Because this story fits with the others in my line, there are a few mental thoughts of slash, and because of Mandy’s "strict" guidelines, there are orgasms. But, but I believe this story is rated R.

"Oh, I’m so sorry." Trance Gemini had a strange embarrassed look on her face. "I didn’t mean to. . . Invade your privacy." She had just entered a cargo bay where Tyr Anasazi was sitting in a leather director’s chair with his bare foot curled up into his lap. His look of discomfort came more from the fact that his food hurt than that Trance was watching. "I just noticed the light was on."

"It’s nothing, girl. I just seem to have gotten something in my shoe and it has worked its way into my sock. I have to check the bottom of my foot and remove it."

"I can help. It’s easier for someone else to see the bottom of one’s foot."

"Sure."

Trance came over and sat down on the floor in front of the chair. She carefully lowered his foot into her lap and slowly ran her fingers over its sole. Her touch was soft, but firm. "Tell me if you feel anything. I can’t see anything, so it must be internal." She continued to carefully explore the bottom of his foot with her finger tips. "I’ll be careful not to tickle."

"Nietzscheans are not ticklish. Your actions do not bother me. Please just find the sore spot."

"How do you know you’re not, if you don’t? O-o-ps, Tyr. I’m sorry. I forgot." A hint of a gold blush crossed over her lavender face.

"You forgot nothing. You know nothing." He sneered at the purple girl and she smiled back sheepishly. She knew a lot more than he realized.

"You know, ancient Indian, Chinese and Egyptian peoples, on Earth, observed that congestion or tension in any part of the foot mirrors congestion or tension in a corresponding part of the body. From that came the practice of reflexology."

"Ah, the human species’ wonderfully poetic attempts to define the world perceived as incomprehensible because of their little minds." Tyr commented.

"Yea, like gods of war." Trance waited for a response; and when there was one, a deep scowl, she continued, "and if you stepped on a nail a just a few centimeters lower on the foot you could damage the lungs and not the spleen. Harper found this chart in an old data bank, and he felt my feet. He said that he could feel my missing tail."

"You let Harper, play with your feet?" His look was concern.

"Why not, you’re letting me play with yours?" She silently wondered if Tyr knew something about . . .

"One foot, you are EXAMINING one foot, Trance."

"I just can’t feel anything. Maybe, if I had a little oil, it would enhance my EXAMINATION!"

"And maybe what is hurting me is still stuck in my sock."

"Do you want to take a chance and maybe develop a limp? A limping Nietzschean, wouldn’t that be so. . . Not threatening." Again that look. She could control the man twice her size and who knows how many times her strength with just that look.

"No, I do not want to limp. I just want you to find whatever it is that is poking into my foot and remove it. I do not want to have a reflexology test of my internal organs. I do not want to be massaged with oil. I just. . . ." He felt a quiver go through his body, she had to have felt it, too.

"Think I found the spot, didn’t I, Tyr. It seems to be a bit tender there." She took her thumbnail and poked it gently into the skin of his foot. Tyr felt a rumbling in his groin. "What was Trance doing to him?"

With the finger of the same hand, she continued to stroke the skin on his foot, bring it back almost to the point of her thumbnail and then releasing it. The skin on Tyr’s foot was very soft, but slightly dry. Nietzscheans had pretty feet.

"I still think that I need just a drop of oil."

Tyr reached into the pocket of his leather pants and extracted a small tube. "This should work," he said as he passed it to her without looking her in the eye.

Trance made no comment about the fact that he was carrying lubricant in his pocket. She spread a tiny dot on the second joint of her index finger. Carefully she spun her thumb and moved the joint flat against the sole of his foot, stroking it inward.

‘What is she doing? It feels as if she is sucking my cock.’ Tyr thought to himself. The waves of pleasure seemed to be growing more intense.

"Does that feel better?" She asked with a sly smile. She looked up at him with her big black eyes and savored the expressions he was trying to mask.

"It feels. . . " He could not get out what he wanted to say.

"I know. I thought you would like it. There are pleasure spots on the foot, you know."

"And I trust they are not the same ones that appear on Harper’s reflexology chart. Can I safely assumed only members of your species know about them? Trance . . . Oh my God! He wished he was wearing one of Ares’s leather diapers. "Do you realize what you just did to me?"

Trance nodded her head. "Now will you please do me? Of course, I could do myself, but it is so much nicer. . . "

"I think I know what you are talking about Trance, and no I will not as you so sweetly put it, ‘DO YOU.’ I make a point not to have sex with those who are not members of my species. My sperm is caustic to non-Nietzschean females."

"Well, I certainly hope you were not planning to get any sperm on my foot."

"Your foot?"

"Of course, I want you to rub my foot; or, if you are really kind, both feet, like I did for you. What do they say about ‘turn about’ and ‘fair play’?"

"I guess I could do that. After all you did manage to get rid of the pain in my . . . my foot. How do you want to do this?"

Trance instructed him to sit on the floor. She removed her shoes and socks and walked behind him and sat on his shoulder with one foot in his lap.

"This was easier when I had a tail. It sort of stabilized me. I hope I don’t fall."

Tyr could feel her crotch against the nape of his neck. He’d never had a woman of any species in that position before. "You can hold on to my hair if you want. I doubt if someone your size could pull it hard enough for me to even feel the pain."

He picked up her small purple foot and noticed that the nails on her delicate toes had been painted a soft pink shade.

"Cute, Trance. Very cute."

Trance was ready to grind into the back of his neck. She didn’t want to have him comment on her toes, she wanted him to. . .

"Now, see if you can find that thumb spot. It’s right above the left-side of the heel, along the arch. Keep moving it. I’ll let you know when you find it."

Tyr had never had a sexual thought in his life about Trance Gemini. She was a cute little creature from who knows where, all purple and yellow and bubbly. Cute, but certainly not sexy. Yet, already that afternoon, she had caused him to orgasm just by touching his foot, and now he could smell her groin. He wasn’t sure how he expected her to smell, but it wasn’t like this. He must have found the spot because her toes spread apart and she began breathing heavily. He wasn’t good at identifying smells. The aroma was soft and fruity, yet musky; a little like that wine Ares had, Merlot, with a hint . . . ‘That’s what it was, blackberries."

Once he found the spot, he carefully noted it with his left thumb and took his right finger to his mouth. He wasn’t going to waste his precious lubricant on her, when a little spit would do. He licked his finger. It tasted good, sweet, as if some of Trance’s tastes were already on his skin.

‘She pulled her finger inward toward the spot, maybe I should push back. Are women different? I don’t know. I certainly have let a sheltered life when it comes to sex with other than Nietzscheans.’ He chuckled to himself for thinking that. A year ago, he never would have thought of sex with anyone other than a Nietzschean female.

Trance seemed to be enjoying what ever he was doing, so he continued. Her foot seemed to glisten as if it emitted its a natural oil. That was one thing his relationship with Ares had definitely taught him. One could experience strong sexual satisfaction from giving someone else sexual pleasure. Ares had taught him that early and well, very well. Her foot was so small he could wrap his hand completely around it. Hold it in his palm. Move his hand up and down as if he were stroking . . .

They came together at almost the same time. He could feel moisture seep both onto his neck and on to his hand. Trance screamed. The door to the hallway flew open and Captain Hunt rushed into the room.

"Tyr, Trance?" Is there something the matter?" The Captain’s eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head.

A Nietzschean never gives himself away by the statement on his face or in his voice, but the position they were in had to suggest something. "Certainly not, Captain Hunt. I was just acquainting Trance with a cute little children’s game my friend Harry taught me. It’s a favorite of Earth children . . .perhaps you know it? This Little Piggy."

"What?" Dylan asked. He had not expected an answer anything like that.

"This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home." Tyr moved his fingers down those pink-tipped-purple-toes and recited each line with a strong voice.

"I know the verse, Tyr. But that is more, much more, than I want to share with my crewmembers." He turned his back and quickly left the room. His red blush was evident even on the back of his neck.

"Go on, Tyr. Tell me about the other piggies" Trance said with a smile.

He did.

"Wee, wee, wee. . .got to remember that. It’s so funny." The childlike woman climbed off his shoulder and came around to sit facing him on the floor. The naively sweet look on her face had become more serious.

"Thank you, Tyr." She looked up at him with wide black eyes.

"Pardon?"

"I want to thank you for what you did with me today. I’ve tried it with Harper, Beka and even Rev Bem."

Tyr’s face dropped. He could not believe that she had approached him only after trying almost everyone else on the crew.

"At least tell me I was the best."

"Best, you were the only. I said I tried. Humans are too ticklish. Rev Bem was too hairy and his nails are too long. You don’t know how it feels to be horny all the time and have to play with your own . . ."

"I wouldn’t say that so loudly, Trance. And, yes, I do have some idea. You realize that I am the only member of my pride, and there have been times. . ."

"Somewhat better now, isn’t it." Her smile was slight, but knowing.

Tyr smiled.

"I’m not going to make a big thing out of it, but I certainly would like to be able to come to you when I need some release. We’ve always been friends, I don’t really want to be anything else. I just hate being frustrated."

"I hate that too, Trance. But you realize, it can go no further, for. . .for a lot of reasons. This was fun, but. . ." All the lines he had used in the past to avoid sexual involvement with other species would not work with Trance. She would know he was lying.

"This was fun. Period." She said. "That is what sex is. . .fun. Why would I want to take it any further?"

"I don’t know. Lifetime commitment? Love? Children?"

"I am certainly not looking for a lifetime commitment, that sounds scary. Love? I love you. I love Beka. I love everyone on this ship. And I certainly am not ready for children." She looked at him, trying to read the serious statement on his face and added "and besides, my species doesn’t use sex to produce children."

"They don’t? How do you reproduce? Cloning?" Even the Nietzscheans still used sex to combine selected DNA.

"Ah, Tyr, producing children requires an even more complicated ritual. It involves ingesting watermelon seeds, a large, long-legged bird called a stork, and a cabbage patch."

She leaned over and kissed him chastely on the forehead. He wanted to kiss her on her full, red mouth, but didn’t. Instead he reached down and pulled on his sock, wondering if gods had pleasure spots on their feet.

McJude

January 2002
 

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