Chapter 1 – Until Debt Do Us Part #2
Under the blue lights, I thought I could see the skin of his cheeks darken.
God help me, I did love an alien who could blush.
Araxis of Creche Thiel blinked at me and looked lost for words, so I found some more and kept going.
"I'd love to get your input on something.
I think it's better to keep sword-dancing and pole dancing separate, but some of my co-workers told me I should really try to combine them.
You may be the resident expert now, so what are your thoughts? "
"I am… hardly an expert," he said, eyes big and black and endless.
My smile sharpened. "I bet you know more than you let on."
I watched as his tongue darted out, touching his lower lip; it looked smooth and wet and it was purple, the tip more pointed than mine.
I felt my body curving toward him, just a little more, and I was surprised to see his shoulders angling closer too.
"You look most at ease with the swords," he offered finally while the muted music throbbed and rumbled around us, his stare like liquid ink as he studied my face.
"Fair enough," I murmured. It was true: I liked the swords better.
I'd picked up the pole because it tended to get better tips: not everyone got off watching a hot human twirling around a couple of sharp blades, but most everyone enjoyed seeing me scale a pole and flip and slide with some writhing and undulating thrown in there for good measure.
It did well and was fine… barring that one bloody nose when I'd face-planted on the stage.
Honestly, the tips had been good that night – I wasn't above taking pity credits – so that had still been a net win, even after the visit to the after-hours clinic.
"I don't suppose you'd like a private demonstration?
I've been told I'm even better up close, and there are some things I just can't do on stage. "
I flicked my price list his way and saw the message flare to life on his wristband; I'd even chosen the lowest tier, since he was awfully cute and it wouldn't be a hardship taking him out back. I watched as his eyes took in the document, waiting for his reaction.
Most of the other dancers added an addendum with sex acts they would or would not perform; me, I was fine with anything and everything.
Back on Seraphim, the notion of fucking for money – or, for that matter, for fun – was not just absurd, but morally repugnant, so I took no small amount of pleasure in being up for it all.
Huh. Maybe my lack of hang-ups was a hang-up after all.
The abaya's eyes were wide when his stare flicked back to me, and he looked as if he was lost somewhere between feeling bewildered and terrified.
I guessed that was a no. Someone else might be irritated: after all, he'd been here every night for a week, watching me perform and then leaving without so much as a conversation.
He tipped well, but that was still a long time for me to linger without moving on to something more lucrative, and more fun.
This was the kind of thing that pissed other dancers off and made someone like Khrelen complain about shy clients.
But I didn't mind; I'd never minded. I knew what it was like to be shy and afraid.
And honestly, it was kind of nice to be noticed at all; after ten years of this, I knew I'd faded into the background – Alet Trident's resident human.
So I laughed and softened my smile a little to put him at ease.
"I promise you're not going to insult me if you say no," I said, firm.
"I just think you're cute, and I like that you've been watching me perform. I'm happy to talk too."
The glow from his wristband faded as he tapped the display off. He was definitely blushing now, and seemed unable to look at me even as he leaned, ever so slightly, toward me. I didn't think he even realized he was doing it.
"You are kind," murmured Araxis of Creche Thiel. "But I should leave. My business with the den is nearly concluded."
That did feel a little deflating, and it must have shown on my face – I usually have good control, but the thought of being short on credits again had put me a bit off my game – because then, surprisingly, Araxis reached out and touched one of his white hands to my own.
His skin was cool, his fingers resting gently on the back of my hand.
"It is not that I wish to go so suddenly," he added in a rush.
"It is that I have other matters that I must attend to.
Otherwise I might –" He bit off whatever else he was going to say, leaving me wondering.
Otherwise he'd go out back with me? Talk to me for longer? I studied him for a moment, and his hand jerked away as he folded it back into place in his lap again. As if he'd been startled by his own boldness.
"It's alright," I said. "Like I said, I'm not insulted.
Honestly, I have pretty thick skin after a decade of this.
" Across from me, Araxis blinked in surprise and I realized what I'd said.
I laughed, waving a hand. "Oh, sorry – that's a human saying; it just means I'm hard to hurt.
My skin really isn't that thick. It is of perfectly average thickness.
Well, I think it is; how would I really know?
But I have been told my skin is one of my better features from a cross-species perspective, so… "
I was babbling. Why was I babbling?
"Anyway," I added breezily, feeling suddenly foolish and too warm as this very pretty abaya continued to blink at me, looking increasingly perplexed, "I'll be off as well then.
Will you be back tomorrow night? I'll stick to the swords, just for you.
" I stood up, trying to gain some semblance of control again.
I didn't usually get flustered. I clearly wasn't at my best.
"Hm." Araxis stood as well, and I could see that he was as tall as I was, maybe a little taller.
I could also see the fine make of his clothes: high waisted trousers tied around a trim waist, a draped shirt that exposed a delicious expanse of collarbone, and a dark jacket with precise lines and trim that glinted in the throbbing lights around us.
"I am afraid that I am leaving the station shortly.
I am called elsewhere, and I must return to my ship. "
Well, that really was unfortunate. I forced an affable smile to my features.
"Look me up when you come through next, then," I said.
"I'm here every night." Feeling bold, I reached and brushed my hand against the lapel of his jacket, fingers trailing the line of trim that glinted moodily in the den's lights.
"I like this," I added, pinching the edge of the coat near his throat and rubbing the fabric between my fingers; I knew he would feel the ghost of heat at his throat and, when I looked up at him, I could see it had worked.
Araxis had gone perfectly still, his eyes wide and black, his lips parted just slightly.
Ha. Got him. When he was through again, I'd bet a night's worth of tips that he took me up on my offer to head out back. My smile sharpened a bit and I added, "It suits you." And then I released his jacket and turned to find another table to work.
A voltaari beckoned me over to a booth where a mixed group was chatting idly, so I sat myself down by – I had pulled up a list of short client profiles on my wristband before arriving – their side, half-listening to the chatter about some exciting broadcast coming up while the voltaari pawed absentmindedly at my ass.
I sat there, making interested sounds and trying very hard not to contemplate just how depressing it was to promise some cute alien that I'd be here, dancing and whoring like always, no matter when he stopped in next because I had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do anyway.
What a bleak thought. How much longer could I keep doing this?
I'd been at the den for a decade, although I hadn't been dancing or entertaining that long; did I have another decade in me?
Longer? And if not, what the hell would I do next?
It wouldn't matter anyway if I was short more weeks than not. My bunk was only my bunk so long as I kept up… and it felt like it was harder every week to do that.
At least I had a decade's worth of history with Alet Trident on my side, and that had to count for something. Maybe a lot of somethings!
My wristband buzzed gently against my skin.
I glanced down while one of the brin in the group chattered excitedly about some important job their cousin had gotten with a major ketaari media conglomerate.
This wasn't the type of table that was going to pay particularly well; they just wanted me there, looking pretty and in groping distance, so I wasn't paying very close attention to the conversation beyond keeping my ears pricked for any likely pieces of gossip.
I called up the incoming message, and blinked in surprise.
It was from Alet Trident, and she expected to see me in her office immediately.
The word was underlined, which was practically klaxons from her.
I slid out from under the voltaari's hand, which had been stroking my back (that part was pretty nice).
"So sorry," I murmured, although the conversation hadn't even paused. "My employer has asked to see me."
As I made my way across the room, threading between clusters of couches and tables and past clients who were tipsily wandering around with drinks, I saw another little chime on my wristband.
One whole credit from the voltaari.
Honestly, it was more than I'd expected.