I know every inch of that body – and I’ve kissed each of those freckles. The third young woman is the smallest – a slim, elegant woman whose quiet demeanor and slender frame hides the fact that she can ride like a banshee.
I look at the three women. I need this mating urge that Mia has set aflame in me to calm. I need to release my tension, and my seed...
The three women smile up at me, beckoning me, aching for me.
"Let me take care of that," says the pale girl with the pouting lips, gazing hotly at the rock-hard shape of my straining cock; which distends the front of my toga like a tentpole. My need is completely exposed.
I've sated myself in this beauty’s eager mouth countless times. That moment of release is pure pleasure… normally.
But now, for some strange reason, I know it would give me none of the satisfaction I seek. Emptying my seed in one of them would only remind me of how different she is to Mia. My normally overpowering sexual urges are no longer so easy to sate…
So, instead, I pull myself to the bar and pour three fingers of a dark, amber liquid into a crystal rocks glass – downing the searing liquid and ignoring the three women.
I know it's rude, but right now I'm in no mood for politeness.
The girls glance at me in confusion, and then to each other – detecting my uncharacteristic behavior. It makes me feel uncomfortable – and normally I don’t care about the opinion of anybody, least of all the girls of our harem. I care for them, but I am not driven by their whims.
Growing more infuriated in their company, I storm out of the bar and head to the sparring room, instead. I can feel the auras of Gallus and Varian nearby, and I'm not too surprised to see them tying gloves onto their huge fists in the boxing room; clearly experiencing the same relentless frustration as I am.
"Did you take a woman?" I ask as I enter, my voice harsh. I’m asking Gallus, not Varian. He hasn’t taken a woman since that love of his passed. He’s like a fucking monk, but even he’s cracking.
Gallus and Varian turn to look at me. I feel through our Bond that they can see my frustration, and that it matches their own.
Gallus shakes his head. "No.” His eyes darken. “For some reason, they suddenly seem to have lost their appeal...” He sighs deeply. “It’s been ever since that trouble-maker came into our house."
"She's no trouble-maker,” I growl. “She's just grateful that we saved her."
Varian breathes in slowly, considering my words. "Perhaps… Or perhaps she was sent by the same men we’re meeting tonight – or any of the other men who’d wish to learn our secrets. We run a trillion-dollar business on this planet – we drive a significant percentage of the economy. In doing so, we’ve made countless enemies.” He snorts. “Corporate espionage is a devious game, and one the humans have long dabbled in. This would hardly be beyond them.” He meets my gaze, and his suspicious eyes narrow. “Do you believe her story?"
For a moment, I say nothing.
I don’t know why, but I’m hesitant to answer one way or another. I’m a fair man – and I consider that everybody I meet is my friend, until they foolishly prove otherwise…
…but something about Mia is off, and I’m not just talking about the disturbing influence she’s clearly having on the three of us.
Eventually, I growl: "I guess we’ll find out tonight. I’ve arranged for a situation in which we’ll be able to see what she truly wants from us."
I make it sound more devious than it is – but, then again, I’m a wheeler and a dealer, and half of any bargain is the showmanship.
In truth, the situation was beyond simple to orchestrate. I merely wanted a beautiful woman, dressed deliciously skimpily, to be serving us later tonight – and I wanted it to be her.
"What did you arrange?" Gallus demands.
"The meeting tonight… I arranged that she would be the main server at our dinner. If she’s a spy, she’ll be more interested in what our guests are saying than in serving the food, especially as our negotiations progress."
Varian snorts. "And what will she be wearing?"
My lips curl, despite my frustration. Varian sees right through me, as he always does.
I’d arranged something devious, as I always do.
"A pleasure dress, of course."
Varian and Gallus exchange knowing glances.
"A pleasure dress? When your plan is to see if Mia is a spy?" Gallus asks the question in the tone of a leader, but there's a gleam in his eye as he conjures the mental image.
I nod. "But, of course! If Mia is able to concentrate on their words of our guests, even despite what that dress will be doing to her, then she must have ulterior motives."
I see Varian and Gallus try to hide the slightest of smiles. For Aurelians – raised from childhood to conceal outward displays of emotion – this is akin to a wicked grin as either of them are likely to get.
But I feel their devious glee through our shared Bond. As always, they admire my mischievous nature – especially when it aligns so seamlessly with our goals; both in business and pleasure.
Speaking of pleasure – Mia’s outfit.
A pleasure dress is a device almost as devious as I am. It’s perhaps one of the greatest, or most wicked of Aurelians inventions. Our warrior race has built incredible things – an Empire that spans the universe, with towering capital cities of marble and granite. We’ve harnessed the technology of the otherworldly Orbs to craft faster-than-light drives, lethal weapons and tools,
