CHAPTER 79
TARA
When we get to the ship, I’m surprised to see Gracie and Dohrein’s group. They’re back way early.
Then I see them. “What happened to you?” I exclaim.
Roughly dragging a sanitizing rag over a lipstick-covered hob, Gracie scowls. “I thought we’d be riding herd on a bunch of horny dudes, that’s what happened.”
“Okaaaay,” I say carefully.
“I didn’t take into account — I mean I joked, but I didn’t really think they’d lose their damned minds.”
“The hobs?” It’s not that I can’t imagine what would happen with a group of female-starved males set loose on a planet made up predominantly of females, it’s that this hob she’s cleaning off looks more shell shocked and scared than horny and bothered.
“No, the freaking women!” she shouts. “They saw the cameras, heard our movie-team story, and without anyone actually ‘knowing’ us, they freaked the fuck out! They attacked the guys.”
“Are they okay?”
More scrubbing. “More or less. They’re kind of out of it right now.”
Women just started kissing them…? Everywhere? Really? I mean, don’t get me wrong, these are good looking guys, but even if I thought they were celebrities it wouldn’t get me to plant my lips on what is essentially a total stranger—especially now that I see where some of the evidence trail is headed—
“Here,” Gracie orders, slamming the cloth into his midsection. “You get the rest.” And, still acting half out of it, he begins to work on his lower abdomen right above his… unfastened pants?
“Broken zipper,” Gracie explains when she sees where I’m staring. “They tried to rip off his pants. They tried to rip off all their pants.”
Gracie makes an irritated sound, still not over their ordeal. “They got ahold of their wings. Yanked them open. Tiny orgy,” she holds her thumb and finger a breath apart before widening her eyes and slamming her hands away from each other like bulging bookends. “And after that, we had a whole lot of pis—not fully satisfied women.” She pauses, smiling at Megan before she searches my face. “Do you know what happens if full-on s-e-x doesn’t happen?”
I nod. “The guys filled me in.” And they had. Tac, Brax, and Grake had warned me to stay well away from the powder. Because almost immediately after coming into contact with it, women are hit with extreme arousal. They have to have, at the very least, an orgasm—or unbelievable pain follows. If they don’t have sex? Unbelievable (frustrated) irrationality follows.
“There was more grinding and humping going on than on a Chicago club dance floor on a free PCP night. I had to shout, ‘Only your fingers!’ which—thank fuc-fudge,” she amends, flashing a brief impression of teeth before continuing, “They’d ALL filed their claws down prior to disembarking, the hopeful little bast—”
She swallows the rest of the word, then shakes her head. “Yeah, that was a good thing, but it’s also a good thing we’re leaving as soon as we can round up supplies, because otherwise we’d be sitting in a tank somewhere with some serious public indecency charges racked up.”
Gracie grabs the hob’s sleeve as he finishes and asks, “Good?”
When he nods mechanically, she gruffly assures, “Good man. You’ll be fine.” and she shoves his shoulder roughly to get him to turn and start walking away.
She grabs at the back of her neck, a scowl still on her face. “These kids. I feel like they’re not ready.”
I doubt that we’re much older than them, if we are physically older than them at all, but I don’t point that out because I see what she means. This bunch is sure looking a little vulnerable at the moment. “That must have been awkward-fun,” I say.
“Oh you’ve no idea. Being chased by a mob of sex-starved women was not how I thought I’d be spending my Saturday. We were supposed to have waffles.”
I laugh. Then I see how serious she looks. “Really?”
Gracie stares at me like I’m nuts. “We finally make it home, and you don’t want to satisfy your craving for waffles?”
“I wanted my kids!”
She shrugs and nods. “Right, but after that… kids need to eat, waffles need to be eaten… hey, by any chance did you pack a waffle maker?”