Space Gals 1-4 (FF Science Fiction Erotic Romance Bundle) by Olive Sharp

Author:Olive Sharp [Sharp, Olive]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-04-17T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

The club stands on an unassuming corner, no different than the surrounding buildings, at least on the outside. Bree stops, frowning dubiously at it as she checks the address written on a scrap of paper—a scrap. Of paper. My pulse beats faster in my chest as she fails to go inside.

“Bree?” I ask, hand locking around her forearm. “Is this the place?” I don’t ask how she knows. I suspect she’d gotten confirmation from the old woman, which is fine in and of itself, but I can’t help thinking about what had she wondered about me when Bree had gleaned that information from her. Or perhaps Bree had kept it vague, leaving me out of it entirely. Or maybe it had been mere happenstance that had led to Bree’s discovery of the information.

“Yeah,” she asks hoarsely.

“Are we going to go in?” I pester her with deliberate lightness, hoping to lift her mood and assuage her anxiety. This is, obviously, something that is very near and dear to her. I don’t want to harm it with ill-care, but nor do I want her to hold herself back. Especially since I’m at least as liable to chicken out if left to think about it too long.

“Are you sure?” she asks, desperate, eyes wide as she scans my face for—I don’t know. Hesitation, perhaps. Worry or fear or concern. I force myself to feel none of those things and I square myself to better show her the truth of it as I want her to see it. I want to be here with her. That’s the important thing.

“Yes,” I say, shoving her toward the stairs that lead down half a level, not quite a basement entrance, but close.

She straightens herself up and nods, feigning confidence and defiance. It’s not the real thing, because when I slip my hand into hers, I can feel it shaking, but if it gets her in the door it’s good enough for me.

* * *

Upon entering, I’m immediately presented with the barely there scent of flowers and spices, so mingled that the individual notes can’t be detected. It reminds me of Bree and serves to immediately calm the nerves that have begun to skitter beneath my skin. Unlike my earlier troubles, these nerves are merely the usual result of proximity to Bree in a sexual—or near-sexual—circumstance. I do not let them bother me. In fact, I embrace them. These, I know what to do with.

They mean something good, something pleasurable, will soon occur to me. And that’s nothing to be fearful of, even if Bree is still looking a little green and queasy.

A young woman—garbed in a dark green shirt cinched tightly about her waist with brown ribbon—smiles up at us as we enter and motions us over to the desk behind which she stands. I notice, of course, the emeralds dangling from her ears and remain as confused as ever by them, though at least emeralds are rarer geologically speaking. I can almost understand their value as a luxury item anyway.

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