Silken Shower

Love and Starships: Chapter 13 [Final]

Francis let out a sigh as she put the finishing touches on her report after the second read-through, confident that the person who would end up reading it would be satisfied with it being finished at all, regardless of errors. With hardly a second look, she submitted it through the ship’s intranet and pushed off from her seat. She then flopped onto her bed and rolled around atop the messy covers which had not been made in at least a week.

The clock on the terminal beside her bed read 20:00. It’s way too early to sleep, but I’m so tired. Francis shoved her face into the pillow case. It smelled slightly like her hair, and significantly of her sweat. She rolled over and felt at her face which was slick and sticky with a sheen of sweat. Along the base of her jawline, she could feel a few distinct bumps of blackheads starting to sprout.

Francis rolled off the bed with a grunt and pulled off her top and camisole before throwing them to the ground and marching into the bathroom. She slipped off her bottoms before walking into the shower stall and turning it on. The bursts of hot air and hum of the sonic waves danced over her body. The system switched over predictably to the concentrated jets of water. Francis leaned out of the stall to grab at the bottle of shampoo and conditioner sitting tucked away at the corner of the bathroom counter, behind her tooth bush and deodorant. I guess I should actually try to properly wash my hair today.

Francis had just began to rub the viscous shampoo among her bunches of thick curls when the shower switched back blasts of air. Damn it, this type of shower was not made for people with my hair. Anxiously, she began to run her fingers up and down her locks, up to the root, as she added more gel. The shower turned back to water again, less expectedly this time. With long stroking motions, Francis began to slowly wash out sections of her hair under the water. By the time the next burst of air came, she had begun to apply conditioner in a similar fashion. The thick, oily substance easily clung to the bunches of curls, ready to be washed out as the jets of air cut off.

Just as Francis had begun to wring out the first of the product, the shower stall beeped at her, notifying her that she was reaching a limit. “No, don’t you dare!” She cursed the machine as she furiously ran her fingers over her scalp.

The final blasts of air returned with even less time than before. Francis could still feel the sticky, oily substance among her curls. She slapped on the shower’s control, causing it to beep at her loudly as a form of rejection. “Hell.” She huffed. She stomped out of the bathroom and walked to the synthesizer, immediately ordering it. “One bath towel, large.”

The moleculizer plopped out the requested item. Francis wrapped it around herself and moved to the communication’s terminal, making sure the cloth was secured under her armpits. She carefully mashed in the code for Trisha’s room.

“It’s late, again.” Trisha huffed. She looked as if she were already prepared to drift off to sleep. “What’s up?”

“Do you still have water rations for your shower?” Francis exclaimed, leaning into the camera. “I need to use them if I can.”

Trisha leaned her head back in mockery. “Come on, we’re two people in this room. You know I can’t skip washing my hair daily, either, like you.” She quickly leaned in closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Did you waste all your ration trying to get off? It’s not that great with no shower wand.”

“Shutup.’ Francis growled. She yanked at a strand of her hair and presented it to the camera. “I still have conditioner that I can’t wash out. My hair is going to completely frizz out.”

“Well, sorry, but I can’t help you.” Trisha shrugged. “And I know I’m the first person you would have called, so there must be someone out there.”

“Of course.” Francis sighed and ended the call. By the time she had leaned back and accepted her fate of having to use the sink to wash off her hair, the realization hit her. Skee doesn’t really take showers. Francis punched in the code for the old room, waiting patiently for the call to be answered.

“Francis?” Skee answered, still positioning himself in front of the terminal.

“I…” She muttered, not having thought of what to say.

“Your outfit seems odd, Francis.” Skee commented.

“I ran out of water while showering. I need to use yours.”

“You are more than welcome to come here and use my bathroom. You may have forgotten about what I once told you about my species…”

“No, I remember.” Francis said. “That’s why I called you specifically. I will… see you soon, then.”

“I will await your arrival.”Continue reading “Silken Shower”

Second Hand

Love and Starships: Chapter 12 (More Dirtiness)

Francis slumped back and rubbed at her eyes. The clock read a time that would mean if she were to go to bed that instant, she would still no longer be able to get a full night’s rest before having to wake up for her shift. The feeling and images of her contact with Skee had continuously distracted her, keeping the progress on the report grueling. It’s pretty much almost done.

Francis stretched her legs to the floor and stumbled across the room where she collapsed down on the bed, shoving her face into the pillow. As she pulled the covers out from under her and tucked herself inside, the sensitive parts of her body rubbed gently against the fabric of her clothing. She flipped over, yanking on her tank top and stretching out the elastic band on her pajamas. Her body tingled, and somewhere in her stomach the butterflies still fluttered.

With a sigh, she sat up and stretched over to her communications terminal where she typed in the number for Trisha’s room. The woman responded as the terminal on her side adjusted for the low light. “Who is it?” The strawberry blond muttered, lifting a polka-dot face mask off her eyes.

“Trish, can you come up to my room?” Francis asked, her head tilted to the side innocently.

The woman blinked heavily at the camera and the glow from the screen. “You what?” She muttered incoherently. “Frannie? What time is it even?”

“Come on, please?” Francis begged.

Trisha turned to her side, complaining to the other person in her room. “I know, I’ll have it off in just a sec.” She finished, turning back to the screen. “Now that you’ve woken up my roommate too, I guess I have no choice.” She whispered, smacking at the screen and the button beside it.

The knock came to the door some time later. Francis opened it, revealing Trisha on the other side, dressed in fancy yet wrinkled sleep wear. “You better be dying, Frannie.” She complained. “And even if that were the case, I’d still be pissed, because you could have been at the medbay way faster than I could have got here.”

Francis stepped out and grabbed her by the wrists. “Just come on inside.”

“Fine.” She grumbled, moving inside the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Francis sat cross-legged on the floor. “I have to tell you something.”

“Just say it already.” Trisha said sleepily.

“Skee and I… kinda… well, I don’t know what to do now.”

Trisha blinked her eyes and squinted down at Francis. “You what now?”

“He helped me move this desk in earlier.” Francis noted, pointing back at the new fixture. “Then we both sat down, kinda close, and things just kinda happened.”

“Hold on.” Trisha waived her hand. She picked up the pillow from the bed and placed in on her lap for support. “What happened? Is it even okay for me to be sitting on this bed right now?”

“We didn’t go that far!” Francis insisted.

“Well, yeah. I mean, now that I think about it, there was this talk of him being physiologically different.”

“We just made out.”

“Is that it?” Trisha asked, tilting her head.

“Clothes… kinda… started coming off.” Francis offered, wrapping her arms around her torso.

“Did you…” Trisha paused, making a downward motion with her eyes. “See his…?”

“NO!” Francis shouted. “I mean, who’s to say if he even…”Continue reading “Second Hand”

Because of the Implication

The loads of emails in my inbox from all the likes on the last post tells me you’re a debaucherous bunch.

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Tagging the chapter as ‘erotic’ probably helped, although I’ve been with this blog so long, I’ve completely forgot the implication of the name.  Hopefully nobody showed up here under false pretenses.

Well… if you did, there are a few more chapters to go.

An Encounter at Some Point

Love and Starships: Chapter 12 (Warning: Adult Situations Ahead)

Francis plopped down her heavily-laden tray loudly on the table. Trisha, Rundle, and Jundle looked up at her in surprise as she took a seat next to the strawberry blond. “Well, she comes out of hiding at last.” Rundle announced loudly through his mouthful of half chewed something or other.

“Hello, Francis.” Jundle spoke up after pausing the swallow the food of her own.

“I hope the synthesized food didn’t kill all your taste buds.” Trisha commented.

Francis cut through the double layer of pancakes coated in the thick Molean syrup. “Believe me,” She began shoving the dense breakfast food into her mouth. “As a big of a detour it is to get here in the mornings, it’s utterly relaxing compared to going back and forth to the medbay and the shuttle hangar and the briefing room, and…”

“Okay, Frannie.  We’re glad to see you up and about.” Trisha stopped her. “At least your health checks out, right?”

Francis sponged a puddle of syrup up with the mass of dough on her fork before bringing it up to her face to examine it. “Ask me again after I finish this.” She announced, shoving the food into her mouth.

“It’s that good, is it?” Jundle asked. “I told you we should try some earth food some time, Rundle.”

“It all looks like carbohydrates.” Her brother responded. “Bread is carbs, there’s boiled carbs with tomato sauce, Earth fruit is just carbs and sugar, and don’t even mention that ‘cake’ stuff. I would run out of energy in an hour at work.”

Trisha looked down at the Biloban’s tray, revealing the remnants of eggs and some strange sausage. “We have plenty of protein in our earth diets, but carbs and stuff… that’s what we call comfort food.”

Rundle looked to Trisha and then over to Francis, who had been ignoring the conversation in favor of her own breakfast. “I guess I can see why.”

Francis felt her stomach reaching the point of no return halfway through the second pancake. She finally stopped to take a breath and sit back in her chair while the others had begun to clean up. “You finally gonna’ be free later, Francis?” Trisha asked.

Francis took a sip of water before responding. “No, I have a report to work on.”

“Too bad.” The strawberry blond shrugged. “Hey, just don’t eat too much that you regret it.”

Francis took a deep breath and peered down at her plate one last time as her friends departed the table.

Despite a bit of bloating, Francis finished her shift with little that would be considered out of the ordinary. She was still sated from her late lunch, which was taken after the long holdover from her breakfast. She returned to her room and pulled out her work tablet to begin work on her long overdue report of the mission off the ship.

With the tablet laid beside her, she had found a comfortable spot on top of her covers to dictate to the device the words she wanted to include. Every once in a while, she would turn her head to double check it was taking her words as expected.

Francis found her mind trailing, ending up in clumps of repeated phrases and nonsense that the software had somehow put into text form. She grabbed the device and sat up to begin going back through the messy phrases that she herself had uttered. It wasn’t too long before her pose, hunched over atop the bed, began to take its toll on her back. She slid down to the ground and sat up against the side of the bed, going back and forth between recording more words, and fixing them manually.

How does anyone even do this? She sat up and noisily cracked her back, continuing to stare at the screen with dreary eyes. I need a desk, like, now.

Francis sat the device down on the floor and scooter herself to the communication’s window. I’ll have to go to the quartermaster’s. There’s no way I can get a desk up here by myself though… Trisha hates manual labor, and I doubt she would even make it half the way. Rundle could make easy work of it, but then Jundle would be along, and probably want to get dessert in the dining hall.

Francis pondered for a moment longer, before typing in the familiar room code. The signal made contact, and the familiar Alien popped on the screen. “Hi, Skee.” She greeted.

“Hello, Francis.”

“I’m not interrupting you, am I? Like, if you were working on your report for the Captain?”

Skee shook his head. “No, I finished that yesterday.”

“Ah, I see.” Francis said, gritting her teeth. “I wanted to ask you if you could help me get something from the quartermaster.”

“I have nothing else I need to attend to.” Skee shrugged. “Would you like me to accompany you there?”

Francis rolled her eyes and glared into the screen. “I’ve been there, thanks. Had to pick up some special equipment for my department.”

“I see.” The yellow alien nodded. “If I leave now, I will be there sooner than you I believe, so I will happily wait.”

“Thanks, Skee.” Francis sighed. “See you there.”Continue reading “An Encounter at Some Point”

Check Up

Love and Starships: Chapter 11

“Is this really necessary?” Francis asked as the doctor prepared the auto-syringe. She stared up at the bright, stark white ceiling of the medical bay while her fingers dug into the sides of the bed. “I mean, it wasn’t even a month ago that I got my vitals checked before most of us even boarded the ship.

“It’s just to make sure.” The doctor huffed. Whorg hovered over her beside the bed. His voice was soft, but his body was anything but. His first set of arms fiddled with the container that would soon be filled with Francis’s blood, while the second set felt up her arm to find a good-looking vein.

With the medical tool ready, he leaned in closer, stretching one arm across the bed for balance. “I’m not going to run away.” Francis said, trying to pull her face out of a cringed state.

Whorg pressed the instrument to her arm. There was a brief sharp pain, followed by his strong fingers pressing against the point. “All done.” The doctor announced before pulling away. London laughed loudly from the bed on the opposite side of the curtain.

Francis sat up and pulled the cloth barrier to the side. The pilot was buried in the covers, his face red and holding back mucous and tears from his orifices. “Shut it,” She called him out. “You’re the one who got me in this situation.”

London’s second bout of laughing was stopped short by a cough that had come out of nowhere. “Don’t worry.” He wheezed, wiping his mouth on the sheet. “I’m pretty sure I was already feeling it before I came aboard that station to pick you up.”

Francis groaned and jumped back up on her own rickety medical bed. “What about Skee, doc?” She called out across the room.

The large medical officer hummed as he fiddled with the dainty vial of blood, inserting it into the microviewer. “The Shalek Cold doesn’t affect Reedeens.” He explained. “Not much does, in fact.”

“How lucky of him.” Francis sneered.

“This is going to take about 10 more minutes to scan through your antibodies to see if they’ve encountered the virus.” Whorg noted. “Stay put for a while. Hopefully it was something that you picked up off-ship, and that London hasn’t been around infecting half the crew.”

Francis shoved her head back into the lumpy pillow and crossed her arms across her chest. The doctor sat down at his desk and began to look over something on his computer.

London sat up slightly, rubbing away at his face. “If you think about it…” He paused, blowing his nose loudly on a tissue. “We’re lucky that I didn’t go to debrief with you two with the Captain. Can you imagine if he got sick?”

“You really look at the bright side of things, don’t you?” Francis said, turning to him slowly. The pilot was slowly extracting a long strand of snot from his nose. Francis pulled her gaze away quickly and shoved herself off the bed.

Whorg looked over at her as she made her way over. “I’m not letting you go until I get my results.” He said, hardly giving Francis a second glance. Continue reading “Check Up”