Age of the Orc - 03

Then
28 July 2008, Fourth Age
14:25:03

Zoch barely left campus, that first month or so. The dorm room assigned had started out life as a supply closet, barely big enough for a bed and a small computer terminal, with communal toilet and showers down the hall—but it was more privacy than the Orc had ever had before. The meal account at the cafeteria offered more variety than Barad-dûr too. Haradian curries, Lossoth kebabs, Hobbiton meat pies and quiches, Dwarf pocketbread stuffed with cheese and spicy sausage, syrupy fizzy Grey Haven sodas flavored with gentian and kola nut...none of it used real meat, always textured soylent and krill, but Zoch wasn't complaining.

As the Orc settled into the course load, dead time presented itself. Time to wander and explore. The ancient city was mostly red brick and cobblestone, interrupted here and there by a stone building some thousands of years old, with newer construction made of rain-stained concrete and glass. There was no dome over the city to keep out the rain or sun, but it let the breeze wash in off of the bay, redolent with smells of salt and dead fish. Zoch saw many people with small plastic shields attached to the back of their long coats, that could fold away when they entered a building.

All Zoch had was a hoodie. Warm enough during the summer. There were almost no Orcs on campus. Men of various ethnicities, Halflings, a few Dwarfs. Out in the city, there were more Orcs. Mostly working-class. Zoch was thinking there might be an Orc quarter or district. If there was, there would be a breeding pit—where no one knew them—

Then Zoch saw it. AGE OF THE ORC. The comic art, sans color, subtly different, glimpsed through the rain-slick window of the small shop, drew the Orc into the doorway, to flinch as the door gave a little chime. Zoch flinched, eyes immediately looking around, guilty just for existing.

A curly head, hair dyed silver and lavender, turned and smiled at Zoch from about eye-level. Thick round glasses, a grin that showed square white teeth also in braces, the ball of a small piercing beneath her lip. She waved shyly, and Zoch awkwardly waved back, too aware that the small body was dressed in a green-and-red plaid shirt, a black skirt that hugged hips as wide as her shoulders, and—to Zoch's shock—fishnet hose that outlined strong, stocky legs, and were secured to her middle toes by small metal rings, leaving the soles bare. Little dark hair poked up through the gaps in the fishnet on the top of the foot.

"Hi! Welcome to the Last Bookstore!" she said. "Looking for anything in particular?"

It was a real bookstore. Faded paper and leather, stacks of it on shelves, some of them bagged, some locked behind glass windows in small cabinets. There was a musty odor and stillness, not unpleasant, but alien and strange. It was a bit like stepping back in time a hundred or two hundred years, before computers were everywhere...but it also reminded Zoch of the little shop in Barad-dûr, and for the first time since arriving in Grey Havens, a pang of homesickness hit the Orc.

Zoch glanced back at the comic art in the window.

"Saw the artwork. You have...Orc books?"

The Halfling grinned and climbed down off the ladder. She led the Orc back down the alleys of shelves, into another room. There were three blue plastic boxes back there, filled with comics and magazines in clear sleeves. Even a few ancient paperback books. Zoch carefully began to flip through them, noting the small digital display stickers with the prices. Those would be slaved to the store's computer, adjusting the price according to current market value, offering them for sale both through the Matrix and in person.

"Where are you from, anyway, honey? I can't place your accent," the Halfling said, hovering around Zoch, closer than the Orc was comfortable with.

"Barad-dûr," Zoch said, and blinked. "I'm a student at the university."

"What are you studying?" the Halfling asked, as she turned and fetched a ladder. Setting it up nearby.

"Physics," Zoch said. Then paused. Near the back of the box were a half-dozen glossy issues of HEEL TO TOE, the same series as the issue Zoch had bought back in Barad-dûr. On the cover, an Orc was sucking on a woman's black spike heel, the toes pressed into the Orc's face. Zoch was suddenly aware that from her vantage, the Halfling could stare straight down and see what Zoch was looking at.

The Orc sucked at their fangs as she stepped onto the top step, reaching for a box on a top shelf. Zoch had never seen a foot that close before, except in the well-read magazine back in the dorm room. Her toenails were painted purple and silver, like her hair. The soles were creased and hard as leather, slightly brown from the dust of the ancient wooden floors, but the tops were pale and soft, delicate—

"You know," the Halfling said from above the Orc. "Most people would be looking up my skirt right now."

Zoch looked up, olive cheeks flushed as the Orc caught a hint of the Halfling's knees, and **** their head down. A Halfling toe poked the embarrassed Orc's nose. Immediately, Zoch grew hard, whole body rigid. Desperately needing to return to the dorm, to take care of the problem.

"What's your name, cutie?" the Halfling said, shifting her foot to Zoch's forehead, forcing it back so that the dark eyes rose to look at her—and stared straight up her skirt.

"Zoch," the Orc breathed.

"Well cutie, I'm Eevin," the Halfling said. She gently lowered her foot a few inches, so that her big toe pressed against Zoch's lips. Behind her great round glasses, the Halfling's brown eyes narrowed. "And I think you and I might share an interest."

She pressed her toe into Zoch's mouth. The Orc quivered, had never been this hard before. Barely able to believe this was happening. Breathing hard as the lips parted, and let the toe play against the fangs, until Zoch's lips closed on the toe, the curly little hairs against the inside of the Orc's lips...and began to suck.