A Tangled Web -- (Asylum and the_gladiator)

[The_Gladiator]

A tangled Web
By Asylum and the Gladiator

Lights flashed in an erratic pattern, making a blur of light that if it were sound it would be a raucous or cacophony of sound. But there was sound to go along with it, music they called it—the ever-present thud of the base drum the only thing remotely rhythmic or musical about the noise. There was a multitude of people to go along with the strobing lights and pounding music. A more motley assorted bunch of riffraff one would be hard-pressed to find—pirates all—and armed to the teeth to boot. Lord Gunther, because Captain Gunther wasn’t good enough, was fond of parties like this, and since he was the captain—or rather the “lord” of this pirate gang, what he said pretty much went.

Captain Brendan Becker rubbed his temples catching himself in a rare display of discomfort. He typically came across as imperturbable, nothing seemed to faze him. However the music was getting to him. It had been a long week—a lot of missions—and he was tired. Yes he enjoyed bars to some extent, and could appreciate a cool beverage such as an able to wet his pallet after a hard day’s work, but this was excessive. This was one of those very few times when Becker wished he wasn’t merely the second in command of the Blackstars. If he were the leader, then he could tell the DJ to turn that horrid excuse for music down.

Gunther and Becker to the public were ostensibly business partners, running G and B starWay Shipping, a decent sized transport company. They also ran the pilot’s club that most of the freighter captains belonged to. However, under the surface, well hidden, the truth resided. Star Way shipping was a front, and the authorities had been trying to prove it for years, so far with only circumstantial evidence. The key was that Star Way shipping did do a very large amount of legitimate business, and it was not easy to catch them doing less legal things. They were a tight knit group and they didn’t share with outsiders much, more loyal to one another than most mercenaries were. The police had evidence that they did take mercenary contracts as well as other type jobs, but getting paid to fight in a war wasn’t exactly illegal under the Intergalactic authority (IGA).

Becker took another sip of his ale, frowning at the taste. They had run out of the good stuff a week ago. He would have to smuggle another cargo of the good stuff from Argus Prime, past that export embargo, not just because it was a profitable cargo to run, but the stuff was far better than this amber colored piss they were serving. As he took yet another sip trying not to grimace with the taste he let his eyes return to what he had been watching. Ophelia, seriously? What kind of a name was that anyway? He thought to himself as he watched her. And she was as unique as her name that one. She was a ghost, Becker had expired all of his resources, even calling in some favors, but she existed nowhere in the IGA systems. This wasn’t uncommon; after all they were a long ways from the core. There were folks born on the rim, or in interstellar space, like ship brats that the IGA would never know about. What was weird was he couldn’t find anyone at all who could corroborate her stories. She had come with reference letters and documents verifying her identity. Gunther had loved her and hired her on the spot. Becker suspected it had more to do with her full breasts, long legs and tight ass that had convinced him, not her resume and glowing references. Funny thing was those references seemed to lead to phantoms, to dummy corporations that were owned by someone or some organization that Becker couldn’t learn.

Becker had been suspicious of her since she started with them a year ago and for the most part had very little to do with her, which was probably a good thing, it allowed him to hide his suspicion about her, and kept out of Gunther’s way. Gunther had claimed her as his and over the past year had grown more and more possessive of her affections. Any of their “club” aka any of the pirate crew who tried to make a move on her was under threat of death or worse. Becker already watched her whenever he could, researched her whenever he could, he didn’t trust her, but just the other day he had seen her come out of Brice’s cabin. Brice was too stupid to make a move on her, he would never get away with it, therefore he suspected that she was the one who initiated whatever had gone down in that cabin. Brice was the club treasurer, ostensibly handling the money for the club events like this party. However he was also the crew’s accountant and had control of a lot of money. He didn’t know who she was working for but her target of men to single out in the pilot’s club seemed rather suspicious.

He knew that his waiting would pay off. He had been away for days and not able to watch her movements but now he was here, she was here and—Gunther was drunk. She would probably go put him to bed soon, and then Becker hoped to get a glimpse of what she thought she was playing at. He ran his fingers through his short black hair again; this music really was going to be the death of him. His cold blue eyes, like ice chips watched and waited. He knew whatever her move, she would make it shortly.

 

[asylum]

-Ophelia sat, not at Gunther's side but squarely in his lap. He wouldn't have it any other way. She couldn't begin to describe how much she actually loathed the man she entertained. He was possessive. Extremely so, though that wasn't why she hated him. He was dirty. A criminal beneath the surface, hiding beneath legalities and carefully constructed lies. He was every thing she wasn't.

He currently had his hands all over her. Claiming her and as always, making that fact blatantly clear to everyone in attendance. It was worse when he'd been drinking. She'd come to tolerate it only barely, enough to keep the front up. She knew it was only a matter of time before the drink would wear him into slumber.

A boisterous round of laughter came from the great Lord Gunther, his large calloused paw clapped against her thigh. She merely tossed her head back slightly, chocolate curls tumbling over her shoulders, dancing almost in time with the music along her arms as a soft laugh of her own slid up the slender column of her throat and danced off of her plush lips. As the laughter died around them, he captured her blushed cheeks and crushed his lips against hers before he started into another round of story telling or whatever the hell he was doing. Truthfully, she was barely paying attention. She'd heard it all before, more than once. As had the others but no one had the stones to check the leader on this. They all merely listened and let him go on.

After a moment of the verbal torture, she patted him softly on the chest, flashed him a brilliant smile and leaning forward just enough to let those barely covered, full, silken globes of flesh press against the expanse of his barreled chest.-

"Gun, darling."

-her voice dripped from her tongue like sweet honey from the comb, enticing the listener and drawing the Lord's attention solely to her. His eyes drooping softly already, she seemed to cast an even greater spell upon him when she spoke-

"Our boys have already heard this one. They've all had a long day and look just as tired as you, perhaps we should spare them the tale this time and get you off to bed, hmm?"

-had anyone else had the nerve to even approach him as such, there would have been an explosion, a reprimand so fierce it would shake the very foundations but coming from her, his Queen as he called her, it received a glazed, puppy eyed look and a slow, drunken nod.

He patted the curve of her ass just beneath her hip and chuckled loudly as he stood. Lowering her feet to the floor, she stood with him, an arm circling around his back to keep him steady on his feet.-

"My Queen demands my attentions in the bedroom and who am I to deny her?"

-his meaty hand rose into the air regally, his implied tone and words turned her stomach. She only hoped that the liquor he'd consumed would drag him into sleep sooner rather than later. Save her from another night of having to fake it with him, save her from another night of him actually passing out atop her.

Together they turned, he thinking he was leading her when in reality, she was leading him, tugging gently as he nearly collided with several others in their path. She would find him groping her the entire way back to their quarters, she gritting her teeth with each. By the time they reached their destination, his grip had lessened. He was tiring and quickly. His whispered innuendos began to slur, horribly.

When they reached the bed, he fell onto it. An arm splaying across it's expanse, one foot still resting on the floor. She stared down at him with disgust as an angry buzz saw of a snore echoed through the room. She sighed and bent, lifting and tossing his still booted foot up on to the bed with the other.

He was out like a light and taking up most of the bed. If she'd wanted to lay down next to him, she wouldn't have been able to. Not that she cared though. Leaving him as he was, she turned on her petite heels and stalked from the room and back out into the corridor that housed not only theirs but a few other quarters as well.

Lights and music drifted from the far end of the corridor but she had no intention of heading back that way. No. She had a phone call to make.

Brice had been a wealth of information. He'd been all to eager to share a little pillow talk, especially when she'd followed through with all the promises her lips and everything else spoke of. She'd left him sated and with a few more bits of Intel to give to her superiors. Now was her chance to pass the information along, while everyone was pre-occupied with the party still under way.

She slipped down the darkened tunnel into the quieter bowels of the station and put the call through to the agency, pacing softly in the pitch as she waited for them to answer.-

 

[The_Gladiator]

Becker watched Ophelia’s exchanges with Gunther. She really could play him like a master musician playing a flute. She made him almost dance to her suggestions like the tune would dance to her slender fingers were she playing an instrument. His lip curled in a half smile as she called him on his idiocy and essentially ordered him to bed like a child and his idiot of a business partner, or boss, or whatever you wanted to call him was completely oblivious to it. ‘For a smart fellow, you’re really stupid when you’re drunk.’ He thought.

His eyes watched her go, leading Gunther out, one slender arm around his waist. They were followed by cheers, whistles and even a few brave cat calls. Gunther ran a tight ship, or rather anymore Becker ran a tight ship, but they were still men, and no one could completely break them of all their lecherous tendencies. Gunther still tried, but Becker knew better. There were battles worth fighting and there were ones you clearly couldn’t win. Idly he wondered if Ophelia was a battle he would win, would there even be a battle between them.

He waited patiently anticipating her return but when she didn’t return after some time he pulled out his pad and began to thumb through surveillance footage, skipping from camera angle to angle throughout the station. He saw a glimpse of Gunther sleeping in his bed and one dark eyebrow raised slightly to see that she was not with him. So her talk about what she planned to do to him in the bedroom was just that, talk, he was shocked…..or not.

It took some time but he eventually located her. She was in one of the secondary communications centers, what could she be doing there at this time? Oh he figured she would say work but the whole station save a few sentries in the command center had the night off. Long legs impacted the deck as the heels of his old almost worn out boots, with a nice roll in the heal, just how he liked them, clicked off the scuffed metal surface. He straightened to his full height, of just shy of 2 meters or close to 6 feet. He walked with a purposeful stride. He was hurrying, but not looking like that was what he was doing. He did not come across as frantic, for he wasn’t. He would get there in time.

He stepped into the communications room as if he did not know someone was already in there mere moments later. He pretended to be preoccupied with his pad until he had almost run into her. Seemingly to make it an accident that they were so close rather than the truth that he was crowding her personal space to make her uncomfortable. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. I didn’t expect to see anyone around here. Ophelia is it?” he asked even though they both knew well he knew exactly who she was, “I know you’re new around here, did you get lost on your way back to the party?” He extended his arm to her, this close, the unique pattern of swirls and glyphs that made up the tattoos that covered his arms were easier to see in more detail, they were sometimes overlooked from a distance. They spiraled up his arms to disappear under the sleeve of his uniform, making one wonder exactly how far they extended. “Come let me lead you back to the party.” He made it a request, but it had a slightly barbed undertone suggesting that he could make it an order depending on her reaction. On the surface he seemed like he was just being neighborly, but nothing around here was what it seemed.

 

[asylum]

-turning her back to the doorway when the image popped up on the screen of her own smaller pad, she nestled the ear piece into her right ear beneath the silken tumble of curls.

When she spoke, she spoke in code. Falling silent every so often, listening, responding. A scuff behind her had her head canting softly. The voice in her ear droned on. Ophelia's response was simple.-

"Mmhmm, ok Mom. Yes, I'll see what I can do."

-another brief silence in which she heard the boots rattling through the doorway behind her. She stood her ground, though her shoulders tensed in frustration. Her back still to the door, she continued.-

"Alright, love you too, Mom. Good-bye."

-as she finished, she turned. The glow of her pad fading. A hand fluttered to her chest, feigning surprise as she turned widened eyes that glowed an amber color in the light of his pad. It wasn't all pretend however, she was a bit surprised to find the intruder so close.

She knew the intruder well enough. She'd seen him plenty of times and seen him watching her too. Captain Brendan Becker. Second in Command.-

"Captain Becker. It's quite alright."

-she nodded in response to her name as it fell from his lips. Her own curled, flashing him a beautiful and enticing smile. That same sweet honey voice tickled against his ears. Her eyes trickled down from the ice of his, following the patterns of ink against skin as he offered it to her. After a moments pause, she finally lifted her left arm and slid it gracefully through.-

"On the contrary, Captain. I needed a quiet place to call my dear mother."

-her arm tightened softly on his, pressing it warmly, invitingly against the dangerous curve of her breast. Her right hand rose, coming to rest on the heated flesh of his forearm, slender fingers traced sensually against a pattern of ink. Her gaze shifted coyly to the side and up at him and purred.-

"Only if you promise a dance for me."

-at his height advantage, he would have quite the view. Hauntingly sweet shadows caressing along silken porcelain flesh, licking at the deep cleavage that disappeared into the land of unspoken promises. It was no wonder the rest of the crew wanted a piece and no wonder their Lord and Master horded her with such tenacity.-

 

[The_Gladiator]

Becker had been listening for some time before he had strowed into the room and had heard pieces of the conversation. They had either been in another tongue, or code. It wasn’t until he had entered that she had switched to Galactic Standard. Her words flowed like honey, the deception falling from her lips with seemingly no effort. If this woman even still had a mother that had not been who she was talking to. Becker didn’t know who she was talking to but he did know she wasn’t being honest.

That all being said He played along with her story, “Yes, it’s difficult to find a quiet place, especially when Gunther throws one of these parties.” His distaste for the gatherings was somewhat common knowledge. “It’s so wonderful that you speak to your mother in your native language.” He said offhandedly, letting her know she couldn’t get away with it that easily, but still not confronting her, just giving more words that could have double meanings, how much did he know, “Galactic standard is so often the only language you hear among humans these days, sometimes traditions shouldn’t be lost, don’t you agree?” This last statement could also have been a reference to his tattoos which her fingers seemed to be tracing.

He looked down at her as he spoke and immediately was not sure he should have done so. He would have to be dead to not notice how beautiful she was and how that dress—flattered her…. Assets. Or was it a blouse over a skirt, he wasn’t exactly good with women’s fashion. He just knew she was dressed like a civilian and her open toed sandals made a soft clattering clack, a staccato counter beat to the rolling click of his boot heals against the unyielding decks. She was dressed for the occasion especially as a woman at a party like what was going on. It was Becker that was the oddity. He still wore his G and B Star Way uniform. It had an almost military cut. His only concession to the fact that the station’s cooling unit was on the blink again and the fact this was a party was the long sleeves of his shirt were rolled up above his elbows baring his forearms to her exploratory touches.

“A dance for you my lady?” he responded to her comment as he began to deftly steer her through the halls. “Do individuals actually dance to such… noise?” his smile was brief, “I would imagine it is only suited to one kind of dance, a bump and grind.” He chuckled. He would not get caught dirty dancing with his boss’s girl. “However, if you get them to play something slower like an Anthasorian waltz I might be persuaded to grant you that honor yes. That is if you aren’t too concerned for your mother?” he said unable to resist that little dig at the end of his invitation.

Becker had to tread carefully here. Bating her to try to get information from her was all well and good, but allowing himself to get sucked in, to believe her yarns about her mother and all of that would not be wise. Nor would it be advisable to allow her to touch him so much, to assume familiarity she had not earned yet. He knew these points intellectually, but there was a very male part of him which enjoyed her closeness. The way that his arm skated ever so gently against the swell of her breast. The way her cool fingers felt on his heated skin—lord had it been that long since he’d gotten laid?

 

[asylum]

-the skirt hung like the hands of a lover against her hips, fanning out and swept against her ankles. The blouse captured her breasts in a strip of taupe material, exposing a small flash of taut stomach, smaller strips curled lovingly around her upper arms just off of her shoulders. A vision, just enough to spark the imagination of every man in the crew.

A soft snort escaped her at the mere mention of the parties. It was by far less commonly known how much she disliked them. Rarely did she show anything other than affection for Gunther and anything he did. Her frustration at being interrupted had her slipping if only for a brief second.-

"Mmm. Mother wouldn't have it any other way."

-she replied just as smoothly, holding tenaciously to the lie she'd weaved. A nail dug softly against a line of ink, her head tilting to watch as the pattern was followed.-

"And yes, I agree."

-she nodded, turning to fully look up at him. Chocolate curls tumbling away from her shoulders, exposing the slender column of her throat as she boldly set her eyes on his. Keeping her answers short and sweet, giving him little satisfaction in his baiting. Instead she answered more elaborately concerning the dancing.-

"Mmhmm, I do believe that they try to. Really, it just looks like they are...flailing, miserably at that."

-he didn't want to get caught being anything less than chivalrous with her, none of the guys would. If it got back to Gunther, heads would roll. She knew as much. She couldn't help the soft smile.-

"Are you sure you'd rather not teach them a thing or two on how to...bump and grind, without looking like fools?"

-oh the innuendos mingling in her words! Had she really just propositioned him so boldly? Her arm tightened and tugged playfully against his, pressing his warm one even more against that tantalizing globe, causing his exposed flesh to brush teasingly, all too quickly in fact, against the exposed heat of her own as her blouse shifted at the motion.-

"I'll see what I can do and my mother would be quite disappointed if I were to forego a....good time....at her expense."

-she knew it was a dangerous road, working Becker the way she was. She knew he wasn't going to be an easy man to fall, that's why she'd been chipping away at the weaker men to begin with. He was still a man though and one she had yet to see with a woman of his own. Her tongue danced over her lips, slow. As if savoring some phantom flavor that lingered against the plush rose colored petals.-

 

[The_Gladiator]

He boomed a chuckle at her snort concerning the parties. Obviously someone wasn’t quite as fond of them as they pretended. He continued to chuckle at her comments about how the other, younger members looked when they danced. “An accurate description I would say.”

He stopped and turned to face her a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips, “I’m pretty sure the bumping and grinding I am familiar with I would not want to perform in front of my men.” He said his own words as equally full of innuendos. He turned and kept going, feeling her arm slide back through his, this time more of the skin impacting bare flesh as her movements caused the flimsy material to shift baring more glimpses of tantalizing flesh. And, there was quite a bit of… flesh… to display and hint at. “Yes, you see what you can do. And maybe you’ll get that dance. They can have a good laugh at the old fart in his archaic ways.” He said with a bit of self-condemnation to the bite of his humor. He let his eyes drift to her even as she ran her tongue over her lips. He was male and couldn’t help the reaction of his body. His cock jumped hard against his pants and he had to fight to not let his reaction show in his eyes or body language.

Fortunately Becker was saved by their arrival at the entrance to the room where the party was. “Well my lady, I have quite enjoyed this verbal.” He almost said skirmish, but changed it to “Exchange with you. Your whit suggests that you are more than just a pretty face.” And with that he walked away. Let her think he underestimated her. Let her think that he thought her Gunther’s whore, just like everyone else did, when the truth was much different. He knew she was dangerous. He just didn’t know how dangerous, and why she was dangerous. What were motives? What secrets hid in the depths of those amber eyes?

Becker made his way to the table he had occupied at the far end of the room. Not for the first time he wondered why he was even here. The obvious answer was to support the crew. Wouldn’t they be happier without his dour presence? This was a question he asked during each get together. This time was different though, now he was focused on learning about Ophelia, what was her deal, and what threat did she pose to the blackstars, to Gunther, and to himself personally.

One of the servers brought him another mug of ale and he reluctantly took another sip. Yes, just as he thought, it was still as piss poor as it was 2 glasses ago. He idly wondered how much of the stuff would he have to drink to make it actually taste good. He probably didn’t want to find out. He noted absently that the color of his drink reminded him of her eyes, they too were amber in color weren’t they? It had been difficult to tell in the dim lighting. He cut those thoughts off, just what was wrong with him today. Where was the cold calculating commander he typically was? The answer was that that exterior was a veneer, he truly was a man whose passions ran hot, and he was just very select about how he expressed those passions. Be it his music that few here knew he played, or the lovers he took in secret. He could not let her know he found her attractive, because it was becoming very obvious that she would use that against him.

He opened his pad again and began to try to track down who she had been calling. However that investigation was also turning up dead ends, apparently nothing about this would be easy, and it most certainly was not Becker’s lucky day.

 

[asylum]

-she settled her exploring fingers, letting them curl warmly and stay. Her left hand slid against the inside of his arm, tickling the inner cup of his elbow once they started moving again.

A knowing smirk resting on her lips even as she spoke-

"A little stage fright, hmmm? Well, perhaps a more private....rehearsal then. What's that they say? Practice makes perfect."

-a little bolder. A little less innuendo. As they drew closer to the party however, he'd feel a bit of a chill, a bit less intoxicated as she pulled slightly away. It would do her no good to have anyone informing Gunther they'd seen his Second getting a little to close. It would serve no purpose to get the man, any if the men, killed before she could get what she needed...and wanted.

Her arm slid slowly from his, her hand stroking the flesh unseen before it fell to her side, leaving a warm lingering promise. She turned slightly to face him, a genuine smile graced him.-

"The pleasure was mine."

-the words, erotic in that honey sweet tone, left her and lingered like a fallen halo against his ear. She made no comment about whit and being a pretty face. To Gunther, that was indeed all she was, a pretty face and a piece of ass.

As she swept away, making a path through the undulating crowd of bodies, her brow knit together. At odds with her own thoughts at that moment.

She made her way to the music station. The man gave her a look, the one she returned was as just as cold as his was amused at the choice of music she'd requested. After a moment of stony silence between them, he began to protest that it wasn't what Lord Gunther wanted. She retorted that the grand king of the castle was asleep and she was granted anything she requested anyways. It was how it always had been. He had no further argument and after another moment of hesitation, he nodded and informed her it would be coming soon.

She offered him a smile and stepped out of the booth and made her way to the bar. There too she stepped behind it. Making a beeline for the real man of the hour, the one that supplied the men and everyone else all the ale they could handle.

Gunther was no lightweight, it would take more than the piss she'd seen the others drinking to lay him out the way it had. Which meant he wasn't sharing his stash. How...disloyal of him really. She had ulterior motives though perhaps.

After a heated conversation with the weasel serving the party, a threat laid down that she would tell Gunther that he'd tried to get his grubby little paws all over her and not just once, the poor sap acquiesced her "request". Nearly as soon as she'd turned on her little heels, a bar wench was scurrying toward the crews table with the good stuff. She disappeared into the ladies room.

Gone the entirety of the next pulsating song, she emerged only after she'd freshened herself up. Really wishing they'd fix the cooling system, she was making her way back toward the main floor. Listening to the groans that began as the first strains of the waltz weaved through the air.

Chuckling as many of the bodies began to disperse, leaving the floor to those that wanted to dance in pairs rather than continue with the epileptic spasms that passed for dancing.

Their clearing left her standing nearly alone there, though she looked unperturbed by the fact. Instead, her attention was focused on the crews table, specifically on Becker himself, watching as he was hopefully enjoying his newly delivered ale, that enticing smile of hers calling to him, more powerful than if she were to crook her finger at him in a come hither motion. The amber of her eyes all to noticeable in the now faint glow of light.-

 

[The_Gladiator]

Becker continued to try to hack the information he wanted but, she was good. He made a mental note to ask her if her mother was a spy in deep cover, who hid their family that well? He allowed his mind to run down that path and didn’t like what he saw there. Someone who was that wanted by the IGA or some other authority that they were consumed with that much paranoia about their family was not someone they wanted working for them. However even traveling down that ludicrous path was a waste of 5 seconds because she wasn’t telling the truth. He didn’t know exactly how he knew, but he did and that was what mattered.

Lifting his eyes from his pad Becker let them sweep the room, until he found her. His lips quirked into a slight smile as he watched her speaking to the DJ, when her body wasn’t obscured by the “Dancers.” Wasn’t that a joke? He wondered then about some of her earlier words, about him being shy. Had the woman missed his innuendo? He hadn’t been referring to dancing, surely she knew that. Even if she had caught on, he wasn’t the type who ever would grow comfortable performing such in front of his men, Gunther now, something like that was occasionally his speed.

Surely she was setting up that dance they had joked about. She was calling his bluff, challenging him; she probably believed he wouldn’t go through with it. Her next move raised his eyebrow. She was speaking to the barkeep now. Soon enough a serving girl was headed his way with a loaded tray. She stopped at the next table over to drop mugs off with the handful of the men seated there. Then she moved to Becker, who currently sat alone. He looked at her and raised his glass, “Mine isn’t empty.” He said shortly.

“The queen says that that swill is not fit for someone as important as you.” And as she set down the mug despite the captain’s protests Becker got it. Even the color looked better. So Gunther had been holding out on them. He accepted the glass with a small nod to the woman. Better her than him to explain to Gunther why his stash was empty. Maybe that wretched barkeep would get blamed. He actually found that thought a nice one, a grumpier person Becker had never met.

It wasn’t long before the soft strains of the waltz floated into the air and men started griping and complaining. It was not long before she stood alone, backlit by the strobes, her hair glowing like spun chocolate and the lights flashing from her eyes. It wasn’t long before his eyes met hers, blue to brown. She smiled, and just that smile was a challenge. She did not hold a hand out in invitation, did not approach him, she just smiled, a welter of promises and seduction in that one expression. Becker grunted a laugh and shrugged. No one ever could claim he wasn’t a man of his word.

“Leaving again captain?” one of the men called seeing Becker stand.

“Na,” he grunted, jerking his chin in the direction of the floor.

“Oh ho, going to dance are you?” at Becker’s nod he laughed. Then he sobered, “With her?” another nod, “Why?”

“She called my bluff.” He said simply.

“Better you than me sir. I mean I’d love to have her that close to me but Lord Gunther sees you, he’ll kill you.”

“No fool, he would kill you. He only might kill me.” He said no more, he did not need to tell his men why he was dancing with her. His initial reason was a way to talk to her again, she had upped the ante and it was time to regain control, let her know she couldn’t just play him like a flute. However, he also wanted to because Becker hadn’t always lived on the fringe of the galaxy, and there were occasionally things about the core he missed. He hadn’t seen anthasar in years, but still knew well the moves of the formal dances. After all, hadn’t he been forced to sit through classes on the damn things? That was something no one in this crew knew about him, and as far as they would ever know, he was the rimmer he always pretended to be. At heart it was true, he was done with the core, with the IGA and everything that went with it.

He moved to her and could tell that she had freshened up. The slight film of perspiration that he had seen along her forehead caused by the heat of the place, damned cooling unit, had been washed away and she looked if possible even more lovely. Not for the first time he noted, he wasn’t dressed for this occasion, especially for this temperature. However he carried himself with dignity, even approaching her with a different walk, not the rolling gate he had previously shown, but a more clipped controlled step, almost like he was from a core world. Because yes, believe it or not, different people had different walks on different worlds. Becker didn’t even notice this shift in himself, and it would take someone extremely observant to recognize it and an expert to be able to identify its significance. It was almost like when preparing for the waltz it took Becker to a different place and time.

He took her hand. His were rough from handling equipment, the grip of his blaster, and other such tools, however the grace of his hand was still present, a musician’s hands, long fingered and deceptively delicate.

Her hand was small in his and he raised it to his lips with a bow, which he tried to make look more awkward than he traditionally would, he did know that the fact he knew this dance at all was telling enough, if he correctly performed all of the rituals surrounding it, she might get suspicious, that was if she knew anything about Anthasarian traditions. Why would she out here on the rim?

He slid his left arm around her waist and soon was pressing her against him. He wanted to be polite and keep a bit of distance between them; however that’s not what the dance called for. Had she done that on purpose? She had played the lover’s kiss, or the DJ had. Was it just coincidence that if he followed the dance properly he would hold her very close indeed, or was it merely coincidence? Was Becker overanalyzing this? The answer to that was—probably—yes he was. Perhaps he was the one who was paranoid.

 

[asylum]

-she watched intently as he rose, the exchange between Becker and the other man of the crew. As she watched and waited, her hands rested softly on curvy hips that swayed ever so softly.

A simple enticement, like honey drawing ants to the picnic. A siren song. It would leave him wondering, that was for sure. Did she know because she came from the core or was there another reason?

The motion of her hips was smooth, slow. As precise as they had been taught in classes. A signal to a potential lover, drawing them in. Calling.

As he answered that call, her eyes watched him intently, flowing over his frame and engulfing him. Noting the difference in his step, she couldn't help the soft raise of a perfect brow. Seemed she wasn't the only one with secrets. He was answering the strains of her song with a few of his own.

She felt a warmth curling through her stomach. Something that Gunther had never incited within her. The man was as tender as a grizzly bear. Granted she wasn't a fragile little flower that needed the most tender care at all times, she didn't shy away from a little....rough....weather either.

Her hand, soft and petite, slid into his. Fingers delicately dancing over roughened flesh before curling over his fingers as his lips brushed her knuckles, after a brief moment she turned her hand in his and let her fingers curl, brushing against his chin with a coy smile resting on her lips.

The breath of distance between them was closed as she shifted closer. Her hand drawing innocently over his chest to his shoulder, innocent by appearances anyways. The look in her eyes that only he could see spoke an entirely different tale and would continue to leave him wondering about her, feeding his paranoia.-