A Soldier For All Seasons Ch. 13

Ana tugged her dress down for the fifth time, trying in vain to stop it from riding up, shivering into Nate's loose embrace from the cold night air.

She pouted. The line for the club was ridiculous and so was her dress.

"My dress doesn't fit." She whined to Nate, brushing some lint off his suit. He looked good, in blue suit pants and a pressed white shirt. Ana had spent ages trying on dresses with Sheila and Jana, but Nate had disappeared for two minutes down the street and came back looking perfect. It wasn't fair. "I tried on a size higher and a size lower and they didn't work either."

A girl behind her snorted. "Babe, they can't size right when you have an ass like that. Be thankful for what you got, you look amazing."

Ana lit up, twirling giddily. "Aw, thank you! You look so good too, I love your top, is it Ganache?"

Ana did look amazing, in a red deeply plunging v-neck mini-dress, backless, the halterneck style keeping the dress up around the back of her neck. Her breasts were kept in by the tightness of the fabric that ran over them, but the dress plunged deep to her belly button, creamy side-cleavage giving Nate more than a good look. Her dress just about covered her ass, barely reaching her thigh. Fishnet stockings completed the effect — a party girl out for a night out.

Nate tuned Ana out even as she wrapped his arm around her waist, leaning into him as she spoke. From what she'd told him, she didn't have many friends growing up, since it wasn't easy being the friend of the Queen's daughter, especially when the Queen sounded like a royal bitch. He couldn't bemoan her making new ones.

The line behind them snaked all the way back to the shipping port, though it couldn't really be called a port. Ships of all sizes docked precariously close to another, like yachts in a tax-haven. The bigger the ship, the more girls streamed off them, giggling, preening, pre-drinking. And, following, men of power, too clean, wet-look hair, inked heavily or using shining gold arms, fingers, sometimes even legs.

One of them had a gold eyeball which leered and roamed at all the young women, no doubt with some sort of scanning ability.

Nate didn't respect them but he at least recognized some of their entourage as ex-military bodyguards, in the way they moved, their way they scanned the bare promenade and then moved into the faux-forest of pink-flowered maple trees and fairy lights that decorated the underside of the huge ship-club. It was, Nate grudgingly admitted, a pretty glorified queue, but that didn't make it any faster.

The high-rollers walked straight in with their clutch of women — he found it interesting that the bouncers barely looked at them — they didn't press any creds into their hands, didn't threaten or make nice. They didn't use any of their resources.

Nate frowned. He had resources he wasn't using. Ana played idly with her candy necklace as she spoke to her new friend. She was a bona fide bombshell Princess, unused to waiting, comfortable at the highest echelon of society, and she belonged to a bum like him.

He shook his head. If he wanted to be worthy of her, he was going to have to up his game.

"Ana," He growled suddenly. Ana straightened, like the tone of his voice had struck a cord deep within her. "Introduce me to your friends."

"Oh, this is Erella and Janae—"

"Nice to meet you both. If you'd like to follow me, we're skipping the line." Nate tugged Ana forth, heading past the dubious queuers, toward the two mountain-like bodyguards, shoulders modded for extra bulk.

"Nate, what—" Ana squeaked as he squeezed her ass, fingers sinking into her plump flesh, bulging around the string of her fishnets, dress rising up to reveal more than a little of her cheeks.

Nate ignored her. He'd have to act like a super rich playboy with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Isabelle, what you got?" He muttered.

Now you're talking. Left mountain is called Terrok, spent six months in a min-security prison for breaking a man's leg in this very job. Just got out. The prison database suggests he has an alias of 'TW' and received several conjugal visits from a 'Candice Vaughan'.

"Perfect." He murmured. As they swept towards the bodyguards, Nate just laughed. "T-fucking-W, you're finally out of the clink? Did Candy visit or did you just drop the soap when you were lonely?"

Terrok frowned with confusion before his face lit up in a laugh. "Fuck you, man, she visited plenty."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll send the girls out with the good stuff for you later, if you want."

He looked unsure for a moment and then shrugged. "Ex-con discount?"

"We'll see how drunk I am." Nate quipped.

He unhooked the velvet rope for Nate and the girls to sweep right in to a lobby of elevators.

They picked one and as the doors shut, Ana squealed and kissed him.

"That was amazing!" Her voice muffled in his mouth.

"Thanks." Erella looked relieved, probably at the fact she wouldn't be sent to the back of the queue. "Didn't even have to pay the entry fee."

Nate tugged Ana's dress down since it was practically on her waist. "Sorry about that." He said sheepishly.

Ana's lashes fluttered. "Don't be."

"Save for it later, you two." Erella's friend Janae snorted. Her ears were a little pointed and ridged. A half-Lunari. Or maybe just bodymodded. "Fuck, I'm so single."

"Let's see if we can change that." Erella hooked her friend's arm as the elevator opened once more, looking over her shoulder at them. "Catch up later? We owe you a drink."

"You bet." Ana didn't look away from him, arms around his neck, ignoring the sudden thumping din and the flashing laser lights. "I'm so hot for you right now."

Nate lost himself in her eyes, feeling himself searching for words he didn't have, a burst of emotion he couldn't clarify. "I want to be the guy you think I am." He said softly.

Ana tugged at his lip. "You already are, silly."

Her hand dropped to his and pulled him forward, into the madness.

Into the beating bass that shook his insides, the floor tiles pink and blue and red, lighting up and changing color along with the music, lit only when it had feet upon it, like a magical red carpet that Nate saw stretched in three directions that the crowds moved in. One to the bar, straight ahead, a rectangle of counters, a barricade against the pressed flesh, and in the middle, bottles upon bottles of every shape and color.

One to the left, the tables and booths, hundreds of them, etched into the curvature of the ship so that the highest levels, the VIPs, were almost directly above them. Each level was a little more important, Nate bet.

And then to the right, the dance floor. Around its edge, mindless droids with disco-ball heads danced robotically, holding trays for discarded glasses, bouncing the spotlight onto the mass of sweating, laughing, dancing flesh, glistening in the light.

Ana gasped. "That looks amazing. Can we dance? Please?"

She looked so excited that Nate couldn't but help but laugh. "I'm not much of a dancer, sweetheart."

"Oh, but you are, lover." Ana smiled at him mysteriously and dragged him across. Nate spotted the large glass window above the dance floor, tinted dark — that would be where the big shots were. Where they needed to go. But how to get in?

Ana took his chin to refocus him on her as they entered the throngs.

"Listen to the beat." She screamed in his ear, and she had to scream to make herself heard. The music was electric, carefully curated synths to spread that electricity through the dancing crowd, twisting, turning, giddy people.

Nate let himself follow her lead, twirling her when she held her hands up, arm tight around her waist she backed herself into him, left when she went left, right when she went right. He let himself be stupid, all grins, knowing he was a dancing idiot but too entranced with his Ana to care. Nobody could look stupid with a girl like her, looking at him like she was.

He picked her up and threw her around him for the big finish, enjoying her squeal. And when the music changed, she slowed along with it, pressed herself into him, grinding herself along his groin, slow kisses up his chin, swaying with him.

"Mmm." Ana purred as she felt him grow against her. She didn't protest when he dropped his hands to her ass and instead of tugging it down again, took two handfuls of her cheeks and spanked them heavily, feeling her unbelievably soft flesh ripple. The dress still hid most of his questing fingers, and the crowd of people hid them from gazes.

"Nate..." She whimpered.

He felt like he was going insane, cock rigid hard in his pants, her own hands roaming over his crotch, body limp against him, letting him do whatever he wanted.

Something was wrong with him. Or them. He couldn't control himself, horny, mind shadowed by the possibilities.

His fingers slid up her thighs, over her wet satin panties, the ones she kept accidentally flashing at him in her short dress. He felt her lips, her mound, and he could imagine it his mind's eye, outlined and prominent against the thin wet fabric, eager for his touch.

He slid his finger underneath her panties and smiled as her eyes went wild, arms hooked around his neck to keep standing up. And then he couldn't see her face at all as she buried her head in his shoulder, when he dipped his middle finger into her soft wet warm pussy. The music was loud but he swore he could still hear the squish-squish-squish of her inviting insides, as he finger-fucked her slowly.

"Do you like it, baby?" Nate asked softly into her silky hair that covered her ear. "Do you like me fingering you in the middle of all these people?"

Ana moaned in response. He added another finger and stepped up the pace, one hand on her back to keep her steady as he puppeteered her, her juices splashing out over her fingers, coating his hand. That was one of the things that aroused him most, the one thing that reminded him of what he'd done to her, even above her height and her busty chest and her obedience. It was how sensitive and splashy she was, impossibly so, gushing at his touch, the yin to his obscene-load-producing yang.

He didn't dare look, didn't want to display her to anyone, and nobody would look surely — it was too dark, too hidden and they were too giddy and drunk, but he couldn't help but imagine the colored floor tiles lighting up her glistening thighs as he pumped her hard and fast, palm against her mound, cupping it tight as his fingers worked, cupping her splashing creamy grool.

"Nate!" She gasped, above the waist stilling completely but below it, trembling and vibrating as she came around his fingers, clutching his shirt in both hands, biting his shoulder.

"Easy girl." He murmured as she came down from her high, holding her up. He pulled his fingers out and with his other hand, fixed her panties and dress. But Ana blushed wild as she knew what was coming, and sure enough he fed her his creamy fingers, her own juices. She tasted herself obediently, throating his fingers like she throated his cock, lapping at them lovingly, eyes meeting his in promise. When she was done, she kissed his fingers as they departed.

"Good girl."

"Thank you, sir." Ana said teasingly. "Can we get out of here? I really really really want to...relieve you."

Nate shook his head. "We still have a job to do. We're going to need to see a doctor or something because you really cloud my mind, sweetheart."

"Maybe it's just love." She pressed little kisses to his flesh, trying to get him to change his mind, and he knew she was eager for him to finally say it.

Nate looked around to distract himself. Luckily, nobody had taken much of an interest in them, their moment of madness gone unnoticed. But he spotted a little black alcove where two waiters were pushing a food trolley as they exited a small service lift, hidden behind a disco droid. That must be where the food staff rose up to service Hatchet and his goons above.

They had a way in.

"Come on, quick." Nate and Ana followed the waiters as they dipped into another hidden alcove, finding themselves in a tunnel that led to a hustle and bustle that sounded very much like a large kitchen. On the side, numerous trolleys were pulled alongside, some with half-eaten food, others freshly stacked with steaming fried wings and gigantic pizzas that swirled in whirlpool shapes as they rose around a plastic pole, like a cheese fondue frozen in time. An enticing gimmick, surrounded by glowing cocktails and bog-standard beers.

In the middle of the tunnel, two double doors displayed signs for the toilet, along with a big X. Underneath it read EMPLOYEE USE ONLY.

Inside, Nate grinned as he saw the back of a waiter as he urinated, unknowing of his fate. He waited for the man to finish — he wasn't a savage. Plus, he didn't want any piss on his new uniform.

"Sorry about this."

"Who the—" Nate wrapped a burly arm around the man's neck and dragged him backwards into a cubicle, holding it until he went limp.

"You'll be fine." Nate patted his cheeks as he undressed him.

Uh, Nate. Ana's disappeared.

"What? Where'd she go?" He frowned, pulling on the waiter's slacks hurriedly.

Ana giggled as she sneaked in, carrying a finely pressed set of clothes in her hand. "Found some spares in a locker room they have by the kitchen." Her eyes caught sight of the man lying limp on the floor. "Oh, Nate!"

"He's just sleeping it off." He defended.

They changed quickly, with Nate doing his best to keep his eyes off Ana as she changed into her cute white blouse and black pencil skirt. He needed to be wary about his sexy Lunari enchantress.

Once they were done, they set off with one of the food trolleys back to the service lift, their old clothes stuffed underneath the trolley cloth. Ana breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed around them.

"You got a plan to go along with your new waistcoat?" The young Lunari asked, fixing his tie.

"Need to find the girl, see where she's behind held. Rescue her and get the hell out of here."

"Not much of a plan."

"Better than some we've had." He wiped his brow.

"As long as I don't end up naked on a raging Unifek."

"Don't tempt fate!"

The elevator opened up onto a dull office hallway, the red carpet new but the wall paint, once white, was darkened and dirty, probably by cigar smoke. Foot impressions deep in the carpet — Nate imagined the hefty bodyguards left those.

It seemed quiet but they could hear loud talking from the large oak doors in front of them, the knockers larger than any of the other doors. That would be where the big shots where, but where would they be keeping the girl?

Nate crept forward to the small door on the right and made to open it.

It opened before he could and a glowing gun barrel stepped out. It was succeeded by an extremely thin and tall man, each of limbs as spindly as he was. "Naughty, naughty."

"Sorry, sir. We're new and weren't sure where to deliver this food to—"

He laughed. "Waiters allowed to come up here have green pins on their collars, my friend. And," His gaze swept to Ana and dropped to her chest. "The waitresses in this establishment have a few buttons undone, per policy." Ana's blouse was buttoned all the way up.

The lanky man pressed his barrel into Nate's forehead. Behind him, Nate could just see a security surveillance room, a dozen screens manned by a couple of technicians.

"So, how about you carefully hand your blasters to my colleague and we go and see the boss, huh?"

Nate swallowed the saliva mounting in his mouth.

Fuck. He thought.

You said it. Isabelle added. Well, thought it.

***

Cora was not having a good day. She'd barely managed to escape when Hatchet's thugs tripped the sensor-wire she'd hooked up to her hotel room's door. She'd leaped out the window, a glass shard getting stuck in abdomen, slicing through one of the mods that should have increased her regeneration. Now her stomach was open, revealing a nasty mess of mods, wires, cybercore gems and circuitry.

She'd just managed to escape when a fucking bounty hunter literally jetpacked up to his roof, shot her with a netgun and hauled her up like she was a first-class package.

Cora had known where he was taking her even before the ship's ramp opened up. Hatchet's club in the sky was famous. They'd hauled her in, hit her a few times until they realized that she wasn't breaking and then settled in for the big boss to order her around.

Thankfully, Hatchet had arrived late.

Now he was here though...

She closed his eyes as he slowly poured a warm beer over her, trying to calm her boiling anger as it ran down her hair, blinking away the sting of tears in her eyes as his entourage laughed.

Those tears wouldn't fall.

They hadn't fallen when she'd watched her mother whore herself out, night after night, just to keep food on the table. She'd sit under that table, arms around her knees, watching until the men left. Watching as her mother shuddered herself into being, as she counted credits and fixed a brave face.

They hadn't fallen when Naru Pelar, their world's crime lord, accused her of stealing credits. When he appeared on that rainy night in their front door and scythed her mother in two.

They didn't fall when he sat down at their kitchen table, brushed away the crumbs from the cloth distastefully, and told her that now she worked for him.

And, despite her agony, they didn't even fall when he'd chopped and changed her, using her body as the testing ground for every new bodmod and cybernetic enhancement he got his hands on.

They sure as fuck wouldn't fall because of this asshole compensating for his mommy issues.

"Little whore, forgive me." Hatchet chuckled. "You smelled like shit and surely smelling like beer is better, no?"

Cora stayed silent, eyes flitting around, searching for anything, any way to escape. Her hands dug into the plush red carpet, so shaggy that she could burrow her fingers through them, and she could imagine herself shrinking down, running through the fibers that stretched high above her, a rose jungle.

Hatchet himself settled back onto his golden sofa, the shiny fabric gaudy and straining under his weight. Everything about him was gold and Cora had seen his like all before. New money, searching for status in his dual gold tooth, sharpened no doubt, as well as the baby Unifek horn dipped in gold around his neck. He was enormous, muscles bulging, almost fighting one another, but he was so bulky that Cora could at least imagine him working for them naturally, unlike his entourage, who were top heavy.

He was bald and Cora knew he was the type to disagree violently and react harshly to the smallest of provocations. Not because she knew him well, but because if that weren't the case, somebody would have told him that the ornate hundred-branch upside down neon tree above him caused unfortunate reflections on his shining bald head.

Hatchet smirked at her gaze, lifting his heavy legs onto a gold ottoman. Some of the fabric had torn, revealing the simple brown cloth underneath. Cora smiled. Even his wealth was a veneer.

Behind Hatchet, two girls went through the motions on two stripper poles, studiously not meeting her eyes. Nobody paid them any attention.

One huge wall length mirror showed her problem in detail. Too many guards, handguns holstered. One massive Hatchet. Tables of food and drink, dirty food trolleys, oversized bottles of Sansooya.

The lenses in her eyes flickered, zoomed in, scanned. Hatchet had a retractable blade in his boot-tip. One of the guards — Dusty, they called him — had a vintage revolver stuffed into the back of pants. Another had a fucking machete hidden under his coat.