“Shah,” Malik nudges me. He’s redirecting my attention to the contact we’re here to meet. One of the Elites of the Colony wants to cut a few underground deals. It’s not uncommon. Half my crew used to be Elites. Power breeds greed, and greed can only be sated so far under the law.
“Shah,” my contact says. “It’s an honor to meet you. I hope we can cut a deal that suits us both.” He’s wearing a mask. It’s a beige face-covering with a slot for his eyes and little else. He couldn’t look more suspicious if he tried, but he has to protect his identity, especially here. The price for being caught here is death.
Zeki put this meeting together; she’s Malik’s sister. Right now, she’s back on the ship, keeping an eye on things, making sure security remains tight even in this loose place. We take a risk every time we land at a Colony. Our presence is usually tolerated, but there’s always a chance a new directive will have come down since our last visit and we’ll be greeted with bullets rather than drinks.
I have to attend to business, but as I do so, I keep a protective eye on Dreamy. She’s vulnerable, and though I’ve obviously marked her as mine, you never know what these monsters will do. Nobody here can be trusted as far as I can throw them. Me included.
She’s on the dance floor now, swaying out of time to the music. She’s like a little gray ray of dismal normality. She doesn’t have much rhythm, and whatever she has on board, it’s not helping with her coordination.
“So, if we can agree on a…”
“Uh huh.” I’m not paying any attention to my contact. I can’t take my eyes off Dreamy. I really never thought I’d see this girl again. She’s more than the one that got away. She’s the one I abandoned, and the one I won’t let go again.
“Shah.” Malik is looking at me with awhat the fuck are you doingexpression on his face. This meeting is important, but nothing is more important than making sure I get that girl.
Dreamy stumbles into one dancer and is then pushed into another. None of the men will touch her, but the female dancers aren’t as respectful of authority. The girls guard their territory more fiercely than lionesses. Dreamy isn’t one of them. She hasn’t paid her dues, and she doesn’t belong here. There’s a flash of something that might be sharp, which she avoids only narrowly by twisting away at the very last moment. That’s it. I’m not sitting and watching any longer.
“We’ve got to go,” I announce. “Sorry. We’ll be in touch.”
I abandon the deal to sweep into the crowd and grab Dreamy up just before she collects a stiletto to the eye.
“Alright. You’re coming with me.”
She clings to me like a koala climbing a tree, not quite blacked out, but not exactly present either. If I left her here on her own, she’d be pimped or parted out in the next few hours, probably one and then the other.
All eyes are on us. This isn’t the first time I’ve carried a girl out of the club, though I generally prefer them to be able to walk. I’m not the kind of guy who likes his women insensate. The jealous glares tell me that next time we come to this place, the girls will be wearing skintight versions of the worker uniform. A new fetish is underway.
“What are you doing with this, boss?” Malik thrusts his thumb toward Dreamy. “We’re not done with the deal.”
“We’re done with the deal. I’m taking her back to the ship.”
I have no idea where she lives, and I don’t have time or the inclination to hit the worker quadrant, where I’ll be arrested on sight if I’m caught. She’s coming with me.
Malik doesn’t ask any further questions. Tonight wasn’t about picking up a wasted worker bee, but we pivot as needed.
2
Shah
She’s out for almost twelve hours straight. I put her in my bed, the only place I can keep an eye on her. Her shift keeps riding up, revealing pale thighs and tight white panties. She’s got a cute ass. She’s still a full-figured girl, not missing any meals. Not my usual type, either. I usually like my women eager, obedient, and expendable.
It’s about time she woke up. I lean over and smack her ass. Hard. Hard enough to leave fingerprints on the parts of her skin that aren’t covered by her underwear. She wakes up with a shriek and a start, staring around herself with those big brown eyes.
“Oh god. Where am I? I’m late for work.”
“You’re not going to work, Dreamy.”
She looks at me in horror. “Shah! What… Shah! Oh my god. What happened? Shah? Is that you?”
“Yes. It’s me. You got blitzed in an outlaw bar and I brought you home with me so you didn’t end up dead.”
She puts her hand to her head. I’ll bet it’s aching. She’s probably as sick as she’s ever been and very confused. The interior of a worker apartment doesn’t look anything like my bedchamber. I have a very large suite on my ship; it takes up the entire top deck. There’s my bedroom, a living area, and a huge bathroom, as well as an office and a trophy room. It is decorated with riches I have claimed over the years: jewels, precious metals, fine works of art. Dreamy looks small in my big bed, with my soft sheets all rucked up around her curves. In spite of her aching head, she looks very comfortable. That’s about to change.
“That’s so nice of you, she says shyly.
“Yeah. Turn over.”
“What? Why?”