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The Regent chuckled and pressed one of her large hands against his cheek, caressing him slowly.

"Your face is so hot. Now I see why the soldiers have so much fun with your kind, the rumors have reached as far as my territory. Fragile, sensitive, yet unwilling to submit. The very act of courtship is embarrassing to you."

"I'm not so fragile..." Dennis complained, a little indignant. The Regent laughed, squeezing his body in her fluffy arms.

"Forgive me, Ambassador. I'm sure that you're very brave for a human."

"You can call me Dennis," he replied.

"Dennis..." She experimented with the word, rolling the letters over her tongue. "Does it have some special meaning?"

"In Earth's distant past it denoted the followers of the deity of wine and theater, Dionysus."

"How fortuitous," the Regent said, planting a soft kiss on his neck. Dennis sighed and leaned back against her. "For I have become quite drunk. Tell me, Dennis, would you like to make me very happy?" He waited for her to elaborate, his breathing becoming heavy in anticipation of her request as she loomed over him. "As a result of toying with you earlier and my inebriated state, I find myself in need of relief, and my concubines are...mysteriously absent. I could call them of course and have them tend to my needs in their own learned way, but I've heard things about humans that I would like to substantiate."

"And...what is it that you've heard?" Dennis asked.

"Playing coy, Dennis?" She leaned back, pulling him with her so that he lay against her torso. She slipped a hand up his shirt, dragging her dull claws lightly down his chest. He squirmed, burying himself deeper into her fur, and she brought her lips to his ear to whisper to him softly. "Your tongue, Dennis. I'm told that human tongues are agile and smooth. I wish to see this for myself. You know what to do, a Queen should not need to explain herself to her subjects."

"Y-Yes," Dennis stammered, his head swimming at the prospect and his legs turning to jelly. He slid down her body, turning over as he went. She opened her thick thighs wider for him, and before he knew it, his red face was level with her groin. Her regal, paper-white fur gave way to delicate, pink lips that were already engorged and glistening with her anticipation. Her musk was stronger here, thick and dizzying, blended with the familiar metallic smell of Borealan excitement. She looked down at him with her blue eyes, reflecting the flames as they licked at the metal grill that contained them. The heat emanating from her loins rivaled that of the fireplace behind him.

He reached out a trembling hand and splayed her flushed lips, exposing the pink flesh within. Everything about her was flawless, impeccable. She was bred to be royalty, and she knew it, her smug expression as she watched him told him as much.

He pressed his lips against her vulva and felt an appreciative shiver roll up through her body, culminating in a low sigh. He explored her folds and creases with the tip of his tongue, lapping at her, the delicate fur on her mound and thighs already matted with her juices. He extended his tongue and pushed it deep inside her twitching entrance, the fleshy walls of her organ closing around it and drawing it in. Her viscous fluids dripped down his chin, but he didn't care, he was captivated by her smell and her taste. His desire to please her was becoming a desperate need.

He raised his eyes over her fluffy mound to see her watching him, her gaze sultry as she lounged and sipped her beverage. She was as aloof as someone who was having their damned shoes shined. He searched for her clitoris with his tongue, and when he found the swollen protrusion, he played his muscle lightly over it. She flinched, almost spilling her drink. He chuckled into her, and she squirmed as the vibrations tickled her sensitive flesh.

"Not so timid I see..."

He pressed his lips around the stiff nub of flesh and applied suction, drawing it out from under its hood and into his mouth. He felt her furry thighs close around his head as she groaned, drawing patterns on its shiny surface with the tip of his tongue. She reached down and placed her large hand on his head, her fingers delving into his hair and her black claws pricking his scalp. She pulled his head closer, deeper, and rolled her wide hips, grinding her mound on his face. The pressure of her padded thighs clenched around his head became uncomfortable, but he persevered, slipping a finger into her hole as he dragged the surface of his tongue over her sensitive button.

She bucked, but he wrapped his free arm around her fluffy thigh, holding on as she moved. He curled his index finger in her oozing tunnel, digging it into the smooth flesh, trying to find her weak point. He felt her grip on his hair tighten as she jumped, almost as if she had been electrocuted. There it was. He inserted a second finger, pumping rhythmically and sucking harder as she writhed and gasped, her overflowing juices staining the leather couch and wetting the fur on her inner thighs. He continued, merciless, straining to hang on and stay in position as she attempted to fuck his face.

Dennis jammed her clitoris between his lip and his tongue, pushing his fingers into her weak spot as she arched her spine high into the air, growling like an angry tiger. Her walls closed on his fingers like a trap, crushing them painfully as her loins contracted and pulsed with the strength of her orgasm, her long tail curling into a spiral as it hung off the edge of the sofa. She raised her free hand to her heavy breast and squeezed, pinching the protruding nipple between her fingers and letting out a long, pained gasp.

Dennis did his best to stay locked to her, stroking her insides more slowly and gently now. He mouthed and kissed her sopping mound as she came down from her high in staggered, ragged breaths.

He licked obediently as she recovered enough to glance down at him, dazed, her eyes not focusing properly.

"They weren't exaggerating." she groaned, releasing him from the prison of her silky thighs. She hooked her hand under his chin and held his face in her palm, then retrieved a silken cloth from the table, dabbing at his face gently. When she was confident that he was clean enough, she lifted him off the ground and placed him beside her on the couch, relaxing and enjoying her post-coital bliss. She handed him what was left of her drink, and he sipped at it, washing her taste from his tongue with the sweet beverage. The heat of the fire warmed him as he lay with the Regent, leaning into her soft coat and listening to her hypnotic breathing. She slumped, her heavy chest rising and falling methodically, she had fallen asleep.

"What am I doing here?" he mumbled to himself. He had wanted to become important, to be a diplomat, yet here he was performing sexual favors for an alien monarch. He should be happy that he was being paid to attend banquets and get laid, but it nagged at him. He was forgetting his ambition, he hadn't earned this position, nobody else had wanted it. If he had done the research into what he was agreeing to he probably wouldn't have either. He had longed for adventure, to leave his soul-crushing office job and explore alien planets and cultures, and he had gotten what he wanted. Not as he had envisioned it, but things rarely played out the way he planned.

Was all the booze and sex the planet could supply worth his self-respect? He knew that his position was a joke, he didn't have any of the authority or power that these aliens assumed he did. Nobody in the UN cared about him, he hadn't even sent them a single update yet, and so far he had received no communications or requests concerning his status. Ambassador Carlisle was the physical embodiment of lip service, a stooge sent to placate the Patriarch and keep the troops flowing by making him feel more important than he really was. Besides, most of the sex wasn't exactly consensual, and he still didn't really know how he felt about that. He enjoyed the attention, he knew no girl on Earth would ever come on as strong as these Borealans, but it was for all the wrong reasons. Still, the feeling of them overcoming him, being wanted so strongly and so violently. The sensation of being restrained as they inflicting their selfish pleasures upon him as he struggled, it was intoxicating, addictive. Could he ever leave that behind now?

He watched the Regent sleep, her furry ears twitching slightly. Perhaps she was dreaming. At least if he could help these people. If he could follow through and get them asylum on Earth, then his coming here would not have been for nothing. She had said it herself, he would be changing their lives for the better, and he would have done it of his own volition. If that wasn't the true work of a diplomat, then what was? Who among the ranks of the pompous, preening politicians back home could say that they had saved a race of people, or positively influenced the lives of anyone at all? This wasn't a matter of taxes and treaties, but of life, and the freedom to determine one's own destiny.

He dropped off the sofa slowly, leaving the warmth of the Regent and her fire to wander back into the courtyard. He lay back on one of the couches and watched the sky, the eclipse progressing slowly as the cool wind blew the leaves and delicate, embroidered fabrics that decorated the space.

He decided that he liked Borealis. When you looked past the crushing gravity, the deadly fauna and the unpredictable weather, it had a certain charm to it. Perhaps he had grown to respect the hardy natives and their stalwart attitude towards life on the planet. Or maybe it was the simple natural beauty of his surroundings, untouched by the same industrial plague that had befallen Earth. No shuttles clouding the sky, no skyscrapers breaking up the horizon like broken teeth jutting from the jaw of some long dead animal. The air was fresh and the water clear, and what artificial structures there were, were the products of artisans who cared about their craft. Not the soulless work of union laborers or company architects, cutting so many corners that it was a miracle the buildings they erected didn't end up rolling away.

Regardless of how he felt, his time here was limited, and maybe that was for the best. After six months he would be forced to return to Earth or risk suffering permanent damage from the gravity.

"Can't have too much of a good thing," he muttered to nobody in particular.

CHAPTER 7: HOT SPRING

"Is there anything else you'd like to see?" the Regent asked, lifting a steaming beverage from a tray that one of her guards was holding as she lounged in the courtyard. It was morning but, Dennis wouldn't have known that without a clock on hand. Besides for the almost imperceptible, yellow glow of the secondary star, the electric lamps that circled the building were the only illumination.

"Not that I can think of. I've already had Xhe take me to the places that came to mind. The city, a fishing village, a ranger outpost. As a native, surely you have some suggestions?"

"I can think of a few things," she replied, raising the mug to her mouth and blowing on it tentatively. Ice had begun to form on the roof of the building, and a layer of frost coated the leaves of the plants. It was getting cold, but Dennis had realized that his ideal temperature was much closer to that of the Regent than the Equatorial Borealans. It wasn't all that cold, not enough to be uncomfortable to him, having grown up in the North of Europe.

"Then I defer to you, your majesty," he said with an exaggerated bow. She chuckled into her drink, giving him a sideways glance.

"I have to say, Dennis, when coming from you the honorific sounds somewhat sarcastic."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She waved her guard away and drank deeply from the mug, closing her eyes as the warm liquid heated her from the inside. Dennis wasn't sure what it was, something akin to coffee or hot chocolate maybe.

"You don't seem too cold, Dennis. That is encouraging. Is this temperature not unusual for Earth?"

"Not really," he replied as he lay back on the low couch with his hands behind his head. "This is an average winter for a lot of places and the usual temperature for others. Earth has a lot of different climates and seasons, far more than Borealis. In the places you might end up going, this is relatively warm."

"Good, I do so enjoy visiting Elysia during the eclipse. The Patriarch most often holds his banquets the day before, which gives me a good excuse to come down and stay for a few days. That reminds me, would you like breakfast, Dennis? I can have my guards prepare anything you wish."

He thought for a moment, missing Xhe's expert ability to determine the best meal for any occasion, then settled on smoked fish. The Regent called to her guards and hissed instructions, then they disappeared into the building.

"Oh, I have an idea. Tell me, Dennis, do you have geothermal springs on Earth? I have to assume that you do."

"Yes, we do. Though I've never visited one personally. My position back home never really allowed me much leisure time."

"Would you like to see ours? They are cool enough to bathe in but hot enough to drive away the cold. You might enjoy them. I could introduce you to Borealan bathing culture."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Dennis replied.

"They are some distance away. Because of the Patriarch's refusal to share any of his technology I do not have my own shuttle. When I come down from the pole, I have to use an atmospheric craft, it is many multiples slower. Perhaps I can arrange the use of the shuttle on this occasion if his favorite ambassador requires transport and nobody else is making use of it because of the cold."

"I'm sure he'll agree if he's even awake." Dennis sat up straight as one of the guards returned with his meal, taking the tray as she handed it to him. Steam rose from two fat, armored fish in the cool air, their smokey smell making his stomach rumble. He inhaled happily and pulled his cutlery from his pocket, unwrapping them from their protective fabric. He had elected to take them everywhere with him now, it was an odd feeling having to carry one's own cutlery around on his person, but the Borealans simply had no concept of dining utensils. The Regent watched him curiously as he carved into the fish with his silver knife, forking the small pieces into his mouth.

"How odd," she commented, her eyes following his fork as it pierced a steaming chunk of fish and brought it up to his lips. "You lack claws, and so must use tools to eat. I hadn't even noticed at the banquet. Of course, how else would you cut the meat?"

"We can eat with our hands and cut with our teeth, but it becomes messy, and we generally don't like to. There's a perception on Earth that it's...uncivilized to eat with one's hands."

"I see," the Regent replied. "Perhaps I should learn. Such minor cultural details can heavily influence people's perceptions."

"That's very astute," Dennis said as he chewed a mouthful of fish. "I could teach you, it isn't hard. Hell, I'm a diplomat, it's my job to know things like this. If you have the time, I can teach you all kinds of human customs and cultural quirks."

She lay back in her couch, pensive as she watched him eat.

"If it is my fate to lead my people to Earth, then I must learn your culture with the same open-mindedness and vigor that you have learned ours." She leaned forward and rose to her feet suddenly, her snow-white tail flicking from side to side as she stretched, raising her hands into the air. She was incredibly large, she must be skirting nine feet. Size seemed to be a reliable indicator of status on Borealis. "But enough of that for now, I need to make a call and see if the Patriarch won't share his toy with me for a day."

Dennis wasn't sure whether she was talking about the ship, or him...

***

The Regent was able to charter the shuttle, and when Dennis had finished his meal, he headed off to the ivory tower along with the Regent and her guards. It was the only landing pad in the ancient Elysian city. Dennis wondered if modernization would see the Borealans knock down some of their long-standing, finely masoned structures in order to build more of them, he hoped not. The streets were deserted now as frost and ice clung to the stonework, making the ground slippery. The Regent and her guards paid it no mind, their sharp claws and padded feet gripping the cold surface easily. He wondered how long it had taken for the races to diverge so dramatically, science might even consider them a subspecies at this point. He had never gotten a good impression of the age of anything on Borealis. The cities and their buildings, the age of the territories themselves and the length of time that the current civilization had existed, or even the lifespans of the alien inhabitants. Perhaps he should ask about it, but right now didn't seem like the best time to bring it up.

"It's so strange to see the city empty of people," he commented. "When I first came here this market was packed shoulder to shoulder as far as the eye could see."

"Yes, Elysia does have a problem with overcrowding. Fortunately, I rarely have to deal with it due to the timing of my visits."

"Is the Polar territory less populated then?" he asked, jogging a little to keep up with the Regent's graceful strides.

"Most Borealans cannot tolerate the cold, and my people breed slowly, placing immense value in the raising of our offspring. People in Elysia can have litters by the dozen, they will never run out of food or space, and there are few dangers to befall a curious kitten in such a temperate climate. They will never lose their child down a crevasse, or have them fall through the ice of a frozen lake."

How sobering, she sounded indignant. Was the situation in the Polar territory really so bad?

"If it's so dangerous to live there, how have you even survived this long?" Dennis asked a little hesitantly.

"I remind you of the adage, the strict mother raises disciplined children. Adapt or die, that is the driving force of evolution. We cannot simply leave, not anymore. Although modern technology would allow us to travel anywhere on the planet, it came too late for us, our own bodies have become our prison."

"Humanity has races too, though nothing so dramatic. Anyone can live anywhere, basically. I suppose the high altitude adaptation that Tibetans have is the closest example I can think of. They're mountain people who live at high altitudes, and as a result, they have adapted to a lower oxygen environment."

"No great variation then?" she asked.

"No. In fact, there's still a debate raging over where the lines between the races are drawn, or even if they have any biological basis at all. It must have taken a great deal of time in order for your people to diverge as much as they did."

"It is not known exactly when our ancient ancestors migrated North, nor is it known why they did so. Perhaps they were escaping persecution, or they were driven there by some great cataclysm. It was long before Borealans began to make claw marks on rocks to record the passage of months and years. We developed in almost total isolation, as none of the other races dared venture into the tundras save a few ambitious explorers. Nobody fought us for the territory, because nobody wanted it. There was no movement of people between our territory and others."

It must have been a long time then, thousands of years at least, perhaps tens of thousands. Having no common point of reference, he wouldn't understand an answer that she gave on specific dates or timescales. Maybe he would ask Xhe when he got back to the embassy, she might know.

They arrived at the ivory spire, the great edifice jutting into the sky, its usually white color stained a dull yellow in the secondary's light. They mounted the winding steps and arrived on the landing pad where the shuttle was waiting for them, its engines already warm. The pilot greeted them, it was the same one who had flown Dennis and Xhe previously, clearly roused against his wishes and forced into the cockpit by the orders of some higher ranked Borealan. The Regent and her guards loaded in as the pilot flipped switches and grasped the flight stick, angling the nose higher as it banked over the city. Dennis watched the empty streets dwindle into the distance as the shuttle headed North over the lake.