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“And she’ll be hungover, no doubt,” Emma snickered as the chaperone hurried from the dressing room. “She’s developing quite the problem. I can smell the brandy in her sweat lately.”
“She won’t com to check on me. She thinks she knows how late our little hen parties go. Thank the prophets she’s never been curious or social enough to stick around.” Irene found the bright spot in her chaperone’s surly attitude.
“It’s sad,” Meg observed in her soft voice. “The chaperones are all uptight…except for you, of course, Mama. They never have any fun. I feel sorry for them.”
“I don’t,” Emma said. “They’re just as quick to blame other women for sin, though the men act far worse. They’d as soon watch us be beaten bloody as let us have a speck of fun. Hypocrites, the lot of them.”
“Everyone’s almost cleared out,” Mrs. Hoffman observed. “You’ll be able to run along in a couple of minutes, Irene. Meanwhile, let’s talk about Valentina and those Kalquorians. Do you think she’d consider running off with them if given the chance?”
“I wouldn’t mind running off with them myself,” Emma whispered, her hand over her mouth as if to keep the words escaping. She uttered a little gasp at her own outrageousness. “Aren’t I the worst? But they’re so…big!”
“I bet they are.” Mrs. Hoffman covered her mouth too. The two women bent their heads close, fighting to keep their laughter quiet as Meg and Irene grinned.
Irene hadn’t found Clan Nil attractive beyond their physical looks, which had been impressive. They lacked the warmth and spirit of Clan Sherv.
Irene thought of Sherv and Jemi in their tight pants and Rusp in his even tighter shorts. If the elder ladies knew just how big Kalquorians were, they might scream instead of giggle.
A jolt of heat warmed her sex, and she silently urged those lingering in the dressing room to leave so she could enjoy the night.
* * * *
Irene found new reasons to be impressed by Certain Death when she entered the club, and not just because its members were all wearing very small, very tight black shorts. Sherv had joined Rusp in drumming…pounding, she amended…and he was nearly as good as his Nobek bandmate, who was nothing short of phenomenal. Sweat flew off the pair as they beat complicated rhythms that put Irene in mind of tribal sounds. Near them, Jemi’s trasbu snarled and growled in perfect accompaniment to the primal tempo, accentuating what the pair did rather than stealing the limelight. The Kalquorian audience gathered close to the stage stomped and clapped and grunted along, and the ovation was thunderous at the song’s end.
Irene found a table near the back, where the shadows were deepest. Even so, Sherv, Rusp, and Jemi caught sight of her at once in her Odeergin disguise. She thrilled as their handsome faces beamed delighted grins.
The show continued for another hour, and she was glad she’d managed to catch the final half, far more than what she’d witnessed the night before. It solidified her opinion that though what they played had no resemblance to opera, they were talented. Sherv made the best possible use of his voice’s limited range, and she wondered how he’d sound if his vocal cords were healed.
She rose as the band took their bows. Sherv caught her eye and jerked his head, his smile hopeful.
Irene nodded and headed backstage.
There was a green room where the band could relax as they waited to take the stage and retreat to afterward to catch their breath. Irene closed the door so they were able to talk privately.
She pulled off her headgear and beamed at the flushed group, determinedly keeping her gaze on their faces. “You guys were amazing.”
“Not so amazing as you.” Sherv’s tone, like their expressions, was awed. “We watch you sing tonight.”
“You were at the show?” Her heart leapt.
“We wanted to see. To hear you sing.”
“Incredible,” Jemi burst out. “Beautiful. Nothing I ever hear.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it. A big difference from lemanthev, isn’t it?”
Dark heads nodded. They continued to stare at her, looking uneasy with wonder. Silence stretched, awkward and tense.
"Why are you staring at me?” she asked after several seconds spun past.
“So good. What Jemi said. Why you listen to loud, shouting lemanthev when you sing so well?” Sherv asked.
“I love all kinds of music. Opera is amazing, yes, but your music has such energy. Such power. It’s fun for me to listen to.”
“What other music you like?” Sherv’s discomfort eased a touch, replaced by interest.
“Have you got the entire night to hear?” Irene laughed and dropped onto the worn lounger behind her, deciding to get comfortable if they were going to talk shop. Not too comfortable, however, thanks to those tight shorts. She caught herself squeezing her thighs together.
To cover her sudden fluster, she jabbered, “I enjoy Beonid pipe quartets and Alneusian bubble music. I researched last night and listened to your culture’s version of opera…it’s calledmoteho? So much to enjoy. I’m really crazy about Plasianallastin…if there’s a more beautiful instrument than the uferliss, I have yet to hear it.”
