Into Some Territorial Girls

Fennec ran down the street with her hands smushed against her wiggling breasts, leaving her dark bush and jiggling bottom exposed to the cool night air. Turning into a narrow alley, she was too busy looking back to be sure the whistling & hooting men hadn't followed her that she didn't see the cluster of girls hovering around the side entrance to a "club" until she knocked a blue Twi-lek in a tight latex catsuit off her platform boots, sending her leather crop flying as she sprawled on the ground. Instinctively, Fennec extended helping hands, cuffed at wrist and elbow, to the woman.

"There were these guys that-" she began explaining.

"No apology?" blurted a Zabrak in latex bikini and a leashed collar bearing the name 'Trixie'. "This is her block. You don't just crash in here and disrespect Mistress like that!"

A dark-haired Corellian stopped Fennec's response by demanding to know where her tax medallion was. She was wearing what could only be described as a slutty corset with fringe and by the stars, Fennec wished she was wearing it right now.

"Freelancer!" The once again upright Twi'lek looked at her with disgust. "They come down here and try to steal our clients and don't give CorSec a cut. These tax dodgers are going to have the law down on us all."

"We should teacher her a lesson," cried a second Corellian woman.

Fennec tried to protest that this wasn't at all what they thought. She told them she was **** and is streaking through Blue Sector purely by accident but no one could hear her explanation over the shouts of a half dozen jeering club girls. This went on until the Twi'lek let out a shrill whistle and everyone went quiet.

"What should we do?" asked Trixie.

All eyes turned to the Twi'lek with the riding crop who chewed on a painted fingertip as she pondered Fennec's fate.