Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
"I think that sounds like an invitation." I smile over at him, and his expression changes when I do. His gaze goes to my mouth and the cigar in his mouth bobs.
Just as quick, he looks away again. "Don't get too flattered. I don't want to be friends. We have to discuss a game plan."
Something tells me that the “friends” jab is a lot of bluster. God knows we aren't friends. We're barely civil. Does he think I'm going to declare never-ending love over a bowl of grudgingly prepared noodles? Please. "Game plan?"
"Yeah. Your pet's eating all my food. We're going to have to go on a supply run unless you want to eat him."
"I'm not eating Sleipnir!"
"Then that settles it, doesn't it?"
15
JERROK
Even though I have an endless list of tasks I have to complete before I leave my asteroid on a supply run, I keep thinking about the female. I think about her sad eyes and the way she rubbed the leaves against her cheek. I think about the time our hands touched. I think about jerking my cock to her again.
I think about that a lot.
I tell myself she's an irritating distraction. I tell myself that she doesn't matter, but when I work up a sweat and smear grease all over the front of my clothes, I find myself heading to the shower to wash up, just because she looks at me different now. I tell myself I don't like it, even as I carefully comb my too-shaggy mane out and wonder if I should shave my head. As I leave the lavatory, the scent of cleaner touches my nose and I hear humming. A quick glance down the hall shows that she's wiping down panels and cleaning the floors, both of which have probably not seen a cleansing agent in the eight years or so I've been living here. A little part of me is irritated that she thinks she should just sweep in and take over, cleaning everything she sees…but another part of me kind of likes the humming. So I don't tell her to stop. What do I care if she cleans a few dirty walls?
I don't. It's not like she's staying.
I clean off a table in my work area and set up two empty crates to work as seats. I tell myself it's because we're going to need to have a serious discussion, not because I want her to sit and eat with me. I like being alone just fine. I'm humoring her.
I make a big pot of noodles and find a few capsules of tea from my last supply run. I heat more water for the tea and then wait for her to show up. After about ten minutes of waiting, my mood sours. Wasn't she paying attention? Can't she smell the keffing food? Irked, I head down the hall toward her room, ignoring the twinges my cybernetic leg is sending. She's asleep in her bed, curled around her pet. I raise a fist to bang on the wall and wake her up, and the carinoux's ears go flat as he stares at me. Waiting.
Something tells me if I startle her, I'll be pulling my arm out of his mouth again.
I glare at the animal and shuffle back to my workstation. Kef it. She can come eat when she wakes up. It won't be my fault if it's cold.
I get back to work, pulling out an old compositor and prying it apart. If I check on the noodles and keep them hot, it's just because I'm not ready to eat yet…or so I lie to myself. I scrap the compositor and start on a dark matter converter, one of the more expensive pieces I've been holding onto for an emergency. I have a buyer at a nearby station and I can sell this in a heartbeat, but I always hold a few things back in case I need a quick influx of credits. Like now.
A sleepy groan draws my attention. The female stands there in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I think I fell asleep. You wanted to meet for dinner, right?"
I grunt and straighten, my limbs creaking. "Food's just now ready," I lie. "Come sit."
I wipe my hands and gesture at the table I've prepared, and she thumps down into one of the seats. I can't help but notice that her small feet are bare, peeking out of the cuffs of her jumper, and they look odd with all their tiny toes. Interesting, though. I make a mental note to look at her hands again, to see if her multiple fingers look strange and disgusting. She yawns again, showing white, square teeth.
"Where's your pet?" I ask.
Her smile is slow and easy and makes me feel…strange. "Probably visiting the terrarium. Don't worry, I'll clean it up."