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I said I wanted to go slow. I didn’t realize it was going to be “glacial creep” slow. It’s growing clear to me that if I want this triad to move forward, I’m going to have to be the one encouraging things along.
Now to find some wine to loosen inhibitions, because I intend for this date to be effective. I’d better be thoroughly kissed by the end of this damn thing.
Thirty-Seven
BETHIAH
I can’t believe I’m dressing up to have dinner on my own ship. It seems like the height of foolishness, but Dora gave me that pleading look and that was all it took for me to do as she wants. I might talk a big game but I’m still keffing weak to a pair of pretty human eyes. I eye my reflection in the mirror. If she wants me dressed up, I’m going to be irresistible. I’ve pulled my hair—intertwined braids and all—into a high ponytail between my horns, and wrapped the casing of each horn with long, glimmering chains that catch the light. My top is little more than a circle of silk with a neckline that goes almost to my navel and drapes strategically over my breasts. One wrong move and I’ll be tits out, but I anticipate being tits out anyhow, even if it’s just to make Dora blush.
Jamef will blush too. I like that thought. I smooth my hands down my tightest pair of trou, add an eye-catching cuff to the end of my tail, and decide to leave my feet bare. That’ll be even more distracting than my nearly bare torso, I suspect. They’re going to expect me to pull out all the stops when it comes to my clothing, just because of who I am, but the bare feet will throw them off. I like being able to confuse. It’s fun.
I slick a bit of sweet-tasting gloss to my mouth to make it shiny, then head out to meet the others in my so-called triad at the aforementioned time. This whole triad thing still feels like a huge mistake, but I can’t find it in me to break it off. If Dora wants to try this, I need to be there to supervise so that she doesn’t get her heart broken. Even if I’m a little mean to her, I still feel protective. She’s mine.
Until she keffs off and leaves, of course. But I’ll cross that asteroid belt when I get there.
To my surprise, Dora is already dressed up the moment I enter the mess hall. She wears a plain tunic belted at the waist, which reminds me that she needs a better wardrobe. Her hair is smooth and freshly washed, and her cheeks glow with healthy pink. The room is ready, too. She has the lights dimmed to a low, sultry shade, and there’s a cloth on the lone, beat-up table. Three chairs are parked in front of it, and places are set. There’s a bottle of something that looks expensive and as I enter, her face brightens. “You came.”
“Of course I came. I said I would.” I huff as if I’m offended, even though I’d considered backing out. “Where’s Jamef?”
“He’s on his way.” She eyes me, smiling. “You’re so beautiful.”
A thousand tart answers spring up, but it feels wrong to slap her down when she’s trying to be sweet. “I know,” I say, moving to her side. “And you need a better wardrobe. Was this all you had, fluffit?” When she nods, I tsk. “We’re going to steal some of Jamef’s credits and go shopping at the next station we visit.”
And because she looks so sweet and cute, I lean down and press an affectionate kiss to her forehead, my hand on the back of her neck.
Dora practically preens at the gesture, beaming up at me. “I’d love that.”
“You don’t have to steal my credits,” calls a voice behind us. “I’ll happily give them over to my mates.”
I turn to look at Jamef, even as Dora loops an arm around my waist. He’s not very dressed up, either. His short hair is neat and clean, and the smudges removed from the plating on his horns, but other than that, he’s wearing the same tight-fitting trou and tunic in gray that he always does. It only highlights just how much of him is cybernetic and a replacement, but I find that sexy. I like that even though the universe tries to bring him down, he still keeps going.
I won’t tell him that, though. I just give him a prejudiced look. “Seems that Dora isn’t the only one that needs to go shopping. Why am I not surprised that this is all you’ve got?”
He looks down at his tunic, touching it with a metal hand. “This is brand new.”
“It looks just like your last one,” I comment dryly. And because he won’t be expecting it, I saunter over to him and give him a platonic kiss, just like Dora. It’s on the cheek instead of the brow, but the result is the same. He looks utterly stunned.
