The girls visit Drake

Dear Diary,

Cordelia's presence has improved my mood tremendously, even with the unsettling news. Wayland seems very worried indeed about a group of rebellious miners tunneling into town and ravishing everyone. He went on and on about what a fool he was for thinking Drake had anything of interest to say, that he rambled on about Mole Men and a kingdom in the center of the planet, and how he was to be wed to a subterranean princess. He waved his hand at all of it, and seeing how Cordelia was eyeing Aga, decided that we'd be more than occupied, and that he'd secure an extra seat on the last train out of Kingston.

Cordelia, of course, sensed great mischief to be had. "Oh Clara, I simply must meet this Drake fellow. He sounds quite exciting, not like those so-called "explorers" we have to occasionally entertain at dinner parties." she said, already removing her petticoat in the local fashion. She leaned forward in the mirror, making sure she could show off the right amount of flesh should the mood strike her.

"He sounds like a brute. I've had quite my fill with brutish men in Kingston." I replied, thinking of Mr Trask. She sighed, and slid off the couch till she was at my knees. Her lovely eyes looking up at me, my own viewing the swell of her breasts.

"Oh please, Clara? " she said, pouting. And that is how I ended up flagging down a velocicarriage to take us to Kingston's "little India." He dropped us off at the edge, and immediately we were awash in spices and silks, of strange incenses and yogis breathing fire. We giggled like children as we moved through the market, passing the lovely Hindu girls with their bare midriffs. I cannot deny that, much to my surprise, I am becoming more and more attracted to them. Perhaps I just miss the sessions with mother, relaxing together while Sura brought us to the pinnacles of delight.

The Royal Lion Public House was far, far more exotic than Wayland made it out to be. The carvings of Hindu gods and goddesses wildly copulating upon the pillars coupled with old English Oak furniture was a jumble of the old British India mixed with Lumawood trim on the bar and a motley crew of hardbodied Hindu men and grisled frontiersmen from Australia and Germania. It was obvious that we were the only high born women in the establishment. A sitar player sat on a pillow plucking out a tune as a man lounged on a couch in the back, smoking from a long pipe and fading into the lap of a lovely Chinese woman, who took a puff from the same pipe before laying her head back upon the pillows.

"Which one is he? Do you think that is him?" Cordelia said, indicating a gruff looking man wearing a lion tooth necklace.

"I wouldn't sit with him, miss. He'll drug you, rape you, and take you to his whorehouse in Brownwood near the mining towns." A man said from the bar, finishing his drink.

"And how would you know that?" I asked, intrigued. The man turned, and as soon as I saw the look in his eyes set in that weathered, sun-marked face. This had to him.

"Because I frequent it when I'm out that way and see familiar faces." He said, standing up. "The name is Drake. I assume you are here for me." he said, kissing my hand. I must admit his presence was overwhelming. "And you are?"

"Oh! Umm, Clara, Clara Hughes." I said, feeling like an star-struck little girl and not knowing entirely why. He was ruggedly handsome, but much older. His hair was thinning slightly at the top, and a mix of black and white. His beard was full but well trimmed in the Hindu style, and he curled the tips of his mustache. His figure was athletic and masculine like a soldier, but broader and thicker like a boxer. His flesh, what we could see of it, told a tale of a lifetime of adventure with a criss cross of faded white and fresh pink scars.

"And I'm Cordelia." she said, drawing his gaze. There was something deeply predatory about how he looked at her.

"Delighted." he said, taking her hand and slowly bringing it to his lips. I heard her breath catch. This was turning out to be a most intriguing encounter after all. "Well then, seems that I've met who I'm supposed to meet today at the bar, so why don't we have a seat and get to it." he said, indicating a table on the side of the bar near the man and Chinese woman. Cordelia grabbed my arm by the elbow, and breathlessly looked me in the eye. She'd felt it too.

"So where to begin?" he asked, pouring himself another bourbon. I have no idea how he got banned American whiskey on another planet, but I guessed that story would be the least interesting thing we could ask.

"My cousin Cordelia here is visiting, and we were told that you were a most interesting man to meet." I said, sitting across from him. Cordelia slid into the booth side with him. The haze from the pipes was certainly relaxing. "Tell us about yourself." I said. He grinned, and poured a measure for both of us. I carefully sipped, remembering the last time I accepted a drink from a stranger. I am fairly certain my attempts to cover my reaction to the taste were comical at best.

He leaned back. "I am Oliver Vandergane Drake, from a family of no import here but some wealth back home. My father was an independent explorer until he was killed by a tiger in Bangladesh. My mother was killed by the undertaker when he broke in and attempted to steal an artifact of some importance that my father had discovered some years before. It was then that I first encountered the Thugee cult, and accepted Fate's decision to mark him as the first man I would kill. So, at sixteen years of age, I walked up to him and shot him between the eyes with my father's antique revolver. This revolver." he said, indicating the gun on his hip. It was well worn and reminded me of the brutal Great War between the British and American empires. Cordelia was listening with rapt attention, already leaning forward a bit more flirtatiously than was warranted.

He told us his tale in the gruff language of the frontier, of how he worked alongside the Hindus to clear, and tame, the land that would one day become our colony. He told us tales of battles fought before Europeans ever arrived among families and bloodlines that went back a thousand years. He told us tales of hunts for beasts that made the jungle tremble when they walked and fighting off a nest of arachnirillas using only a torch and machete. He told us of women he bedded and men he killed, and finally of the Mole Men.

"I came here nearly half a century ago. With me, I brought Cynthia, my rifle. With her I brought a single box of 20 bullets that costed me 750 Pounds to be made. Each one of those has slain a beast that no one has slain before, and I have one left. I have saved it, all these years, for Logus, King of the Mole Men." with that, he slammed the rest of his drink, and looked over at Cordelia, theirs meeting with electric energy. "And if I intend to hunt something, I WILL conquer it." It was the first time in a very long time I've seen Cordelia blush.

"I'm not wearing any underwear." Cordelia said, leaning heavily against his arm, his bare flesh between her breasts. He grinned.

"Of course you aren't. But trust me, this is the last place you want to try and use colonial rules. There won't be anyone on the sidelines watching, and don't forget about our German friend there, who if I'm not mistaken paid that porter half a pound to spike both your drinks. It would probably be best if you accompany me." he said, tossing a few crumpled notes on the table.

"How do we know you are telling the truth? Perhaps you did it." I said, looking at it for signs of tampering. The smoke was making everything a little fuzzy. I couldn't be sure.

"Well then you'll both tear my clothes off and we'll fuck like animals. Alternatively, you can take your chances with that 'Rilla nectar and become quite the popular patrons. I'm sure Hans there has the lineup and pecking order all lined out. If I am correct, he's looking to rent you out to that table of Aussies." I looked up at him, and finished my drink.

"We'd best be going then." I said, standing to walk out of the bar. My heart was pumping wildly. What was I doing?