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Delia
The shuttle back to the ship is full, so I sit on Jarrn’s lap. His arms encircle me, and I snuggle against his chest. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around what we did last night and what we might do when we crawl between the covers together in a few hours.
The vehicle hits some turbulence, and we jiggle together. Is it bad to get turned on by the feel of his cock thickening beneath me? Probably. Wrong time, wrong place.
I shift on his lap, tempted to straddle him, to grind against him, but I’m not interested in performing for an audience.
An elderly Fillion with four arms and rich blue skin sits beside us on the shuttle. She peers our way, her four eyes gliding down me then swinging toward Jarrn. Her head tilts as she studies his face.
“Aren’t you the one who gyrated in the fake shower at the Monster Review?” she asks, her pale blue eyes twinkling and her antennae swaying around from the shuttle’s movement.
“I am,” Jarrn says carefully. I imagine he’s not sure if she’ll chastise him for showing off almost everything he’s got or ask for his autograph.
“Is it real or do you wear something fake?” she asks.
“Excuse me?” Jarrn asks.
“Never mind,” she sighs. “I’ll be there tonight, by the way. Sitting in the audience shouting your name.” She frowns. “I’m Kaida. What was your name again?”
Jarrn and I share a look, and it’s all we can do not to laugh. His eyes sparkle with humor, and my lips are trembling more than the shuttle.
“Jarrn,” he says, the nice guy. If it was me, I would’ve ignored her or given her a fake name.
“I was just telling my nephew that you’ve got talent,” she says. “Your moves. The way you make each person in the audience feel like they’re unique and special, as if you're dancing just for them. Not many can do something like that. And the way you made each set feel like the scene in a vid. Truly marvelous.”
“Thank you,” he says.
“Have you acted before?” she asks.
“Not since I was in school. That was before . . .”
The fire. I ruined that for him too.
“My nephew is one of the best agents in the vid business, did you know?” she adds.
“I did not.” By now, he’s just making polite conversation. Sadly, his burgeoning woody has slunk away, but I haven’t given up on future action.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she adds, tapping his arm with one of her three-inch claws painted bright pink. “I took a short vid with my wrist comm last night and sent it to him. He was quite impressed.”
Oh, boy. Her nephew must’ve been rolling his eyes about his aunt going to a venue like that. She was right about Jarrn, though. There’s something about him that draws the eye. He’s one of those people who others gravitate to without knowing why. It’s his special charm, maybe. His burly, friendly appearance.
So unlike me. I tend to slink back into the woodwork rather than try to stand out in a crowd.
“My nephew told me he was amazed,” the Fillion lady says. “He’s so excited about what he saw, he’s going to take a shuttle to the ship and come view your performance himself.”
“That’s . . . nice of him,” Jarrn says, his gaze meeting mine. Neither of us is sure what to say about her comment. Surely she’s just making this up to impress him.
“He’s a sweet boy, my nephew,” she says. “I’ll be sure to introduce you after the show.”
“Thanks,” Jarrn says again.
The shuttle smooths out and she turns to look out the window. We’re approaching the ship, and they’re lighting off stellarworks. The bright colors encase the ship in pink, yellow, and green, and I can’t wait to land so I can see what they look like from below.
I lean close to Jarrn and keep my voice soft so only he can hear. “Maybe her nephew’s looking for a date? You were pretty hot on that stage.”
His laughter barks out, drawing every eye around us.
“Let him try.” Jarrn’s fingers tease along my lower back where my shirt has ridden up. He whispers in my ear. “There’s no one I want to be with but you.”
