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Chapter Three

P etra

Since there's not a lot of storage room in his loincloth, we bought a backpack at the mercantile. Shadow has my underwear, cosmetics, and the rope in it.

Speaking of his loincloth, there have been a few moments in our journey tonight where I’m pretty sure he’s been ‘happy to see me’. I already saw him nude in the arena; it’s been established that he’s well endowed. I notice my nipples tighten remembering how virile he looked, fighting that Neanderthal.

Whatever. I’m on a mission. I want to make some credits and get off this shit planet. There’s got to be a way back home. I didn’t have the best life there, but it was my life, dammit.

I hate having even a moment to myself because all I can do is wonder if I’ve jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. I need help to get back home, but what kind of people don’t care if their friend gets pounded to a pulp in the arena? I mean, frankly, Shadow is a jerk and I can see with his sullen attitude why he's not well liked. But I’m wondering if they’ll jettison me in a heartbeat if they discover they’re low on fuel or something.

Oh well, I’m pretty sure anything will be better than staying on this planet and being sold into sexual slavery.

We’re walking along what’s probably the seediest street on this entire sleazy planet. Every single establishment we pass is more of a dive than the last place. Shadow has his hand possessively on the small of my back, which for some reason makes me feel protected. We go into each bar and look around. I don’t know what he’s looking for—safety I guess, and maybe how well-heeled the customers are. Me? I’m staring at the ceiling.

We finally find a place that meets both of our criteria. Surrounding the doorway is a garish neon cat mouth, so you have to enter through flashing yellow feline teeth. Shadow says the place is called The Golden Pussy. If you’re going to flout the law, you might as well go all the way. Even with a name like that, it does seem a notch above the other shitholes on this little slice of heaven.

The manager seems happy to have me work for tips. As long as he doesn’t have to pay me out of pocket, he couldn’t care less how legal I may or may not be.

A lot of the males are greedily looking at me. I guess no matter where you are in the galaxy, fresh meat is fresh meat.

“How do you change the light bulbs up there?” I indicate the ceiling.

“Huh? There’s a ladder in back.” He points to the only door that isn’t a restroom or exit.

A few minutes later, Shadow has helped me securely hang a rope to one of the sturdy metal beams crisscrossing near the joists of the ceiling.

All those years of practicing aerial gymnastics for competition, I never dreamed I would use these skills in a strip joint. I always did it for the exercise and the challenge. I hope to God this saves my life tonight.

Shadow

She toes off her knee-high boots, slips off her shirt and new pants, and stuffs the clothes and one boot in my backpack. Handing me the other boot, she spears me with a rock-hard look.

“Please help me get as much money as I can into this boot, Shadow. I don’t have to tell you how much is riding on this.”

I wonder if Zar, the captain, will leave her stranded on this planet if she comes up short. She’s done so much to save her ass already it would be a shame if it wasn’t enough.

I take a good look at her. If I thought the tiny green underwear she wore at the arena was sexy, well, these certainly grab my full attention. Her bra and panties are shiny satin and flaming red. The bra hugs her breasts and pushes them up to make them appear even more voluptuous. My cock is thrumming hard at full attention. She doesn’t seem self-conscious like my old roommate Grace was, she’s matter-of-fact.

Without waiting for all eyes to be on her, or stalling for a new song to cue up, she leaps and twirls at the same time, grabbing the rope several feet above her head even as she spins around.

Then she grabs the rope even higher over her head and appears to walk up the rope. In one lithe movement, she wraps the rope around one ankle and then twists and falls until the ankle is directly over her head. One hand reaches out gracefully to pose and the other leg reaches straight back, so opposing hand and leg are parallel to the floor while the one ankle is still bound to the rope above her.

She’s not yet thirty modicums into her routine and as I pause to look around the room there isn’t one being, male or female whose eyes aren’t glued on Petra. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s skillful and beautiful, and yet powerfully sensual. My mouth feels dry as I gaze up at her. Undulating on that rope with her shiny red bra and tiny panties, she takes my breath away.

I suddenly remember I’m not here to watch her. I’m here to collect money. I begin to move from patron to patron, pushing the open end of the boot toward every being in the room. Most don’t even look at their wad of cash; they can’t take their eyes off of Petra, who has now climbed almost to the top of the rafters.

I’ve rarely been as frustrated as I am at this moment. I know this money is vitally important to her, but I don't want to do anything but watch her routine. A soft gasp escapes the lips of many as she hangs upside down, with the rope now fastened to a different ankle and then appears to fall. She has cleverly wrapped the rope around her leg, however, and the fall was planned and precise. She speeds to the ground but stops just before her head smashes into the floor.

The other females who were performing decide it’s a good time for a break when they notice none of the customers are paying them any attention—or any money.

I wish I’d taken Savannah’s suggestion to change into a jumpsuit after my match. My cock is hard and bursting in my loincloth—I’m sure it’s obvious.

I take a moment to dig through the money in her tall black boot. There’s already a good deal of cash in there, and she’s only now ending her first song. I haven’t even gotten to two-thirds of the room yet. I hustle from one customer to the next. My favorite is the Mordite female who has four hands and is handing me cash with all four of them. She notices the aroused state of my cock, reaches out to brazenly fondle it, and tucks a few bills into my loincloth. I’m not offended; it’s all for a good cause.

Petra is now on her third song and I’m making my second lap around the room. The boot was so full I quickly exchanged it for the empty one in my backpack, and am now shoving it in front of any patron who looks interested. I hope we’ve gotten enough money.

Petra’s face looks strained; she looks fatigued. The amount of stress on her upper body muscles must be tiring. Even before her performance in this strip club, this was probably already the worst and longest day of her life.

I scan the room before I call up to urge her to come down to leave. Several Volurian males seem to be gathering near the doorway. I’m keenly attuned to body language, and it’s obvious they’re up to no good. Petra is doing her job too well. Volurians are one branch of the MarZan cartel and are legendary in the female slave trade. Petra would be a good catch. They have to notice the gobs of money the patrons have shoved into the boot.

Drack . Without wasting a moment, I comm the ship. “I need help. I’m at the Golden Pussy on Ecstasy Street. I think we’re about to be jumped. Send as many males as you can. Hurry!”

Zar immediately assures me he’s on it. All I have to do is keep everything calm until they get here. I do the math, figuring out how long it will take them from the ship to here. I glance up and see Petra's tiring fast.

“Have we got enough?” she calls down to me. Her smile looks forced and she’s shaking out her left arm; perhaps she's cramping.

I don’t want her to slip or fall because of her fatigue, but the Volurians are going to make their move as soon as her feet hit the floor.

“Only half,” I yell and shrug my shoulders as if to say ‘sorry’. “Can you keep going for a few more songs?”

She shakes her head. “I need a break.”

“One more song, Petra.” It sounds more like an order than a suggestion. I glance at the bottleneck of Volurians near the doorway. When I look back at her, I could swear she understands.

Now I know why she pouted those beautiful painted-red lips when we couldn’t find the type of rope she wanted at the store. This one is scratchy and has chafed her skin. One ankle is bleeding a little, her palms are leaving dots of blood on the white rope, and there are crimson scratches on her abdomen and inner thighs. The amount of strength it takes for her to stay up there is taking a toll.

“Can you make a cradle and swing a while?” I call out to her.

She nods. Her eyes narrow, and she pauses a moment. She appears lost in thought figuring out how to build it. She slips a knot around one ankle and the opposite wrist and hangs, swinging to the music and moving her free arm as gracefully as possible. It doesn’t look like she’s taxing herself; this requires no expenditure of upper body strength. She may not get any more tips, but she can stay up there until reinforcements arrive.

The Volurians don’t seem happy with this lull in the action. I can tell they're organizing some kind of aggressive operation. I don’t think Petra and I have the luxury of waiting for the males from the ship. When I comm Zar again I’m told we still have to wait the equivalent of three songs. We don’t have that kind of time.

I dump the money into the backpack and put the laser in the boot. If drack happens, I’ll drop the boot and come out firing.

I look up to see a look of genuine pain on Petra’s pretty face. There are more than little dots of red on the white rope—there are smears. She’ll never make it until the other males arrive.

My mind goes into computer mode, analyzing every possible outcome, every eventuality. I see there are eight or nine Volurians. I can tell by the bulges under their clothes they’re well armed. With so many patrons in this bar, a firefight will undoubtedly injure many bystanders. That will bring down heat from the Federation that no one on our vessel can afford.

There’s an exit door on the back wall, but I don’t even know if it will open. This place doesn’t seem to follow any other codes. Who knows if the dracking thing isn’t chained shut to ensure no one sneaks in without paying their cover charge?

All right, no good options, I have to choose the least terrible one. It’s out the back door we go.

Petra’s eyes are glued on me. By the look on her face, she’s figured out there’s a problem and knows we’re going to have to make a run for it. Which will be even harder barefoot, but there’s no time to get her dressed.

I glance at the rear exit door and she nods. We’re in sync.

She’s almost quit moving up there, the music has picked up to a pounding beat, and the other dancers are back up on the stage. No one is focused on Petra anymore. She unwraps her wrist and ankle and scrambles down the rope and toward the back door almost before I notice. I’m a few short steps behind her.

Stroke of luck! Although the door was chained shut, I pull it loose with a minimum of effort. We’re off at a quick pace, heading left through the alley. The place was so packed, the Volurians will have to exit through the front door, then run all the way around the building. Hopefully, they’ll split into two groups to look for us. That way we’ll only have to fight half of them at a time.

I make sure Petra’s in front of me; I don’t want her to be a target from behind. It was clear from her performance on that rope that she’s in good physical shape, but it’s been a long day and she’s running down this shit-strewn alley with no shoes on. Even with all that, she’s making pretty good time.

I hear footsteps from behind just as we turn left around the corner of another bar. “Ho, Petra. Stop!” I motion for her to hide behind me as I crouch, waiting for our enemy to clear the edge of the building.

As soon as all four round the building I fire into the bunch of them. Shooting lasers is so much easier than the sword I use in the arena. They’re all dead before they hit the ground. It would almost be anticlimactic if I didn’t know there was another contingent of five searching for us at this very moment.

I stand and realize Petra’s still crouched on the ground where she’s been hiding behind me.

“It’s okay, Petra, they’re all dead.” I reach down and help her up. Face tightly pinched in fear, her eyes appear huge. Her hand is still bleeding from all that time on the rope; she’s practically naked, and still panting from exertion.

“Where next?” She asks, looking both ways down the alley. “There’s five more, right?” She takes a deep breath as if bracing herself for the next skirmish.

This is one strong, smart female. No crying or cowering for her.

“Continue down the alley.”

She’s running in the direction I indicated before I’m done talking.

About two blocks later, we hear an eruption of gunfire. I can only hope it’s the gladiators from the ship attacking the remaining contingent of Volurians.

I was right. Zar comms me about a minima later, asking my location and telling me the Volurians have been subdued.

“We’re clear,” I call to Petra and then have to call again, “We’re safe!” She’s still running full speed down the alley ahead of me. She finally hears me and stops. I can see her shoulders relax. I know from experience it’s hard to come down from high alert in a situation like this.

She limps back to me. Even in the darkness of this back alley, I know something’s really wrong with her. I stride over to her and practically order her, “Let me see your feet!” I inspect the left one, which is bleeding from dozens of tiny cuts. Of course it is, she’s been running in a filthy back alley that hasn’t been clean since the beginning of time. Drack , her right foot is even worse. There’s a thick shard of glass almost fully embedded in the ball of her foot. I have no idea how long she’s been running on that—without a word of protest.

I lift her up to my chest, one hand under her knees, one around her back.

“Shadow…” her voice has a warning tone like she doesn’t want to be carried.

“Don’t argue. I’m carrying you. You’re bleeding badly. Besides, I’m a dick. You won’t win.”

Her body relaxes into mine. I don’t know if she acquiesced on purpose, or if she just ran out of energy.

The five gladiators who came to our rescue find us in the alley. I can tell by their expressions they’re surprised to see the human female in my arms. The Shadow who left the ship a few hoaras ago would never have done such a thing.