The Flower of Lanaar Page 2

  The Assassin and the Mistress

  The hotel’s elevator opens to a dark hallway of plain grey durasteel lit with yellow chrono lamps. I yawn as I move down the corridor. I've been out drinking and I still have the buzz of decent alcohol in my brain. Usually I sleep aboard the Stiletto. But my mechanic, affectional known as a ripper for the illegal modifications they're willing to do, needs to keep my craft in lock while he works. I take this in good grace. It's been a long time since I've stayed in a real bed and the credits Thale forwarded for the job are more than enough to cover the stay. I grin a little as I move down the plain corridor, the well worn carpet as hard as the walls. I slap my keycard against the access panel and the door slides open with an aged thump.

  I step inside and freeze, well-honed senses immediately sensing something amiss. The lights are off, but by the neon glare peeking through the half open slats of a window I can just see a figure sitting on the edge of the bed. I keep my hands away from my gun and softly say, "If you're going to take a shot, go a head and do it."

  "I have no intention of doing so." They rise, the movement strange. Almost sinuous. My eyes flick to the door as it snaps shut to some unseen command and a red light blinks. Locked. Shit. "I'm merely here to talk."

  "There are much easier ways to talk with me," I say as I slowly reach out to switch the lights on.

  Metal irises dilate at the sudden glare around a pair of red lenses bolted to the sockets. A narrow jaw is outline starkly above the high collar of a long black jacket. Brown hair tumbles in soft curls about my visitor’s face. A pretty one, boyish rather than masculine. He himself is slender despite the bulky coat he wears, the heavy garment draping him to his knees. He smiles, metal irises slowly widening, the motion reminding me of vids I've seen of birds of prey. He wears a slumped hat with a peacock's feather in it, a faint shimmer of plastic preserving the gaudy decoration. Real if I had to guess. Expensive. Shipped from Terra, or from some collector's vat grown specimen. Either way, the casual expression of wealth has me even more on my guard.

  "Not in person. Not private. You've been very busy lately, and I thought the best chance would be here. I didn't damage the lock."

  I try to act casual, tossing my jacket off my shoulders to reveal my sleeveless bodice of nanofiber designed to resemble fishscale. I wear a skintight black skirt and high heels. I easily take my gun out of my holster, holding it with two fingers, and set it on the counter. I run my fingers through my hair and look at the intruder. "I appreciate a man who wants my attention. You've got it. What do you want to do with it?"

  "You're joining captain Thale on a raid of a science vessel," he says with polite deference, almost masking the utter certainty of the statement. The glare from the lamps shine off the red lenses, the irises faintly whirring as they contract and expand. "Your ripper has nearly finished applying your new works. Highly illegal ones. But well chosen.

  "My employer want to give you a counter offer."

  I nonchalantly walk into the room's kitchenette and take out the mostly-empty bottle of bourbon. I poor the contents into a glass, trying to keep my hands from shaking. I swirl it around to gain some precious seconds, gathering myself. I’m good under pressure. It’s what makes me such a skilled pilot, and when I turn around, I seem calm and collected once more. I grin. "Keeping in mind that I have never heard of Captain Thale before, nor am I doing any of the things you say I'm doing, who is your employer and what is their offer?"

  "Is that bourbon?"

  The movement is so quick I never see it coming, not the least because of where it comes from. His cloak flutters and a segmented tail of steel lashes out, wrapping about the bottle and pulling it to him. The tail hisses faintly, the ridged segments clicking against one another as they dangle the bottle before his glass eyes. "Oh yes," he says. "Very nice. From Segemtil. They actually use fresh grown corn there. Very hard to get this far out. I don't drink but I can appreciate it."

  I'm lucky I'm drunk. Dulls the reflexes so I didn’t flinch. But I stagger a step to the side and catch myself on the wall. This... guy... is packing some serious hardware. He’s not some ganger’s pet killer. This is an assassin. A real one. Born and bred and built to kill. My hand tightens on my glass. "Yeah, well, sometimes I win at cards, you know? Have the money for something nice. Y-you didn't answer my questions."

  He smiles again. His tail dexterously puts the bottle down on the counter next to my gun. He has yet to pull his hands out of his pockets. "Yes. I don't think I will. She wouldn't want me to. But I have been empowered to make you a very generous offer.

  "I'm not very good at being circumspect. It's a fault I think. But after you met captain Thale in the bar, my employer asked me to approach you with an offer. Your captain is going to seize a science craft. My employer has no interest in the cargo, save one thing. You'll know it when you see it. She is willing to pay double what Thale is for you to provide her with it instead."

  "This is one of those deals where if I say no you talk about how you are going to drive that point at the end of your tail through my head or something, right?" I try to smile. "But what you're probably not expecting me to say, is that I will do it. For triple."

  "I see. A moment." He cocks his head, listening no doubt to some radio built into his head. After a moment he nods. "My employer has decided she would like to speak to you in person. Please, don't bother dressing. We can go right away."

  "Should I bring my gun?" I ask, but I don't see much option for escape. I'm still drunk and this guy outclasses me under the best conditions. I’m bluster at this point, but the danger of the situation has begun to play on me. Excitement coils in my stomach, tinging the cold danger of the situation. I might be enjoying this I realize, and my smile grows a little more genuine.

  "You won't need it," he says. The door hisses open behind me. "Please," he says with a small nod to the hallway.

  I turn and start walking. He follows at an easy distance without a sound. No one comes out of the room or is in the halls as we pass and the concierge at the front desk is absent. I wonder idly if he’s dead or bribed. I glance at the man behind me and suspect the former. He doesn’t strike me as the kind to pay for someone’s silence.

  Outside of the hotel, a grav car waits. The sleek vehicle opens a side door automatically, revealing a plush interior beneath a low ceiling. My escort waits for me to climb in, then follows. The door slides shut, windows darkening with automatic tinting until I can’t see through them. There is a soft pressure on my chest as the grav car accelerates and lifts off.

  "Don't worry," he says as he settles into the seat. "She only wants to talk."

  "The last time I heard that line I ended up tied to a bed," I say, wondering why I keep taking jobs with Captain Thale. Oh, right. The money. And the sex. I look around the interior of the vehicle for anything I might be able to use as a weapon. Not seeing much of anything, I sigh, and sink back into the seat.

  "Why would that be?" he says. "Were they interrogating you?"

  "I seem to recall that there were three of them and they thought I was their entertainment for the night." I meet the mechanical gaze of the man. "I killed two of them. The third one, well, he won't be sticking his cock where it doesn't belong ever again."

  To my surprise, I see a faint blush colour his cheeks. "Ah," he says.

  Despite myself, I can’t help but be amused. "Not used to sex talk, huh, boy wonder?" I shake my head. It’s amazingly stupid to tease him but I can’t quite help it. "The kit you out like a stone cold killer but they don't bother to get you laid. What kind of lady are you working for?"

  "She only takes me out of the tank when she has work for me," he says.

  Now there's an opening. I glance out the window. "How long until we arrive?"

  "Twenty minutes. Thirtreen seconds."

  "Mmmmm." A seductive smile spreads across my face. Hell, I might be dead soon enough anyway. May as well make the most of it. And I have to admit, stealing a circumspect look at his face,
despite the mechanical bits, he’s cute. I slowly lean towards him and reach my hand out to his leg. "So, when they give you the makeover, did they change anything else?" My hand creeps into his lap. "Or are you all natural down here?"

  He shifts. "What...what are you doing?"

  "Oh, it's just, I feel for you," I husk, leaning closer to his face. I feel a stirring in his pants and my grin widens. "You're such a young handsome man, doing such... hard work." I squeeze his cock. "But you've never had a chance to really experience life, have you? You're still a virgin."

  "S-sorry?"

  "Have you been with a woman?" I ask again, leaning so that my breasts strain my nanofiber top. "Or are you still a virgin." I give him another squeeze and feel his cock respond. "I could do something about that, you know. Would you like that?"

  "I…don't think I should," he says. "I'm not...entirely...She has had me perform for her before...but..."

  I slowly unbutton his trousers. He doesn’t stop me, seemingly frozen with indecision. I almost laugh at how meek this stone cold killer has become. I take his cock out, feeling the heat of his shaft, running my fingers up to his bulbous tip. "I'm not asking you to perform. I'm asking you to enjoy. And maybe do me a little favor in return."

  He leans back into the cushion of his chair as if to escape my touch. A fruitless effort. "F-favor?"

  I wrap my hand gently around his length and slowly begin to pump. "Yes, I'll give you incredible pleasure, and all you have to do is watch my back. You'd watch the back of the woman who does such a nice thing for you, wouldn't you?"

  I look into his eyes, biting my lower lip as I gently work my hand up and down his cock.

  "N-naturally. My mistress told me t-to a-ah...to bring you to her. S-safe and nnn...sound..."

  "I mean..." I lean my lips to his, talking so that my lips brush against his as I stroke his cock. "Guarantee I’m leaving alive. Even if she decides she doesn't like what I have to say."

  "I...I can't do that..." he gasps, gingerly thrusting against my hand.

  "Even if I put it in my mouth? You can't guarantee that to the woman who would do such a thing for you?"

  I lower my head to his lap and take him into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around him and hollow my cheeks with suction.

  He throws his head back. His tail thumps the seat like an eager dog’s. "Oooooh," he moans.

  "Mmmmmm," I reply, pumping my hand on his shaft and meeting my lips as I bob on the top few inches of his hard cock.

  He thrusts more eagerly against my mouth and hand. He grabs the seat, his gloved hands tightening. Silver slides from his finger tips, claws of metal ripping at the fabric. "O-oh. Oh my...oh..."

  I pop my lips free of his glistening cockhead. I tease his slit with my tongue. "Just say the word and I’ll finish it. Say you’ll see me out of there alive, and I can promise you more pleasure than you can imagine."

  He squirms beneath me. "I...I'll p-protect you. I promise."

  Success swells in my chest. I rise up as best I can in the car. A single press of my finger unlatches my bodice and it falls away, exposing my pale tits. I lift my skirt and slip off my panties and, in a single fluid motion, I straddle him and sink my slick pussy down onto his cock.

  "Ohhhhh," I moan, resting my hands on his shoulder as his thick manhood fills me.

  He gasps, irises sliding back to reveal the full scope of his glass eyes. He groans, bucking his hips into my warm tunnel, grabbing my own hips in some instinctive reaction to my body's presence.

  I move atop him with practiced motions. I let my pleasure go, gasping as my tight pussy grips his hardness. I jerk my hips and bounce my firm ass in his lap. I ride him urgently, leaning forward and letting my tits collide with his face. His breath is warm against my sensitive skin, and tentatively at first, I feel his lips move against them. As he falls into the rhythm, he becomes more assured, kissing and licking my pillowy flesh, shyly thrusting as I bounce atop his lap. He moans into my breasts, his hands stroking my hips and flanks.

  I wrap a hand around his head and guide him to one of my nipples. "There you go, suck on it." I gasp. "Ohhhh, your cock is nice. Mmmmmm!" I arch with each thrust of my hips, working my tight little pussy up and down on his big cock.

  His lips find the tender bud of a nipple. He pulls the hard pink nub into his lips and gently nibbles on it with his teeth. I suck in a breath. “A-ah! Fuck!” I moan. He’s good with his mouth, I’ll say that much. His thrusts begin to grow more urgent, fucking my sopping cunt with an increasing surety. His pale face is flushed but he's not at all out of breath as he moves against me.

  I ride him faster. More hungrily. My own orgasm fast approaching. I reach my free hand back and massage his tightening balls. "That's it, sweetie. Give it to me. Ohhhhh fuck, I need it. I need to feel you cum." My cunt throbs about his cock. "Ah-ahhh!" I cry out as my orgasm overtakes me, blazing through me in a sudden rush. The fear and pleasure peaking in my climax.

  He speeds up, his hips working frantically. He releases my nipple, moaning, a cry of completion as my milking inner muscles finish him. He cums, arching, stiffening his hips and hilting deep inside of me. I feel his hot seed spill into my clutching tunnel as he gives forth a shuddering moan.

  I take hold of his head with both hands, holding his face buried in my tits, squeezing and riding him until he collapses back onto the seat. I stay atop him, smiling, flushed, squeezing his shrinking cock with my inner muscles. "Was it worth it, baby?"

  "Y-yes," he gasps into my breasts.

  I lift his face from my tits and lean down to kiss him, softly at first, but opening up to him, teasing him with my tongue. My pussy giving him another squeeze. Meekly he submits to the kiss, responding as shyly as he had when I first grasped his cock. I press myself against him, his thin chest mashed beneath my heavy breasts.

  My tongue invades his mouth, swirling past his lips, my breath slowly returning to normal after the excitement of my peak. I lift myself from his lap, his cum dripping out of my pussy and onto his cock. "Oh, I think we've made a mess. Let me clean that up for you..." I kneel between his feet and begin licking his cock clean, lewdly slurping up the globs of cum on his lap.

  "What are o-ohh," he groans, blushing fiercely.

  My tongue works over his flaccid cock. I take his softness into my mouth, gently sucking as I gaze up at him. He stiffens with surprising but gratifying speed. He glances aside, unable to meet my piercing eyes.

  Then, he suddenly raises his head, looking at the roof of the car. The gentle pressure of acceleration, become so familiar I stopped noticing it, has begun to ebb. It seems we’ve arrived.

  "Ah," I pop him out of my mouth and wipe my lips. "Another time." I rise back up, pulling on my panties and quickly stuffing my tits back into my bodice, which latches with a push of a button. I feel much more confident after fucking the shy killer. More assured of my position and my ability to influence it. Just as the vehicle stops, I notice a dollop of cum on his trousers. I scoop it up and look into his eyes as I suck it from my fingertip. "Mmmm. I suppose it's time to go and meet your mistress."

  He blushes again a pretty red as he quickly stuffs his cock back into his pants. He nods. "Yes." The flush that permeated his face already begins to fade, leaving him pale once more. "Do you need help getting...um, dressed?"

  "Oh, no, I'm all dressed. A little squishy, maybe," I say, winking at him. "Just remember to watch my back. We made a deal."

  He nods. As the door to the car lifts and he slides out, I wonder how far our little agreement will go. His types are notoriously loyal to their masters. Oh well. I shrug. I've done all I can. I follow, feeling more sober and in control than when this whole situation began. I even manage to smile, though I exchange it for open mouth gaping as I exit the car.

  The scene before me is shockingly off putting. Fine tiles radiate around the floor and above, a sky is lit by a bright yellow sun. Leaves and plants surround me in a sudden tangle of jungle, spilling out of flower boxes and a wide garden. Ahea
d, a huge portico doorway stands, pillars supporting it and a wide overhanging roof. A palace fairly bursting from the jungle.

  I’ve never seen so much plant life outside a holo vid. More used to the urban jungles of durasteel corridors and harsh glare of lamps, I stagger a little, shading my eyes with my hand as I climb out of the car. High heels are not the best thing to be wearing in this sort of environment. I walk towards the doorway, glancing once over my shoulder to be sure I'm heading in the right direction.

  "The foliage is all grown here," my cyborg companion says, following after. "Mistress keeps them in good order despite the state of the station. And the sky you see is a vast holo projection."

  “That right,” I say. In the shadows of the garden, I catch the blink of the cycloptic eyes of autoturrets as they recede back into the shadows. The doors ahead open with a beep, leading into a long hallway, as immaculately clean and white as the tiles outside. The walls are styled like frescoes, but the a shimmer betrays them as holographic, the images moving in a slow dance of wild warriors, huntsmen astride stags and women beneath the boughs of ancient trees, laughing and playing and tasting the fruit off the very branches. I linger a little before a few couples wrapped in each other’s arms, grinning to see hips moving in a decidedly unsubtle act.

  Yet the silence and the stillness are pervasive and encroaching. In the quiet, the click of my heels seem to be the only sound. The shine of the floor and walls seems stale and artificial. All pure and white and disturbing. My skin crawls, too used to the derelict air of the station. The sleaze of the people and the worn nature of the durasteel. Even the air is different, lacking the dry recycled quality of the station proper. A few more plants grow here, sprawling out of hovering pots as if afraid of them infecting the pure cleanliness of the floor. Or, vice versa.

  A pair of wooden double doors stand at the end. As I near they open, revealing the room beyond.