Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode 8: The Sting #17

The mental shift that occurred after a session was always hard for Jack to explain. 'Sub-space,' many submissives called it. It was a wide tranquil space without thoughts or words. Usually it wrapped him like a glove for hours, providing comfort and relief from the stresses of his life.

Tonight, the experience was tinged with anxiety, and the dichotomy felt surreal. He had just come from a session with Mistress Mani. She had sensed his stress and delivered relief in her expert way, with blows from her whip that alternately caressed and stung, driving everything else from his mind. Now he was heading to Zeta's for a late date.

The oddest date he'd ever experienced. Probably the oddest date ever. The thought made him giggle slightly. They could put this one in the Guinness Book of Records for sure. Going from a dominatrix to the arms of an asexual romantic alien. The humor of the situation steadied him.

It had been Zeta's condition. "I'll have to deal with this whole idea eventually," she said. "And better right up front. See how it feels."

He'd agreed. But it made him feel anxious and vulnerable. Had he really grown so attached to Zeta?

The door opened for him as soon as he announced his arrival. Zeta was still dressed in her day clothes. A cup of hot tea sat on the table, and her slate was out. "Good evening, Jack," she said, and the nerves showed in her voice. "How are . . . was it a good session?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Come in," she said. "Would you like some tea? Cocoa?" The Earth custom of hot chocolate was mostly too sweet for the Consortium palate; they ate far less sugar than earthlings. But someone had crafted a Consortium Cocoa with about half the sugar, and it was the new hit on the station with both sides, sweet and bitter at the same time.

"Cocoa would be great," he said.

"I was just thinking of switching to the lounge," she said. She bustled through her small kitchenette, making hot water for the cocoa and grabbing a box of small cookies from the cupboard. "It's almost time for the base-ship news, if you don't mind."

He found a seat on her couch and pulled up the news on the video screen. Zeta joined him, setting a platter with two steaming cups and cookies on a coffee table.

They watched the news and talked about things going on in the world around them, the latest political gossip from the surface, the growing unrest in Africa below them and in the core of the Consortium over egg regulations and Squids, and the upcoming Asha-Tanga celebration.

It started to feel comfortable for Jack, but it also took him further out of the sub-space and into a more normal space. His back itched, as it often did the day after. He squirmed, trying to get comfortable.

"Does it hurt?" Zeta asked.

He shook his head. "Just itches. She gave me some lotion."

"Do you need help?"

The thought of help surprised him, but it certainly would be easier. He opened the small bag at his feet and rummaged for the lotion. He wore a loose fitting T-shirt and a pair of lounge pants.

A "late date" was what they were calling it. Because neither wanted to commit to a sleep-over until they knew how the evening was going. But really, this would be his first sleep-over, if things went well.

He handed Zeta the lotion and turned away, pulling his shirt up. He felt her hands, small and cool, against his back. She spread the lotion smoothly over it and then retraced her route more slowly. "It's red here," she said. "And here. But not broken or anything. I thought . . ."

"No," he said. "It's not about getting hurt. It's not even about the pain, really. It's about the sensation; she never really hurts me."

"It's not what I expected," she said. And then, "You don't want to get lotion on that shirt. It will be tough to get out. You have another?"

"I do," he said, pulling the shirt off.

"I'm going to wash the extra off," she said, heading for the bathroom.

He fished his sleep shirt out and pulled it over his frame. He knew, somehow, the decision had been made: he'd be staying.

She must have felt it too. When she returned she was in her sleep clothes. She sat closer and then lay her head on the crook of his shoulder. He let his arm fall over her shoulder, and he kissed her forehead gently. "This feels nice," he said.

"It does," she agreed. A few minutes later, she added, "The bed has more room to stretch out."

"Sounds good. I'm tired."

They switched to her bed, Zeta snuggled against his side as they watched the rest of the evening news. Jack was asleep before it was half over.