Pairings: Rommie/Dylan, Trance/Tyr, Beka/Harper, Dylan/Elsbett (discussed) and Beka/Charlemagne (discussed).
Ratings: Since people have sex and say bad words, I guess it is NC-17. It is definitely more humorous than erotic.
YOU DON'T GET ANY BETTER THAN THAT
Beka Valentine ran quickly holding the top of her bikini in one hand and the large bottle of cognac in the other. A sudden gust of wind off the ocean had pelted the beach with tiny green hailstones, and caused them to seek shelter back in their room. Trance flopped down on the large bed and laughed for a few seconds. Rommie trailed behind having gathered up the towels, books, oils and other assorted items the group had left on the beach. She really didn't care if she got wet, that was the advantage of being an AI.
"You'd think you ladies had never been in a hail storm before. Where did you grow up, space?" Rommie commented.
She realized as soon as she said it, that it was probably true for both women. Beka was always professing her dislike for weather of any form, and Trance had spent most of the morning under an umbrella hiding from suns that lit the beach. Ultra-violet light turned her skin the shade of purple she remembered from her youth, she liked her vanilla and cinnamon shading much more.
"Well, girlfriends, there is another bottle of fine brandy where this one came from, and we can just sit and drink and chat until they are gone." Beka suggested as she poured herself another glass.
"We can't get too drunk, though." Rommie reminded them. "We all have appointments for the full spa treatment this afternoon. Massages, mud baths, manicures and pedicures. You don't get any better than that.
Trance nodded, kicked her leg up into the air, and began to scratch her foot. Beka walked over, took Trance's foot and tickled it playfully. Trance shuddered.
"My people think feet are private parts, Beka. It's sort of like touching someone's breasts."
Rommie laughed, spending time with her crewmembers was always fun and enlightening. This weekend the entire crew was participating in a spa weekend as a gift from Rev. Bem. When they discovered that the spa was segregated into men's and women's sectors, it became apparent that the festivities this weekend would confined to spending time with her female crewmembers.
* * * *
Trance was twisting the umbrella that had once garnished a disgusting drink from the raw vegetable bar between her toes. That made her think of Tyr which she knew was not a proper thought on a "girls only" weekend, but she couldn't help it. She wondered what the others would think if they knew that she had been regularly getting together with the Tyr for "mutual orgasms". On such a tightly run ship it was difficult to find time when they both could slip off to some distant storeroom to spend the time together.
She was amazed that the Nietzschean seemed to take such pleasure in her feet. "Miss Piggy Toes" was the private name he would whisper sometimes even within earshot of others. Over the past few months they had progressed from massaging of each other's feet, to a form of mutual licking that was basically no different, except for the body parts involved, than she knew her human friends sometimes engaged in with each other. Sometimes they would just lie, toes intertwined for hours, while Tyr would tell her stories about his life. She liked that too, because she had so little of her life about which she could talk. She tried to listen now as her crewmembers told stories about their sex lives, but as always she was beginning to feel drowsy.
"I have to be careful not to drink too much and give that secret away, " she thought before she fell asleep.
* * *
"What is Dylan like in bed?"
Rommie bit her lip. Trance had awoken to find the two women sitting on the bed, with fresh drinks and talking. Beka got drunk faster than any of them and seemed to enjoy it a lot more. Rommie on the other hand was usually unaffected by the alcohol.
"I. . . don't know."
"Don't tell me you don't watch. You have to watch him. It's your job."
Rommie didn't want to share. It was not polite to talk about your captain, even if you knew the particulars that Beka wanted so badly. She took the crew's requests for privacy very seriously. Security was one thing; personal actions were another.
"No idea, Beka. I imagine he would be rather shy. He prefers to be saluted rather than hugged."
She knew though. She loved to watch him naked as he showered, shaved and dressed. She loved the long lineal lines of his body as his ass melded into his hips then into his thighs. She loved the soft brown hair that covered him and the way it grew longer and darker on his chest and around his genitals. She loved the warm heavy sac than enclosed his balls and watching his cock become engorged. She loved to watch, but she was not about to share what she saw with the others.
"Well Elsbett says that he was a wonderful lover. But then what else would she say? She believes all men are wonderful lovers with her. She is a bitch with a capital B," Beka continued.
"I don't care for her either," Rommie replied. She was sure Elsbett didn't know about the little noises Dylan made when his cock was sucked and fingers ran down the crack of his ass. She couldn't believe that the woman who had lain on her back while Dylan had fucked her in the missionary position had deemed Dylan was a "wonderful lover." He was of course, but not with Elsbett. He was with her.
* * * *
"I wonder what she'd think if she knew I had fucked her husband." Beka casually commented.
"What?" Trance sat up with a start.
"Yes, Trance and Rommie, I did the nasty with old Charlie Bolivar. He was the most tasty of morsels. Elsbett made this big deal of fawning all over Dylan because he was so big, but that package she has waiting for her at home is nothing to complain about." She sat back against the headboard and linked her hands behind her head.
"He has this wonderful creamy white skin and knows how to accent it with purple silk. I remember walking in his room when he was dressed like that. The drawstring held his pants somewhat precariously on his hips. I wondered what would happen if he turned around quickly, but Charlemagne does nothing quickly. Every move is slow and liquid and calculated."
'Unlike Harper' she thought. Suddenly her mind had been invaded by the thought of the crazy young man with the spiked hair and odd vocabulary who had an even more interesting bedside manner. He was all action. Snapping his fingers and jumping around. Bites and sucks on all parts of your body. She had to go on with the Charlie story, so her friends wouldn't realize she was getting hot again thinking about Harper.
"He gave me this drink. It was very sweet and unctuous, coating your inside as it went down, and I swear it went directly to your cunt and made it the same way." Unlike Harper who had slipped her some bar drug that night they had first met which made her ready to rock and roll all night. He had spilled Spark Cola on her top and when she told him she had to go and change, followed her back to the room. She didn't remember all the details, but she knew they had included more cola being spilled on her body and gulped off with big mouthfuls.
"I was trying to conduct a proper conversation, fulfill my role according to ship's protocol and he was lifting my top and cupping my breasts. I knew exactly what was coming, because I was thinking the same thing too."
She remembered being on her knees peeling down those red cargo pants and loud boxers. Foolish looking; not at all sexy. There was nothing foolish, however, about the cock she found inside. He had grabbed her hair and pulled her head into his groin forcefully. She hadn't expected that. He was much younger than she was. She had taken that to mean inexperienced, but she was wrong.
"He wouldn't let me get on top though. Insisted in us both lying together, side-by-side, stroking my body as we fucked. I guess that is the Nietzschean style. Loved it when I licked those bone spurs on his arms."
Harper hadn't let her get on top either, or at least not until he had fucked her twice, once with her legs over his shoulders and once in the ass while she lay over the side of the bed. He was an aggressive little shit, and to think she had taken him for a slutty bottom.
"I think that's the way Nietzscheans do it." Rommie said.
"Really?" Trance commented.
* * * *
The three of them sat clothed only in white terry robes as the procedures for the afternoon were explained. They would begin with a steam bath followed by a vigorous massage; next they would relax in a pool of oozing mud, followed by manicures and pedicures. It was billed as a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon.
"Except for the massage." Rommie said to her friends. "I think I am going to opt out on that. My body isn't made of flesh and blood and so someone kneading it does nothing for me. I think I will go for a walk on the beach while you do that. See you in about an hour for the mud bath."
Thank goodness the storm had passed. She walked along the edge of the ocean past the beach to an area of high beach grasses and even taller dunes.
"You're late. I can't stay away very long." He had been sitting quietly at the base of the dune and rose and ran toward her when he saw her coming. He grabbed her and spun her around. "This beach makes me feel so young. I love being naked under the sun."
She wasn't naked, but a pull of the tie holding her robe accomplished that.
"Rommie, Rommie, Rommie," he muttered as he planted a trail of kisses down her neck and onto her breast. "You don't know how much I have learned to depend on you. I miss you when you are gone even for a few hours."
"I miss you, too. But let's not talk, let's. . . ."
He led her to a blanket and pulled her down beside her. They tried a variety of positions but finally settled for her sitting facing him, legs wrapped around him, while he held her tightly in his arms. There wasn't much room for stroking, but he liked the fact that he could hold her so very closely. She felt safe and protected. He would take care of her. He would love her. He would not let anything happen to her. He was her Captain -- Captain Dylan Hunt.
* * * *
"You're late, Rommie." Trance said as she returned to the spa tying her robe tightly around her.
"Maybe she didn't want to be scared by you." Beka added. She was watching as Trance was having this awful looking gray-green mud rubbed over her body by some species that she couldn't recognize. Species, hell, she couldn't even recognize the sex.
Trance was grinning from ear to ear. Even when they put slices of some pulpy fruit over her eyes, she continued to smile.
"Yo next, Cap." the creature said.
"Nah, do Rommie next. She looks like she could use a little relaxing mud."
"Sorry, I walked further down the beach than I thought. It really is nice and cool now. Sand is such a wonderful walking surface. I forgot all about time and distance." She took her place in a trough next to Trance and Beka noticed that the mixture they poured on her was a shade of beige with colorful chunks in it. It was so "not" appetizing.
"Looks like something you find in the common room latrine after Harper has one of his pig outs." She said gleefully while worrying what they had selected to pour on her. "If I had only known I would have stopped to packaged it and probably made a fortune." She watched as Rommie relaxed and the mixture was rubbed over her body.
"Sorry friends, I can't take this. I think I am going to do the beach walk thing, too. That massage has me all jazzed up, relaxing is not what I need right now."
"Ok, Bek, but don't be late like I was." Rommie cautioned. Trance had no comment; she was already asleep.
'So what if Rommie says that the beach is good for walking, I want to run.' Running was one of the few things that was better on a planet than it was in space. Beka was convinced that if she had lived on Earth with Harper she would have taken up the sport of long distance running. It made her feel so good to stretch out her muscles and run.
It made her feel even better when she saw Harper sitting on the pier that jutted off the end of the beach area.
"You want to go snorkeling or run some more." He asked her as she approached.
"Neither, you know what I want to do."
"Me too, but it's not polite to assume. I saw a nice secluded spot about a mile back, if you catch me before we get there, you get to be on top." For someone who usually avoided all physical exercise, he was remarkably fast. She didn't catch him.
"How do you do that. I work out with Tyr and Dylan, you sit around and drink Sparky Cola and eat junk food, and yet I have never caught you."
"Try starting by running from Dragons when you were thirteen and you never forget. You caught me once though, Beka. Remember."
She was remembering as she dropped to her knees in the sand removing his swimming trunks. Someone had told her it was impolite to talk with her mouth full, so she said nothing.
He must have liked her style today, because he let her get on top. She poked and jabbed at him the way he often did with her.
"My friends think you are a slutty bottom." She said teasingly.
"There's only one slutty bottom around here, and if she doesn't promise me she will not tell stories to her friends, you know what she is going to get?"
"No what? I thought I was getting it now."
"Toppled." He laughed and spun her over onto the sand. He grabbed a handful and trickled it onto her breast and stomach.
"For this I turned down a mud bath."
She shouldn't have said anything, because a can of Sparky Cola appeared from nowhere and he poured the contents over her sand-covered torso. She would have to shower before she joined her friends.
She reached up, grabbed the almost empty can, and chugged its contents.
"I'm not going to have time to shower and brush my teeth. Certainly don't want to have my friends smell cum on my breath."
"Let's hope that they don't consider smelling other areas, Bek." He slapped her on the ass and sent her on her way.
* * *
"How was it?" Beka asked as she joined her friends in the waiting room before they went in for the manicures and pedicures. "At least now I am all clean and fresh."
"We are, too," Trance said. "They have high powered showers with loofas and big white towels."
"I think you are just chicken, Beka. Once you get past the fact that it looks like vomit, it is wonderful. So relaxing you almost fall asleep." Rommie said.
"I did fall asleep," Trance added. She had been relaxed then, but the thought of someone else massaging her feet was beginning to make her nervous. "You know, I've never had anyone else do my nails. I guess there's always a first time."
There were only two operating stations in the room, one for hands and one for feet. "You go first," Trance said. "I want see what they are going to do to you."
She watched as they Beka soaked her hands in some slimy green liquid. Rommie's feet were first massaged with oil and then scrubbed with something purple that smelled like peppermint. She watched as they put cotton balls between her toes spreading them apart.
"Hey, I forgot the special polish I have back in the room. I'll be back shortly."
She took a deep breath as soon as she was out of the room. How could you explain to a stranger that cotton balls between your toes. . . you couldn't even explain that to friends as close as Beka and Rommie.
"This little piggy went to market. . ." She heard the whispered voice from the room as she opened the door. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed reciting it like a mantra.
"You're not supposed to be here. This area is 'women only'. Didn't the guard see you."
"Obviously, he saw me, but he was easy to convince that I had urgent business with Ms. Gemini. Why else would a Nietzschean enter a female kluge compound?"
"Perhaps because he stepped on a stone, or a bramble." She sat beside him. She wanted to kiss him, just a peck on the cheek, but she didn't want to step outside the bounds of their relationship. It was difficult to think of having bounds with a person who was about to share the most intimate of relationships with you.
"And I was thinking that you just needed help with removing the polish from those majestic toes of yours." He kissed the sole of her foot; he had never done that before.
She loved his high instep and the fact that the bottom of his foot was so much lighter than the top. The fact that Nietzscheans were not ticklish allowed her to take great liberties with him without him breaking down in fits of laughter, or even reacting with dread.
Like old lovers who knew the moves, it was just a few minutes until both of them collapsed on the bed. Someday she was going to get enough nerve to make him do it naked. It would be fun watching the cum shoot out, but then he might want to see her naked, too. She wanted him to stay, to hold her, not just her feet but her whole body, for just a little longer.
"Please stay, Tyr. There's something special I got in town, I want to share it with you."
"What girl, are you going to do?"
"I'm going to mark my man, in a private way, that only the two of us will know."
* * * *
She found them in the raw bar drinking those awful vegetable cocktails, albeit with umbrellas, and eating vegetable slices dunked in a fiery hot dip.
"You missed the manicure, Trance." Beka commented.
"Did it myself, back in the room. Then I must have fallen asleep." She spread her fingers to show them the black tips. "Did my toes, too."
"Should have seen Beka when she got the bikini wax. Don't think she realized that was part of the spa treatment." Rommie teased.
"Well she'll definitely be able to wear an even smaller suit on the beach tomorrow. I hope there is no hail in the forecast." Trance said.
"Well, and that coming from the person who almost fainted during the hand massage. No wonder you opted out earlier, Rommie. Don't you realize that is what humans do to relax." Beka chided.
"I don't find it relaxing at all," Rommie said.
"They could do my hands any day," Trance said, "But no one messes with my feet but me."
They sat and sipped their drinks without pleasure. Suddenly all three of them said almost at the same time "I wonder how the guys are liking their spa day."
"I don't know, what do they do to the guys?" Trance asked. "I can see Harper and Tyr loving the massage but I don't know about Dylan. He doesn't like to be touched."
"I think they also play basketball. I can't see Harper playing basketball with Tyr and Dylan though." Rommie said.
"Some things are better one-on-one." Trance said.
"Dylan would love the mud bath though, Harper, too. But Tyr probably would think it was beneath him for a Nietzschean to wallow like a pig." Beka said.
"Do you know that pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes?" Rommie asked with an evil grin.
"No way," Beka laughed.
'This little piggy,' Trance thought silently.
* * *
"After a huge meal like that, I think we need a walk on the beach." Dylan said to his crewmembers. To think we have spent a whole day on this resort and none of us have been to the beach. I think we need to walk on the sand barefoot.
"You two can subject your feet to what ever may be living in this sand, but I'm not about to be stung by alien creatures which may be carrying who knows what germs and parasites.
"Come on, Tyr," Harper chided, kicking off his boots. "If Mr. I'm-never-going-to-take-off-my- turtleneck Hunt is going to walk barefoot in the sand. It is the least you can do, Mr. I'm-a-big-bad-totally-superior-Nietzschean Anasazi."
"And how much have you had to drink Mr. I-never-stop-talking-even-when-I'm-having-sex Harper?" Dylan asked with a glee in his eyes. This male bonding was fun. He would have to do this with the crew again. He wondered what kind of a day the women had had. He hadn't thought about asking Rommie earlier. A captain should check on things like that. "Are you ready, Tyr. Come on up and walk with us."
They had only walked a few hundred meters when the Nietzschean seemed to have stepped on something. "Damn, This is exactly the reason I never go barefoot. Thank you, my crewmembers."
"Here, let me look." Harper dropped to his knees. "Dylan, you have to see this."
"No-o-o-o-o!" Tyr turned and ran back to the compound.
"It was his toes, Dylan. It looked like someone had put black nail polish on his toes. It couldn't be though, could it?"
"Let's go back and get a drink." Dylan suggested.
McJude
July 28, 2002