Chapter Twenty-Nine

**

Flags flap and snap in the stiff breeze, and I bury my nose into the fur collar of my jacket. It’s damn cold here on Mars for humans, I think. No wonder our best training facilities for the Space Force Terraformers has been way North on Earth. It’s colder than… a shiver interrupts the thought, and then the sound of trumpets blaring announces the arrival of the aircar.

It sinks smoothly to the ground, and a scent of peppermint comes from the crushed groundflowers on the landing pad as the craft settles. A hatch dials open, and a wave of movement goes through the crowd. Serfs, human and nonhuman, sink to their knees, as I do, and hands cover their eyes. I hate this, I think ever so silently to myself. This is ludicrous. But necessary, at least from the Draka point of view. It’s a very visible and physical sign of submission and obedience, and serves that purpose well, I ruminate mentally. The cold quickly reaches for my knees on the soft three-petaled flower carpet, even though I have on a pair of tailored slacks made out of wool. The trumpets blare again, and everyone on their knees looks up.

The groom descends from the aircar, carried on the shoulders of his two best friends. He’s stunningly handsome, like all Draka, and even though I’m not one to drool over male physiques, his looks take my breath away. Dressed in shimmering silver, skin-tight, with a long sky-blue cape fluttering behind him as the trio approaches, his laughter leading the way, the groom is the very picture of a happy young man. Even a happy young drakensis on his wedding day deserves as much, I think; they have feelings and emotions, and this is an incredibly important day for this young Merarch.

"Honor Guard, atten-shun! Present salute!" barks out the commander of the ten-ghouloon squad, and they stamp to a four-footed attention, and raise their muzzles to the sky in a short howl of welcome. Ghouloons are really used more as decoration now, a status symbol and a rememberance of things past, I think, watching them out of the corner of my eyes. Kawtuh are much more agile, intelligent, and deadly than ghouloons, but from humble beginnings…

The boy steps down gracefully from his perch on his friends’ shoulders, and makes a snappy salute to the commander of the Honor Guard, who returns it. "Welcome to Rohmplace, Merarch Winter, and your party, as well."

"Thank you." A fractional bow, and a bright grin.

Legate Tamarindus Rohm and her husband step forward next, and a serf follows them. The young servus is carrying a tray with a decanter of wine, and five goblets, and he comes smoothly to his knees in between the two Draka whose home, Landholding, rather, this is. "Welcome to our Landholding, brothers of the Race. Stay a day, stay a week, stay a decade…our home is yours." Tamarindus pours the wine slowly, ritually, into the silver goblets, and offers them to the newcomers.

Her husband, his arm linked with one of hers, smiles. "We are honored to have you and your friends as our guests. What is ours is yours, for as long as you stay. Service to the State, brothers mine."

"Glory to the Race!" the three young Draka bark out, taking the wine and sipping it with relish.

The surrounding group of Draka, about twenty of them, including Muhmis and Alois, respond likewise, with a roar. "Glory to the Race!"

"Come, enter our house and be at ease." Tamarindus takes the groom’s hand and her husband takes the hand of one of the groom’s friends; the fivesome turns and walks down the rose-petal-covered pathway to the archway entrance of the Rohm’s House. The other Draka break up into smaller groups, laughing and chatting softly amongst themselves.

As soon as the party of five has entered the house, we serfs rise. I brush peppermint-scented petals from my knees, and pop my knuckles nervously. I’ve never been very comfortable being around this many Draka; it’s like being a canary in a cat convention or something. The shivering’s not just from the cold; some of the nearby Draka aren’t shielding their pheromones very closely. I edge away, slowly, hoping not to be noticed.

"Tantie-ma! Hey, where’re you going? It’s almost time for the bride to arrive…then we’ll start the first feast, the Agreement Feast! It’ll be fun, really! Mama said they give out presents to everyone, too. I wonder what mine’ll be? What…well, do serfs get presents too, I wonder? I’ll have to ask Mama. Where’d she…" Alois is talking a mile a minute, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. This is probably the largest crowd of Draka he’s been around, too, come to think of it.

"Um, Uhmas Alois, I think your mother’s over there…by the tree with all the red on it." I point to where Gwen’s standing, talking intently with a Draka couple, two males, next to a large tree that looks like an oak on fire. Important to remember to address him according to protocol, around this many Draka, I muse. If one thought I was being disrespectful, the immediate consequences could be painful, to say the least. Embarassing for Muhmis, too, politically and personally. Guess that means I can’t call Alois ‘Bug Breath’ or ‘Buddy-ro’ right now…

"Oh, okay. Mama…"

"Yes, light of my heart?" Gwen reaches down and tousles his thick fair hair gently. "You’re certainly excited, my sweet."

"Yeah…uh, I mean, yes, Mother…" He looks up into her face earnestly. "Do serfs get presents at the Agreement Feast? You said everyone does, but I didn’t know if that meant serfs, too. Does Tantie-ma get a present?"

The two Draka men, holding hands, I notice, chuckle together. "He’s a fine young Draka, Planetary Archon Ingolfsson. Concerned for his tantie-ma, that’s always a good sign." The one who speaks looks me over with a critical eye, smiling. "And this, I take it, is his brooder?"

"Yes, Ulric, this is Erin d’Ingolfsson, my human Prime Councilor as well as my son’s brooder." Gwen smiles at me, with a hint of pride. "And yes, my love, serfs get presents during the Agreement Feast, too. It’s nice of you to be concerned, though."

"Oh, I just didn’t want her to be sad if I told her she was going to get a present and then she didn’t, Mama. But then I’d give her one, anyway, since I said she’d get one. When’s the bride arriving? I’m starving!" Alois looks up into the light blue sky, searching for the next aircar.

Ulric speaks up. "I believe she’s due to arrive any moment now, young sir, so hopefully you’ll be able to stave off starving to death that long."

His lover laughs. "Race Spirit, Ulric, he’s just like you--always hungry!"

The adults break into a wolf-like laughter, and Gwen’s eyes catch mine. I blush, realizing the double meaning, and look down into Alois’ flushed face. He’s still looking up into the azure sky, and obviously hasn’t caught the wordplay. Just as well…he’d ask a million questions, probably, if he had. That boy, I think fondly, is like Peter…always with a question. Make a good scientist.

Thinking of Peter momentarily makes my heart ache, and I look away, over the carefully manicured yards, through the flame-colored trees. Water tinkles merrily in a fountain not far from us, and the sound reminds me of the day I let Peter go, so many years ago, in the waters off Andros Island. Oh, god above, Peter, how I miss you. It never completely goes away; I never thought I’d lose you. You were my best friend in the world, and you died to save a Draka…I swallow, and try to think of something else.

"Darlin’ mine, what’s wrong?" Gwen’s arm, warm even through her dress blacks and my furry coat, slips around my shoulders. "Hmmm?"

"Oh, nothing…just a momentary attack of the blues. I’m fine now, Muhmis. Sorry. Didn’t mean to drift there for a moment." I straighten under her arm, and try to smile at her. "I’m okay now. Just an old memory."

"Peter?" Her voice is soft, soothing.

"Yes, Muhmis." I look back at the fountain, watching the water rise impossibly high into the blue sky as it jets from the nymph’s flutes…it splashes back down, and even the splashes look different here on Mars than they do on Earth. It’s little things like that that really seem odd, that jolt you from a comfortable perspective, I think, and lean against my Muhmis for a second. "I’ll be fine, really."

"It’s too cold out here for you, anyway. Why don’t you take Alois inside, find him a snack, and then meet us all in the Main Hall in about twenty minutes? The aircar with the rest of the wedding party is due to arrive in 18.36 minutes from just about now." Gwen leans down and kisses me, her tongue making a line of fire inside my mouth for a long, delicious moment. I shiver, this time with delight, and nod, our lips still touching.

"Your wish, Muhmis. And thanks, I really am cold, even with all this fancy winter clothing…"

She chuckles. "We’ll have to get you some walking blacks, actually. Non-offensive, certainly, but we could scale up a child’s pair for you, I’m sure. These Earth-based fabrics don’t keep out the cold well at all. I’ll order some for you right now."

"Wow! Thanks, Muhmis." I grin at her, and then take Alois’ hand. "Come on, Eternally Hungry Young Man, and let’s go find some vittles."

"All right!" He tugs me along, and we pass through the salmon-colored, carved archway and into the House. "Come on, Tantie-ma!"

**

The wedding party stands before the archway of wrought gold, framed in the reddish sunlight of a Mars sunset. Bride and groom stand before an alter of marble, with two silver wine goblets before them; Tamarindus Rohm and her husband standing behind the alter, ready to pour out the ceremonial libations. The guests surrounding the foursome are hushed, expectant. Draka usually don’t gather in such groups, I think; they’re pretty solitary kinds of critters, for good reason. But no duels today, and challenges offered will be deferred, out of custom. Not good taste to have dead wedding guests, you know. I smother my impish grin and school my features to the relaxed, but attentive look of a well-trained serf.

Inside my head, the tiny voice that’s always there comments: You’ve gotten so good at being a serf, dahling. Very professional of you. Yeah, right, I answer silently. Out of love for my life, and for the lives of my children, I’ve learned well. Survival instinct. Protective coloration. Camoflauge. Is it the makeup of a whore? asks the snide internal commentator. I snarl inwardly, and a couple of Draka shift uneasily, looking back amongst the lines of serfs, wondering where the dissonance is coming from. I blank my face again, but inwardly I lambast the tiny voice: No, goddammit, it’s not the makeup of a whore. I do this to survive, and to help others survive. It’s not because I’m lazy or I enjoy it or it turns me on. I do it so I can somehow influence how humans are treated…and I’m tired of your slandering little

Great, now I’m having legal discourse within my cranium. Maybe I need a vacation. The wedding party is still going on, and I’ve missed some of the vow-taking. I pick back up on it:

"To you, I pledge my undying loyalty and the loyalty of my family’s name. You are part of me as I am part of you, GGG." The groom takes the wine-filled goblet in both hands and raises it to his bride’s lips. She sips, slowly, holding his eyes with hers.

After he replaces the goblet on the table, and turns back to her, she takes the other one from Tamarindus, and says, "JJJ, You are part of me as I am of you. Loyal and true may we stay to each other until the end of time." She offers him the goblet, and he sips from it. The sun glints off the silver, and from the medals on his formal dress uniform.

She’s dressed as the other Draka women are, in a flowing off-the-shoulder Grecian style gown that reaches to the floor. Hers is a deep blue, which sets off her eyes and hair well, I think. His uniform is utilitarian black, but shiny with leather and bright with service ribbons and rank. A chain hangs about his shoulders, weighted against his broad chest by a wide silver medallion with the Archonal mailed fist upon it. One of Alexis Renston’s aides.

"Witness this union, this furthering of the Race, this joy of love between two Draka," intone Tamarindus and her husband, and the surrounding Draka murmur and nod. Tamarindus passes one goblet one way and her husband passes the matching one to the other side of the group, and each Draka takes a sip and passes it on. The cups reach the apex of the circle, and liveried servus whisk them away silently.

Tamarindus raises her hands above her head; her bright red hair is limned in the setting sun’s dusky rays as the Martian night quickly falls. Glowglobes begin to flicker into existance around us, and I shift slightly on my knees. The Overlords were nice enough to provide pads, since we’d be kneeling for a good while, but chairs would have been nicer, I think. "People, children of the Race, hear me!"

A silence falls over the crowd; I can hear myself breathing. I can hear the soft sussurations of the evening breeze coming up; a child whimpers from where the nursemaids sit, and is hushed quickly. Draka can be the most silent people I’ve ever heard, my mind wonders. Amazing. I watch and wait, looking up into the gathering for Muhmis’ face. Her eyes are on the couple and on the Rohms, who are the official hosts and wedding-directors.

"Hear me. This couple has joined in a union of love, honor, duty and respect. Let no one pull them asunder. Let he or she who attempts to do so be dishonored and shamed. Our glory as a Race and their personal glory will move hand in hand into the future. Let them be blessed with children to be proud of and a love to last the millenia. Hear me. I speak for the Race, of the Race and to the Race. Service to the State!"

"Glory to the Race!" barks back from thirty or so Draka throats, and my heart does a rapid little two step at the intensity. Then laughter and songs begin, and the group begins to break apart, drifting into smaller, more intimate partnerships as the Draka begin to dance. I watch as Gwen is swept along the patio floor by a smiling man in grey; she’s laughing and he whispers something to her again as I look at them.

The serfs, myself included, are given the signal to rise. I do, slowly, and bend my knees a few times experimentally. They still appear to function, I note sardonically, but I hope I don’t have to do too much on my knees later tonight. Perhaps I may not have to do anything at all, I wonder, watching the dancing Overlords. Gwen seems pretty happy with Mr. Congenial, there. Maybe she won’t want to share me with him tonight. That would be nice. Two Draka in bed with a human tends to leave most humans in a daze for quite a long time, and I want to enjoy the vacation consciously.

The Draka children are in a separate patio, with games, and cute genengineered pets, and serfs. Their laughter draws me, and I watch them playing for some time, leaning against the wooden balustrade leading up to the Main House. A servant passes by with champagne, an Earth vintage, no less, and offers me a glass. I accept, and return his smile with one of my own. He winks and passes on down the stairs, serving the chilled glasses left and right. Other servants go through the crowd with hor d’oeurves, and the like. I wave off a few of those trays, sipping the bubbly slowly.

Fireworks light up the darkening sky with glorious rains of gold and silver, red and blue, orange-yellow and green. Flowers, rockets, cascades of color all surround us, and I laugh out loud when I hear the children, Draka and human alike cooing: ooooh, ahhhhso alike, I think, and so different. I walk further up the steps and sit on a marble bench, leaning back against a wall decorated with a martial frieze. Draka art tends rather toward the martial, I think to myself, and after a few glances at it, decide I’m not in the mood to enjoy the intricately carved details of dismembered Samothracian cyberwarriors falling around the feet of battle-suited Draka. Maybe some other time.

Time…what was I supposed to remember about time? Time and Alice? Oh, yeah, the letter she gave me, and told me not to read until we got to Mars and I had time to sit down for a bit. Well, no time like the present, with Muhmis’ needs being attended to, and Alois leading the pack in a raucous game of tag. I cross my ankles, and, pulling out the slim folded envelope, scented with Alice’s favorite perfume, I open it and begin to read.

Dearest Erin, it says, I hope you’re sitting down and you have some reasonable amount of privacy. (Yeah, right, Alice, like we’ve had a lot of privacy since the Draka Arrived, but nevermind…) This isn’t an easy letter to write, and I’ve never been much of a one for writing, anyway. Here it is, love. I want a divorce. (What!? I reread the sentence. Maybe she’s joking?) No joke, silly shelia. I want a divorce, and this is my reason: we’re not the same couple that met and fell in love somehow on Andros Island. You and I have both changed and moved in different directions. I want us to remain friends, darling, and I know we can’t do that and stay married. Not anymore. Please, please try to understand.

I crumple the paper in my nerveless hand, and watch as multitudes of silver and purple flowers float from the sky, with flutterbys chasing amongst them. The fireworks seem so dull, now, and my heart’s on fire. No, it’s freezing, and I can’t stop it. There’s more to the letter, though, so may as well get it over with, I think, and open the paper again, smoothing it on my trouser leg.

…try to understand. You are different. You’ve changed. You’re more like a Draka now than I am, and I know why--the unaging part of you. I don’t mean the above as a slam or as a complement, either. Erin, I loved you and I will always love you, but I can’t be "in love" with you. Things are too different. We don’t see eye to eye on many, many things. You’re away so much, and so wrapped up in what Muhmis needs. I know we all serve her, in fact we live to serve, but you’re closer to her than any of us.

(Alice, Alice, that doesn’t mean…I haven’t changed so much… or have I? Oh, sweet Jesus.)

You and I, Erin, are two very different people. I need someone who’s around more, who’s more accessible, who’s more like me. Please don’t hate me for this. There’s no one else that I’m in love with at the present, so it’s not that I’m leaving you for someone else. I just need to be on my own, and maybe I’ll be lucky enough to find someone more like me. You’ve known things were going strange between us for quite some time, and I just haven’t had the guts to tell you why.

(But… but…)

I wanted you to read this when you were going to be away for a few weeks. I know I’m as near as your transducer, but PLEASE don’t call me. Think about it, and think about how maybe I’m right about this, darling. Talk about it with Muhmis…I mean, if she orders us to stay together, I will, but otherwise… I need the space. You need the space. I want to remain friends with you, and if we’re going to try for that, we need the divorce. I know it’s a shock, but please…try to understand. You know how much I care for you, and always will, no matter what--Alice.

I carefully fold the letter up and replace it in the envelope, then put it back in my pants’ pocket. Several deep breaths later, and the remnants of the champagne, and the tears are successfully staved off, at least for now. I must maintain a calm front, I tell myself. Wouldn’t do to have the Prime Councilor of Earth/2’s Planetary Archon go screaming off into the dark of a Martian night, now would it? No, that wouldn’t do at all. Must maintain…

How can she…I mean, I’m there as much as I can be, and I helped raise the kids…and she’s got that one life-extension that Gwen promised her, although she hasn’t done it yet. I haven’t changed that much, have I? I know…well, maybe I am changing. I see things in a longer-term perspective. I don’t get as bothered by the little stuff. Maybe that’s why she’s not happy being with me. We’ve both always known that we serve Gwen…that can’t be it. Is she in love with Jennifer? They have more in common, I guess, but Jennifer’s taken her life expansion already. Once the grey hairs started, that decided her. But… I never thought… oh, jeezie petes, I hurt so bad. It’s so cold, and so deep.

Oh, now, be honest with yourself. One of the things you were dreading was Alice’s aging, even after the second lifespan had been activated. You dreaded the thought of watching her grow old while you stayed the same, didn’t you? Now it’s not as big a deal…if you accept what she says she wants. You have felt different, all your life. Now you’re the only unaging human in any of several universes, and you have to deal with it somehow. Better to cut your ties clean…

No, no…Alice, gods above, I trusted her…I trust her? Oh, man. That little ole "ed" on the word just said it all. Honesty sucks. Oh… my chest is turning into an arctic ice floe, and I’m marooned in the middle of it. It’s so hard for me to trust, and once I do, I think it’s forever. Is it? Or has that changed, too? What am I going to do? How can I fix this? I didn’t mean to break it, I didn’t even know consciously until just now that it was broken at all.

"Erin?"

"Gahhh!" I leap several inches off the marble bench, and the Overlord standing next to Gwen chuckles and raises an elegant eyebrow.

"Jumpy, isn’t she? Been riding this pretty pony too hard lately, Gwendolyn?"

Gwen laughs in return, but then looks back sharply at me. Her laugh dies in mid-air, and she smoothly squats down so that we’re face to face. "Erin, mia dolce! What’s wrong?"

"Muhmis, ah… Uhmas… it’s… I… um…" I shift nervously on the cool stone beneath me, aware of the two penetrating sets of drakensis eyes resting upon me.

"Rolf, could you give me a moment with her, please? She’s quite upset about something, and I need to know what. Do you mind?"

The Draka man, clad in the grey of the Diplomatic Directorate, bows toward Gwen. "No, of course I don’t mind, dear. I’ll go check on my two rowdy twins over there in the children’s section, and when you’re ready, give me a call. No hurry."

I bend over at the waist, covering eyes with hands as custom dictates, and he waves a manicured hand in my general direction. "That’s fine, wench. Let me know, Gwen…"

"I will, Rolf. Give me a few moments with her, and then we’ll head on to my quarters…" Gwen smiles at him, and I feel instantly the heat, the shimmering physical need between them, and I shiver. Her right hand cups my chin, and tips my head back up so she can look in my eyes; leaf green drakensis eyes meet hazel green human ones. "Darlin’, what’s wrong? Tell Muhmis."

"It’s…" I’m stopped by a hiccup, and a tear trickles down my face. Unable to speak, I simply hand her the letter. She moves to sit next to me, a hand resting across my shoulders as she hugs me close. She reads Alice’s plea in just a few seconds, and then rereads it more slowly.

"Erin, my sweetlin’…" Gwen murmurs, and strokes through my hair with her hand, holding me against the force of the silent sobbing that’s racking me. "Oh, my sweet saafn…"

**

"I am extremely annoyed with you, Alice," I say.

She turns pale. I throttle back my pheromones. "Not for what you said, but for how you said it. Sending a letter was cowardly. I thought better of you."

"I… um, muhmis, I thought it would be easier that way…"

"Easier for you," I say coldly.

Alice shrinks a little, then straightens her shoulders, although she keeps her eyes politely down. "I am sorry I’ve displeased you, muhmis," she says.

"I’m not going to sell you," I say. "Or send you away. Or even," I go on, "stop taking you to bed, Alice. But you’re not in favor and you won’t be for a while."

**

I wake to the thin sunlight that Mars has--the light seems washed out, somehow, lighter than what I’m set to expect from my years on Earth. The covers are tucked securely around me, and I wonder for a moment exactly where I am. Then memory comes tumbling back in, and I remember Gwen talking me into taking a sleeping pill, then holding me until I fell asleep moments later. The pallet I’m on is thick and luxurious, and I enjoy the warmth from the thermal blankets and the silk sheets for a few minutes.

Surprised she didn’t take me with her lover last night, part of my mind wonders. Would’ve been more like her, to try to distract me from the pain. Being with one Draka is distracting; being with two is overwhelming. He looked like a nice enough sort, though. There seems to be two types of Draka--the ones that can handle humans, and ones that prefer not to. Interesting. I’ll have to think about this some more; it could be important.

The hiss of the hatch opening turns my head toward the doorway--even here, Draka are defense-aware, and build each room to be airtight and secure as if it was in space--distracts me from that line of thought, and I blink up into the startled face of two nude serving wenches. "Ah, Sera, is it all right if we…"

The one who’s speaking, a tall, buxom light-blue beauty with iridescent yellow hair, smiles down at me, somewhat condescendingly. Aha, she thinks Gwen kicked me out here last night--an insult for a personal saafn. Hah. I smile back, and get up, wrapping one of the cream-colored silk sheets around me. Looking down for the barest instant, I am surprised, as I always seem to be, by how good I look. I mean, I’m over fifty, and I look, maybe, eighteen. Like hell I was kicked out.

"No, I think I’ll take the breakfast in to Muhmis the Archon and her companion the uhmas. Thanks, though, sweetie." I put my hand on the handle of the tray, smiling, and watch her eyes. They almost immediately drop to the floor, and a blush creeps up her neck, even more interesting under the odd light blue skin color. Of course, the Draka can breed or genengineer any color they desire, and I figure this one’s a special pretty of Tamarindus’. Oh, well, Gwen can sample her some other time, and I’m sure she will before we leave.

"As you wish, Honored Sera." She makes a slight hand gesture to the other woman, and they leave silently. I catch one backward glance from Ole Blue, and read a tiny bit of resentment in it. I wink at her as the door dials shut.

Guiding the cart, laden with breakfast--orange juice, English muffins, eggs Benedict, ham, some caviar, bread in a warming cover, coffee and all its fixin’s--I tap on the hatch of Gwen’s bedroom. "Breakfast, Muhmis."

The hatch shushes open immediately, and Gwen sits up in the oversized bed. Clothes have been strewn everywhere, some in various states of destruction, and the bedsheets are tousled severely. They must have had a grand time, I think, and then their pheromones hit me. Even though I knew they’d be there, from the night before, and from this morning (knowing Gwen’s habits), it’s still like being hit by a mack truck. I shiver, and feel my body responding.

"Come in, saafn mine. Breakfast in bed, Rolf? Hmm?" She leans down again and French-kisses him. Her thick red hair is unbound; it falls over them like a curtain of mahogany as he rolls her in his arms and nuzzles against her neck, purring loudly.

"Breakfast? Is that what you’re calling it now, Gwen?" Rolf laughs softly. His naked body is one of the most handsome I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty of undressed Draka males. This guy’s amazing. Muscles that ripple as he moves, but not overdone; a deep, rich tan that brings out the startling light blue of his eyes. Long blond hair; last night it was held in a clip of ruby and gold, but today it’s loose, like Gwen’s. Their hair mingles on the pillows, and I watch, fascinated.

"Ahhhh…" Gwen arches her back as he runs fingers delicately down her sides. "Yes, breakfast." She flips over suddenly, and they tussle in a flurry of movement. She ends up on top again, and laughs delightedly. I’ve never heard her laugh like that around another adult Draka, not even Tamarindus. "Love, I thought you might need a breather…"

"You’ll need a breather when I’m…" Their wolf-like laughter sends shivers up and down my spine, and I shift nervously from foot to foot. Maybe I should have just sent in the serving wenches, and gotten some extra rest…

"Here, now, the food’s getting cold, and the wench is getting nervous, darlin’…" Gwen bounds from the bed and pounces on the floor next to me, smiling broadly down at me. "Can’t have a nervous wench around, can we?" She picks me up, cradling me easily in her arms, and kisses me, long and hard. The she tosses me onto the bed. Rolf catches me expertly, and lays me down.

"Never had a human before, Gwen. But this one looks delightful. Her scent’s nice, too." He strokes my breasts, softly, precisely, and I wiggle under him, feeling the weight of his body resting partly on me. Oh, my lord

"Yes, I know. One of the many reasons she’s my favorite." Still smiling, Gwen brings the tray over to the bed, and breakfast begins…

**