Her apartment was musty and quiet. First things first. She ordered a meal from her favorite take-out joint, a couple buildings over but close enough that the delivery charges weren’t exorbitant.

Plus, she liked the way they reconned their meat. Then she dialed an unsatisfying sonic shower and poured herself a shot of herbal tonic from Ysaltris reputed to heal one’s psi and pacify one’s temperament. It tasted of sultry tropical nights and blue saltwater breezes. As soon as this mission was over, she’d soak in all the surf, sun and cabana boys she could handle.

Ahhh, cabana boys. Might be nice to get some skin before she left, as twitchy as she’d been the past four decs. Yusef had always been able to sense when she was sexually frustrated, and he’d taken advantage of it, too.

Bastard. Maybe an orgasm would ease her tension. It would have to be one with a partner, not a self-induced one, where her thoughts were more likely to stray to past sexual experiences. Unfortunately, she had no fuck buddy and most prosties on Polestar were Devians. She preferred her men less hairy. But they did have four arms and twenty dexterous fingers, and Niguleans had more than that.

Maybe, instead of hot, hairy sex, a massage. A special massage.

Hey, if she was paying, she could have what she wanted, as long as her partner was willing, and it was for the betterment of her psi. A medicinal orgasm. She liked the idea of that.

A pleasant, low-grade sensitivity awoke between her thighs as she imagined hands stroking her body, relaxing her muscles, and soothing her other needs. She drew the belt of her robe tighter, finished her tonic and tapped her fingers on the counter. Dang it, where was her dinner? She called the restaurant to inquire about the delay, found out they hadn’t received her first order, and placed it again.

She could have walked to the restaurant, eaten on the premises, and been home by now. If they’d become this inefficient with order-taking, would the food quality suffer as well?

More waiting. How to spend the time wisely? She really should start that peeper card search on Yusef and the steward in Elteri. Instead, Megan surfed local prosties. Slim pickings in this part of town, mostly females and Devians. If she pinged a sex partner from Corman’s Alley, it would take longer for him to arrive, postponing her massage and orgasm, postponing her good night of sleep. Maybe she should stick with a masseuse instead of a masseuse with benefits.

Ooh, wait, there was a cute local. Terran male, currently available, a little pricey but you paid more for a clean bill of health. Impressive references, impressive bod, no cosmetic enhancements. In appearance, he was Yusef’s total opposite—a light skinned, blond haired, smiling demigod with dancing eyes that promised you’d have as much fun as you had sex. Holovid available, which meant he made good money, which meant he probably did good work. He sounded perfect, except his resume didn’t specify massage therapy.

Curious, Megan thumbed the paypad for the vid and soon found herself with her legs crossed and her libido stirred. When a man could do the things he could do, massage didn’t matter. Her finger hovered over the Pay Now button…

When the access bell buzzed.

She answered the door in a bit of a steam, ready to chew out the delinquent delivery person, only to find a light skinned, blond haired Terran male on the other side of it.

His eyes, which had sun crinkles in the corners, seemed to promise she’d have as many laughs as orgasms.

"Well, hello, beautiful. You rang?" He smiled, and her toes curled.

"How did you know?" Had she clicked the Pay Now button by accident?

He jiggled a flat, red stasis box. "It’s my job. You call, I come."

It took her a couple blinks to realize he wasn’t the guy she’d just seen with his tongue doing unspeakable things to a peach much like the one she’d eaten in the taxi.

He wasn’t as pretty and polished. He wasn’t for hire, either.

"You’re late." She held out her hand for her meal and tried not to stare at his mouth. The position of her arm caused her robe to gap.

"Traffic cessation." He withdrew her food from the stasis box but didn’t give it to her. His eyes fell to her chest then returned to her face. "Can you believe they’re looking for a slaver?"

"I heard that from the robotaxi." If the Truce had stopped a food delivery guy in her neighborhood, they were really flexing their muscles. Maybe the Elteri situation had agitated them. "You’re not the usual delivery person."

"I just changed jobs. Careers, really. I was a prostie."

"You were?" Megan inspected his hands, wondering if they could rub away aches and pains. For a moment, their fingers almost touched as they both held onto her meal.

"I liked it but it was too stressful." He allowed her to tug the box free and leaned one broad shoulder against the door jamb. "You wouldn’t believe the paperwork. Took all the fun out of it. Know what I mean?"

"I hate paperwork." Megan couldn’t tell if he was about to proposition her or liked to gab. She wasn’t sure how to deal with either one and clutched the neck of her robe with her free hand. "Don’t you have other customers?"

"You’re my last stop of the night." He was half a head taller than her, and his uni shirt fit his angles and planes like it was melted on. "This is my favorite building to deliver to. You like living here?"

"I’m not here much." A stupid thing to admit. "I mean, I don’t order take-out much."

And that was because she wasn’t here much. Truth was, she didn’t cook and her commissary unit was marginally better than useless.

"I live a couple streets over." He looked past her shoulder into her tiny living area. "My apartment’s bigger, but your building’s safer. Closer to work. Have you got sonic or water for bathing?"

"Sonic." Water was far too expensive.

"The soundproofing decent?"

"I guess so."

"Does it cost a lot to live here?"

"I’m sure the terms of lease are in the library." She stared up at him, and he stared down at her. Megan knew she wasn’t unattractive for a Terran, but she was generally unkempt and a bit scrawny. Definitely not holovid material.

And she didn’t come across as friendly. That, she knew for a fact. So what was his deal? Was he so desperate for someone to talk to he cornered customers? Or did confessions of sex partnering to women dressed in nothing but robes earn him bigger tips?

Oh, right! Frackin’ A. He wanted a tip. She’d been so flustered by his appearance and possible massaging abilities she’d forgotten.

"Why don’t you check your order before I go and make sure it’s to your satisfaction?" he suggested. "Customer satisfaction is my—is the restaurant’s motto."

Pretending not to notice his slip, she slid open the box. Dehy kaf, recon meat, fresh veg, fruit pudding, and her favorite snack, chuts. Smelled the same as always. Looked the same as always.

"It’s fine." With a flush of awkwardness, she held out her hand. His skin slid across hers, warm and light. No calluses, no roughness.

She’d tipped any number of servers and delivery persons, but his touch felt more personal. That might be because he wasn’t just making contact, he was caressing her. He traced a circle in her palm and lines down her fingers, lingering at the tips.