Hot Kofe

"That was nice," she sighed. "You make a good bathing buddy, Jeff. You should visit a Banya back in Siberia, you'd get a lot of attention."

As his brain boiled with the idea of sharing a sauna with half a dozen Kofes, he felt her hands on him, the Polar lifting him off his feet and then standing him upright.

"Okay, your turn."

"My turn!?"

"Yeah, how does the old human adage go..? You wash my back, I'll wash yours."

"It's scratch your back," he complained, trying in vain to conceal his lingering erection. He had no choice but to turn around and face the wall, lest she point it out.

"I can scratch it too, but if you want to keep your skin, that's probably not a good idea."

He leaned forward with his hands against the tiles, like he was about to undergo a hosing down at a prison. Kofe began to pour the shampoo into her cupped palm, then hesitated, looking him up and down.

"Uh...you only have fur on your head. How do humans wash their exposed skin?"

"We wash our hair with shampoo like you do, and then our skin with soap or shower gel. I can do it myself you know, I don't need you to-"

"I'm doing it!" Kofe insisted, rubbing her furry hands together to create a lather. She reached down towards his head, Miller closing his eyes and grimacing as her sausage-like fingers delved into his hair. Her hands were large enough that she could have encompassed his entire head like it was no larger than a cantaloupe, her wicked claws pricking his scalp as she began to rub in the cold goop. They were heavy and powerful, designed for rending meat like the paws of a bear or a tiger, but she was incredibly gentle. She was so careful with her claws, her touch so light that even their sharp points felt rather pleasant, like the teeth of a comb.

Miller's muscles relaxed, pleasant tremors rolling down his spine as she massaged his scalp. He couldn't remember the last time that someone else had washed his hair. He always cut it himself, setting the guard his electric razor to the longest length and just buzzing it. While he was a member of the UNN, he wasn't held to the same dress standards as active military personnel, but he preferred function over form.

This was...nice...relaxing. He caught himself leaning back against her as she rubbed his head, her body shielding him from the water. Her belly was soft against his lower back, inviting, and her breasts cushioned his shoulders like a fleshy travel pillow.

"You changed your tune pretty quickly," she crowed, "does it feel that good?"

Her gloating snapped him out of his trance, but the endless movement of her fingers in his hair was like white noise for his senses, he could barely formulate a reply.

"Just...shut up and keep going," he grumbled.

"Oh? I thought you hated showering with me?"

"I'm here now, so I might as well get it over with..."

"If you want to go find another booth, I'll let you pass by me," she volunteered. "I'm pretty sure your Equatorial friend is done by now." He didn't reply, and she chuckled to herself again, the same way that she did every time that she caught him in a lie or got the better of him. "What do you say, Jeff? I can stop if you want me to."

She was testing him of course. Staying would be admitting that he was enjoying her company, but as much as he wanted to show her up, the sensation of her fingers combing through his hair was just too heavenly to cut short. He wanted to stay like this forever, he never wanted this feeling to end.

Did he want to prolong this more than he wanted to resist Kofe's temptations? Indecision gripped him, but soon the slow massage of her hands chipped away at his resolve, pushing him over the edge.

"Well?" she asked, "are you going or are you staying?" He mumbled an inaudible reply, and she leaned closer to hear him better. "What was that?"

"I'm staying," he replied. He couldn't see her, as his eyes were closed due to the soap suds that were crawling down his forehead, but he knew that she was grinning. He expected her to gloat, to tease him about his change of heart, but instead she continued rubbing the shampoo into his scalp without comment.

She finished with his hair, then stepped out from beneath the stream of water, letting it cascade over his head to wash the lather away. Even though she wasn't touching him any longer, he could still feel her fingers moving in his hair, like an echo in his nervous system.

When he opened his eyes again, she was filling her cupped hand with liquid soap, or perhaps shower gel from a dispenser that was mounted on the wall of the booth. It must have been there for the benefit of human customers, or perhaps the Equatorial patrons used it on the furless areas of their bodies.

"I thought you were just doing my hair?" Miller asked.

"Do you only wash your hair when you bathe?"

"No."

"Then why would I?"

She rubbed her palms together, and Miller planted his hands against the tiled wall again, leaning forwards as her body loomed over him to block the flow from the shower head. She placed her massive hands on his shoulders, like a pair of fur mittens, and began to spread the gel. The soap made her wet fur slippery, her hands sliding across his back, the Polar pressing into his skin with her padded fingers like a masseuse.

Her damp fur was silky and pleasant, and she was surprisingly good at massage, seeking out his muscles and rubbing them slowly to ease out the knots and stress. She pressed her thumb into the base of his neck and made a sluggish circle, her grip strong, yet gentle. A sudden surge of pleasure dizzied him, flowing through his body like a wave and making him weak at the knees. He might have stumbled had he not been leaning his weight against the wall. He loosed a groan, but just about managed to suppress it, static dancing before his eyes as he regained his composure.

She wasn't just good at massage, she was an expert, and an expert in human anatomy no less. There was no way that their physiology was similar enough to be interchangeable, she had researched human pressure points and muscle groups beforehand. She had planned this moment ahead of time, probably days in advance. She was as sly as an arctic fox...

Kofe's fingers roamed lower, pushing between his shoulder blades and applying firm pressure, probing as the Polar searched for something. Miller noticed immediately when she found it, some kind of nerve cluster or pressure point, another dizzying wave of tingling pleasure shooting through him like an electric shock. It wasn't necessarily a sexual pleasure, it was as relaxing as it was intense, but he had no doubt that Kofe's motivations were less than respectable.

This time he failed to stifle his groan, his muscles turning to jelly as he struggled to stay upright. No wonder they used those massage couches in professional establishments, it was almost impossible to stand while someone was manipulating your nervous system like they were plucking the strings of a harp.

As well as massaging him, Kofe was spreading the soap across his back, her wet coat tickling his skin as she went. Her fur was so deep and soft. Even while wet it was impossibly thick and feathery, perfectly evolved for trapping heat in her native climate. Even if she fell into a frozen lake, this layer of insulating fur would likely protect her, in the same way that a polar bear could swim in the ocean without freezing. It reminded him of an extravagant fur coat that the wife of some rich and powerful politician or trader might wear, or a pair of gloves fashioned from the most expensive mink or sable.

It was unlike anything that he had ever experienced before, the combination of her silky hair and the relentless massage making his head spin and his resolve crumble.

Kofe proceeded towards his lower back, gripping his hips and rubbing the base of his spine with her thumbs. They slipped below the waistline of his towel, kneading the region just above his butt, sending pleasant shivers crawling up his spine. Miller was discovering entirely new sensations, she was doing things to his body that were turning his brain to mush. It was like she was reaching past the barrier of his skin, stroking his nerves and pressing her fingers into his muscle as if she was kneading dough.

Every crack of his joints and every knot that she worked out released a fresh deluge of sensation, warmth and relaxation permeating him to the core, chased by the exciting sparks of pleasure from the teasing of her soapy hands. She slid her fingers beneath his towel, testing the springiness of his butt as she washed him, Miller too out of it to care that she was copping a feel.

When she was done with his back, she slid her hands around his sides, her massive paws tickling his waist as she began to rub. She spread the slippery suds across his belly, skirting his sensitive groin area, just barely protected by the sagging towel. Kofe was peering over his shoulder, the water from the shower running across her back as she watched him with her blue eyes, gauging his every twitch and sigh. She no doubt saw the massive bulge beneath the towel, his aching erection tenting the waterlogged fabric despite its weight, but she didn't comment on it.

Miller realized that at some point during the massage, his hands had left the wall and he was leaning back against Kofe's soft body. She pressed him into her plush belly as she washed his stomach and inched towards his chest, the weight of her heaving breasts spilling onto his shoulders and cradling his head, his eyes transfixed by the slow movement of her fluffy hands.

He was ticklish, apparently, flinching and squirming when she slid her plush palms across his abdominal muscles. The Polar traced the lines that they carved in his skin with her padded index finger, like she was drawing on him. The pretense of washing was slowly being abandoned as she took the opportunity to get a closer look at him, his anatomy as alien to her as hers was to him.

She was breathing more heavily, blowing warm air in the nape of his neck as she leaned in, exploring him as her excitement mounted. Her questing digits slid higher, the slimy gel adding to the wonderful texture of her coat, her damp palms slithering across his chest. He shivered when they glanced his nipples, the foam obscuring his skin, Kofe's furry chin now resting on his shoulder as she watched with drooping eyelids.

If she kissed him now, he wasn't sure what would happen. Even though he was like putty in her hands, despite his conspicuous erection, she wasn't making her move. Why? More importantly, why was he so concerned that Kofe wasn't making her move?

He wanted it, he realized with a start. He wanted Kofe. The mounting sexual tension was threatening to make him explode, and he wanted release, an end to this game that they had been playing for days. Even so, he didn't want to lose that game. He wanted to be overcome, he wanted to be able to blame it all on Kofe when it was over, to maintain his front of stoicism. But now he understood that it would never happen, not in the way that he wanted it to. Kofe's goal was not merely to get him into bed, to get him into a relationship, but to make him want it.

It had to come from him, and until he asked her plainly to take things to the next level, she was just going to keep up her relentless teasing until she achieved the desired result. The thing that got her going more than anything else was being wanted, being desired.

As her soapy hands reached his neck, sparks flying in his brain as her fingers glanced his sensitive throat, the words almost slipped out. His entire body was lit up like a switchboard, she was pushing him to the brink of what he could tolerate, and yet he mustered enough willpower to choke back his plea.

It wasn't the right time, nor the right place. If they were going to start a real relationship, then he didn't want it to begin as a result of a sordid bathhouse encounter. Kofe seemed to sense his change in demeanor, his new resolve, stepping out from beneath the flow of water and letting it wash the soap from his body. She watched him curiously, her ears pricked up and focused.

He ran his hands across his arms and chest, cleaning away what remained of the shower gel, his muscles imbued with a wonderful ache that still lingered from her massage. After taking a couple of minutes to let himself cool off and willing his erection to recede, he turned to face her.

"That was...nice," he said sheepishly. Even the ever-confident Kofe seemed taken off guard, cocking her head at him.

"It was?"

"Yeah, let's go dry off and get a bite to eat, what do you say?"

Kofe nodded, never one to refuse a free meal. Miller tried to slide past her, the massive bulk of her body pressing him tight against the wall of the booth. He turned sideways, his back to the panel, Kofe shifting her weight without much luck. He wanted to take the initiative and end their shared shower in a way that seemed dignified, but she was sabotaging his plan. He vanished into her wet fur, the meat of her thigh soft and plush enough that it completely encompassed him, its silky surface brushing against his chest and face. It was as if someone had propped a mattress up against the wall and he was struggling to wriggle beneath it.

He finally popped out on the other side, trying to maintain his air of composure as he opened the door and headed back towards the sauna room, the curious Polar trailing behind him.

CHAPTER 7: ROYAL FLUSH

Kofe didn't quite understand what was happening. Miller had been ready to crack, he had been leaning into her arms, his erection tenting the fabric of his towel in an unspoken invitation. Just when she thought that she had gotten the better of him, and that he was about to beg her to relieve his mounting pressure, he had stopped the encounter dead in its tracks. Upon leaving the booth, he had seemed perfectly calm and collected, in full control of himself despite the torture that she had subjected him to.

She hadn't gotten the massage wrong, had she? No, the information about human anatomy that she had studied while planning the trip to the sauna had been accurate. He had responded very strongly to her touch, he had been about ready to collapse by the end of it. Yet the desired result had not been achieved, he still resisted her advances. There was nowhere that she could take things from here. What could be more personal and provocative than sharing a sauna and a shower, what could be more intimate than having their hands all over each other's soaking wet bodies?

What was she going to do now? The little human just became more and more attractive as time went on. Not only was he as sly as any Polar, but now he seemed indifferent to her seductive powers. It was driving her crazy. She couldn't concentrate at work, she couldn't sleep without getting herself off first, as it was the only way to drive the thoughts of him to the back of her mind. This didn't happen to Polars, they never found themselves in such a situation because a fellow Polar would have no reason to refuse a fumble in the sleeping pile.

She wasn't wired for this, her head was going to explode if she didn't get her way soon.

Kofe danced on the spot as she struggled into her shorts, Miller's back turned to her as he pulled on his overalls. They had dried off, and they were getting dressed in the now ventilated sauna room. Soon they would be heading to a restaurant, or maybe a food stand to get something to eat. What then? Miller was obviously not displeased, or he would not have invited her out to eat. That was how humans expressed their interest, according to the forums that she had scoured for information, by inviting their prospective mate out to dinner. That had been the purpose of their date at the restaurant, the first time that Jeff had conceded that they were courting.

She knew that he was attracted to her, it radiated from him, expressed through every lingering glance and every flush of his cheeks. She wanted him, she had told him so plainly, but it still hadn't happened yet. As much as she enjoyed spending time with him, Borealans were sexual creatures, it was like being deprived of an essential nutrient.

Once they were both dressed, Kofe thanked the woman behind the counter, and they headed out onto the torus. The artificial breeze caught her long hair, blowing it gently as Jeff walked along beside her. He seemed unusually chipper. He was always gruff and reserved, that was one of the things that she liked about him, but now he was especially hard to read.

For the first time, she no longer felt in control of the situation. The little human...could he be beating her at her own game?

***

Miller had made up his mind, he was going to take control of the situation. If he and Kofe were going to get serious, then he wanted it to be on his terms. More importantly, he wanted Kofe to know that. She seemed somewhat deflated as she walked beside him, her ears and tail sagging a little, perhaps disappointed that her ploy in the sauna had failed. In reality, she had very nearly succeeded, but Miller was made of stern stuff. It took an iron will to repair a hull breach on the outside of a spinning torus that couldn't be disabled for maintenance, only a pair of magnetic boots preventing you from being flung into space like a piece of gravel from a tire.

She would soon cheer up, however, he would see to that.

The giant lamps in the ceiling of the station were getting dim now, it would soon be night, and the bustling throngs that usually clogged the walkways were thinning out as the station's inhabitants returned to their homes. Miller knew that there was an ice cream stand near where the tourist quarter ended and the residential quarter began, so the pair stopped there on their way back. Ice cream cones in hand, they sat on a nearby bench to eat, Kofe licking at her melon-sized blob of vanilla as she shifted her weight around. It was human-sized seating, and so she had to crouch low, the frame creaking under her weight as she leaned forward to avoid the fronds of a poorly placed tree.

"They really need to stop putting these plants around the benches," she grumbled, batting away the pointed leaves with her hand. "Would it kill them to put in some seating that a Borealan can use without being stabbed in the face by an Earth plant?"

Miller wasn't too comfortable either, Kofe's round thighs spreading to press him up against the armrest, occupying a space that would have seated four. He held his ice cream cone out of harm's way as she wriggled, the wood creaking its displeasure. She finally seemed satisfied, concentrating on her massive treat, her long tongue snaking out of her mouth to drag its rough surface across the frozen dessert. The barbs left trails like a rake in sand, Kofe smacking her lips happily as she ate.

"I had fun today," Miller said, Kofe pausing her licking to glance down at him.

"You did?" she asked.

"Yeah. Maybe I'll stop at your place for a nightcap before I head home."

"But I live downspin of you," Kofe replied, "we'd be passing your apartment..." She trailed off, realizing that she was arguing against spending more time with Miller. "Sure," she added, "we can hang out some more. Don't you have work tomorrow though?"

"I'll survive. Worst case scenario I can sleep on your couch again. With the thermostat turned up this time, ideally."

Kofe certainly seemed happier now, her ears were pricked up and she had a kind of excited energy about her. She would probably have been swinging her feet back and forth had the bench been high enough off the ground. Instead, her tail flicked behind them, poking through a slat in the wood and rustling the foliage in the decorative planters.

Despite the fact that her ice cream was ten times the size of his own, they finished at about the same time, Kofe extending a furry hand to him as she rose from her seat. The gesture seemed more significant than usual, Miller glancing up at her as she waited for him. The Polar liked to manhandle him, and she had never asked permission to grab his hand or to take him by the arm before.