Operation Misfit by E. Hoffmann Price

Author:E. Hoffmann Price
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, space opera, pulp fiction, sci-fi, libertarian
ISBN: 9781479404445
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2014-11-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Azadeh stretched luxuriously, twisted from the waist, and made the most of body and of a gown which had not come from any Martian commissary. It was deluxe Terran, a shockingly expensive outfit with so many panels of lace inset that Garvin couldn’t decide whether she was dressed or naked. After a long moment to relish his appreciation, she drew a deep breath, exhaled, nodded contentedly.

“Now I know you like me.”

“Now—well, when did you think I didn’t? Beautiful idiot!”

“I wasn’t so sure. You know, in the temple when I said, tonight I sleep with you, your eyes changed, you forgot our kissings, something troubled you.”

He frowned, and then he remembered. “You’re a mind reader! But you didn’t understand what you read.”

He tried to kiss her, but she evaded him. “No, tell me first.”

“Oh, all right! I remembered that your father told us, ‘the house is yours,’ and left us, with his good-night. As good as telling you to sleep with me.”

“And you didn’t want to, but you had to be nice with me,” she mocked.

“I wondered whether you were obeying orders or if you were inviting me for the night.”

“Now you know? And suppose it was both, obedience and want to?”

“Twice as good, of course! Double dip!”

“Double dip,” she echoed, and savored the words, until in her thinkings she returned, fully present and with a fresh query: “Something else worries you, what is it?”

“Do I look worried?”

“Mmmmm…no, but there is something maybe I have not tell you enough?” She saw now that he was shaping thoughts, groping for words. Azadeh carried on, “Some of me, you know all about, some of me you don’t know any of it.”

“We speak part Gook, part English, two bits’ worth of Uighur Turki, and do our best when we’re not talking at all.”

“So, you are a scientist? an engineer? All must be precision? Say it part Gook, part book English, part Uighur, and then with sign language—and, don’t I read your mind anyway?”

“Then why the hell don’t you just read it?”

“More fun when you are talking it.”

“Here we go. There’s not a stretch mark on you.” And it was time for sign language. He traced belly and thighs, sleek and unblemished. She twisted her hips and hoisted the elegant gown to facilitate. He cupped a breast, and with delicate touch, described a tiny circle about the nipple. “All new—not a line—Past two, three, four hours, you’ve acted as if you couldn’t get pregnant, no matter how long you worked at it.”

“Never have, not yet, but the idea is not alarming.” Garvin tried to read the dark eyes, long lashed, glowing, cryptic. “The idea is not alarming—and we lost no time tumbling into bed because we’ll have little enough time together, my chances of coming back from a war are a lot better than coming back from Saturn.”

“That is a true speaking. Too much truth for happy loving tonight. But not the first true thing.”

“Tell me, before you forget it.”

“So few Gooks—there have to

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