Page 8 of No Strings Attached

Vi took cautious steps toward him in her cage until she felt the bars of their shared cage wall. There wasn’t even the barest hint of light in the room.

Mister Beastly’s furry hands immediately found hers, then grabbed them lightly around the wrists.He must be able to see somewhat in the dark to find my hands that fast, she thought. He very gently pulled her body towards the bars until she was pressed against the cage. Then he grabbed her shoulders and stepped forward, pressing into his side of the bars.

“Oh god,” she moaned in pleasure. He was warm. Not just warm but radiating heat like a furnace. She unselfconsciously snaked her arms around his waist—he was so tall, that it was a natural place for her outstretched arms to rest—and held on for dear life. She could feel even the metal cage bars warming up from his heat. As the warmth crept into her, she let out another moan, the kind usually saved for massage therapists and sex partners. She couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed. It was like being hugged by an electric shag rug.

Mister Beastly remained still as he said again, softly, “Aye,” then began to do something between a hum and a growl that sounded very much like the chorus of “Octopus’s Garden.”

Vi smiled, “You want me to keep singing, huh?” She pulled her arms away and turned her body around to warm up the backside. Mister Beastly replaced his hands on her shoulders to ensure their contact. It seemed like a fine trade; she’d happily sing until her voice gave out in exchange for his incredible body heat.

As she was pondering whether to continue withAbbey Roador pick something else to sing, a beautiful, clear voice began to sing “Come Together.” Exactly as she had sung it. And in English.

It was the gentle giant next to Mister Beastly. Vi listened in awe as he made it all the way through the song, then started“Something.” By the time he got to “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer,” Vi joined in for the choruses. The room was otherwise utterly silent.

She felt a seemingly self-evident, but somehow still startling thought arise. At least, it was the first time she had really considered it since she entered the cage.We’re all in the same boat. We might, just might, be able to get out of it together.

Seven: You’re a Very Earnest Otterman

Bahbi watched the nightvision monitors in horrified astonishment as the huge Garoxian engulfed the little female and they continued to stand pressed together while the female occasionally rotated her form to press her front, then back, against the beast. He had been delighted to hear the lovely sound of her singing and quickly found the control room’s volume knob to hear her better. He had been amazed when Kompi had flawlessly repeated the female’s songs, but that amazement was tempered by the pit of fear in his belly from seeing the female and Garoxian in an embrace.

Now he was trying to decide what he would do if it looked like he needed to intervene. The Garoxian could kill that female 10 times over before Bahbi could even make it into the room. Before she herself could even step away from the bars.

And just what type of embrace was it? He didn’t think Qlu would be much happier if the Garoxian fucked the little female than he would be if the brute killed her.

And Bahbi had to figure out how to get her clean, which had been a bad enough job by itself; now, it included getting her separated from the furry monster, then cleaned. His stomach was a roiling vat of acid. He needed to get a translator into her, so he could simply reason with her. She was a rational being, right?

Thinking back to Trak’s description of the havoc she had wreaked in the cargo bay, Bahbi thought,Riiight, rational…and I’m rationally fucked.

He made up his mind right there, grabbing the translator and his shock stick, then heading for the door.Might as well meet my goddamned doom intentionally, instead of just continuing to let shit happen to me.

The female was singing solo now, as Bahbi walked through the door and the light came on, something having to do with some mean old man. It seemed like a weird thing to sing about. She stopped abruptly, surprised by the lights.

Bahbi walked toward her cage, stopping just short of where he judged she would be able to reach him. She remained where she was, though, with her back pressed up against the Garoxian, his furry mitts on her shoulders, both of them regarding him curiously. Bahbi could see that her skin now held more of a pinkish cast, less bluish. Was that blue tinge from the cold? Had the Garoxian been keeping her warm as a thanks for her food ration?

Bahbi screwed his courage up and held out the translator, keeping eye contact with the female. He made sure she could see the device, then slowly moved it like he was going to place it inhis own right ear. Then he pointed at her with the index finger of his left hand.

She had held his gaze throughout, and now she asked, “You want me to stick that in my ear, huh?”

Bahbi smiled and breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Do this with your head for ‘yes’,” she nodded, “and this with your head for ‘no’,” she shook her head. “Do you want me to put that in my ear? Is it a translator?”

Smart female.Bahbi nodded. She’d asked two questions, but the answer was the same for both.

The female considered for a moment, then asked, “What will you give me if I do? Will you give me clothes?”

Bahbi shook his head. He didn’t see any way he could find her clothes, other than giving her his own. And that would be pretty damned hard to explain; his coverall was marked with his assigned number, so it would be clear whose coverall she was wearing, and he would be hard pressed to explain his own nakedness.

“A blanket?”

Bahbi tilted his head. Were there any blankets available that he might give her?

“You can’t give me clothes, but you’re not sure if you can give me a blanket. Is that correct?”

A nod and a smile.

She looked at him, scowling, and asked, “Are your people the ones holding all of us captive?”

A shake.

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