“Welcome to the party,” the host said. “The cover charge is thirty dollars.”
“My mistress has already paid,” a shirtless green man came out from behind the crowd.
Lily stared. Gene was Green with green makeup from head to toe. She wondered what his hair looked like because today it was short and spray painted unnaturally blue. Actually, that was natural considering he was also wearing even darker green lipstick and he had yellow eyes today.
The splendor of his body was in no way diminished, and that greenish paint plunged past his abs. She wondered how he got it on there, who had lovingly painted it onto his skin. It seemed to go under his leather kilt.
The host rolled his eyes. “Excellent. You may go in.”
“Gene?” she asked.
“If that is the name you are giving me today.” He pointed to his neck and gave her a black leash. “For you, mistress.”
With all the green she’d almost missed the leather collar. Her fingers trembled as she hooked it to his neck. “What are you?”
“An Orion slave boy. I live to pleasure my mistress. And you can discipline me whenever you need to.” He pointed to the riding crop in her hand.
She might not have been reading enoughStar Trek, but she definitely had been googling a little BDSM on her phone. The hospital computer had a pornography blocker, which was a bigger issue when trying to look up the anatomy of a breast.
“Can you eat?”
“The slave can,” he said.
She tugged on the collar. “Refer to yourself as ‘Gene.’”
“Gene can eat if that is what the mistress desires.”
“Can you be touched?”
“Gene can be touched, but…” he hesitated.
“But what?”
“You haven't commanded Gene to give you more information.”
She slapped his bare legs with the crop. “You’re being impertinent.”
“Yes, mistress.” He bowed his head. “The mistress may touch me, but she may want me to touch her. The places that need the most touching, no one will see if they turn green.”
She yanked the collar hard. He stumbled forward. “You were looking at my breasts, weren't you? Eyes up.”
“Yes, ma'am. I was.” His gaze stayed on her face this time.
“Are you sorry?”
“No mistress. I'm not, and you won't be either.” Gene didn’t bother to hide the hunger on his features. It was so primal, she wondered who was in charge here.
So she hit him across the chest this time. “Again impertinence. Follow.”
Apparently, admission also included themed drinks and small platters of something called the Light Speed Cake Tour.
Before she could pick one up, he beat her to it. He snagged her own cake sampler and a purple drink called a Space Cadet.“Allow me, mistress.”
People dressed in various iterations ofStar Trekgot out of their way as they approached. Gene got several thumbs up for his costume. They reached some seats near the stage, and he set the food in front of her. She pointed to the ground. “Kneel over there. Why is everyone so interested in whatever you are?”
“You don't watchStar Trek, do you?”
“I saw the newStar Warsmovies.”
