every four years, so this was the first one Talia had been present for.

The fights were no-holds-barred, and they usually ended up bloody. Talia really didn’t like to watch the raw, violent grappling. Sometimes it nauseated her. She hoped it wouldn’t be too bad tonight, and she kept her eyes on the two men fighting in the ring closest to where she sat.

She was surprised when, in less than a minute, one of the men was down and not moving.

Tournament fights almost never ended so quickly.

The crowd was cheering for the winning Combatant, and he raised a hand in victory. He got to go on to next week’s round, and he hadn’t even been injured. He was barely sweating.

He wasn’t as big as most of the other Combatants, although his muscle development was very impressive. He had hair on his chest, which was unusual since most of the Combatants shaved themselves clean.

“This must be his first Tournament,” Jenelle said, eyeing the man. “He looks young, and I’m sure he wasn’t here four years ago. I wonder where he came from.”

Talia was mildly impressed with the man’s easy victory, but she wasn’t interested enough to pay him much attention. Her eyes were roaming the aisles near where she sat again, hoping for a man to appear who was interested in her.

Three fucks in one week weren’t nearly enough to earn her an improvement in lifestyle. She didn’t like the girls she shared the room with, but she also didn’t like being trapped in her sleeping pod, which was the only way she could be alone in her current circumstances.

If she could earn more donations, she could at least move up to a room with just three other girls and a bigger pod.

Two years ago, back in her home village, she’d never believed even that much was possible in her life.

Things were different now. She could expect more than the loneliness and barren drudgery she’d grown up with.

But it would never happen if no one looked at her twice.

***

Talia didn’t get another man that evening, and she didn’t have any appointments the following day. She had to sit in the common room and hope for a drop-in to choose her, but by midafternoon, she was so tired of listening to the endless chattering of the other escorts that she went to hide in the library for a few hours.

The Residence of the High Director might sound like it was a house, but it wasn’t. It was a fortress as large as a city that orbited Earth. It boasted the best that Coalition civilization had to offer. As an escort, Talia didn’t have access to most of the perks, but she was allowed to use the library.

The Residence library had digital access to the entire public Coalition archive. But it also had more than that.

It had real books. Actual bound books with paper pages. Talia was allowed to read them. And she was even allowed to borrow them and take them with her as long as she scanned them out so there was a record of who had them.

As far as she was concerned, the best part of becoming a leisure escort was having access to the library.

Talia loved books, and she loved reading, but she often went to be alone. To have quiet for a little while, away from everyone else.

She’d never seen anyone else in the library in the eleven months she’d been living at the Residence.

When she’d been a girl in her home village, her favorite thing had been to visit a nice old man who had a shelf of historical books. The books were all about past civilizations that had thrown off oppressive regimes and found freedom.

The old man had let her read his books, and she’d read them over and over again. She loved those stories. She knew most of them by heart. She’d spent hours daydreaming about stories like that coming true in her own world, although she knew it was impossible. So she always searched the Residence library for more stories like that.

She didn’t care if they were real history or not. She liked to read of rebellions, of revolutions, of victory over oppression.

She liked to daydream it was possible.

Occasionally she read stories about the formation of the Coalition. A thousand years ago when space travel became safe, humans had spread from Earth to ever-expanding regions of space, populating planets and developing new worlds. They’d brought their cultural differences and ideological divisions with them, however, and eventually they’d established the Coalition Council as a way of maintaining peace.

The Council included a representative from all the major planets, and it was supposed to support justice and freedom for all the worlds under its governance. Hundreds of years had passed since then however, and none of the old ideals still held.

The Coalition Council was filled with the most ruthless and ambitious people, and the High Director was the worst of them all. Their only priority was to maintain power, and they did anything necessary to hold on to it. They didn’t take care of people or worlds or anything really. They only kept control.

She’d always thought it was sad. Heartbreaking, really. That a government that had begun with good ideals had transformed into what it was now.

It was too depressing to read about it very much, so she usually went much farther back into early Earth cultures.

Earlier this week, she’d found a collection of ancient stories, many of which were about the enslaved becoming free. She grabbed the big volume off the shelf again and took it over to her favorite curtained window seat to read it.

She spent a happy hour reading about a beautiful woman who had become the concubine of an ancient king. She’d then become his queen. She’d then managed to save her people.

Talia loved the story so much she read it twice.

Eventually she forced herself to close the book.

She’d spent too long here already, and she needed to get back to the suite. She would never get anywhere unless she found a few partners, and she couldn’t do that from the library. She grabbed a few books to read over the next evenings, in case she still didn’t have any appointments, and then she left the library, mentally reviewing her list of men who’d shown interest in her and might want to see her again.

She always kept a running tally of those men in her mind, rehashing their age, appearance, wealth, and status, taking comfort in having as many possibilities as possible.

One day she was going to be a favorite.

One day she’d have her own room.

The hall was mostly empty in the midafternoon like this since the Council was in session. So she was surprised when she turned a corner and saw a man approaching her. He had dark blond hair and a square face and looked to be in his midthirties. Talia recognized him immediately.

Usually a man so young was of no interest to her since it took a long time to gain political power in the Coalition. But Talia recognized this one. He was one of the subcommanders of Coalition Special Forces, and he’d just arrived at the Residence a few days ago after being stationed on a border planet.

She gave him a little smile as she passed him.

She’d seen him at the Tournament last night, which was where she’d found out who he was. He hadn’t shown her any interest, but that didn’t mean he never would.

She wasn’t naturally outgoing, but being shy didn’t work for an escort. So she forced herself to say, “Good afternoon. Be sure to stop by the leisure suite when you have some free time.”

He paused, causing her heart to jump in excitement.

His eyes crawled over her body from her high, dark ponytail to the toes of her boots—made in a soft fabric that molded her legs all the way to her midthighs. Most of the women in the leisure suite wore boots like that, and both men and women wore ponytails high on their heads. It was the way they were identified.

He didn’t say anything, but he kept looking at her, so her hope intensified. She adjusted her stack of books to reveal more of her body and gave him a slightly trembling smile that she’d practiced for months with Jenelle. (Jenelle had always advised that Talia, with her long hair, youthful appearance, and dimples to put on a shy, girlish demeanor since a lot of men really liked that.) “We’d love to see you in the leisure suite,” she said, dropping her eyelashes strategically.

When she looked back up, she was pleased to see that the man’s expression had grown hot with interest. He reached out to raise her chin. “You’re a little chubby for my taste, but it looks like you’ve got great tits.”

Chubby.

Talia hated being called chubby.

Despite his words, this man didn’t seem to mind her body. In fact, he’d moved his hand down to the neckline of her tunic, pulling it away from her skin so he could see what was beneath. He kept pulling until the fabric started to tear.

To make it easier for him and to keep him from ripping her tunic any more, she moved her books to one arm and untied her sash. The tunic was a wraparound, and she pulled it open to show him her breasts.

Her breasts were good. Everyone said so. They were big and rounded with perky rosy nipples. Her belly was soft but mostly flat, and her pussy was shaved smooth.

Her heart was racing in excitement as she waited for the man to make up his mind.

He was interested.

He was definitely interested.

And he wasn’t gross or unattractive.

He was a subcommander in the Special Forces.

She couldn’t have asked for anything better.

“Do you have a few minutes right now?” he asked at last, his voice slightly thick with lust.

She gave herself a mental cheer as she gave the man a slow smile. “For you? Of course I do.”

He glanced around the hall, as if orienting himself to his location.

“We could go to one of the playrooms in the suite. Or the library is empty,” she suggested, nodding toward a closed door.

That was another piece of advice she’d gotten from Talia. No matter where you were, always be conscious of places for men to fuck you since you never knew when the opportunity would arise.

The man put his hand on the back of her neck and guided her toward the door. He applied more pressure than necessary. She didn’t need to be pushed.

This was the best thing to happen to her all year.

She wasn’t going anywhere but that room.

When he closed the door behind them, he asked, “How are you with your mouth?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” she said, flashing her dimple and lowering her lashes in another shy look after she’d put her stack of books on the table.

“Good.” He pushed her down onto her knees, not gently but not roughly enough to bother her. The girls in the suite all knew the men who were inclined to hurt them and made sure to avoid them. Officially, a girl in the suite could say no whenever she wanted. It was on the books as an inviolable law—rape was illegal in any situation, including for the men and women who worked in the leisure suite.

In Coalition space, however, laws were often on the books simply for appearance’s sake. And practically speaking, if she went around saying no to men who wanted to fuck her, she might as well call it quits and go back home.

Occasionally, if she’d had a bad day, she was tempted. She was allowed to leave if she wanted, as long as she went through a long exit process. Her family wouldn’t have to pay back all the money they’d received when she’d been chosen for the leisure suite last year. It had been enough to provide for her family for the rest of their lives, and it wasn’t contingent on her staying in the suite for any particular length of time.

But she had nothing to go home for—just a stark, joyless planet and a village of people who’d never really understood her. The old man with the books had died three years ago. He was the only real friend she’d had.

Plus her home planet was old-fashioned, and they’d likely all see her as a whore. She would hate that.

She had a better chance of a good life here, if she could get better at pleasing men.

The leisure suite was for life. When a woman got too old for men to want to fuck, then she stayed to help train the younger girls.

It was a better life than anything that would be waiting for her on her home planet, and the first step toward achieving it was pleasing this man in front of her.

She was so excited her heart was racing in her throat.

“I don’t have much time,” the man said matter-of-factly. “Take off your top first. I really like those big tits. And don’t use your teeth.”

Her tunic was still hanging open, so she let it slide off her arms. Then she unfastened his trousers and freed his cock, which was already mostly erect from looking at her breasts.

She wished he wasn’t in a hurry so she could really give him a good time, but he’d said specifically that he only had a few minutes, so she wasn’t going to be stupid and drag this out longer than he wanted.

She stroked his cock lightly and then teased it with her tongue, paying attention to what caused his thigh muscles to tighten and his breath to hitch.

Then she took him in her mouth fully. After the first few sucks, he hardened all the way.

He obviously wasn’t a talker, which was fine with her. He made wordless sounds that proved he was enjoying this, and soon he started to rock his hips with the rhythm of her sucking.

She loosened her throat muscles as much as she could so she didn’t choke when he pushed in deeper. He grabbed her ponytail with both hands and was holding on to it as she sucked him off.

She wasn’t as practiced at this as a lot of women in the leisure suite. She’d only been here a year, and she’d been a virgin when she’d arrived—which had increased her value for obvious reasons. But she used every trick in her small arsenal to add to his pleasure. She massaged his balls and then the sensitive spot behind them, and that made him gasp and jerk.

“Fuck, you’re good,” he grunted. “Now I want to know if your pussy is as sweet as your mouth.”

She couldn’t respond with words since his cock was filling her mouth, but she raised her eyes to his face to see if this meant he wanted her to stop sucking him off.

He pulled her head back, letting his erection slip out of her mouth, and then he hauled her to her feet and turned her around, bending her over the table and pushing her shoulders down until her cheek was pressed again the cool metal.

She was naked except for her boots, and the edge of the table dug into her stomach uncomfortably, but she’d far rather have a man fuck her from behind than have him all in her face, so she was pleased with the position.

“Do you like it like this?” the man asked, parting her ass cheeks until he could find her pussy.

She normally met with men in the playrooms of the leisure suite, where there was always lubricant available. Jenelle had trained her to use sexual fantasies to arouse herself, but Talia had to focus so much on using all her skills that it was hard for her to fantasize at the same time. When she had time to prepare, she did it beforehand—imagining herself alone with a vibrator, which was the only way she’d ever come. She hadn’t been able to do that this time, but she’d learned to relax her body completely. When the man wedged his cock into her pussy, she was surprised to find that she was a little wet.

She was so excited by the opportunity that her body must have reacted.

“Damn, your pussy is so hot and tight. How does that feel?” the man asked, rolling his hips. Maybe he was a talker after all. “You like the feel of me inside you, don’t you?”

She’d learned very early that questions like this meant the man wanted affirmation and an ego boost.

Some women enjoyed sex, but she never had. She didn’t hate it. She just didn’t get pleasure out of it. She’d certainly never had an orgasm with a man.

She wasn’t stupid enough to let men see this though.

So she made her voice breathless and said, “Yeah. Oh yeah, it feels so good!” When he pushed into her with a hard thrust, she gave a little cry, like it had felt so good she couldn’t hold back.

She stretched her arms spread-eagle on the table, palms flat, as he thrust again. Then she started up a series of vocal responses as he fucked her hard. She babbled in a broken, girlish voice about how good he was, how big he was, how much he was going to make her come. She could fake it pretty well now, so she tightened her pussy around his penetration and gradually increased the decibel of her cries.

He wanted affirmation, so that meant he’d probably want her to come.

He was holding on to her ponytail with one hand and gripping one side of her bottom with the other. With each thrust, his pelvis slapped against the soft flesh of her ass, making a rhythmic spanking sound.

He was getting louder. And faster. And rougher.

His grip on her hair was starting to hurt.

But he was liking this. A lot. She looked at him over her shoulder to make sure, and there was no mistaking his flushed face, his contorted features, the tension in his shoulders and arms.

He was liking this a lot.

She made a loud sobbing sound and shook her body in tight shudders, as if she’d reached climax.

“Yeah,” the man grunted, “Oh yeah. I can feel that hot pussy coming for me. You’re taking it so good.”

He leaned over, letting go of her bottom and bracing himself on the table. The move changed the penetration.

Her stomach was really hurting from the edge of the table now, and her breasts were smashed on the cold, hard surface, her nipples rubbing against it as he moved her body with his thrusts. He was pulling on her hair still, but she could tell he was nearing the end.

Since he seemed to like to hear how much she was enjoying it, she kept up her gasps and babbles. “So good, so good, you’re giving it to me so good. Gonna come again.”

He really liked that last one. He almost roared and gave her a sharp slap on one side of her bottom.

She squeezed her pussy around him as hard as she could and screamed with what she hoped sounded like pleasure.

Finally he let go, giving another roar and falling out of rhythm.

He released himself into her. It felt like there was a lot of semen.

She wondered how long it had been since he’d had sex.

He’d been on the border until this week. He’d only arrived at the Residence a few days ago.

And he’d fucked her.

He’d chosen her.

He’d really seemed to like it.

She gasped and wheezed as he pulled out of her and gave her bottom an approving pat. “Maybe I like the chubby ones after all. All that jiggling is pretty hot.”

That was a compliment. Not a nice one but still a compliment. So she was smiling as she straightened up, hiding her cringe as her muscles stretched painfully at the move.

She was going to have a bruise across her belly, but it would be worth it if he wanted to fuck her again.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she told him breathlessly. She knew her cheeks were red, and she let her long, dark ponytail swing forward as if she were trying to hide her face.

He pushed her hair back with a smug smile. “Don’t try to hide it from me. I saw how hard you came. You’ve obviously needed a real man to give it to you good for a long time. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She fluttered her lashes, pretending a shyness she didn’t feel. “I’ve never come so hard before. And twice,” she whispered.

He chuckled and gave her bottom one more little spank, harder than before. “I’m going to look for you again. And we’ll see how many more times you can come when I have more time.”

She smiled but kept her lashes lowered.

Hopefully he would give the leisure suite a donation to show his appreciation.

If men used the suite but didn’t give donations, then the men and women who worked there would stop offering those men their services. Everyone knew that, so most people would donate at least a little.

This man was a subcommander. Maybe he would donate a lot.

If he wanted to think he could make her feel like no one else ever would, then that was what she would let him think.

He was a man, and men could be easily manipulated.

This one was no exception.

She wished she could remember his name.

She couldn’t wait to tell Jenelle how well she’d done this afternoon.

And he’d said he was going to look for her again.

She let him leave first. Then she closed her tunic and tied the sash, shaking her head over the ripped fabric. It could be fixed. It was good that he was enthusiastic about seeing her body. She was sore and stiff and flushed and uncomfortable. She needed to clean herself up between the legs, and her tunic was torn.

But none of that mattered.

If the subcommander liked her, then maybe he would want to keep seeing her.

Maybe she could become his favorite.

She was only eighteen, and she was still new to this, but she thought she’d done pretty well.

When she’d pulled herself back together, Talia collected her stack of books and once more left the library to head to the leisure suite.

Jenelle was probably having a drink in the garden right now. Talia started to hurry so she could tell her friend her good news.

She hadn’t yet reached the suite when a transport roared up behind her, far too fast for an interior corridor, and barely swerved to miss her.

The suddenness of it startled her, and Talia jumped away from the transport awkwardly as it zoomed by.

She fell against a closed door and dropped her books.

She cursed the selfish idiot who was in such a hurry.

She was kneeling on the floor, collecting her fallen books, when the door she’d bumped into slid open.

Looking up, she saw a tall man looming above her. He wore the soft, thin trousers and tunic that were common daytime wear around the Residence. He was barefoot, and as she looked up his body, she blinked when she saw he wore a Combatant’s mask.

“Are you all right?” he asked, looking down at her. His hair was light brown, and his body was very strong. She couldn’t tell anything more about his appearance because of his mask.

“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.” She felt like an idiot as she hastily restacked her books. Leave it to her to make a fool of herself in front of a Combatant.

When she glanced up at him, she suddenly realized that he was the one who had won so quickly last night. He wasn’t hugely bulky like most of the others, and the slight cleft in his chin was distinct.

She was reaching for her last book, focused on getting back on her feet, when she discovered he’d leaned over to pick it up for her.

She discovered this when she nearly knocked heads with him.

Feeling even more like an idiot, she jerked backward to avoid the collision.

She fell clumsily on her ass, wincing as the tumble jarred her stomach and groin, which were both sore from the vigorous round of sex she’d just had.

“Shit,” the man muttered, still holding one of her books. “I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?”

His tone was self-deprecating and very dry. It made her want to smile.

But she was still sprawled on the floor with her tunic completely askew in front of a Combatant.

Combatants had plenty of status during the weeks of the Tournament every year, and the longer they lasted, the more money they earned.

She certainly would be happy to win the attention of any of them, although they’d never be her highest goal since their presence in the Residence was only temporary.

They all eventually left to go elsewhere, so they could never make her a long-term favorite and as safe and secure as Jenelle was.

They were also all young, strong, and fawned over, so they had their pick of sexual partners who didn’t come with all the restrictions of the leisure suite.

He reached out an arm to help her to her feet, and she noticed when his gaze moved lower than her face. His eyes were a very dark blue. She could see now that he was closer. She’d never seen eyes that color, and she wondered if they were natural.

When she managed to stand up, she glanced down at herself and saw what had distracted him. Her torn tunic wasn’t just askew. It was hanging partly open, revealing the swell of one of her breasts.

She found it kind of sweet that he kept trying to focus his eyes on her face, as if he weren’t supposed to be looking. She gave him a little smile as she asked, “Do you always wear that mask, even when you’re alone in your room?”

He blinked behind the eyeholes of the mask. “Oh. No. I put it on before I opened the door. It sounded like someone had knocked, and I didn’t know who it was.”

She nodded, wondering why it even mattered. Combatants were supposed to wear their masks at all times when fighting or attending public functions—one of the archaic rules of the sport that served no logical purpose now—but none of the others did so in domestic quarters or when simply hanging out around the Residence.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, extending her hand for the book he still held. “I was just being clumsy.”

He studied the book before he handed it to her. “Do you read all these books?”

“Why else would I have them?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t think anyone read books anymore.”

“I like the feel of the pages,” she told him. “And the smell of them. I used to—” She cut herself off before she told him of the old man in her home village with the shelf of books. Her memories were one of the few things she could keep private, and there was no reason to share one with a stranger.

His eyes had slipped down to her chest again. He was definitely having trouble not looking.

“You used to what?” he asked, his voice revealing that his eyes weren’t the only parts of his body affected by the glimpse of her breasts.

Never one to miss an opportunity—even if it was only a temporary one—she untied her sash and opened her tunic fully so he could see her, exactly as she had with the subcommander earlier.

It had worked before. Maybe today was her lucky day.

The man made a weird sound in his throat and turned away in a jerky move, gripping his doorframe tightly as he showed his back to her.

Talia grew still. “What’s the matter?”

“Why are you doing that?” His voice sounded very stretched, and his shoulders were visibly tense.

Confused and strangely upset by his reaction to her innocent gesture, she asked, “You know what the ponytail means, don’t you?”

“Yes. I know.”

“Then why are you acting that way? You’re allowed to look at me. You’re allowed to touch me if you want.”

“And you… want that?” The man was still refusing to turn around, and the knuckles of his fingers gripping the doorframe were whitening.

She was starting to feel a little better. He wasn’t insulting her. He was new to the Residence and probably to this part of the world. Perhaps he didn’t know all the policies regarding leisure escorts. Most men learned them right away so they could take advantage of what they offered, but maybe this man hadn’t. “I wouldn’t have opened my tunic had I not wanted to make myself available to you.”

The man turned around, and she saw his eyes run up and down her body almost hungrily.

She hadn’t been wrong. He did like the looks of her. In fact, he liked it a lot.

The thin trousers he wore did little to hide the fact that he was getting aroused.

“So you would just… with me…”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“With anyone?” He was still holding on to the doorframe very tightly with one hand.

“No, not with anyone. I prefer not to have sex with women. It’s just my choice. And there are some men I don’t like the looks of. I get to decide who I make myself available to, and they get to decide if they want me. Has no one ever told you how it works?”

“I-I already knew about the leisure suite. I just didn’t think… I’m a nobody.”

“Of course you’re not a nobody. You’re a Combatant, and we’re six weeks in.” She searched his face, wishing he wasn’t wearing the damned mask so she could read his expression better. “I saw you fight last night,” she added.

“Did you?”

“It was amazing.”

He appreciated her words. He was a man. Compliments like that nearly always worked.

“And it’s as simple as that?”

“Yes, it’s that simple.” She was frowning at him now and deciding she might have been wrong to offer herself to him in the first place. “There’s nothing shameful in what I do, if that’s what you’re implying. I work with my body, just like you do.”

“I… I guess it feels a little different to me, but you’re right. I’m the last person in any world who should judge anyone’s choices. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on Earth. I’m sorry.”

Cultures were different on different planets, and some of them were very old-fashioned. She’d encountered both men and women who’d wanted to shame her before, and she was glad this man wasn’t so archaic in his thinking.

He interested her, but her interest would soon fade if he was going to make her feel bad about herself.

“Are you angry with me?” the man asked after a pause.

She gave a little jerk, realizing she’d never responded to his apology. “No. No, of course not. The leisure suite is new to a lot of people. I can understand if it’s a bit confusing.”

“It’s not really—” He cut himself off, as if he’d rethought whatever he’d first intended to say.

She didn’t understand him at all, but she’d liked that he’d said sorry. “Thank you for the apology,” she said.

“Least I could do.” His eyes had drifted down again, but something changed in his posture. He took a step forward, staring down at her belly. “What happened to you?” he asked in a different tone.

She put an instinctive hand on her stomach and looked down at herself, noticing that her skin was raw and inflamed from being rubbed against the edge of the table so roughly. “Oh. It’s nothing.”

He was definitely frowning now behind the mask. “Did someone hurt you?” He reached out and took the torn fabric of her tunic in one of his hands.

His response and the sudden rough texture of his voice made her feel weird, self-conscious. “No. Of course not.”

His hand moved down to her reddened belly, and it was clear he didn’t believe her. “You’ve been injured.”

“Would you stop it? I haven’t been injured. It’s just… the price of doing business.”

His eyes flew up to her face, and she saw, even with the mask blocking his features, when he put the pieces together. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

“And you still want to… with me.”

She found it so strange and inexplicable that he couldn’t seem to say the word sex to her. She’d never met anyone like him. “Yes. If you want to.”

It was quite obvious that he did want to. Even with the distraction of his concern for her injuries, he was visibly erect beneath his trousers. All the way erect.

He was very nice-sized too.

The hand that had been touching her belly drifted upward slightly, stopping just under her breast. He was breathing faster now, and his eyes were devouring her half-naked body.

She gently moved his hand up farther until he was cupping one of her breasts. “I told you that you could touch me,” she murmured.

He shifted his hand slightly, tweaking her nipple with his palm, and she sucked in a breath as the tiny move sent a tingle of pleasure down to her pussy.

That was quite unexpected.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he said in a harsh whisper.

She felt another tingle of pleasure, and she realized it was from his words, from their obvious sincerity.

He really thought she was beautiful, and she liked that he did.

“So what are you waiting for?” she asked, trying an eyelash flutter that seemed to work on a lot of men.

He jerked his hand back like he’d been burned. “No,” he mumbled, turning his head so he wasn’t looking at her anymore. “No, I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t… like this.”

“Okay,” she murmured, surprised and disappointed but trying not to show it. She closed her tunic and picked up the stack of books she’d set down on the floor of the hallway.

No one wanted her to make a scene just because she’d been so close to scoring another victory for the day only to lose it.

It happened.

It happened a lot.

It happened to her more than to other girls.

Her body type wasn’t in style. And she was new to the suite. She didn’t have all the skills that other women did. She needed more practice.

But how was she supposed to get practice if men kept turning her down—even a man who was obviously aroused by her?

“It’s not that I don’t… don’t like you,” the man said when she’d started to turn away from him.

She paused and looked back.

“I do. You’re…. you’re perfect. But sex is… personal to me.”

She nodded, feeling a little better about the rejection. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” she said with a smile. Might as well end things on a good note. Maybe he’d change his mind later on.

“Why not?” he asked with a frown in his tone.

“Because this is my job.”

“But you’re also a person, aren’t you?”

She blinked, staring at him for a long moment, her heart doing a very strange skipping thing. “Yes,” she said at last, just a little breathless. “I am.”

“What’s your name?”

“Talia.”

“Talia,” he repeated softly. “I’m Desh.”

She nodded to acknowledge his introduction. Then she turned and walked away with her stack of books, wondering why she felt so upended by his matter-of-fact comment about her being a person.

She knew in theory that she was a person. Of course she did.

But from a very early age, she’d also known that wasn’t how men saw her.

She’d been fourteen when her breasts had really started to grow. She’d always been a pretty little girl—everyone had always told her that—but once she’d developed a figure, they’d started looking at her differently.

Her parents were dirt poor, working in the mines like everyone else on her home planet, and they’d had to use what they had available to provide for their family. She was one of those things.

When she was seventeen, they’d made plans to marry her off to the richest man in the village, a merchant in his fifties who’d been leering at her since she was fourteen.

They’d told her she was lucky that he had even noticed her, and she’d believed them. She’d wanted her own room with a nice bed and the pretty clothes he could give her.

Why on earth wouldn’t she want that?

She’d never had a boyfriend. There were few young men in the village. Many of the boys who were raised there left the planet by the time they were sixteen, in search of something better than the barren existence on such an isolated, undeveloped part of the universe. A few of them would eventually come back if they couldn’t make it in the outside world.

Her father had kept her away from even the few boys around. He’d protected her virginity as if it were a monetary treasure.

She’d grown up understanding it was.

But just before the engagement was finalized, her father had heard of a call for beautiful young women—virgins preferred—to interview for the leisure suite. He’d used every bit of their savings to take her to the one developed planet in their solar system to be interviewed by a bored Coalition official.

The man had looked at her naked, verified she was a virgin, and sent her to meet with an older woman in a private room.

The woman had grilled her for more than two hours about everything from favorite foods to her masturbation habits. (Those questions were easy—she’d never had an orgasm until they’d given her a vibrator in the leisure suite.)

She’d done exactly as her father had said and continually lied about her age.

In that part of the universe, record keeping was sketchy, and no one bothered to double-check the year she was born.

Women were supposed to be eighteen to enter the leisure suite. Talia had done it at seventeen, and it had been the best thing she’d ever done.

Her family was taken care of for the rest of their lives, and she was able to live in comfort for the rest of hers.

And all she had to do was have sex.

It wasn’t really that different from what she’d expected when she was younger. Her body was the one thing she had of value, and so she had to use it.

She might not be great at sex yet, but she was getting better.

Eventually she would have a room of her own like Jenelle did. Privacy to read or rest or anything she wanted.

If the price she paid was bruises across the stomach from a man turning her over a table, then she wasn’t about to complain. Men were like that. They took what they wanted.

She had the sudden image of Desh touching her breast so gently. She could almost feel again the tingles of pleasure in her pussy from the featherlight brush of his palm, so unexpected, so strange.

She shook her head, telling herself not to dwell on it since it didn’t mean anything significant.

Desh had turned her down.

And if he changed his mind and took her to bed in the future, he’d end up like all the others. They looked different and acted different, but when they fucked, men were all the same.

They all took what they wanted.

It was the second thing Jenelle had told her when she’d first arrived in the leisure suite, overwhelmed and nervous and so excited about the new life she was starting here.

Don’t overthink it. Men will always be men.