Wild Space Pt. 03

"Captain, that'll be enough." Lex said demurrely, and stood. "Thank you for the food. I hope to see you soon."

He took his cue and left, making sure to secure the hatch behind him. He did not want to be a fly on the bulkhead when those two fought this one out.

****

The docks on Valantier were a trader's paradise. All manners of cheap amusements were available there. Phillias drifted among the crowd of offworlers, eyes narrowed through the chemica haze. She wore her work clothes: a two piece leather outfit, sidearm hung low on her hip, a pair of space boots with a knife tucked in each. The entire garment was scarred and old, but she resembled any other dockside thug or crew member stomping around, looking for a drink or some fun. Her hair was pulled back from her pale face, giving her a severe, tough look. Her strange eyes and weakened gaze studied the goings on at the docks, carefully and alertly, like a shark.

As she heard the babble of rough voices around her, a drunken laugh and a string of curses, Phillias experienced the strange sensation of being grateful she wasn't born a noble. Lady Lex would keel over in horror and die at the mere smell of this place. Phillias, however, could blend in, make herself sound and look and walk like one of these people. It would be very much needed.

The hatchet maid bought a mug of red wine to blend in with the crowd, each of whom seemed to be drinking or eating or popping a vibrant. Casual drug use was a way of life on the docks. So was casual sex.

Everywhere she looked, flesh was for sale. There were no organized brothels here. Instead, providers mingled in the crowd, trying to entire captains and crews to take them aboard their ships. It wouldn't be unusual for a captain to hire one or a half dozen prostitutes for their crew for longer hauls. That kind of undertaking was fraught with hardship and peril for any man or woman willing to undertake it, but also hefty rewards. Others didn't travel and stayed close to him. More well to do providers had permanent homes and even serviced nobles if they were skilled enough.

Idly, as she sipped her not bad wine and scanned the scene around her, Phillias wondered if Lex had been stupid enough to buy something or someone on her way offworld. Somehow, she doubted it, but she couldn't say exactly why. A simple feeling that she couldn't explain. But she had to check anyway, and was happy to do so, despite the danger hanging over her head. She loved her job. The hatchet maid flipped her empty cup onto the ground

Gorm's was one of the few alien friendly bars on Valantier. Traffic coming in from offworld was simply too vital for the authorities to discriminate against aliens too strongly. The place had its own filter system, and even though it sputtered and died occasionally, the air inside was much cleaner. Of pollutants, anyway, Phillias thought as she unwound her mask from her face and popped off her goggles. Alien body odor, greasy food, and spilled alcohol dominated the interior of the rough bar. Although it was allegedly open to any species, she noted that there was an abundance of multi-colored Vimorans and dark eyed, horned and solemn Montellans, both old races who were considered "humanlike" to Capital citizens. There weren't many more exotic species than that, and of non-humanoids there were none. Even silver bought only so much tolerance on a Capital World, Phillias knew.

A trio of bored prostitutes sat at the counter, drinking and trying to stir up some business, but to no avail. Phillias took a stool next to the nearest slut, raising a finger to the bartender to summon him. A not too clean mug was placed before her and filled, to her surprise. She hadn't ordered, but before the hatchet maid could ask any questions the bartender was gone. She tuned into the conversation taking place next to her.

"...tell them that the smog is getting so bad that johns can't even finish," One of them was saying. "They just huff and puff and flop around."

"That's why you only should fuck offworlders," Came the reply. "They're richer too."

"Excuse me," Phillias said in a soft voice to the woman next to her. "Can you tell me what I'm drinking here?"

The woman turned on her stool. She had long black hair and golden skin. Phillias was shocked at how old she turned out to be. Her body was petite and her outfit was offering it up in the best light possible, but she was easily in her early forties. And looked it. A button nose and mouth and an unlined face couldn't take away the jaded and hard look in her eyes. Those dark, almond shaped opals had worked the docks for a long time. Nevertheless, the mature woman was attractive, friendly and Phillias soon found, talkative.

"That's called 'tsara'." The woman said with a smile. Her teeth were surprisingly white. "It's an import. Did the bartender just not ask and fill up your mug with it?"

"Yes, he did," Despite herself, Phillias found herself returning the smile.

"I wouldn't let him do that again," The other woman advised. "It's the most expensive thing in the bar. He's just trying to gouge you for more money. Tell him to serve you beer or something next time. I'm Sali."

"Serene," The hatchet maid responded. The two women fumbled a handshake: the prostitute brought up her hand sideways and Phillias simultaneously extended hers palm down, the noble way, to be kissed. Thankfully Sali didn't notice and they both shared a laugh.

"So what are you doing down on the docks, Serene?"

As they talked and laughed and poured more drinks (Sali mock seriously chastised the bartender for trying to take advantage of an offworlder), Phillias found herself being worked. She didn't mind. Sali was a people person, skilled with conversation. She was wittier than half of the people at court, Phillias found, and not bad on the eyes.

Sali was a drinker and kept insisting on more beers and cocktails. The bar filled up and emptied several times, an endless cycle of smells and sounds. It took work, but the hatchet maid was able to feign drunkenness. The stool next to her was always full with some rum pot or another. After the second round, Phillias began unobtrusively sliding every drink to her left, where it was quickly snatched and guzzled up by another patron eventually. Sali didn't seemed to notice that the level of her new friend's only glass never dipped. She was too busy flirtatiously trailing a finger along the other woman's hand or arm, and once her lips, only to withdraw it suddenly and laugh happily.

She's ready, Phillias thought to herself, watching the golden skinned woman gnaw on the edge of her glass. Any minute now...

"Hey, do you want to go somewhere?" Sali wanted to know. She'd tied her black hair back and her eyes were bright with alcohol. She licked the rim of her glass clean.

"I think before we do we ought to have a conversation." Phillias pushed her now empty glass over the bar. She stood and pushed her stool in, now right next to the other woman, who opened her legs and put her glass down and reached out her arms.

"What conversation?"

"About price."

"There's no fooling you, I see," Sali said, expelling a gust of beery breath. "Fine. Let's go outside, though, dear. Beginning to loathe the sight of this place."

Phillias had been so long inside the filtered air of Gorm's that her eyes watered at the sudden intrusion of the chemicals in the air, but she felt Sali's hand on her own and was being lead away before she could put on her goggles and mask. She disliked being manhandled, but there was something endearing about the seemingly genuine way that Sali was clutching her. The prostitute was making the same mistake so many did with Phillias: underestimation. The hatchet maid resolved to show her the error of her ways.

Sali lived in a flophouse right off of the spaceport. She had to lean into the old fashioned door button before it creakily opened. Anytime she mingled with the commons Phillias never failed to be amazed that on Valantier, a world whose industrial output made it a business giant in the Capital Systems, that a door could simply fall into disrepair. But as the door slide shakily into its jamb she was surprised yet again.

Despite the grime and blight of the exterior, the inside of Sali's efficiency was clean and well decorated. It smelled faintly antiseptic, some kind of deodorizer to drive away the harsh industrial smell of Valantier. The only furniture consisted of a bed and a sideboard with bottles atop it. There was a small attached washroom but no kitchen, confirming to Phillias that this wasn't the other woman's home, only her work place.

"Grab a seat and let's get started," Sali offered. She moved over to the sideboard purposefully. "Take those boots off to start. Like another drink, dear?"

"No," The hatchet maid said. She sit as requested, but didn't undress herself. "Do you work the docks a lot?"

"Right to business, are you?" Sali poured herself a hefty dose of dark brown liquor and took a sip straight. Phillias watched her lips and throat move as the woman drank. "Fair enough. How does two silvers sound?"

"One would sound much better." Phillias said automatically with a smile. "But my mum always said you buy cheap, you get cheap. Do you mind if we talk first?"

"It's your money, lady." Sali sipped at her drink and shrugged. "Sure."

"How long have you been a working girl?"

"Oh, gosh. Long time. Fourteen, fifteen years?"

"Do you get a lot of nobles who come down to the docks?"

"Nobles? No, I don't think so." Sali smiled sweetly but professionally. "I imagine they have their own diversions, don't you?"

They did, but this woman didn't need to know that.

"You don't recall seeing two noblewomen on the docks recently?"

"Hmmm." Sali put her empty drink down on the sideboard and refilled it. "That depends."

"On what?" Phillias asked with a hint of dread in her voice.

"I think you know." Sali had big, white teeth and used them to her advantage. Only this time the smile wasn't flirty but sharklike.

After that it was all negotiations.

A dozen silvers lighter, Phillias was the proud owner of the knowledge that a homeless dock dweller had observed two noblewomen board a freighter with an offworld trader, the night before last. The women had looked bedraggled and covered in filth, and the captain was a blond man who dressed strangely, clearly a foreigner. News traveled fast on the docks. Phillias paid for the information and gladly. She wondered if this woman had any idea who she really was. Twelve silvers to a man like Ehren was nothing. He'd pay ten times that for the safe return of his wife. Well, the hatchet maid amended. The return might be safe but Lex certainly wouldn't be shortly thereafter.

"I think this has been a profitable evening for the both of us," Sali said, and now her trademark smile was warm, if a bit distant and ready to be gone.

"I don't think our business is done, honey," Phillias said. She could see the other woman was reluctant. "Don't you want to celebrate our deal?"

"Really?" The golden skinned woman said. She shifted uncertainty. For a prostitute, she seemed unusually shy. "Didn't you just come for the information? I told you what I heard."

"And I gave you a dozen silvers for it, sweetie," The hatchet maid said primly. "I think that entitles me to a little more. Don't you?"

"No, I don't." Sali said. She narrowed her eyes. "I think you need to leave now."

"And I think you need to realize who you're dealing with." Phillias stood. She was approaching six feet tall, over two hundred pounds, and the little woman before her seemed to shrink against the sideboard she was clutching. "What kind of person would pay a dockside whore that much just for some information?"

The prostitute was silent. She put her drink down and was hugging herself beneath her breasts.

"The kind of person you don't say 'no' to," The red haired woman said, almost gently, voicing the other's thoughts. "I want your clothes off."

"What?" Sali asked, her voice almost a squeak.

"Take your clothes off." She said in a more forceful tone. "If they don't hit the floor in ten seconds you will, honey."

A few heartbeats passed before Sali realized the other woman meant business. She skimmed out of her minimal clothing in record time. A credit to her profession, Phillias thought with a smirk. The other woman's body had been through a lot more than hers, she thought, as her eyes greedily took in the sight. Sali's breasts drooped nearly to the center of her chest, and were streaked with stretch marks. Another starburst of marks was on her belly. Her nipples were pale brown, the areolas big. A thatch of black hair, thick and well maintained, sat proudly between her well muscled legs. Absurdly, the prostitute went to cover herself, but Phillias quickly put an end to that.

"Now on your knees and crawl over to me. Slowly."

Sali did as she was ordered, reluctantly falling into a submissive air. She was too quick for the hatchet maid's liking.

"Slower. That's right, on your hands and knees." She ordered. Laying down, Phillias kicked out of her boots, wiggled her toes luxuriously. "And arch your back when you crawl."

Despite her age, Sali was graceful in her movements, if a little tepid. Phillias focused on the woman's black eyes, now full of reluctance, as the mature beauty made her way over. Her ass was round and firm, pointed in the air as the woman did as she was told. Her breasts hung low from her chest as she crawled. When Sali was within distance the hatchet maid put the bottom of her foot right on the other woman's mouth. Surprised, the prostitute glared and then turned her head.

"No," Phillias said. "You're to follow orders. Do not look me in the eye. And don't speak unless spoken to. Now, the foot. Try it again."

She felt the whisper soft breath of Sali on her toe after, and smiled. The woman planted a handful of soft kisses on the on the bridge of her foot. Roughly, Phillias raked the toes of her other foot against the other woman's low hanging breasts. Sali's shudder may have been one of pleasure or disgust. The woman kept her lips glued to the Titian haired beauty's foot before sliding it along, occasionally spearing between the toes with her tongue.

After a handful of minutes of that treatment, neither women's shudders and increase in breathing was at all due to stress or disgust. Phillias lifted her other foot and Sali accommodatingly took its toes into her mouth, individually and then in pairs, causing the bigger woman to sigh.

"Maybe you'll get to put your tongue other places, if you're lucky. Good work," Phillias said, standing. "On your feet."

When they were face to face Phillias grabbed a handful of other woman's thick black hair, yanking her head back, causing her to hiss and close her eyes. She sank her teeth into the delicate golden flesh above the collarbone. Sali's fingers curled at the back of her neck and the smaller woman wrapped a leg slightly around her's.

For long moments, the hatchet maid and the hooker pressed close, as much as their bodies together, with the former's mouth exploring anywhere she could reach: lips, forehead, cheeks, eyelids, neck, ears. With each impact of lips on golden skin both women sighed and moved against one another.

"This feels good, but flesh on flesh is better. Undress me."

Sali clung to the other woman, briefly hugging her while she wound her fingers underneath the bottom of the leather top. With a flourish the garment was removed and thrown to the floor. Phillias briefly wrapped her big arms around the other woman's waist, pulling her close, her large, pale breasts enveloping the smaller golden orbs. When the kiss ended Phillias pushed Sali away and gestured for her to continue. The prostitute knelt in response, skimming down the leather pants as she did so. She placed kisses on the other woman's large belly, and then cocked her head to kiss the scratchy red saplings of hair over the mound. Phillias sighed and held the woman's head close to her body, luxuriating in the touch of the soft lips and breathing upon her sensitive skin.

She laid back onto the bed. Sali laid atop her and kissed her, positioning herself so that their bodies were in full and intimate contact along their entire length. Phillias had big hands, and they covered the other woman's slender back and were able completely envelop the smooth, round backside. Phillias parted Sali's cheeks and slid a finger in between, feeling the yielding and slightly moist ring beneath her index finger. Pressed harder and heard and felt Sali react as her asshole was gently penetrated. The prostitute clung to her a bit tighter, grinding her pelvis against the other woman's in response to the new stimuli.

Sali was quite a bit shorter, and so she was able to only slightly dip her head and take the other woman's nipple into her mouth. Phillias arched her back and raised her hips off of the bed, wanting to bring more of her body into contact with the older woman's. The two fell into a rhythm: Phillias slowly pumped her index finger in and out of the other woman's ass and Sali grinding her crotch against Phillias's hip and pelvis. Finally, after a few blissful minutes, they broke contact.

"You have toys?" The hatchet maid wanted to know.

"The nightstand," Sali breathed out. "What did you have in mind?"

"What did I say about speaking when spoken to?" Phillias asked sweetly.

"Not to do it."

"I think you need to learn that lesson." The red haired woman said. "On the bed, sweetie. No, on your hands and knees."

There was a squeaking of springs as Sali reluctantly got into position. Phillias half turned and began to rummage through the nightstand. Her hand closed over a variety of shapes and textures. When she encountered something exceedingly smooth and octagon shape, she smiled and withdrew her hand.

It was a green strap on dildo, clean and so neon bright it seemed to glow in the dimly lit room. Attached to it was a series of straps and buckles. Excitedly, Phillias stood.

"Put this on me," She ordered.

"I am not okay with you using that one on me," Sali said over her shoulder. She sat uneasily. "When it comes to this...I am a top...I thought maybe if you just put one in me I'd be OK, but you don't get to fuck me like you were a man."

"Hmmm," The hatchet maid stood. She stepped through the loop to go around her chubby hip that she had just fashioned and began on the other. "You act like you have a choice in the matter."

"I was having fun until now," The prostitute said, and covered her small breasts. "I'm sorry. I am going to have to ask you to leave."

With a smirk, Phillias finished putting on the strap on and hefted it in her right hand. With her other one she picked up her money belt from the discarded pile of leather clothes next to the bed. When she shook it silvers jingled within.

"You can ask all you like, but I think we both know this isn't the first rule of yours that you'll break. How much?"

Sali's face betrayed her. Her dark eyes were locked onto the head of the neon green dildo, and the heavy, shapely woman before her. She shifted on the bed, and Phillias could almost hear the cogs in the woman's head churning.

"Two hundred. Two hundred more silver." Sali finally said.

It was enough to buy the flophouse they were currently bartering in. Phillias made a big show of considering it, and then shrugged. It wasn't her money, anyway.

"I am afraid I didn't bring that much with me," She said, and saw the protest raise on Sali's eyes. "But I will have my employer send it over somehow."

"Employer?"

"This symbol." Phillias showed off the ring that was hung on her finger just a bit too loose. It was dull silver with a red stone, cut to look like a flower. "The House of Manvi."