Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 19

"What good luck! Something just happened and I may be able to help. I'll be in touch soon."

******

Things had changed for Hestia in the two years since Danielle had explained her accountant's advice. She allowed herself to age a little and had undergone a cheaper rejuvenation treatment to keep herself looking twenty-three. With the money she saved, Hestia bought a controlling interest in The Goat and Chariot pub, where she was now responsible for the slow barman and the annoying music. She also took a kindly (and pecuniary) interest in the younger Entertainers, helping them stay safe, disease-free, insured and legal.

She took only a few high-paying customers now and was relieved to find that her financial position was better than ever. Hestia even planned her retirement back on Earth, putting a down-payment on a pretty cottage in a Cotswold village, with a thatched roof, leaded lights in the windows and a front-door graced by a pink climbing rose. She intended to live a respectable middle-class life, entering into the local community, joining societies, helping at fetes and tutting at "the questionable behaviour of young people nowadays."

That morning, however, she had a plan. Hestia put on a short skirt and a tight top, applied moderate war-paint, left her burgundy hair down and took the moving walkway along the East Causeway to the Police Station.

"Good morning, Arthur!" she said brightly when Constable Jeffries, bleary-eyed and yawning, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, unlocked and opened the front door.

"You're up early, Hestia," he said. "Is it about the prisoner?"

"Yes. Will you back me up in whatever I say?"

"Not if it's illegal, I won't. Otherwise, yes."

"Thanks, Arthur."

"Was there much damage?" he wondered.

"Not much and the pub needs redecorating anyway, so I'm not concerned; but that's not what I'm going to tell our friend," she added, conspiratorially.

"All right. I won't spoil your fun. Here, hold my coffee."

Hestia illicitly took dainty bird-like sips from Constable Jeffries' coffee-cup while he went to fetch a jug of water.

"Now we're ready," he said; but he scowled disapprovingly when he saw only half his coffee was left. He downed it quickly and led Hestia over to the make-shift jail, which was a row of benches lining an alcove on one side of the Police Station, their sturdy metal legs fastened by bolts to the concrete floor. A scruffy man lay on a bench, one wrist handcuffed to its leg, sleeping off a night of drunken excess.

His name was Brad Formast and he was in jail because of his part in a fight in The Goat and Chariot pub the previous night. It wasn't his fault: he stepped in to rescue one of the Entertainers, an innocent girl caught in the middle of a drunken brawl between Russian and Ukrainian freighter crews. Brad sheltered the girl but accidentally got hit by a Russian man. Furious, he joined the Ukrainians in their mayhem.

After the fight was broken up by some Military Police, the Russians and Ukrainians were confined to their ships and Brad was taken to Constable Jeffries' office. Still fuming, not knowing whom he was fighting any more, he was handcuffed to a bench and left to sleep it off.

That morning, the freighter companies paid their fines and left Capella.

Constable Jeffries tipped the pitcher of water over the man's face. He woke up, alarmed and spluttering.

"What, what is it?" Brad demanded, shocked into sensibility. "God! My head hurts."

"Here, drink this."

Constable Jeffries handed Brad the rest of the pitcher to drink. He downed it in one and began to feel better.

Brad sat up on the bench, his head bowed and his eyes shut. He was sober now but his jaw and ribs ached where he'd been hit and his knuckles hurt where he'd done the hitting.

He was a tall and strong-looking black man, athletic and fit with a handsome face, short hair and, at the moment, a swollen lip and a bruised jaw.

Constable Jeffries judged that Brad was well enough to be spoken to.

"Mr. Formast," he said. "This lady owns The Goat and Chariot. She has some questions for you."

Brad opened his eyes and looked up. He saw a gorgeous curvy woman with elegant legs, thin waist, magnificent tits in a tight vee-neck shirt and a face of heart-stopping beauty, with dark-red hair and dark-green eyes. He shook his head clear and tried to stand, forgetting that his wrist was cuffed to the leg of the bench. He got half-way up before he stumbled back down.

"Please excuse my not standing, Ma'am," he said, indicating the handcuffs.

Hestia appreciated his good manners but hid her approval in an accusatory tone.

"You wrecked my bar," she said.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I wasn't the only one misbehaving."

"You're the only one who's still on Capella, though," Arthur Jeffries said.

"But it wasn't even my fight!"

Hestia had watched the security video that morning, admiring Brad's gallantry in saving the frightened girl, unfairly getting embroiled in the fracas. Then she'd deliberately deleted the evidence.

"How are you going to pay for the damage?" she demanded.

"Uh! How much is it?"

"At least four-hundred pounds Galactic."

"You're serious?" Brad asked. "I only broke a few chairs. Why am I due the whole lot?"

"Hestia can put in her claim at the arraignment," Arthur said. "Our Justice of the Peace will decide how much of the fine belongs to you."

"Look," Brad protested, "whatever the fine is, I can't pay it. I don't have any money. I earned a good bounty three months ago. Since then I've been partying. Now I'm cleaned out. I came to Capella to pick up some more work. ... I'm good with my hands. I can help you rebuild your bar in payment for the damage I did."

"What work do you do?" Hestia asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm a Planetary Prospector, Ma'am."

"Then I may be able to give you a job," Hestia kindly offered, "though there is some risk."

"A prospecting job? Does it pay well? What's the risk?"

"It is a prospecting job and it would pay very well. As for the risk ... well, I'm not sure exactly how to describe it."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't have another way of saying 'suicide mission'."

Constable Jeffries gave Hestia a warning glance. He was happy to play along with her teasing the man but coercing him into taking a dangerous job would not be right. Hestia winked at Arthur to show she understood.

"How would the job (that you're not actually calling a 'suicide mission') pay so well?" Brad asked.

"Because I can offer you a percentage of the bounty - if you come back alive," Hestia said.

"You're not selling it very well," Brad said.

He spoke lightly, amused by Hestia and impressed by her beauty. He'd sobered up quickly and was already succumbing to the normal fascination Hestia had for all red-blooded males.

"The way I see it," Hestia explained, "I don't really need to sell it at all: you're not in a position to refuse."

"I'll take my chance in court. Where's the job to, anyway?"

"Samothea."

"Samothea!"

"In an experimental space-craft ..."

"Huh? Oh, God!"

"... that's already reached Samothea in one jump ..."

"So I heard."

"... where it was destroyed."

"Yep. Heard that, too."

"So, you'll go?"

"Are you insane?"

"I could persuade you."

"How could you persuade me?"

"A woman has her ways. I expect you'd like to be out of those blood-stained clothes. ... I expect you're pretty stiff after sleeping on a bench. ... I'm sure a soothing massage would help. ... I bet you'd like to feel a woman's dainty hands rubbing your big strong shoulders ... spreading oil over your manly chest ..."

"Ahem!" coughed Constable Jeffries.

Hestia winked at him again and leaned in closer to Brad, whispering in his ear:

"I bet you'd like a hot woman to pour massage oil onto her naked chest, smearing it over her big firm tits and hard erect nipples. ... I expect you'd like her to lie on you and rub the oil from her skin into yours. ... Would you like that, Brad?"

"Ugh!"

Hestia leaned closer, her full breasts pressing against his chest, her hot breath in his ear.

"I expect you'd like the feel of a warm soft mouth around your big hard cock."

"Oh, God!"

"And I expect you'd want to stuff that big hard cock into a tight little pussy."

Brad shut his eyes. He used his free arm to hide his erection, making Hestia smile.

"You'd like to have a woman cum for real on your big hard cock, wouldn't you? ... Arching her back ... moaning a deep satisfying moan."

"My God!"

"... a deep ... deep ... satisfying ... moan," Hestia repeated slowly in a breathy whisper.

Brad was breathing deeply himself.

"So," Hestia asked, still pressing her tits against him, "do we have a deal?"

Brad swallowed hard.

"Deal?" he asked.

"Suicide mission, big payout and me," she said.

"Yes, deal. I'm in!"

"You soon will be. ... Arthur, I'm dropping the charges. Please will you release Mr. Formast?"

"Are you sure, Hestia?" the Constable queried.

"I'm sure."

Constable Jeffries unlocked Brad's handcuffs from the bench and went to release the cuffs from his wrist but Hestia put her hand out to stop him.

"You don't mind if I borrow these for a while, Arthur? I'll bring them back when I'm done."

He nodded in agreement and handed her the key. Hestia fastened the loose end of the handcuffs, locking Brad's wrists together. With that, she led her compliant prisoner along the moving walkway to her apartment.

4Carlin receives an offer

Ezra's progress through the three outer tribes, the Herders, Mariners and Woodlanders, was accidentally well-timed to miss all the important events that year.

He was with the Mariners when the Herders elected a new chief. A week after he left the Mariners, Thalassa, the twenty-year-old daughter of the Mariner chief, Calliope, gave birth. And he was with the Herders when Carlin celebrated her eighteenth birthday.

During her five-year rule as Chief of the Herder Tribe, Solange dampened the Herders' aggression, teaching them that they could achieve as much through conciliation with the weaker tribes as through domination. But she declined to stand again as Chief; so Galatea, her deputy, was elected unopposed.

Galatea regretted the violence of earlier times, as she regretted making impossible demands of her daughter. She hoped it wasn't too late to win back Wildchild's love. This hope drove her toward co-operative dealings with the other tribes, to broaden the contact of the three Outer Tribes and enrich their commerce.

Enriching commerce on Samothea was also the task of the new Currency Committee, a body designed to discuss a common currency for the planet. It would have three members: one from the three Outer Tribes, one from the three Home Tribes; then the two women would choose a third mutually agreeable spokesman so they could make majority decisions.

The Herders selected Solange as their candidate and the Woodlanders selected Tamar's mother, Eloise. The Mariners declined to choose a representative.

The Mariner women enjoyed their life at the Beach Settlement so much, sunning themselves on the sand and frolicking in the waves, that no one could be found to stay voluntarily at the Cloner City for the weeks or months that the Committee would sit, deliberating on abstruse questions of economics. The happiest tribe on Samothea willingly let the other tribes engage in political wrangling.

Who would be spokesman for the Three Tribes was to be decided at the next meeting at the trading-place by the forest-edge. This happened six months after the Cloner Fair, in the fourth year since Ezra crash-landed on Samothea, three months after Annela entered the escape pod. It was one of the four meetings a year that Mirselene made the effort to attend, to meet the other chiefs of the Outer tribes.

Ezra disappointed everyone by refusing to take part in politics. Not even the blandishments of Tamar succeeded in capturing his vote for her mother, Eloise, though the beautiful juvenile looked up at him with her large doleful brown eyes and pouted. But she laughed when he told her to behave herself and go and be useful somewhere else. Like a kitten who practises her hunting skills by pouncing on a leaf, Tamar was still learning what sexual power women had over men.

In the end, Solange won by a half-dozen votes. She invited Eloise to be her deputy on the Currency Committee when the tribes came to the Cloner Fair in six months. This offer pleased Mirselene, who was conflicted between losing a precious tribeswoman for months at a time and not having any influence over the new Committee. With Mirselene content, it was a happy band of Woodlanders who brought Ezra back with them to the Forest Camp.

******

The view of the Forest Camp from across the meadow was very different from the last time Ezra saw it, just two months previously. Wildchild and the others had been busy with her laser-knife and the good metal axe. The meadow had been extended ten yards all around and the cut-down trees hewn into logs and planks, which were piled up in place around the foundations of two new huts and a smaller third construction, already built up to its roof-level.

Wildchild's horse grazed peacefully in the meadow, alongside Jemima the cow and the greedy chickens, pecking at everything.

The small arable plots were fenced off. Night-time roofs for the growing crops were stacked to one side. The afternoon sun picked out stalks of corn in shadowed highlights, dots of yellow and green splashed against the grey and brown of the trees.

"Daddy!" shouted a gleeful Freya, standing on the highest beam of the obstacle course, keeping a lookout for the returning traders. She slid down a pole, clambered down a ladder and ran as fast as she could to the trading party, her plump little legs pumping hard, long flame-red hair bouncing in her trail like a mane. Four infant companions followed Freya in her charge across the meadow to greet their father, all crying out "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" at the top of their lungs, shrieking for joy as they raced.

Ezra put down his shoulder basket to kneel and catch his daughters, holding them tightly, kissing them in turn. He lay on his back so the girls could climb over him, scrambling to go on his chest, laughing wildly.

Smiling, the other traders left Ezra to defend himself as best he could and carried their laden baskets to the storage huts. When Wildchild returned to collect Ezra's pack, he was submerged under a sea of daughters.

"Help! Help!" he pleaded as the laughing girls bounced on him.

Wildchild was unsympathetic.

"It's your own fault for being so fertile and randy," she admonished.

Urulla's daughter, Keren, was the youngest. When she fell off, she struggled to climb back onto him.

"This one's yours as well," Wildchild said, lifting the girl up and plonking her feet-first on his chest.

"Oomph!" Ezra exaggerated as Keren screamed with laughter, stamping her tiny feet.

"Youngsters!" Wildchild said. "You have ten minutes before we start to prepare for the feast. Make the most of it."

She easily hefted up Ezra's heavy pack and carried it to Annela's hut.

Ten minutes later she was back with Carlin, Pepi, Tamar and Hazel. Ezra had tickled his daughters until they ran out of breath from laughing and now they were having a ride on his back, holding each other to stay onboard.

"All right, girls, play-time is over," Wildchild said. "Come and help us prepare the feast."

There was some sighing but no real disobedience. The girls were well-behaved because there was no other choice in the Forest Camp, where so much of life consisted of chores.

Play-time was precious because it was severely rationed; and the youngsters actually enjoyed helping the older girls with their work. It made them feel useful and grown-up.

A system of mentoring had evolved in which the older girls each adopted an infant, giving her mother a welcome break. Pepi naturally mentored her little sister, Clara, though the choosing had been the other way around: Clara idolized her older sister and followed her about.

Tamar adopted Annela's daughter, Freya. The girls lived together in Annela's hut.

Wildchild adopted Dagma's daughter, Selene: two black-haired girls teaming up to take on the world.

Hazel took charge of Krupa, Dipti's quiet and sensitive daughter, second-oldest to Freya. And Carlin made a special friend of Urulla's daughter, Keren, helping her stay upright and translating for her.

Adarna's daughter was still nursing.

The bigger girls fixed up Pepi's neglected obstacle-course for the smaller children to use. They took their charges to the pool when they went for a wash and, whenever they could spare the time, they loved and entertained them, spreading laughter through the Forest Camp.

Now their mentors picked his daughters off Ezra's back and led them to the camp-fire to prepare for the evening feast, which promised to have news, singing, dancing and a public argument about Ezra's choice of bedmates.

Before the argument could start, however, Ezra gave a belated eighteenth birthday present to Carlin. It was a hand-mirror, one of those Odette and he made at the Beach Settlement. He let Carlin rejoice in her gift, showing it to everyone and promising they could all borrow it, before he announced there was also a message from Gloria.

"Madam," he addressed Mirselene. "I bring an offer for Carlin, now she's eighteen. Carlin: Madam Gloria invites you to join the Juniors in the Cloner City."

This announcement caused a lively discussion, led by Mirselene, who disapproved.

"Carlin," Mirselene said, "you must make up your own mind, now that you're a woman in your own right; but I wonder why Gloria wants another servant."

"The Juniors aren't only servants, Madam," Wildchild politely corrected. "They have many menial duties but they also have free time. Carlin will have fun and she'll learn a good deal."

"I don't think our girl needs lessons in how to be meek and obedient, do you?" Mirselene replied.

"No, Madam, she doesn't," Wildchild answered, smiling. "That's what I needed to learn. Not that I'm meek or obedient now, of course; but I know what it feels like. When she becomes head of the Juniors, Carlin will learn how to give orders and to make plans. There are other things to learn, as well. Madam Gloria taught me to play chess."

"I would hope for lessons in more useful skills," Mirselene responded, unimpressed.

"That is part of the offer, in fact, Madam," Ezra interjected. "Because there will be five Juniors, each girl will be allowed to take an extra day off each week to study."

"Think of it, Madam," Wildchild said. "Carlin could study under Madam Scientist, Madam Recorder, Madam Lawspeaker or (she paused) ... Madam Medic."

The pause was significant. Wildchild knew that, if Carlin wanted to go, only her chief's disapproval would prevent her; but to have Carlin trained in medicine would be a strong temptation for Mirselene. With Annela asleep in the escape pod, the Woodlanders had only Parvinder as an experienced nurse. She was training Urulla in their mutual spare time but if Carlin studied under Madam Medic for a year, it would be even better. The Woodlanders now had a copy of the Medical Book but much of it was a mystery, as if it were written in a foreign language.

As Mirselene quietly considered the offer, Carlin herself was torn. She knew how much Wildchild and Hazel had gained from being Juniors, despite the hard work and the subservience. They often recalled things that had happened at the Cloner City and they usually laughed at the memory.

Carlin also worried about leaving behind her mother and her future bedmate, Tamar. It weighed as heavily on her mind as Mirselene's disapproval.

"Erin, what's your opinion?" Mirselene asked, interrupting Carlin's thoughts.