Page 19 of Taking Jenny (Planet Orhon #4)

Jenny

“ A nd that’s all it takes?” I asked Surge.

We were in a kitchen of the mansion, but it wasn’t the one where our food was prepared.

Surge’s kitchen looked more like an apothecary’s hovel from a medieval film.

There was a stove, two sinks, and a few ovens like a commercial kitchen, but there were also bubbling glassware, stone walls lined with shelves for tiny bottles, and books upon books in every direction and on every surface but the stove.

The miniscule man nodded with glee. “One drop of this, and poof, no more erections for the rest of his life." He snickered. "I gave a dose to a particularly troublesome guard the first time I was arrested as a boy.”

I laughed. “That’s awful!”

“He liked to harass us street children, so I don’t feel bad about it at all.

Not one bit. He thought since we were orphans, no one cared if he mistreated us.

It did backfire somewhat,” he added thoughtfully.

“With no erections, he had more time on his hands than he knew what to do with and took his anger out on us, so…” he showed me another bottle, this one with blue liquid, “I gave him a few drops of this one, and now, he has an enigmatic numbness in his hands every time he gets angry. Hard to beat children with numb hands.”

I laughed at his ingenuity. “You don’t have anything that could make him not be a dick?”

“I’m afraid there is no known cure for being a dick.” Then his eyes widened. “Wait—do you have something on Earth for that?”

“Sadly, no, or I would have given it to my ex-boyfriend.”

“Hmm.” He looked over a page written in some language I didn’t know. “A pity, then. Do you read Gorrk?”

I shook my head. “I only learned Ladrian when I…” I couldn’t tell him how or where I had learned the native language. That would expose my family and friends on Halla and I refused to put them in danger in any way when it came to Justice the psycho. “…met Ladrians.”

“I see.” His eyes brimmed with curiosity. “And how did that come to be?”

“It’s a long story, and aren’t you supposed to be teaching me about all this?” I asked, waving a hand in the air and hoping to distract him.

“Yes well, you can’t blame me for trying,” he said, smiling. “You are a puzzle, Jenny Hollinger.”

I didn’t encourage his interest and instead quickly changed the subject. “What’s that pink bottle do?”

My attempt at diverting his attention worked. “I’m glad you asked...”

Our time together was a fascinating exploration of tinctures and other things in his laboratory, but by the end, I couldn’t keep them all straight. He looked at me with pity.

“Your eyes are glazing over,” he said with a sigh. “I can see I’ve lost you.”

“No, no, it’s not that this isn’t fascinating, I’m just not sure how helpful all of this will be.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said with a thoughtful nod. “You won’t have fire or bottles of potions out there on the mountain. During our next lesson, we will go for a hike, and I will show you how to do this using only what we find along the way.”

I smiled at him, truly appreciating his help. “That sounds more useful, thank you, Surge.”

“My pleasure.” Surge gently pat my back in a fatherly gesture. “Now, go before you’re late for your dance lessons. Discord will have my head, if you are.”

“Yeah, she’s strict about the sparring, too.” I hopped down from my stool and headed for the door.

“She’s more strict about dance, Jenny,” he cautioned lightly. “Take it seriously, or you might find an unpleasant gift in your bed, care of Discord.”

I stopped and glanced back at him. “I thought she was some kind of warrior. Why would she take dancing more seriously?”

He shrugged as he put a few bottles back on the shelf. “You’ll have to ask her that question.”

After I changed into a black leotard and black heels that were left on my bed, and ponytailed my hair, I trotted to the ballroom.

It was gigantic compared to the amount of room the three of us needed, so walking in I felt smaller than usual when next to the Ladrians.

Unlike the rest of the mansion, the floors were wooden and dark, like the walls.

But the ceiling was painted to mimic the night sky, twin moons and all.

Windows ran along the outer wall, providing a view of the forest where I ran with Longshot in the mornings.

It was much prettier from inside the cool building.

Discord stood unnaturally still next to a device I thought might be a radio, or some kind of console for music.

She actually looked very beautiful. The blood red gown she wore graced the floor in elegant tatters near her black-heeled feet.

The tatters’ slits ran up to her thighs.

Mal stood next to her, his back to me. His black suit was stitched in red to match her dress.

As soon as I arrived, the music began, a pulsing beat echoing out of the speakers.

I stood off to the side and watched as Discord took him in her arms, before he twirled her and reversed their positions, taking control from her.

Then Mal led Discord around the ballroom, strutting, flair kicking, and posing to the rhythm of the song.

It was closer to a sparring match than a dance, very sexual in undertone, yet mesmerizing and enchanting at the same time.

They moved well together. Too well. Their bodies fluid and sensual, like two people who’d been intimate with one another.

By the end of the piece, I was sure they were a couple, no matter how platonic they appeared on the surface. Our flirtations were probably just a way to make her jealous—Mal didn’t mean any of it.

I would have been more disappointed by my realization, but I was too aroused by their dance to be too upset by what it meant. When they finished, Discord stood victorious over him in a role reversal, while Mal was on his knees on the floor in front of her, his head resting on her thigh.

I clapped, pulling both of them out of their erotic reverie.

She smiled down at Mal and gave him a hand up, before she said to me, “Think you can do that?”

“Oh god, no.” I laughed, more than a little nervously. “You’ve seen my sense of rhythm, Discord.”

Her lip curled. “That is true. Let’s start with something simpler, then. Mal, take the girl.” She turned to the music system to select something else.

Mal looked me over before he joined me, his eyes darkening. “Skintight clothes suit you.”

I suppressed a shiver and gave him a cheeky smile. “You should try them some time.”

“I couldn’t possibly wear something so restricting.” He suddenly took me in his arms and forcefully pressed himself against me, before he teased, “I’m far too modest.”

I laughed breathlessly, and the music began, with Mal leading the dance and teaching me the steps and poses. At the beginning, I didn’t know my sprightstep from my valtza. By the end, I didn’t know my left foot from my right foot, and I was stepping all over Mal’s shoes.

It didn’t help matters that being pressed up against his solid body was distracting as hell.

I closed my eyes, growling in frustration. “This is too hard!”

“You’re not trying hard enough!” Discord barked.

“I am! I’m not coordinated like you.” A lump rose in my throat and I swallowed it back.

I felt like a failure. “My body doesn’t naturally move like this.

It doesn’t follow orders, and you keep snapping at me, left foot here, neck this way, turn my head, arch my back…

all while you’re whirling me around this gigantic room!

I can’t keep up with either of you. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to learn all of this and do it well. ”

Mal’s eyes darted from me to Discord. “Perhaps a different approach, Discord?”

“I’m open to whatever you suggest.” Discord crossed her arms over her chest, disappointment glimmering in her eyes. “She’s unteachable for me.”

The word brought up too many memories of parent-teacher conferences and my mother’s pitying glances.

I was suddenly nine years old again and hearing my mom defend my daydreaming as being deep in thought and blaming my teacher for not stimulating me enough to keep my attention, when really, I would have rather watched the bees and butterflies all day than hear about math.

Mal snapped his hand in front of my face to get my attention. “Are you with me, Jenny?”

“I guess,” I grumbled.

“You enjoy your job, right? You’ve spoken about it fondly.”

“Yeah, I love it. Why?”

“Show me what you do at work.”

I frowned, because what the hell did being a barista have to do with dancing? “I make coffee drinks all day—”

“Not tell. Show ,” he insisted. “Close your eyes and picture yourself back on Earth, doing your job. Discord, play the vlera again.”

She played the song we had just finished. It was the slowest piece we had tried, but I had still failed to pick up the steps. I didn’t know what Mal was thinking, but I closed my eyes and imagined myself back at work.

I was instantly transported back to the scent of freshly ground espresso, the hum of the customers chatting in line.

Pulling the lever on the grinder to load the portafilter, then smashing the grinds tight into it with the tamper.

Popping it twice on the stainless steel counter, to pack the grinds tighter before I fit it into the espresso machine.

Press the button, place the cups beneath the spouts.

Prep the cups, the slow sway of my body from right to left, as I shuffled drinks down the production line…

Mal snuggled up against my backside while I moved, one hand pressing firmly against my stomach, the other one gripping my hip. He followed my movements, until he matched them to the beat of the music, his pelvis tucked tight against the top of my ass.

My chest flushed hot and a slow, steady thrum pulsed between my thighs. We gyrated together, nothing overt, but enough to know he liked my ass. I added a little back and forth in my hips as I swayed under his guidance and we moved together sinuously.