Every Harlot part 1 c 2000 Angelia Sparrow ***** *** Obligatory Opening Quote: Every harlot was a virgin once. Nor canst thou change Kate to Nan. --William Blake, _The Marriage of Heavenn and Hell_ *** Nothing better than walking the streets of a pleasure planet with a pocket full of credits, Han Solo thought as he paused to watch a pair of very shapely ladies walk past. They seemed more interested in each other than in the pro forma proposition they made him. His last cargo, a gigantic statue for a minor religious cult here on Tzalna, was safely in the hands of the proper owners a week early. That had meant a two thousand credit bonus atop the exorbitant fee they had offered. It had been easy, legal money. Even after paying for a few repairs and upgrades on his baby, tucking back some living expenses and splitting with Chewbacca, he still had enough for a great deal of fun. The credit chips felt too warm through the fabric of his pants pocket. First, a meal. Real food, fresh and not vacpacked, frozen or synthesized. Then some shopping. The Falcon's stores were a little low on some luxuries. Then, maybe a couple of drinks, not too much. Then a tour of some of the more interesting looking buildings he was passing. A definite twist churned through his lower belly at that idea. Someone soft and shaped just right. Yeah, that was a plan. He'd give that last idea more thought over dinner. Later, wrapped around a well spiced meat pie and some of the local vegetables, his purchases stashed aboard the ship, and two glasses of good brandy warming his chest, he wandered out in search of real adventure. *** Luke Skywalker, late of Tatooine, grimaced at his reflection and shifted the sarong knotted around his hips. The soft ver-cloth, light blue on dark, draped in a way that left little to the imagination. After six months, he should be getting used to this, but he still fought a blush every time his owner delivered the evening's clothing. He knew he had to be hired tonight. His owner was getting testy, and he hadn't encouraged any customers in a week. He wasn't making his quota and K'Ryf Levant's punishments for that were near-legendary. He stared in the mirror and debated on make-up. Maybe just a touch at the eyes or some glitter dust. In the end, he decided the touseled, fresh-scrubbed look would work best. He mussed his hair a bit, and smiled engagingly at the mirror. He hastened downstairs, late again. "That was your last chance, Golden Boy," barked Levant. The four-armed humanoid was sitting behind a desk, writing with two hands, directing the concierge to open the door for the evening's trade with a third, and pointing the last accusingly at Luke. "It's booth duty for you tomorrow." Luke winced. Arnowa, a young Askajian, patted him lightly as he stood beside her. "Booth duty's not so bad, honey," she said, giving lie to her words a moment later with a sigh that heaved all six of her breasts. She patted his rear again. "Don't do that. Bad enough when the clients do." "Sorry. I like the blue. It brings out your so-changeable eyes." She moved away. "As far as it is from my eyes, how can you tell?" he grumbled. There wasn't much crowd at this hour. Levant's opened earlier than most of the brothels in the Quarter. A couple afternoon regulars, and a spacer, just off the landing pad by the looks of him. The regulars requested their usual, and the spacer settled in one of the chairs to look over his options. Seeing his attention was mainly focused on several of the ladies, Luke gave him his best number-three smile, the "I'm dazzling you with my gorgeousness" one, and settled in for a long wait. *** Levant's seemed like a reasonable place. The workers were all human or nearly so. Han had waved off the Askajian girl early. Six breasts might sound good in fantasy, but it was too much in reality. The girls were all pretty, and the boys were too, but nothing struck his fancy. Then he saw the god. The man looked like he had stepped off a pedastal behind someone's altar. He couldn't have seen the back side of twenty. The fair hair fell to his shoulders, half-touseled like he'd just tumbled out of bed. The smooth, lightly tanned chest was shaped, but without the exaggerated musculature some cultivated. The blue sarong he wore matched his eyes and covered the conventions, but clung to every shape beneath. He noticed Han looking and flashed the most gorgeous smile in seven sectors. Han urged a cuddlesome blue-haired girl off his lap as he stood. A quick, low-voiced haggle with the proprietor and he dropped the money on the desk. "Right up the stairs. Room 17. Golden Boy! You got a job." The god detatched himself from the wall he was leaning on, and strolled over to the desk. His eyes took in Han, categorized and dismissed him as another job. "Follow me." The voice was too petulant and bored to be anything but human. Han was almost disappointed. Well, he hadn't hired the boy for small talk. *** Luke couldn't believe his luck. This would be an easy night. The spacer looked good for about 15 minutes of sweat and then he'd sleep. They always did. He would wake in the middle of the evening and probably want seconds. Then he'd leave, and Luke would be able to hit the floor again by midnight. Two tricks in a night might get Levant off his case. The spacer might even leave an extra tip. House policy was that all extra tips were shared, but everyone held out. He put a little extra strut in his walk. Sometimes that was enough to have them half-way to done before they were even in his room. Those usually finished with hands and a little mouth work. Easy money. Half an hour later, face-down on his bed, Luke realized he was totally wrong in his assessment. Well not totally. The client was rock hard and ready when they got to his room. His hands had been fine, and his mouth had been readily accepted, but only as appetizers. Now his guy was going for the main course like he was a full-service buffet. *** Han bit down on a groan and thrust himself deeper into the warmth beneath him in culmination. A god indeed. Obviously of some cult that believed sex was the direct route to the afterlife. With a mouth like that, this kid could be getting top prices on any of the Core worlds. He ran his hands from the boy's hips to his shoulders and back again before pulling out to clean up. He couldn't resist a final circle of the perfect globes under his hand before heading to the 'fresher, one hand absently holding up his still-open trousers. He returned, cleaned and closed, to find the young man still lying on his stomach, watching the door. "Uh, 'fresher's free if you need it." Gracefully, he rose and left. Han sat on the edge of the bed, and dug into his pocket. He dropped fifty Imperial credits on the nightstand. He didn't know what the house cut was on the workers' take in this place, but he always liked to leave a little extra, especially for a job as well done as this one had been. He got a bit of a surprise when a warm, still-naked body dropped into his lap. He hadn't been expecting anything more. "I thought you'd be asleep." "Nah. So what's your name, Golden Boy?" "Why?" "So I can request you next time." "Buy my indenture and you can have me all the time." The way the boy was squirming was definitely distracting. "How rich do you think I am, kid?" The words came out before Han really thought about them, or what the kid had just said. "Rich enough to hire me for the whole night, and leave an extra fifty for me. That takes some money." "Indenture? You're a slave?" It clicked now. Damn but he was distracting. It had been a while since he was ready for a second try this quickly. "Not technically. Officially, I'm contract labor on a fifteen year contract." Typical Imperial chincanery. No one that young should have so much bitterness, but Han decided it was justified, especially given that this world's orbit was about twice the human norm. A fifteen year indenture here would leave the kid middle-aged. "What's your name?" he asked again, more gently, stopping the delicious squirming with a pair of firm hands on the shoulders. "What do you want it to be?" The pouty lips were millimeters from his. "Don't make me ask again." The tone was becoming mildly threatening and the hands closed a little tighter. "Luke." The answer came out like a revealed secret, like a treasure kept hidden and only looked at when completely safe. "I like it. Is there more?" "Luke's all you need!" The younger man flung off his hands, and swung off his lap. He sat on the other side of the narrow bed. Han put up his hands in a placating gesture. "Take it easy. Where you from? Or are you native?" "Tatooine. I used to be the portmaster at Mos Eisley. Boot, my assistant, turned out to be a slaver, and I found myself here." "Portmaster? Now I know you're lying. The portmaster at Mos Eisely is older than the sand at Mos Eisley." "Ferg was a good man. His heart started going about two years ago. He hired me, and when he retired, I took over. Been here about six months." "I was slated for a run to Tatooine about six months ago. But something came up." "You could buy me and make it up..." Startlingly, Luke leaned in and began to nibble at his ear. "And what would I do with baggage like you? You'd eat, you'd drink, you'd take fuel to lift off-planet. What am I gonna do, keep you in my cabin like a pet? My co-pilot would shed all over everything at the extra expense." "I can fly. I used to race in Beggar's Canyon and buzz the womprats. I threaded the Stone Needle once. Shed?" "Wookiees do that, ya know." "Sands!" Luke's eyes got big enough to fall out of his head. "You're...that is, are you?" "Am I what?" Luke lowered his voice as if someone might hear. "Only one human ships with a Wook in this part of space. Are you Solo?" Han quirked the one-sided smile at him. "What about it?" "You are? You're a legend at Chalmun's. And there's a price on your head. So far I haven't heard if it's off-planet yet, but half the scum old Wuher serves are keeping their eyes on the door for you to come in." "They are? And how about you? Were you watching with them?" "Yeah, but not for the money." The slow tongue on the side of Han's neck told him exactly why Luke had been watching. "Take that action lower." Luke followed directions splendidly. The next morning, Han strode back aboard the Falcon, an impossible number roiling in his head. There was no way he'd be able to talk Chewie into it. He wondered if he could get his co-pilot to "negotiate" with Levant. He explained the situation with characteristic bluntness. *Young one, if all you say is true, we will free him. Did he say the Stone Needle?* "Yeah, you know something?" *It is a landmark near Anchorhead. It is a plinth of stone with a natural opening barely big enough for a skyhopper. Threading the Stone Needle means flying a skyhopper through the opening at top speed. If your young friend can do that, he would be well worth having on our crew. You always complain of working the nav board with your off-hand.* The early afternoon found Han back at Levant's at opening time. The door was off the hinges, and the furniture overturned. Random blaster burns marked the facade. Levant sat behind the desk, cradling his head in 2 arms, a third was in a sling. "I've come to buy out an indenture." "Ruined. I'm ruined. And you want to buy an indenture? Of course. What else could happen, right? Who did you want?" "The blond kid. Luke." "Golden Boy's gone. The Imps took him." "What?" "Tossed the place and hauled him out in mid-trick. We run a morning special on Midweekday. Why they'd send a whole squadron after a bangtail slave like him, I'll never know. Can I offer you someone else?" Han was out the door before he finished. The Millennium Falcon put several rapid parsecs between itself and the pleasure world. Han didn't know if the kid was wanted or an Imperial plant. But given the current state of the prices on his head, he thought it best not to wait to find out. *** Luke stood in the cell in the same way the troopers had taken him. They had stunned his client, leaving the man in a crumpled heap beside the bed, and dragged him bodily down the stairs and out the door. He'd wanted to get away from Levant, had in fact been working on his escape plan, but not like this. This was out of the pan and onto the heat-element. There were probably more humiliating things than being marched naked from the door to a waiting troop transport, then taken from the transport through a hanger and a million miles of corridor with people at every turn, but he couldn't think of any. A small part of his brain reminded him he'd been a whore for six months, how could he possibly have any shame left? He was grateful for the binders that let him cover himself inconspicuously. On second thought, he wasn't sure this was a cell. It looked more like a conference room. He looked a little more closely at the huge table. He might be unsophisticated, but he knew enough to know that interrogation tables usually didn't come with computer consoles. The hiss of the door startled him. He spun, putting the bulk of the table between him and the newcomer. A giant in black armor loomed. The face was familiar from a thousand holocasts, and Luke nearly panicked. The Empire's most visible symbol of authority turned from Luke to the aide at his side. "He's still naked? Have clothing brought." "Yes, Lord Vader." The aide scurried out. There was no sound except the respirator's wheeze until the clothing arrived. Luke looked at the pile of clothes, at the armored man, and at the aide. He shrugged, lifted his bound hands and began to pull on the pants. "Unbind him, fool." The displeasure was evident, and the twitchy way the aide fumbled the keys suggested that someone's head would roll for the errors. Luke dressed and sat down opposite Lord Vader. The aide stood nervously behind his superior's chair. "I must apologize for the treatment you received this morning. My troops are loyal, but overzealous." "If you wanted me so badly, I'm sure Levant would have delivered." Luke shifted in the chair, legs apart, a hand tantilizingly high on his thigh, the other behind his head, and let smile number 5, a "You really want me?" seduction smile, cross his face. He didn't know what was under the armor, and he really didn't want to find out. But it didn't look like he had a lot of say in the matter. "You will cease this disgraceful behavior at once!" The aide cringed at the Dark Lord's voice. "You are the son of a Sith Lord, not a whore." "Since when? I seem to recall a gentleman who might disagree with you, if your men hadn't stunned him in mid-fuck." "And you will discard certain phrases from your vocabulary at once, beginning with that one," rumbled Vader. Luke ceased the sprawl, and just slumped in the chair. He was out of line and he knew it. "What is a Sith Lord? My father was a navigator on a spice freighter when he died." The door opened again. It took Luke a moment to identify the woman standing there. "Aunt Beru?" He sat up straight and smiled the first real smile in six months. His aunt looked well. Being widowed had actually agreed with her. She was dressed well, not flashy but expensively. She walked into the room with more poise than he'd ever seen her possess, and laid her hand on the giant's shoulder. He laid his gloved hand over hers in acknowledgement and then beckoned her to sit. "Hello, Luke." Her pleased smile had an almost self-satisfied air. "It's good to see you. I've been very worried. When you didn't call, I started asking questions. I knew you'd never leave Tatooine without letting me know." "Sorry about that," Luke mumbled, staring at the table. "Nothing to be sorry for, dear. Slavers happen. The underground economy is a necessity. When I didn't hear, I contacted my brother, your father, and had him begin looking for you. I had a bad feeling we'd find you someplace like this. I'm only sorry it took so long." "I thought my father was dead?" he accused. "A necessary lie told by your uncle," she said matter-of-factly. "Just as old Kenobi has no knowledge of my heritage, so he thought to keep you from yours." "And he has failed again, my sister. For now, Luke is here, and I shall begin his formal training. I have much to do. You will both join me for dinner tonight." Vader left. Luke's head was spinning from the amount of information he was trying to absorb. "Aunt Beru?" "Let me tell it to you slowly, and you can fill me in on your travels, or not. I heard where they found you, and I'm not sure I want to know more. Lord Vader is your father. He was Anakin Skywalker before he became a Sith Lord. He was a Jedi and studied under Ben Kenobi. When he embraced the Sith, Kenobi turned against him, fought him, and injured him so badly that the armor is the only thing keeping him alive. When you were born, Kenobi took you from your mother and brought you to his brother, Owen. He stayed on Tatooine to watch over you. Anakin had requested I marry Owen some years before for just that eventuality. Remember all the games we played when you were a child? How you would find lost things, and chase out the glitchs in the household droids merely by closing your eyes and concentrating? You are Force sensitive, Luke, and, now that you are old enough, your father will train you to use that power. You can have anything you want with it. Who knows, you could become Emperor." Luke had never seen his aunt like this. She had never talked this much when his uncle was alive. But he supposed people with secrets didn't. But her words stuck with him, "anything you want." Last night, he had serviced a legend. Tonight, he was a legend. The thought of Solo made him wince. What if he did come back to buy the indenture like he had said he would? Luke shrugged. The spacer was probably quadrants away and had forgotten all about him. "Did my father set me up with a room here? It's been a very exhausting morning." "Of course, dear. Come along. You will have such an exciting life. I'm only sorry I didn't destabilize that vaporator earlier to get Owen out of the way."