This is a book-length work, so not every chapter will involve sex. If you're just looking for a quick wank, this probably isn't your story.
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I should have deleted the recording. I knew that. I told myself that even as I watched the pair talk shop. I reminded myself that I was intruding on something private when they started kissing. That I was shamed enough by their talk of the cameras to speed through the coupling that followed, but not enough to stop watching and erase the entire file, surfaced things about myself I'd rather not know. At first I excused my observation as keeping tabs on the visitors to my ship; after all, I had gone through the recordings of the governor and his mistress as well. The two of them had left the ship directly after exiting my quarters, but I tracked their progress to be sure they didn't make any side excursions along the way. As much as I wanted to convince myself I was simply keeping tabs on Rusty's guest, I knew better. Then again, I didn't force her to strip down and fuck my engineer.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. After two more exhales, I was finally ready to admit that I was in the wrong and my anger at the visiting engineer was misplaced. This small personal triumph was rewarded by granting myself another look at the image paused on my screen. The woman - Kelly Buchanan of Omaha, Nebraska, according to her ID file - was lying on her side, grinning at Rusty. The female body didn't really do it for me, but I could still admit that she was quite attractive, if nothing like the polished beauties I was often surrounded with in my job. She wasn't what held my gaze, though. No, my attention was drawn to the naked body of one Carter Rust, former mercenary and current engineer of the
Marzipan Dream
.
Hating myself even as I reached to restart the playback, I ran my eyes over Rusty. The man had no shame, lying there on his back with his hands behind his head. He knew where the cameras were, he'd lived with them for half a cycle already, and he simply did not care. Even relaxed as it was while he chatted with his lover, Rusty's body was an impressive landscape of muscles. The ridges of his abs, the swell of his biceps, the bulk of quadriceps - each part of him was a testament to his long hours in the gym. Despite the dark hair on his torso and limbs, the marks on his pale skin were plainly visible and told another story. There was an old gunshot wound under his collarbone and a pair of parallel stripes of scar tissue from where he had been stabbed under his ribs. Merc tattoos marched in a line down the inside of his left arm, the glyphs acting as a resumé of successful operations for those who knew how to read them. I was not familiar with the language, but the number present told me enough. Considering how prolific he had been, it was surprising he wasn't more scarred.
The sound of my name caught my attention and I realized I'd been watching without listening to their conversation. I rewound the vid and let myself get distracted once more, this time by watching Rusty's face as he talked. He wasn't all that expressive, but he gave away more than a casual observer might notice. Since I had already passed into creepily obsessed, I allowed my eyes to go where they had wanted to all along. The hair that spread evenly over my engineer's chest thinned as it traveled down his abdomen, tapering to the proverbial treasure trail under his navel. My mouth was dry as I followed it south to where his flaccid penis lay curled over his balls. He kept the hair around his groin trimmed, allowing it to fit with the rest of his appearance without being overrun. This little bit of grooming was so at odds with everything else I thought I knew about the man that I simply stared for a time, trying to reconcile the reality with my expectations.
And again, I heard my name and discovered I'd forgotten to listen. Rewinding another time, I closed my eyes immediately after beginning playback. The first bit I knew, having asked about Rusty's former job when he came to work for me. The policy of his was something I'd guessed at; Carter Rust's reputation was widely known. In fact, from what I'd heard about his appetites, it had surprised me that he had spent so little time off the ship back on Earth. He never got involved with those he flew with - a position more people would be expected to take, considering the uncomfortable situations that could result when exes were stuck together in a tin can surrounded by vacuum. It only made sense that he would take every available opportunity to blow off steam. This time sticking close to the
Marzi
had clearly paid off, as evidenced by what I was watching.
The woman had a great laugh, I had to admit. Just hearing it brought a smile to my face. Then Rusty called me beautiful and I forgot to breathe. That a lot of people wanted to get close to me was something I knew already, though I didn't believe my physical appearance had as much to do with it as Ms. Buchanan thought. No, people wanted me for what they could get out of me, whether that be access to those higher up the fame chain or favorable reporting or simply bragging rights because I was a commodity. In my industry, we all used each other in a sort of parasitic cycle and those who couldn't accept that didn't last long. Not to say I wasn't attractive; I knew I had won the genetic lottery and a lot of resources had gone into improving my natural assets. Still, hearing Rusty compliment my looks thrilled me.
Perhaps if I had still been watching, allowing myself to take in his facial expression and body language, I would have believed Rusty when he denied being interested in me. There was a tightness in his tone of voice, though, that would have been easy to miss if I weren't so focused on listening to him talk. That stress, the way he clipped his words, told me without a doubt that he was lying. Then again, perhaps that was just wishful thinking on my part. As I mulled that over, a noise caught my attention. My eyes flew open and I saw that it was exactly what it had sounded like: Kelly Buchanan was giving my engineer head. Fuck.
