11th Sun: Chapter 12: [XXX] Hard

The Bob’s Gun’s have to get a lot of escrow together, so in the meantime I have nothing to do, but nothing to do.

Get a bra Elven. Put on the sexy boots again.

I go back to the hanger, get into the bunk house, and pick up something with fringe. I don’t have anything in white, or cream. You’ll see the black through my white crop top, but it’s tiny so I decide that’s okay, and put it in my purse.

The filter is probably done by now. Lets check with Mitch.

Mitch is in his office, doing office stuff. This means smoking a cigar and pretending to read accounts. I walk in and lean on the door in a way that seems natural, and which I vaguely recognize might be misconstrued.

Rough hands.

“Hey, hows it coming?”

“Filter is printing. Eleven hours left.” He has his feet on the desk, and slides them off to talk to me. “I’m not doing anything for awhile. Wanna get some food?”

He has a look in his eye. Something about it really creeps me out. He’s getting really intense really sudden. Narrowed eyes. Open mouth. For some reason I feel like he’s slobbering at me. His rough hands suddenly hold much less interest to me. “I’ve actually just eaten.” Do I throw him a bone here? What’s the etiquette? “Maybe some other time?”

“Nah.”

What the hell does he mean “nah”?

“You want to do it now.”

I might narrow my eyes, I’m not sure. “I think I know what I want.”

He gets up then and starts to get much closer. I step back and run into the wall. He puts his palm on the wall next to my shoulder. I can smell his breath. It’s not pleasant.

“Just give me a chance. You’ll see I’m a nice guy.”

Yeah, I know what nice guys are like. “I think I have other things to do.” As a man I would have put a gun under his chin and spun it up for good measure. Now? I have to work with this man, and a show of force is not a good idea. I’m suddenly aware that what he wants he can take, if I can’t reach my gun in time. My piece is suddenly not so reassuring.

But he put his arm too high and I duck under it, and slip out the door. “Sorry, I’m very tired right now. We’ll have to do it later.

I hurry off, but not before I hear him say, “Bitch,” under his breath.

Somehow that insult is more meaningful, and more hurtful, now.

#

I rush back into my room at the brothel to get into something protective. The garter holster works okay in the jeans, and I get it into almost arms reach. With that done I sit on the bed and try to stop the shaking.

God I need a drink.

Mitch can’t go to the z levels. I end up on the z levels, and find a bar called… something in Strey. There’s no English translation, and I don’t have my contacts in. My old contacts don’t fit these eyes, and I don’t think anyone here has the equipment to measure them. Not many black market optometrists out there.

Oh there’s a sign on the door in English: Hard. Probably makes more sense on Mestra.

The inside looks like a saloon. Wooden tables, wooden bar. Big mirror behind the bottles. The furniture looks like it’s suffered from a couple of brawls, and the table closest to me definitely has knife scars in it. It’s even darker in here than it is outside, and all the lights are purple or blue. I take a seat at the bar, ask for something to calm my nerves and get a scotch. The bartender has good taste, a steady stock, and no well. You drink like you mean it here, or you don’t drink at all. There’s only one bottle of vodka on the wall, and it’s barely been touched.

In this light the bartender’s skin is glowing softly blue, and I realize a couple of minutes into my drink, that the blue I had always assumed Streya are, is actually a pale ultra violet. After drink two I tell her as much.

She laughs, “For six months I couldn’t understand what that weird color I was seeing was,” she says. “It wasn’t until I was driving somewhere and heard someone say “red light” that I realized that that was the new color. I’d never seen red before.” She looks down at her latex, form fitting, “better tips,” dress, “I like pink, now that I’ve seen it. But it… doesn’t go with my skin.”

I hand her more money and she hands me more scotch.

She runs her hands over antennae, “This was the hardest thing to get used to. Everything smelled different at first. My brain didn’t know what to make of it. Then the signals figured themselves out, and everything smelled the same again.” Her English is very good, almost no accent. Strey is a soft language, not really musical. I want to say it flows like water, but that’s kinda dumb.

Some other customers stop by the bar, and she serves them quickly, then comes back to where I am. She cleans things that aren’t there, with a rag, and we chat for awhile.

Scotch number two and I hand her a tip, that she tucks into the top of the dress. I notice that all of the other tips have gone into a nearby jar. I think I’m being flirted with, and I think I’m reciprocating. The alcohol has me pretty excited about that. I feel a lot of other emotions, but excitement is pretty high on the list.

I find out that her name is Lia when a regular calls her over. She spends some time talking to him, and I feel drunk jealous. In a fit of pique I tell her that I’m going to the bathroom.

“Oh I’ll go with you!”

I have seen this phenomena, and hadn’t considered that it applied to me now. We single file into the bar bathroom, which is like a bar bathroom, only cleaner. Girls get all the best stuff. On the way to the stalls Lia talks about her day. She talks about the regulars. She talks about frustrations. When we get into the stall and sit down, she’s still talking.

It’s making me uncomfortable, but I realize—drunkenly—that this is something I have to get used too. I don’t find that thought as depressing as I normally do.

She waits for me outside the stall, and I tell her that I got new makeup today. She “ooohs,” then, “Now is the perfect time to change it!”

“… I don’t really know what I want.”

“I’ll choose!”

I hand her the applicator, and she paws through the menu for a moment. Then she pulls up something more… daring, than what I’ve been wearing. Blue eyeshadow, deeper red on my cheeks. Before I can think about it she snaps it over my face.

Then she digs into her purse and pulls out some lipstick, “Hold still,” and she carefully runs it over my lips. I am definitely being flirted with, and find I’m really enjoying the experience.

I look in the mirror. It’s different, and I don’t know if it’s really, “me.” I’m ready to tell her as much, the words are on my lips, when I see her face. She’s staring at me with an expression I find hard to parse. I realize that she’s made me up in a way that she finds sexy, and the tension goes up a notch. I smile and nod, and then hike my boobs around. She’s arousing me, I want to arouse her. She looks at me like my action is natural, but I see her eyes dilate.

When we leave the bathroom I feel alcohol kind of confident, and the attention and the makeup are helping. When I sit at the bar I cross my legs, and find myself running my finger over the edge of the glass when she looks at me.

But after scotch number four, I start to get sloppy.

I have a few memories of the rest of the night, but that’s about when I blacked out. I broke a glass. I cried about something. Lia cut me off. She asked where I was staying, and I told her, and she asked someone to take me there, and they refused and she cussed them out because she couldn’t leave the bar. Then they got told to leave, and they got pissed about that. Then the other patron put his hand on his gun, and Lia had to hit him inna face with a bat.

I have a memory of being carried up the stairs on Lia’s shoulder, and introduced to her wife. Wife seemed excited, in Strey, and then disappointed by something. I get put to bed on her couch, with a blanket, bucket, and some kind of alien version of a teddy bear.

Then I pass out and it’s all black.

#

I wake up with a feeling I have felt before, a shot to the head hangover. I’m not face down in vomit, so that’s different. I don’t know where I am though, and that’s the same.

I look around at a very cozy home, under light that’s dim blue, like a hazy memory from last night. There’s a lot of wood in here, tables and chairs and stuff. Not prefab, but real wood. Some cut and varnished, some raw, like driftwood. Little bits of cloth hang off the walls and there are things with fringes and beads all over the place. I notice that a lot of the lights are made out of empty bottles. That makes me remember the bar, and bits of last night.

My liver has finished processing all of the alcohol, and woken me up so that I can be proud of the good job it did. I sit up on my elbows and then my hands. The hangover recedes faster than ever before. Moving doesn’t make me puke immediately, and that bucket is empty.

I’m really uncomfortable because I’ve found out what sleeping in a bra is like. It’s like having a glove on wrong, only it’s on your chest. It’s like sleeping with you shoes on, if your feet could squish half in and half out of your shoes, and do it in 360 directions.

Also, I slept with my shoes on and my feet feel gross.

I have to pull my top off, to get to the bra. I’ve decided it’s going away for now. Then I get tangled in my jacket, and then…

Some kind of cough/giggle from behind me. I turn to see Lia’s wife, Ci, leaning against the bedroom door. Her antennae are shorter than Lia’s, I think they’re trimmed. Her nose is pierced through the nostril, and she’s wearing something that looks ethnic and modern at the same time.

I give her the most wry smile I can muster, while I pull of the jacket. Moment of truth Eleven. Take off your shirt alone with a lesbian. But I don’t feel like anything can go wrong right now. I finally get my bra off and slump on the couch with my shirt back on. Ci giggles again, and leaves in a way that you do when you’re about to come back with something. I hope it will be coffee.

It is not coffee. And it comes in a cup that bends to my hand like a clay slinky. Ci sets it down on the coffee table, and sits next to me, close.

She smiles and nods, and says “Socka,” as she points to the mug with her pinky.

I have no idea if she speaks English.

So I say, in Uni, and she smiles and nods, unaware that I’ve used up one seventh of my Uni vocabulary. It consist the most important phrases in every language: yes, no, please, thank you, sorry, excuse me, and fuck you. I couldn’t print an interpreter, no foam cartridge, so I can’t do a speaker.

I drink the socka instead of thinking about that.

It tastes like fuzzy matcha. I don’t know where the fuzziness is from, it’s not carbonated, but it makes my mouth feel like I’m eating velvet. Several things relax deep inside my head and I decide it’s good.

Ci nudges me with her knee, looks expectant. I smile and make an “it’s good” face. She smiles back.

And then nothing. We just sit there like that for awhile. The socka makes it a little more comfortable, but it’s getting kind of weird.

Thank god Lia comes home. There’s a door noise from downstairs, and I hear her call up the stairs in Strey. Ci calls down to her, and Lia pads in. By the time she’s on the landing she’s peeling her dress over her head. Ci says more things while she has her clothes over her eyes, and she laughs and says through the dress, “I forgot you were here, Eleven.”

She has interesting panties on. They’re some kind of ethnic traditional, kind of like a loin cloth that covers everything. They’re also very small.

I am a guest in an intimate moment, and Lia makes it a little weirder by throwing her dress next to me and reaching down to give Ci a deep kiss. Then she touches my shoulder and asks, “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Least I could do. You bought four hundred dollars worth of scotch last night.” She looks at me through the corner of her eye as she kisses Ci again, “I was just giving good customer service.”

Ah. Lia had ulterior motives. Do you actually want to stay here, Eleven? “I should probably check back at my ship, I’ve been asleep for awhile… ”

Lia shrugs, and asks Ci how long I’ve been asleep, and then tells me in English “Only about three hours.”

Ci asks her a question, and Lia says something in an “oh you!” tone of voice. Then they talk a little bit more, and I try to find something interesting to look at. Lia is still leaning on the couch, and Ci is idly rolling her wife’s nipple in thumb and forefinger. I tell myself I’m not going to get aroused. I’m lying.

Lia stands up, “My shahrene wants to know if you’ll stay for dinner.”

“Oh I couldn’t… ”

“She already made enough for three,” Lia takes Ci’s hand off her breast and holds her fingers, before she moves through to door to the kitchen, and calls to me, “We don’t eat with shoes on.”

#

I’m eating something that I don’t know what it is. I don’t even know what it’s called. When I ask, Lia rattles off what sounds like an entire sentence in Strey, I can’t even remember the first syllable. I think that whole thing is the name, because when I look completely lost, Ci rattles off the same sentence. While we eat Ci or Lia will occasionally say something about the dish, and every time they use the whole sentence again.

I think it starts with and L. It’s good, some kind of vegetable/meat hybrid. (The division between plant and animal on other planets is not the same taxonomy as on Earth.) I’m pretty sure my body can digest and get nutrients out of most of it. It would probably be rude to ask.

We’re eating with things that seem kind of like sporks, which is a relief because some alien utensils are downright weird. There’s just a big platter in the middle and we’re all picking from it. I go to spear something with my spork in my right hand, and Ci puts her hand on my wrist and gives me a look of good natured disgust. I get the hint, and use my left hand to eat only.

The table is small. It has a mag in the center, and we sit an a platform with our legs in a pit. Our feet are all touching and I think this is some kind of custom. Lia and Ci seem very used to footsie at dinner. That explains the shoes.

Ci seems like she’s waiting for us to talk, when Lia starts up, “What do you do, Eleven?”

“I’m in long haul shipping (for now). It’s a small personal business,” I lie. “How did you end up tending bar in a dive like this?”

“I like running my own business,” she lies.

We drop personal business rather than lie some more. That’s customary too.

Instead I ask about all the wooden furniture. Lia says that Mestra has fast growing forests, and wood is one of the largest exports. She gets her furniture wholesale for the bar.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been rude.” Lia gets up to find a bottle. Like any bartender, she has an extensive personal collection, and distinguished tastes. She gabs at Ci in Strey, who points at me, and clearly says that I should pick. I comment on a bottle of Crown on her third shelf, and she gives me a look like I don’t know what I’m doing.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never seen one off of Earth, and I haven’t been Earthside in eight years. My Father used to drink it with breakfast and I’ve always wondered.

This seems like a stupid time to experiment, “Can I just try it?” I ask.

Lia pours me a finger and throws some ice in, because even in her private kitchen, she has a bar’s stock of ice. She hands it to me, but doesn’t sit back down at the table.

I sip. Yeah. It tastes like abuse.

Lia looks at my face like she told me so. Ci talks at me and points with her pinky at the glass. I hand it to her and she ships, and makes an expression best described as ambivalent. Then she knocks it back like a champ.

Lia takes the bottle back and cranks the cap on. She puts it on the shelf and looks to me again. Ci cuts off her expression.

“She says you had your chance.”

“Which does she want?”

They back and forth real quick. Lia pulls something off the second shelf, then puts it back and says, “No, you can’t handle that.”

“I can handle anything you throw at me.”

Lia puts her hands on her hip but doesn’t take her eyes off the shelf. “I’m an intergalactic bar tender, Eleven. I know what will kill you. That bottle has enough amphetamine to blow up your heart with a shot.”

Ah.

“How do you feel about heroin?”

“Poorly.”

“Okay,” and Lia pulls something purple in a twisty bottle that bends over on itself, and pours it into weird glasses and serves. She sits back down.

It tastes like strawberries that taste like apples, and I swear it’s thinner than water. It slips into my mouth and falls down my throat without touching the sides. But the taste sticks in my mouth, and pairs well with… the L-sentence.

We eat some more. The platter is gone except for rinds and what might be ribs. Ci burps a lady-like burp.

We’ve talked about nothing much, but the atmosphere has gotten pretty intense. Every time I look at Ci she holds eye contact. For the past couple of minutes she’s been making a kind of low buzzy purring noise, and she gets her hands really close to mine.

Lia hasn’t put on a shirt, and as she refills our glasses, she runs her fingers over Ci’s legs. Now the touching seems different.

And then Ci looks at me and says in very bad English, “We going this, or what?”

#

Lia brushes the table aside and Ci starts to get real close to me. That drink is making the situation a little more personal than my first liaison.

Ci is thin, ultraviolet, glowing softly in the light. Her body is Gen-B. Breasts very firm, waist very small, hips very wide. Her antennae frame her face like dreadlocks, and her eyes are big and black.

Yeah, her mouth is kind of weird, but it has lips, teeth, and tongue, could be worse.

And she’s purring and getting very close, and Lia reaches out in our little pit, to rub her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, and cup her breast.

I sit very still, a little stunned, breathing heavy. It’s when I stop to gulp a little bit that Ci leaps forward and puts her lips over mine.

My response is to wrap my arms around her waist and slip my tongue into her mouth immediately. For a moment my hormones compete with the alcohol in my head, as Lia reaches out to stroke my hair. Oh god, pull it She gives it a little tug, and I want much more.

Ci moves her lips down the line of my jaw, they way I’ve done to any number of women. The way it’s never been done for me. I turn my head to make it easier, and feel the tug on my hair again.

Her tongue is more slippery than a human’s, as she runs it from the inside of my clavicle, all the way up to my neck. I didn’t know the inside of my clavicle was an erogenous zone, but I tremble when she licks it. I think my hands are clutching something, but I don’t know where my arms are, so I don’t know what that might be.

Lia has my head in her hand, and while Ci works her way to the center of my breast, she pulls my hair back, just enough not gently. She kisses me, and I’m helpless.

Then Ci runs her tongue over my nipple and I blackout for five seconds. It feels like a tongue on my nipple and somehow that’s connected directly to my spine, which arcs; and my pussy, which soaks my panties. I think the first lick made me back off of Lia, because her lips aren’t on mine anymore. I must have gasped pretty hard.

Now Ci pulls my tit into her mouth, and I’m present for every second of that sensation. My nipple pops over her teeth in a way that makes my toes spasm a little bit. I can feel my whole areola disappear into her mouth, and I visualize that, and it gets me so much hotter.

I look down to watch what she’s doing, and Lia takes the time to trail her fingers up my other breast.

Wait a second. When did I take my shirt off? Doesn’t matter.

Ci’s elbow touches my knee, while all I can think about is the sucking feeling over my tit, and I realize I’m pulled my legs up, feet almost level with my pelvis.

There’s a small lull, while Ci lets me catch my breath. I didn’t need to catch it, but it reminds me that I need to give back a little bit. And I touch a woman for the first time in three months.

I think we’re a little deep into this, and go straight for Ci’s pussy. I find it through her weird clothes. In a second I’ve figured out how to get into them, and I quickly realize I have no idea what I’m doing. She doesn’t really have lips, or a slit. I feel what might be concentric circles, and I feel them move around when my fingers touch them. Ci grimaces at me, then smiles from her place over my breast.

“I guess… ” I have to swallow a little bit, my mind is struggling to form a sentence, “You know more about me, than I know about you.”

I say this as Lia has cupped a hand over my quim through my pants. She knows how to find my clit like that, and she’s rolling it in circles, the way I love.

That’s another blackout for a second. I remember the first time a woman grabbed my dick. In middle school, during play time. The intensity and spontaneity feel the same, and for a moment I can’t believe it. I think my lips are swelling, and I can feel my wetness on my lips and on her finger tips.

It’s getting a little overwhelming for me, and I signal without words that we should trade roles just a little bit. After a quick little calculus I decide to focus on Lia, who seems to be a little more timid. That works on me a little more.

I nudge her over a little bit. This mean I have to twist my hips and close my legs. She gets the hint and leans on her side with her legs wide. Ci stops suckling, and lets me concentrate, while she rubs my shoulder and caresses my thighs. I wish I didn’t have pants on, but it’ll take too much energy to pull them off.

Lia has been nearly naked the whole night, while I’ve been thinking about what works under those panties. I barley touch them before Lia rips them off and tosses them aside in one smooth motion.

What am I looking at?

The skin there is more purple than violet. There are concentric ridges, little coils of muscle. Streya are classic male/female, and in case you couldn’t tell, they have homosexuals just like every race.

Lia spreads her legs and her cunny squashes and stretches a bit. She takes my hand gently and grabs my fingers with a little difficulty, and then runs their tips over the fringes of her ridges. As I do they shift and brush closer to my fingertips. Lia shudders and sighs as I get the hang of it. The more gently I brush, the more deeply she trembles.

Ci shifts off me and comes to her wife. She watches me, while biting and nibbling Lia’s tit, and occasionally brushing my leg. One she sees I’ve gained some competency, she sticks a finger straight into Lia’s pussy. She does it in a way that says she knows what Lia likes. Lia’s legs jump and twist, and she lets out gasp.

She gets more vocal. That buzzing purr intensifies, and she start letting out little gasping cries. Because of the way her rings respond, to me and to Ci, we manage to get a rhythm going. Lia clutches my hands and her face contorts as she orgasms.

Ci comes to kiss me as her wife pitches a fit around her fingers. And I feel Lia sigh against my cheek as she starts to come down.

As Lia puts herself back together a bit, Ci stands up and tugs on my pants to get me up, and she leads me to the bedroom as I start the process of pulling my jeans off.

The bed is a nest. It’s oval, and the center sinks in deeper than the sides. I know this because I turn to sit and pull my pants over my legs, and end up falling backward into the softness. Then I find out that the bed is shaped like it is because it’s actually full of big foam pieces, like a ball pit. Streya don’t have sheets or blankets, I guess. Each of the foam bits is a little warm fuzz, like a wool blanket that is not a wool blanket at all.

When I pitch over, Ci uses my momentum to pull my legs into the air and strip my pants off. My back contorts a little, while she bends my legs back, and pulls my panties over my feet. It’s the least sexy thing that’s happened so far, and I’m kind of glad because it brings me back to reality for a second.

For the few seconds that she’s working the fabric I love so much over my calves, I think about being a guy. I think about having a dick. I think about the hard body my brain used to call home, and what it would do with these two girls. How I would be in control. That I wanted to be in control.

And then Ci pulls my legs apart and gives a playful lick to the outside of my vulva. I feel my back melt a little bit, and then it goes away, and Ci has crawled over me onto the bed. With her legs on either side of my torso, she kisses me again, and again I submit. And then she tucks her feet under my armpits, and her knees around my ears, and tries to find my mouth with her pelvis.

I can smell her cunt. It smells a little like clove. I take a moment to breathe it in, and apparently I take too long, because Ci starts rocking her hips back and forth. So I stick my tongue out and try to mimic the motions Lia taught me with her hands. At first I guess I go too hard. Ci squirms a bit and backs her pussy off. Then I let my tongue go as light as it can on her rings. She starts letting out little purr/sighs, and her legs tremble. She likes my tongue beneath her hole, rather than above it, and I manage a setup where I work on her rings for a moment, and then stick my tongue into her vagina. It seems that, after a bit, a little harder on the rings is okay, and I find a situation where I have the flat of my tongue flexing over her box, while the tip runs back and forth over her rings in little sweeps.

I’ve forgotten about Lia for a bit, until I feel her nibble around the inside of my thighs. Then she runs her tongue up the side of one lip, missing my clit (on purpose, the bitch) and down the other side. She licks my perineum, which no one has ever done before, and runs her tongue, as lightly as possible, between my big lips.

I’m munching away at Ci’s pussy, and trying to remain aware of everything that’s happening. I get into a rhythm with my mouth and then Lia’s tongue flicks my clit and I loose it again. I didn’t really like it when my fingers did that. It’s much better this way. Lia taps at it like she’s flicking a pencil tip with her tongue. After only a few flicks it starts to be too hard, and gets a more tepid response. She catches wise, and starts to broaden her approach.

I’m still eating Ci out, and my jaw is getting a little tired. If Lia’s noises from before are any indication, Ci is really close. There’s more juices flowing out of her pussy, and she’s beginning to drop her weight a bit.

Lia lays the flat of her tongue over my clitoris, and runs it up and down, without ever moving completely off of it. I feel myself hit the first step to an orgasm, just as Ci begins to come on my face. When I hear her really get off, my first instinct is to stop, but I know this game. Her juices pour down over my lips, as I keep going until she falls forward onto her elbows, gasping and twitching.

Ci rolls of my face, and then turns to lick her fluids off my lips.

Now that my mouth isn’t occupied, Lia has me gasping pretty hard. When Ci puts her lips on mine, I find myself moaning into her mouth. I’m getting close, but it’s just out of reach. Then Lia reaches out with her lips, and gently tucks my whole clitty into her mouth. When she starts to give the littlest bit of suction, every muscle spasms. It feels like someone has reached into my pelvis and jerked my body forward a couple of inches. My orgasm contorts every muscle in my abdomen, and I do my best to slam my clit into her mouth as she sucks me off. She completes the move by putting her thumb over my entrance and rubbing the top of the doorway.

The orgasm last somewhere around five seconds and a jillion years. My vision tunnels, and my head swims. Lia continues to work on my clit as I come down, until it’s feeling a little raw and tender, like every, last, pleasurable sensation has been milked out of it.

There’s a lull at this point, and Lia climbs into the bed. We all have the feminine stamina to keep things going, but it’s clear that Lia would like to take a short nap. She curls into my side, and worms her way deep into the foam. Ci uses a wave of foam bits to cover my naked body, and hers, and then tucks her arm around my chest and kisses my neck and nuzzles herself to sleep.

I stare at their ceiling. There’s a painted pattern up there, to match the bed shape. I watch it in the blue light while I think about what I’ve done.



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