Page 54 of Anton's Grace
The elite of the elite mingled in small clusters. They were so damn stiff, it was a wonder they didn’t break when they sat down. Beautiful bare-chested men in body-hugging black ballet tights served exotic alcoholic beverages and canapés. Tribal tattoos spiraled in knots along their right arm and the right side of their face.
One of them stopped before us, presenting a mouth-watering plate of colorful amuse-bouche. The scent of Firenese Peppers wafted to my nose and I promptly declined. Those things would set your mouth on fire before liquefying your innards. That explained the few patrons turning bright crimson and coughing into their delicate napkins.
Anton’s fingers drew circles on my back in a slow, sensuous motion. Since we left the penthouse, his hand seldom left my naked skin. He flaunted me about, introducing me as his companion – not his pet. I was blossoming under the attention; my dress was absurdly sexy and could even make a baboon’s ass look yummy. That Anton’s deliciously wandering hands attracted more stares further filled me with warm tingles.
However, some stares were less welcome than others, such as the rather persistent ones from a Sarenian man. Humans easily represented a third of the patrons on Venus Hive, mainly due to the large number of nearby human colonies. The others were an eclectic mix of humanoid aliens – though most would skin you alive if you referred to them as such. After all, no human would want to be described as a Sarenoid alien. I liked most species. Many were rather attractive and above all, friendly. Sarenians were gorgeous; tall, lithe, dusty blue skin, silky long hair and small horns shaped like a crown. I could spend hours admiring their beauty. Except they treated women even worse than Braxians.
A large portion of the entertainment provided by pleasure barges such as the Hive Network – more than half of it – was of an erotic nature. Therefore, the patrons, regardless of species, tended to be sexually compatible. The common areas of the station imposed strict rules of conduct. However, specific venues within the station could set their own, less restrictive, custom rules. It was essential due to cultural differences that could engender ugly situations. That said, venues focused on cultural events such as this opera house, museums, and concert halls, catered to a more diverse variety of aliens where anatomic compatibility didn’t matter.
We weaved through the patrons, Anton exchanging pleasantries with a few of them while I sipped on a glass of fruity white wine. I almost chose champagne, which I loved, but the bubbles made me sneeze. It wouldn’t look very dignified.
To my relief, Caleb and Sheila didn’t appear. In fact, I was one of the only performers in attendance. While artists at Sheila’s and Seria’s level earned substantial wages, Venus Hive was meant for the elite and priced accordingly. Without a ‘benefactor’ to foot the bill, most people employed on the Hive couldn’t afford more than the occasional attendance in the VIP section’s events. As a performer for Risqué, Sheila got to eat there at cost, and as Caleb’s squeeze, she got to tag along on some of his fancier outings.
Bored with the droning ramblings of Anton’s latest interlocutor, I asked to be excused while I made a quick stop in the ladies’ room. Anton nodded. His smirk told me he knew exactly why I was running. My gut told me he would like to do the same. I almost felt guilty abandoning him like that, especially considering I didn’t actually need to go. Strutting to the washroom, I took my sweet time examining the patrons and especially the latest fashions from the outer rim.
Thankfully, I didn’t find a line at the bathroom. In the Commons, if you wanted to go to the toilet, you might as well make reservations weeks in advance. Here, only a handful of women stood inside. We exchanged polite nods and I ‘fixed’ my messy bun by messing it up a bit more and retouched my still perfect makeup.
The performance wouldn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Running out of excuses to dally, I left the washroom, intending to make a detour to the bar. I wanted to grab a glass of mineral water to wash out the sugary taste the wine left behind. On leaving, I almost crashed into the tall Sarenian man who had been staring at me. The slow smile that stretched his lips made my stomach drop.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to circle around him.
He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “What’s the hurry? I’d like to get to know you.”
He was stunning, yet creeped the fuck out of me, far worse than Caleb. His voice was melodic with a purring element to it. The spicy scent of his cologne was enticing.
No, not cologne… pheromone.
I glared at him. “Please step out of my way,” I said, my voice clipped. “My companion is waiting for me.”
“No one is waiting for you.” His voice took on a strange vibration.
Stupid girl! How could you forget?
Sarenians were dangerous, able to ensnare and mesmerize their prey. The males could release pheromones that enticed their victim. They also hypnotized vulnerable targets with a direct stare and the vibration of their voice. I knew better. Marcus warned me against them plenty of times. But I never imagined one would target me in such a public venue.
I opened my mouth to argue, but my mind went blank. Frowning, I tried to remember who I had intended to see after leaving the bathroom. The Sarenian held my gaze, his scent heady. I needed to avert my eyes, but they were glued to his. Through the fog clouding my thoughts, the image of a Braxian half-breed appeared before starting to fade. I clung to it.
“Anton,” I whispered.
The Sarenian man hissed. Holding my jaw, his face inches from mine, he said, “Obey. Be silent. Surrender.”
His eyes seemed to flash with a light glow, and my body went numb.
He pushed me towards the back corner of the corridor leading to the washrooms, never breaking eye contact until he was certain I was fully under his control. My thoughts remained my own, but my body was his to command. I screamed inside for someone to rescue me. But we were on a pleasure barge. While the opera house expected a certain level of decorum and restraint, no one would frown at a couple giving into their urges in a dark and discreet corner.
“You will never speak of this to anyone. Nod if you understand.”
I wanted to claw his face off. Instead, I remained silent and nodded. He slipped his hand under the thigh high side slit of my dress and went straight for my pussy. Finding me without any underwear, his smile broadened, and he made a purring sound again.
“How convenient. You make everything so easy, my sweet beauty. But you’re too dry. Get wet for me,” he said while freeing his cock from his pants.
My eyes widened at his statement. Get wet for him? How the fuck did he think that would happen? Like I would even want to! Burning bile rose in my throat when I felt moisture pool between my legs. I shook my head in denial, shamed by the betrayal of my own body. My vision blurred as tears poured down my cheeks. This couldn’t be happening, not here, not now, not to me.
A cruel laughter rumbled in his chest. “Yes, beautiful, the mind is a wondrous thing.”
He crushed my lips with a brutal kiss and painfully squished my breasts. Letting go, he lifted my skirt and placed his hands on my bare ass, lifting me.
“Wrap your arms and legs around me, and hold yourself up while I fuck you,” he whispered against my lips.