Beneath a Holo-Sky by Lyn Forester

Author:Lyn Forester [Forester, Lyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi/Fantasy Detective
Publisher: Stacks Publishing
Published: 2016-08-23T05:00:00+00:00

~

In the hour we spent in Tofu-Topia, the street went from crowded to packed. Drake rubs his stomach, eyelids drooped and sleepy. The glutton ordered another round of sweet bean paste. He really will grow love handles if he’s not careful.

“What’s the next den?” I scan the masses who stream past as we hug the wall, out of the way. Irritated glances still shift toward us. The flow of bodies goes two directions, no stopping allowed.

Drake pulls up the Level 4 map on his palm-port, and I lean in to peer at the screen. He pre-flagged the dens, and the next one shows as a red dot on our side of the street. I lean away quickly and expel my held breath. The man smells like a five-year-old on a sugar high.

“It’s The Hut.” Drake points to the right.

We wait as a herd of women mince by in short, sequined skirts, the bottom curves of their asses visible when they pass. It draws the eye away from their baby faces. No amount of cake makeup will make them look old enough for the clubs. One wobbles on her stilted heels, and Drake takes the time to appreciate an absence of underwear.

Yeah, the skirts offer a great distraction.

A threesome of teenage boys headed in the opposite direction stop to whistle at the women and make crude hand gestures. One of them dares a light smack on the ass. The girls laugh and make hand gestures of their own.

A kid pushes through the group, hollers at the holdup. Both sides shove him out of the way.

“You see that?” The teenagers join the women’s party and move off together.

“How could I miss it?” Drake sounds dreamy, eyes still glued to the wobbly girl’s butt.

I snort with derision, and Drake casts me a disapproving glance.

Whatever.

“You’re easily distracted.” I turn to head toward The Hut.

“A fine ass on display should be looked at.” He sticks his arms out, hands cupped, and makes a bouncing motion.

“Stop. I’m going to throw up.” Sandpaper can’t remove that visual from my brain.

“You were looking, too.”

“I was.” I glance at the shop windows we pass. They reflect distorted images of the street. Clearer ones hint at the shops’ products.

“Right?” Drake pops an elbow out to nudge me. I sidestep with a frown, let a couple pass between us, and return to his side. “It’s hard not to stare.”

“How many were there?”

“Five.” I’m not surprised at his confidence. He probably memorized the shape of their butts.

“What color were their skirts?” I dodge around a determined man before he plows into me.

“Three had silver sequins, one rainbow sequins, the other pink.” He frowns. “Why?”

“What kind of shoes?”

“High heels.” He shrugs, uninterested. Not a shoe guy.

“What color hair did they have?”

“I don’t know. Longish.” He sounds irritated. A scowl creeps its way onto his face. I’m ruining his happy mood.

“What about the guys?” A mirror replaces the plas-glass in the next store we pass. Eye catching. More than one pedestrian slows to check themself out.

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