and an aquiline nose.
I stared at her face for a moment, intrigued by her gypsy looks, her tight red dress so amply filled, her perfume that reached out like tendrils to touch desire, then shook my head and turned to go.
She grabbed my arm and pulled me back to face her. Her tongue caressed her upper lip. “Rejection only makes me more persistent, tag,” she said.
She wasn't beautiful, but she was exotic, the way gypsy woman are said to be, with a promise of wild abandonment and a disdain for rules. She flung back her thick, raven hair dramatically. A few wisps stuck to her moist lips. Her cheeks looked flash-burned with all the blush she wore. Oh, she was good at “gypsy.” A love child with lots of experience. I guessed her to be in her early thirties.
“Sorry, Carmen.” I pulled my arm away. “Persistence only makes me want to reject.”
As I walked toward the hotel, she caught up and strode beside me. “Don't you think we make a handsome couple?” She took my arm again.
“You're wasting your time, lady. There are plenty of Terran tags wandering around with full credcounts.” I walked faster, but she kept up with her high heels clicking on the sidewalk. She would've been tall without them. Now we were at eye level.
I stopped and faced her. “I'm going to my hotel room. And I'm going alone.”
She took my chin in her hand and shook it. “Ah, cutie's in a grumpy mood.”
“What do you want?”
“Just to talk.” She shrugged. “Did I say anything about sex or getting paid?”
“You didn't have to. You're a walking advertisement.”
I started toward the hotel again. She caught up as I entered the lobby.
Huff was eating a meal of something raw and full of eyeballs and bones. His jaw fell open and a piece of food slid out when he saw us. I swear his pupils dilated at the sight of all that red and I wondered if he were picturing Carmen swimming for her life in Fartherland's ocean.
I chuckled and nodded at Huff. He showed teeth in a forced smile.
A Terran tag reading a real paper newspaper looked above it and watched Carmen sway her hips in the tight dress. He winked at me as we headed to the elevator.
Screw off,
I thought.
I took the steps instead, just to make it difficult for her in her heels. She was a trooper, though, and she reached the hallway before me.
“Which room?” she asked
“That one, lady!” I pointed to the elevator. “Just push the button to open the door, and go in.”
She stared at me from lowered lids. “You're a closet human, tag.”
I wondered for a moment if she were an android, possibly sent by Rowdinth. I studied her face. No, they had a pasty look, on purpose. A warning that they were not the real thing.
“I'm lonely, too.” She tilted her head to one side. “Suppose we just talk and comfort each other.”
She read my skeptical expression and chuckled. I was never good at hiding my feelings. Willa used to say that whatever I'm thinking is right there on my face.
“The mining tags,” she explained, “like to spend their days with the boys and their nights with the ladies. And “talk” is not done at night.”
“What's your name?” I asked her.
“Call me Carmen. You seem to think it fits.”
“Just talk? And…” I shrugged. “A cup of berrybru?”
She smiled demurely.
I opened the door and let her go in first.
She watched me from the sofa as I took off my jacket. I unstrapped my holster and slung it over a chair. “That's all I'm taking off, Carmen.”
“Are you always armed?” she asked with a touch of sarcasm.
“Only when I'm awake.” I poured two cups of berrybru, handed her one and slumped down beside her on the sofa.
“Thanks,” she said. “So what do they call you?”
“Jules.” I sipped the sweet bru, laid my head back and closed my eyes. Last night, spent shivering in my sleep in the barn, had left me tired.
“So what are you doing on Fartherland?” she asked.
That was a good question. I opened my eyes. “I'm out
I stared at her face for a moment, intrigued by her gypsy looks, her tight red dress so amply filled, her perfume that reached out like tendrils to touch desire, then shook my head and turned to go.
She grabbed my arm and pulled me back to face her. Her tongue caressed her upper lip. “Rejection only makes me more persistent, tag,” she said.
She wasn't beautiful, but she was exotic, the way gypsy woman are said to be, with a promise of wild abandonment and a disdain for rules. She flung back her thick, raven hair dramatically. A few wisps stuck to her moist lips. Her cheeks looked flash-burned with all the blush she wore. Oh, she was good at “gypsy.” A love child with lots of experience. I guessed her to be in her early thirties.
“Sorry, Carmen.” I pulled my arm away. “Persistence only makes me want to reject.”
As I walked toward the hotel, she caught up and strode beside me. “Don't you think we make a handsome couple?” She took my arm again.
“You're wasting your time, lady. There are plenty of Terran tags wandering around with full credcounts.” I walked faster, but she kept up with her high heels clicking on the sidewalk. She would've been tall without them. Now we were at eye level.
I stopped and faced her. “I'm going to my hotel room. And I'm going alone.”
She took my chin in her hand and shook it. “Ah, cutie's in a grumpy mood.”
“What do you want?”
“Just to talk.” She shrugged. “Did I say anything about sex or getting paid?”
“You didn't have to. You're a walking advertisement.”
I started toward the hotel again. She caught up as I entered the lobby.
Huff was eating a meal of something raw and full of eyeballs and bones. His jaw fell open and a piece of food slid out when he saw us. I swear his pupils dilated at the sight of all that red and I wondered if he were picturing Carmen swimming for her life in Fartherland's ocean.
I chuckled and nodded at Huff. He showed teeth in a forced smile.
A Terran tag reading a real paper newspaper looked above it and watched Carmen sway her hips in the tight dress. He winked at me as we headed to the elevator.
Screw off,
I thought.
I took the steps instead, just to make it difficult for her in her heels. She was a trooper, though, and she reached the hallway before me.
“Which room?” she asked
“That one, lady!” I pointed to the elevator. “Just push the button to open the door, and go in.”
She stared at me from lowered lids. “You're a closet human, tag.”
I wondered for a moment if she were an android, possibly sent by Rowdinth. I studied her face. No, they had a pasty look, on purpose. A warning that they were not the real thing.
“I'm lonely, too.” She tilted her head to one side. “Suppose we just talk and comfort each other.”
She read my skeptical expression and chuckled. I was never good at hiding my feelings. Willa used to say that whatever I'm thinking is right there on my face.
“The mining tags,” she explained, “like to spend their days with the boys and their nights with the ladies. And “talk” is not done at night.”
“What's your name?” I asked her.
“Call me Carmen. You seem to think it fits.”
“Just talk? And…” I shrugged. “A cup of berrybru?”
She smiled demurely.
I opened the door and let her go in first.
She watched me from the sofa as I took off my jacket. I unstrapped my holster and slung it over a chair. “That's all I'm taking off, Carmen.”
“Are you always armed?” she asked with a touch of sarcasm.
“Only when I'm awake.” I poured two cups of berrybru, handed her one and slumped down beside her on the sofa.
“Thanks,” she said. “So what do they call you?”
“Jules.” I sipped the sweet bru, laid my head back and closed my eyes. Last night, spent shivering in my sleep in the barn, had left me tired.
“So what are you doing on Fartherland?” she asked.
That was a good question. I opened my eyes. “I'm out
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