"Or should I just call you Rektar?" Lucy asks, leaning in. Her hand toys with the hem of her collar, and my sick mind wishes she'd pull it down, expose those big, fascinating breasts so I can get a good look at them. "Well?"
I clear my throat again. What we were talking about? Oh yes. Titles. Something about titles, not her enticing breasts. "Custodian al'Aira'n is fine."
Her lower lip thrusts out, as if she's disappointed.
2
LUCY
God, Rektar is a terrible, awful flirt.
I keep smiling, even though I want to reach over that desk and grab the man by the collar and shake him. What does a girl have to do to get an alien to ask her out? Jeez. Here I am, day after day, showing up at the port authority offices with zero business, just to bring by baked goods and to try to talk to Rektar. The man's utterly clueless, though. He hasn't noticed that I come in and talk directly to him instead of Officer Khex. He hasn't noticed that my necklines have been getting progressively lower each time I come in. He sure hasn't noticed the hints I've been throwing down.
I'd swear the man didn't like me, except for the fact that Khex smirks every time I come in and pretends to be busy, and Rektar's ears flush. I'm no great expert on men, but I hope that means good things. I could be wrong about all of this, though.
It's just…I know Rektar can be sweet. In an absolute universe full of assholes, Rektar is a gentleman. The first day he arrived in Port, everyone was nervous over the new port authorities, since the last ones had been abusing their power. My pockets are still stinging from the bribes I had to hand over just to keep my stupid sled. But when Rektar showed up, things became…different. He didn't know who I was, and held the door open for me. Another time, I entered the cantina and while I was getting my order, someone stole my table and tried to make me sit in his lap. Rektar threw the guy out, apologized to me, and watched my table until I finished my meal.
Right then and there, I knew I wanted Rektar as my husband.
Is that a low bar to set? It absolutely is. It's just that after years of being treated like either a pair of tits or garbage (or both), it's refreshing to meet someone that looks at me as if I'm worth something. And out here on Risda III, a husband means security. It means all the creeps that fly into port won't bother you. It means your farm is safe from poachers who'd just as soon bury you in the backyard as rape you.
I could do a lot worse than Officer Rektar. Custodian Rektar. Whatever.
The male's as clueless as he is sweet, though. I've been coming by here several times a week for the last three weeks, and every time I bring in baked goods. Rektar's enormous. He's not lean and cut like his co-worker Khex. Rektar's built more like a thick wrestler. If Khex is a quarterback, Rektar's the linebacker. He's sheer size and brutality, and his wide features and big nose (and even bigger hands) only add to that look. I'm fine with that, though. He can crush me under all that weight any day of the week.
Any. Fucking. Day.
I might also be a little horny after months and months of celibacy, I think to myself as I play with my neckline. I thought after being freed I'd never want to have sex again, but it turns out my libido has other ideas. It died for a long, long time until Rektar showed up, and then it blazed back to life. So I've been dropping all kinds of hints, and Rektar has not been getting it at all.
At allllll.
I tell myself he's just shy. He might be completely uninterested, but I'm hoping that it's shyness instead. I can work with shyness.
Besides…it's not like I've got a lot else going on. So I beam at Rektar and pull the plas-film off of the container I've brought with me, letting the smell of the muffins waft through the air. "I baked you a little something sweet. I hope you like it."
Rektar's ears are flushed, obvious thanks to his cropped military haircut. He fusses with his data pad for a moment before looking over at the food I've brought. "It is not necessary for you to feed us, Lucy. Our provisions are quite sufficient."
"I know." I keep smiling even as I use metal tongs to pull one of the crumbly muffins out and set it on a tiny ceramic plate I brought with me. I've been researching mesakkah tastes and they seem to like strong flavors and scent is important, so I made these muffins with the most potent local fruit I could find. They taste like a tart slap in the face to me, but they're not for me. "Humans believe in gifting one another with baked goods as a sign of friendship. And since neither of you have wives, I thought that task would fall to us local women to make sure you guys feel welcome here in Port." I put a muffin on a second plate and bring it over to Khex, who's smirking at me.