“And you didn’t want it?”
“Of course, I want it. I’m as healthy as anybody. I just didn’t want it with her.”
“Well, then why me?”
“Because you were the sexiest woman in the room and just watching you was driving me crazy.”
“And because you figured if you could get me, you’d prove to Brill and the others that you didn’t need their help.”
I shrugged. “Well, perhaps as a side benefit, but that wasn’t the main reason. I’ve been looking forward to tonight, to the possibilities, ever since the other day in Chez Henri. I really didn’t think I would wind up with you on my arm like this. I was prepared for you to cut me off at the knees.”
“Well, then why?”
We stopped and I turned to her. “I’ve been cut off at the knees before. It’s not that bad. And there was the possibility of something magical happening.” I took her face gently in my hands and moved close to hers, feeling her breath on my skin. I smiled but did not kiss her. Instead, I turned back and tucked her arm back under mine and started walking.
“You bastard!” she said with a shaky laugh.
“So? I found you fascinating, sexy, powerful, and beautiful—not necessarily in that order, and I thought I’d like to leave the bar with you at the end of the night. Is that so bad?”
“Thought? Past tense?”
“Semantic trap. I thought that then because it is in the past. That has nothing to do with the way I feel about you right now.”
“And how do you feel about me?”
“You are a fascinating, sexy, powerful, beautiful woman, and I’m enjoying every instant I’m with you. Now it’s your turn to be on the hot seat. How do you feel about me? Why did you let a common engineman dance with you?”
“Oh, that’s easy…because you asked, and very nicely, I might add. And you should probably know that you are not a common engineman.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because a common engineman wouldn’t go to a bar wearing Henri Roubaille.”
“Okay, you got me there. But why cradle robbing? You got a thing for young stuff?”
“Truthfully, I was just dancing until we sat to talk. I had no intention of leaving so early with anybody when we sat down.”
“What happened?”
“We didn’t talk.”
“I remember.”
“I don’t know the last time somebody just sat with me without trying to impress me, get into my pants, or kiss up for one reason or another.”
“Well, for the record, I was trying to get into your pants,” I said with a grin. “I was just waiting for an invitation.”
She laughed again, and I found that I liked her laugh a lot. “Damn, you are good.”
“I interrupted, please continue.”
“Anyway, it was refreshing, so when we did start talking, and you still weren’t trying to impress me, it had the opposite effect. The more you weren’t trying, the more impressed I was. I’m still in awe over Roubaille and then to learn that you’ve talked to Bresheu as well. And you’ve impressed Brill beyond anything I’ve ever seen—and Al! My god, you impressed Al! I don’t know what’s more astonishing—Al or Roubaille.”
“Well, I should probably not be telling you this, but she was my fallback.”
“What?”
“Next to you, she was the most fascinating woman in the place. And she said she’d take out some of the sharper bits of steel.”
“She didn’t!”
“Have I lied to you yet?” I asked.
“Not that I’ve been able to tell,” she said warily. “You would have gone?”
“Are you kidding? If you’d turned me down? She’s a fascinating woman!”
“I think you’re pulling my leg, but anyway, after that I wanted to leave with you quickly before anybody else got their claws in you. Once word gets out that you were at Chez Henri, they’ll be knocking down your door.”
“They’ll have to get through Brill, Diane, and Beverly first, I think.”
“And that was the most impressive of all. Seeing Brill look at you like that. She’s not an easy person to get close to.”
“Believe me, I know.”
We walked along quietly arm in arm for a few ticks. It was quite pleasant.
“Was?” she asked at last.
“Excuse me? Was what?”
“You said, ‘I was trying to get into your pants’ before. You’re not now?”
I considered this for a moment. “In the first place, that’s another semantic trap. It’s past tense because it denotes action that occurred in the past.”
I stopped and turned to her again. “In the second place,” I said, bringing my face close to hers and again teasing her with my breath and inhaling the delightful smell of her. “I think we’ve already established that. At the moment we’re only negotiating time and place.”
I started to pull back again, but she caught my head and pulled me to her. “Not this time, you bastard.” Then she kissed me. Hard. Teeth were involved. Hers and mine. There were some other things that involved her sliding her arms up under my coat and holding onto me very tightly with those arms. I’m pretty sure, a leg was involved as well. It took a tick for my vision to come back afterward.
“Well,” I said a bit breathlessly. “I think negotiations are almost over. You seem to have made a decision.”
She grinned at me. It was a hungry grin. “Oh, yes. Some time ago. Have you?”
“Here?” I asked indicating the corridor.
“No,” she said emphatically. “I’m not in a mood to share you. At least not tonight,” she added with a very naughty smile.
She took my arm and we walked a few meters to a small hotel where she had a room.
“Planning ahead?” I asked mischievously.
“Why, yes. I just didn’t know for what.”
She keyed the room open and held the door for me. I stepped into what seemed like a large room after all those months in a berthing area. It was a typical hotel single with bed, bath, holo unit, and communicator. She followed me in, closed the door, and set the privacy latch. I felt her hands run up my back and across my shoulders. “May I take your coat?” she asked coyly.
“But of course,” I told her and flexed my shoulders back so she could slip it off me.
She held it and stroked her fingers across it. “This is amazing,” she said, and pulled a hanger from the closet. She turned her back to me and hung it carefully, kicking off her shoes in the process. “Much better. My feet were beginning to get sore.” She was putting on a little show for me and I was enjoying it. She arched her back and reached for the zipper at the rear of her slacks, pulling it down slowly. The widening V showed more and more of the delicious flesh of her back and then the lacy waistband on a pair of black briefs. She finished with the zipper and allowed the slacks to slide down her legs. Stepping out of them delicately, she bent down, picked them carefully up, and straightened them before hanging them as well. She crossed her arms in front, caught the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head. She shook it once and gave it a hanger of its own. She was, of course, wearing no bra and I could barely wait to run my fingers across the smooth expanse of her back. She stood there for a moment, back to me. Knowing I was watching—wanting me to watch.
“You know,” she said turning her head in my direction to speak over her shoulder, “I am the second mate on the Duchamp.”
“Yes, I know.”
“When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed.” A little huskiness crept into her voice.
“That’s as it should be,” I agreed.
She turned then and started walking very slowly toward me. I was pinned by her flashing eyes and could not even look down to admire her magnificent body. “So, how about it, spacer? Can you obey orders?”