A Partner In Crime - [P]

Both Darcina and Eric continued to stare at the door, even after it was closed. "Next time," Eric announced, "We'll have to be sure to lock it."

"No!" the tall blonde snapped her head to stare down at the man below her. He still had her dildo stuck up his ass. "He would have broken the door down." Looking back at the door, but in her mind's eye seeing the hallway on the outside, she continued, "I just hope we did not wake up my father. I remember when I was around five and was running up and down the hall, screaming like a child often does. I don't know, I was pretending monsters were chasing me or something. My father was trying to take a nap and I woke him up. He was furious! It's one of the few times I can remember him actually being angry with me."

"I don't know how I am going to show my face again," Eric complained. "If Ramesh tells people what he saw, they're going to think I'm gay."

"Gay?" Darcina again looked at Eric. "Do I look like a man to you?"

As she asked the question, she touched her chest and realized she was wearing Eric's sperm. Eric shook his head at the question. That tall, big-breasted, long-legged young blonde with the cute little pussy covered with mere wisps of pubic hair was the farthest looking thing from a man he had ever seen.

"So," she continued, "If you are having sex with a woman . . . you are not participating in gay sex."

"Yeah, but" he looked down at his pelvis, "You . . . you were fucking me up the ass. Excuse my Martian."

"And you were loving it," she grinned, leaning forward to dab at the splashes of still warm sperm spread out over his chest and stomach. Finally stepping back from him, the dildo slipping from his stretched asshole, she heard him exhale a deep sigh of relief and he stretched out his legs, letting them dangle over the foot of the bed. As she removed her harness and retrieved her thin gown from the floor, she told him, "And remember. Lunch and Dinner are somewhat formal affairs, with a house-Trog serving. But breakfast will be set out as a buffet. That way people can come and go as they please."

When he saw her heading towards the door, he asked, "Aren't you going to stay the night?"

"And risk my Father finding out?" she asked. "All we need is for one of the house-Trogs to see me leaving your room in the morning. You have no idea how they love to gossip and spread rumors."

When Bauer entered the dining room the next morning, High Advisor Ishlass and Commissioner Anderson nodded in greeting, but they were too deep in conversation to take the time to verbally acknowledge him.

"So just how serious of a threat are these . . . disruptors?" Anderson asked. "Every day a thousand people are dying on my home-world."

"The so-called Disruptors are a minor annoyance," Ishlass answered, waving one hand in the air as if erasing a chalkboard. "From time-to-time some hothead stirs up a bunch of naive Trogs. Don't worry, we'll crush this group like we always do."

The two men stood up, heading for the door. "But how soon can I expect the ore to actually be loaded onboard? I am not being hyperbolic when I say it is a matter of life-and-****."

"The Council will have answers for you at our meeting," Ishlass assured him, placing his hand on Anderson's shoulder and leaving Bauer sitting alone eating scrambled marsupial eggs and quadrotriticale porridge.

But he was not alone for long. When the door opened, he looked up to see the Guardian Ramesh O'Connell walking in. Upon making eye-contact, both men quickly looked away. O'Connell prepared a plate and sat down at the far end of the long dining table. Taking a deep breath and running his hand through his hair, Bauer stood up and walked the length of the table to sit down across from O'Connell.

"Oh, hello, Ensign," the normally congenial Guardian said in a formal manner. "Listen. About last night . . . I am really, really sorry. I thought . . . Well, I am sorry."

"Yes, about that," Bauer replied, leaning onto his forearms on the table-top. "I would . . . appreciate it . . . if, you know . . . didn't mention it to anyone."

"Oh, no, Sir," O'Connell replied emphatically. "You can count on me . . . I mean, no, Sir, I won't breathe a word."

Bauer leaned back in his chair, hoping that he could trust the man. O'Connell was a few years older than Bauer, but still in his twenties. He was thinner than Bauer although a bit taller. There was a map of Ireland on his face, green eyes, fair-skin with freckles, red hair. Someday Bauer would ask where the 'Ramesh' came from.

"In fact," now it was O'Connell's turn to lean forward. Although they were the only two people in the room, he still looked around the space, as if scanning it. Lowering his voice, he confessed, "I . . . I've often thought about doing something like that myself. Wondered what it would feel like." There was a pause. "Sooo . . . . . What does it feel like?"

Bauer chuckled. "It hurts." Then he paused. "But . . . It kind of feels good at the same time."

That afternoon, Bauer deliberately sought out O'Connell, finding him at last in the Library. Alone. Sitting down on the couch beside the Guardian who was reading some book, Bauer said, "I told Darcina about our conversation."

O'Connell slowly turned his head to stare at Bauer, more than curious about the young woman's reaction.

"She wants you and I to meet her in," Bauer grinned. "In what she calls the 'game room' after dinner tonight. She'll have a . . . friend . . . for you."

Somewhat confused, O'Connell asked, "What? You mean . . . you know . . . a toy?"

"Nooo," Bauer grinned and stood up. "Although there will be one. But there will also be another female."

Bauer departed and O'Connell spent the next twenty minutes re-reading the same paragraph without comprehension. Closing the book, giving up on trying to read it, he looked at the clock. It was going to be a long time to dinner.

At least for him.