From the Journals of Rachael M. Blist

Chapter 2 – Getting an education.

While Jaled was gone, I took a few moments to asses my situation. I knew for certain the following things:

I was an impossibly long way from home.

I was totally broke (minus the 35 useless cents).

I had no job, and so, no income.

I had no skills.

Or did I? According to Jaled, I had at least one saleable skill, even though I was a bit hesitant to make use of it quite yet. It was a staggering thought that I could command such a price for sex. I had never thought about prostitution before, but now, here, it was not only legal, but profitable. On Earth, I was just another roll in the sack, but here I was a virtual expert on the subject of pleasure.

I wasn’t alone. I had at least one friend, and an open invitation to share his shelter for a minimum of one night. I was fairly certain that Jaled wouldn’t throw me out in the street, not after what we did in bed. Which led me to the last item on my mental list…

I was happy.

Never before had I been so poor and lost, yet I was at that very moment more content than I had ever been in my entire life. I felt safe, loved (in more ways than one) and downright excited about things to come. It made me really see how shallow humans are, especially American’s.

I don’t remember drifting off to sleep, but I must have, because the next thing I knew, there was something warm and furry moving on my belly. I opened my eyes thinking that it was all a dream and that my cat was pawing me. I was somewhat right…

“Are you safe, Rachael,” asked Jaled’s voice softly.

“You’re back?”

“I am.”

“Then I’m safe,” I answered, reaching my hands up into the soft white fur of his chest.

My answer seemed to please him.

“Um, I was wondering… Since you were so kind as to demonstrate Kzin sexual practices, um… I thought I could return the favor.”

“Oh, believe me, you more than returned the favor,” he answered grinning. “But how would you do so, if I were to accept?”

“By showing you the favorite positions of a human female, of course.” My eyes grew wide, my lust showing through.

And show him I did.

I had Jaled lay out on the bed and tossed my leg over his hips. (Not an easy thing to do, Jaled was BIG!) Then I took a deep breath and slowly impaled myself on his shaft. I took as long as I could to settle down on him, both for the sake of my body, and to drive him wild. I forgot that he was feeling what I was feeling, which was something out of that world. It was incredible enough to have Jaled make love to me from behind, but now, I could control the pace and the movements, fine tuning my own arousal to just the right pitch. I was gasping in minutes.

Jaled was making a low growling sound that reminded me of a dog that’s about to attack you. But I knew that he wouldn’t hurt me, even if it killed him, so I relaxed and let the first of a number of orgasms wash over me. I was vocal. Jaled was very vocal. I hoped to hell that the rooms were as soundproof as they looked. I didn’t want some equivalent of the police busting in the door because some well meaning neighbor with three eyes thought I was being dismembered.

But if anybody heard us, they never said anything. We went on like that for nearly thirty minutes, me pumping away on his Kzinhood until I finally cried out one last time and collapsed onto his chest, exhausted. I figured I had at least a dozen good solid orgasms, plus another seven or eight tremors. Since Jaled felt everything I did, he came almost as many times. Not physically of course… He burst inside me the first time, the heat of his seed nearly sending me right into another moment of bliss. But after that, he stayed hard as granite and enjoyed mentally, every one of my bits of ecstasy. He was totally unlike a human lover, at least a male one, and my bi-experiences were limited to a one time fling with an old girlfriend who didn’t even remember doing it because we were both completely plastered.

We stayed in bed for another couple of hours, exploring each other and talking. Jaled had a million questions about sex, and I was just as curious about Kzin society, galactic or not. He was amazed at how easy it was to bring about an orgasm in me. Not that he had a lot of practice mind you. The ones I gave him were his first, of course. But he found that he could almost always put me over the edge by slowly rubbing his soft paws over my Mons and a bit lower. It was partially the warm pressure, and partially the very erotic tickling his fur produced on the insides of my thighs that sent me (and him) twirling into dizzy abandon. We played like that, the pleasure interrupting our conversations about once every ten minutes.

That night, Jaled made me another offer. He needed someone to come home to, someone who would spend time with him when he was in port. Someone with whom he could share plain old conversation as well as stories of his adventures, frustrations and discoveries. He needed someone to help him relax and forget about the stresses of his work, which I found out was something between mercenary and bodyguard. He needed a wife.

I was taken aback at first, but then I got to thinking. Jaled was perfect for me. Nowhere would I find a better protector than the one snuggled up against my side. He offered me the use of his place, (which would just sit there empty anyway) his Mina, (not a fortune, but he wasn’t broke either) and the use of his terminal. This last item turned out to be incredibly important in my life. It took me all of eleven seconds to make up my mind. I was being impulsive, I knew, but hell, what else was I planning on doing? It would give me the time I needed to place myself in the universe again. It had taken me over 25 years on Earth. I figured I could probably shave a bit off this time around.

I said “yes”, and we celebrated, much to our mutual pleasure. Then we went out and had a night on the town. There really were some nice places in the space port if you knew how to find them. Jaled did. We stuffed ourselves with dishes from a dozen different worlds, and even a few from his home planet. The ones I tried were a bit raw, but not too far off from meatloaf. I figured I could get used to his favorites, maybe even make a few. I’ve never been too picky about my own food.

Married life was great. For the first time in my life I felt really safe. Not just physically, but emotionally too. Jaled was the most kind, gentle (yes, gentle), and loving being I had ever met. I never saw him angry, save once, and that was directed at someone else. I never found out what became of that guy, but I doubt he’s bugging anybody anymore, or even breathing for that matter. It’s not healthy to piss off a Kzin. We spent all our time together, learning each other’s languages, traveling locally, eating, making love and fighting.

Don’t get the wrong idea, it wasn’t bitter, angry-at-each-other fighting, it was learning the Kzin Way. Jaled said that I should be able to protect myself when he was out of port, and promptly began to teach me the basics of combat. It was interesting stuff, and a damn side better than the junk they call martial arts back on Earth. The Kzin were a warring people. They had had nearly twenty millennia to perfect their art, and perfect it they did… over and over. During at least two points in Kzin history, the planetary population dropped by half. That’s a lot of dead cats! Then, about four-hundred years ago, they were distracted by a bigger foe… The Galanth.

These brutes were well seasoned space conquerors. They blasted into low orbit one day and ordered the immediate surrender of the entire planetary population. Remember that the Kzin were still just experimenting with small rockets. These monsters were packing state-of-the-art galactic firepower and traveling in fully armoured interstellar ships. Most planets’ occupants would have rolled back their eyes in horror. Not the Kzin. They don’t surrender, ever. But they were smart enough to know when they were outclassed and out-gunned. They burrowed into the depths of their world and made the Galenth come down to them. It worked. The losses were heavy though. Nearly five sixths of the total population was killed. But the remaining Kzin not only defeated the attacking ships, but took them over and went back to their enemy’s home world. To this day, there are no Galenth to be found in any part of the galaxy. The Kzin know how to fight.

And that’s what Jaled taught me. But not just how to punch or kick, but how to shoot any weapon around. How to hide, attack, run, climb and live, in extreme conditions. It was fun! I’ve never come home so exhausted. It was a wonderful moment when, on our first wedding aniversary, he gave me my own Chaaka blade. It meant that I had learned enough to place my level with a four year old Kzin. (Don’t laugh! Even at that age, they could have made Gengis Khan look like a ninny.) I cried as I strapped it on my left leg.

Earlier that year, I had started another form of training. I decided that I someday, I would like to be able to do something other than be a housewife, so during the times when Jaled was away, I sat myself down in front of his terminal and got an education.

Mind you, there are almost no schools in galactic civilization. There’s no need. Why go sit in a stuffy, crowded room, when you can get the very same thing from the comfort of your own living room? And to really make you see how lame Earth schooling is, you can have your very own perfect professor. How is this wonder accomplished? Through the power of advanced galactic technology. The public library wasn’t so much a physical place, it was something to call up on your holographic terminal. Just ask, and ZING! you are smack in the middle of the Library of Congress, only three million times bigger, and 2000% more organized. Can’t find what you need? Just ask and a NOE will pop up and guide you. A NOE is a Non-Organic Entity. On Earth, they would have been called AI’s, or Artificial Intelligences. The Galactics have it right. There’s nothing artificial about them. They think, feel, live and yes, die, just like other creatures do. Some of them are dullards, others are radical to the extreme and downright hilarious. They are usually smart (well into the human genius scale), impossibly fast, and infinitely patient. They are perfect teachers.

One day, while I was wandering randomly through the library, a helpful NOE asked me if I needed help. I explained to her (I hear that most NOE’s are female for some reason) that I was trying to decide what I wanted to do for a living. Then she asked if I had ever taken a placement exam? I told her, no, and the next thing I knew I was looking at a list of possible careers that would suit me. The list was shockingly short.

Most of the list covered various simple manual labor jobs that would be near impossible to find living at a space port. Ports were notoriously heavy on people needing quick, no skill jobs. I was surprised to see “flight attendant” on the list, until I checked a little deeper and found that humans were less suceptible to the more disabilitating effects of hyperspace. That meant that they could still serve drinks during spacial translocation. I went on.

The bottom of the list contained the more high paying jobs. They were also the jobs that required the most training. One in particular caught my eye because it happened to be one of the highest paying on my list, and also the most exclusive. When I probed deeper, I found out why.

Interstellar travel is one of the truly incredible miracles of galactic civilization. It involves taking the fabric of space and crunching it up so that you can hop across the wrinkles. A trip that would have taken hundreds of Earth years even at the speed of light, is suddenly reduced to three or four days. The mathematics involved in such technology is enough to make Einstein cry. In fact, there are only four races in the whole galaxy that can even begin to understand that language, and humans are not one of them. Fortunately for all other races, computers and NOE’s can handle piloting and control once a drive system has been installed. So how did I fit in? Simple. Somebody has to keep the damn things running.

It turns out that humans, more than almost any other galactic race, are perfect as drive technicians. We adapt well to a wide variety of environments, can handle tight spaces without going buggo, are good with tools, and most importantly, we have an innate ability to visualize the weird intricacies of hyperspace. Mind you, it doesn’t mean that we can do the math, hell no! We just happen to be able to grasp analogies well. Most races are raised on the language of Galactic Two, which doesn’t allow for analogy… at all. I suppose that if my first language were gal two, then I’d have as much trouble as 98% of the rest of the galaxy. But as it is, I learned sloppy old American English as a pup, chock full of comparisons and anthropamorphisms, and other oddities used to describe one thing by comparing it to another.

Figuring I was a shoe-in for a position, I called up what it would take to get a degree. I already had a college level physics background, and from the course descriptions, I felt I could probably breeze most of the learning in a year. Then I noticed that any position in the field required a guild internship. There was a guild?

The League of Hyper-relational Spacial Translation required that anyone who wanted to be a Hyperdrive Technician pass a series of tests and serve a brief internship as a member of their guild. I checked the tests. Hard stuff, but I figured I could pull it off. Then I noticed the little blinking figure at the bottom of the screen which indicated the membership fee. I gasped. Some things don’t change no matter what part of the galaxy you happen to be in. Overpriced education is one of those things. So now I could get educated, but I couldn’t afford the stupid tests to get a job. Bureaucracy in it’s finest form. I made a decision to go for it and worry about the application to the guild later. A couple of hours later I was being tutored by a NOE on the care and feeding of starships.

My teacher turned out to be a most incredible entity. You see, most citizens have to go about it themselves, taking advantage of the many simple teaching programs available to the general public. They’re good, but not rather personal. I started that way, plugging away at assignment after assignment until I received a message from the same helpful NOE at the library asking if she could have a moment of my time. She explained to me that she would love to be my full time tutor if I would let her.

“Why me?” I asked, staring at the glowing pattern of shapes on my holo-screen.

“Because you’re human,” she replied. “I have a personal fascination with Terran culture. Call it a hobby.”

“I’ve never thought of myself as a hobby.” I said dryly.

“I’ve studied nearly every race in the galaxy, and none captivate me more than yours. I’ve even generated an appropriate holographic representation of myself, would you like to see it?”

“Uh.. sure,” I answered. I remembered reading about how NOE’s sometimes make visual representations of themselves. I also remembered that it was considered a great honor to see one. A moment later an older woman was standing next to me smiling. I nearly jumped out of my seat.

Mind you, I had seen some pretty convincing holo-projections before. Jaled and I even created one of ourselves making love. It’s an almost religious experience to watch yourself go at it, especially when you can walk around the whole scene just like you are actually there. But the woman in the room with me now wasn’t a recording. She was interactive! Hell, as far as I could tell, she was a cross between my great grandmother and a biker boyfriend I had my first year in college. I was amazed, dazed and speechless.

It had been a while since I had seen another human, even an image of one. She was so real looking. It was hard for me to believe that I was looking at a computer creation, and not a solid, living being.

“Oh my god…” I whispered in awe.

“Not quite, but thanks for the compliment,” responded the grey haired woman, tilting her head slightly. She was maybe fifty, with deep green eyes so dark they looked almost black. She had a round happy face and a playful smile. Her clothing was a hybrid mix of a blue-jean coverall and motorcycle leather. I liked her immediately.

“My name’s Maryanne. My friends call me Mimi.”

I went to shake her hand then blushed.

“Hi. I’m Rachael. Are you really just an image? I mean… Oh shit.”

“I know what you’re trying to say,” she said with a slight chuckle. “It’s alright. I was trying to get a rise out of you. Testing that wonderful sense of humor you humans possess.”

I wasn’t sure I understood what she was getting at, but I didn’t care. “You have no idea how incredible it is to see someone from my own world again… I mean, even a, um…”

“Projection? I’m sure. It’s okay, really. You won’t hurt my feelings. I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

“You look pretty tough, Maryanne.” I said raising my eyebrows.

“You can call me Mimi, and thanks!”

From that moment on we were great friends. Maryanne would tutor me on the finer points of space drives, and I told her stories from my childhood. As fair a deal as I’ve ever made. Mimi couldn’t get enough. Technically, she knew only rumors of Earth culture. I was giving her the straight poop, right from a genuine source. It was great to be able to gossip and rant about anything and everything “human” to what had to be the best listener I have ever met. She soaked up every word, and became more and more human herself every day. Over the course of the next year, we both grew in ways neither of us could have imagined. And I had another friend.

When it became obvious that I was ready to take the test, neither of us wanted to call it quits. But right about the same time, Maryanne found a position aboard a starship as a co-pilot. It wasn’t something that a NOE could afford to pass up. It meant that she wouldn’t be able to visit as a holo-projection unless she were in town, which wouldn’t be very often… We cried together the day she showed up, all dressed to kill in her full uniform. We would stay in contact, but it just wouldn’t be the same. I wanted nothing more than to give her a great big hug, but it’s hard to wrap your arms around an image.

So it was sitting alone in my living room, Jaled out on business for a week and Maryanne off to the stars, that I decided to go pro. I had discussed it in detail with Maryanne, and she even helped me formulate a safe way to ensure payment. Jaled was much less disturbed by the proposition than I was. To him, it was a perfectly normal way for me to make money. He was actually a bit surprized that I hadn’t used my original skills before. He was understandably jealous of sharing me with the galaxy, but told me warmly to think of him while I was with anyone else… or any thing else for that matter. I said I would, and that was that.

It felt weird advertising for sex, but in a galactic space port it wasn’t even considered unusual. There were thousands of ads for entities seeking solice in the arms of another. I spent a full day just reading through the “personals”. Some were quite humorous. Imagine something like, “Four tonne, slimy male gorilla with six arms and a taste for leather seeks female interested in same.” In the end, it wasn’t the personals that got me my first client, but rather a chance encounter at the very same bar where I first met Jaled.

I had a tendency to hang out in the place when Jaled was away. It reminded me of him, and I had developed a strange relationship with Shnovs. He kind of became my guardian when Jaled couldn’t be there, not that I needed one. Still, it was nice to know that someone was keeping an eye on me. Shnovs would see that I was eating, check up on my schooling and give me general advice like any good bartender. In short, he mothered me in the ways of the galaxy, and told me a lot of things that Jaled probably wouldn’t have.

Bartenders tend to know all the skuttlebutt. They have a solid grasp of what the world around them is like and how it can hurt them or help them. Shnovs knew all the local Pros because they all hung out in his bar, both for protection, and because of the rapidly changing clientele. He introduced me to a few and it wasn’t long before I got myself a real education.

I have no idea what the world of prostitution is like on Earth, but in the Galactic realm, it’s very complicated; almost a regular business. The banking system, serving as the police, is perfect for prostitutes. There are even predrawn contracts set up just for pleasure services, as the exchange can be tricky. For example, what if the customer isn’t satisfied? On Earth, I suppose they either don’t pay, or if they do, they make their complaint to “Vinnie” who then beats the crap out of the girl. Not so here. In galactic society you just go to the contract. No hassle, no mess. Everything is spelled out clearly and in plain Galactic Two so there can be no confusion. They’ve had a very long time to perfect their legal system, and lawyers are almost non existant. If you can speak Galactic Two, and almost anybody with a brain can, then you know legaleze.

Another difference that I noticed right off was the absence of “pimps.” There was no need. The banking system protected their finances, but it also provided the same physical protection to them as to any other member of Galactic society. In fact, they knew the value of having sexually happy citizens and gave prostitutes the same status as corporate business partners.

My colleges were more than happy to talk to me about the ins and outs of the business (no pun intended) because each of them had such a specific niche to work in. Sure, they could cross interspecies boundaries on occasion, but for the most part, they stuck to their own. And just like any good business man or woman, they knew that they shouldn’t try to hold a monopoly in an area… it only caused resentment all around. Hell, there was even a Prostitutes Guild to make sure that everybody was happy.

I made about a dozen new friends that afternoon, and only about half were even slightly humanoid. But that didn’t stop us from having a wonderful time, exchanging stories, gossip and business tips. It reminded me of the Physics Club I used to be in back on Earth. These people were professionals in their field, and they came into Shnovs’ to blow off steam and relax.

At first I thought that they might resent the fact that I was Terran. After all, I wasn’t limited to my own race, in fact I was pretty certain that I would never even see another human for a very long time, if ever. I was also able to do something that they were all incapable of… Orgasms.

They asked me about them, over and over. But how does one describe something like that? It can’t be done. Poets and romance novelists have been trying for decades. The results are faded copies of the original at best. Unless the person has a reference to work from, you would have more luck trying to describe the color blue. A couple of them asked me to demonstrate one… I blushed deeply and politely declined. But it did pose an interesting problem. How was I going to market myself? After all, you can’t sell something unless you can convince a potential buyer that they need it. I couldn’t just give away my services on a free trial basis. I had to rely on word of mouth, and the already established legends. I also had to be careful not to make myself TOO valuable, or I might end up as someone’s permanent pet. The answer was simple. Go through the guild.

That’s right, the Prostitutes Guild. For a very minor fee, they could help you get clientele, and in my position, that was the essential missing element. They acted as the source, fielding the requests for odd or unusual services. It worked very well, and it also allowed beginners like myself to get started without making the obvious mistakes. The next day I officially registered with the guild and nearly caused the bulbous pile of tentacles that served as the secretary to explode in excitement. They didn’t get very many humans.

They gave me the going rate for Terrans (which nearly caused me to dissemble myself, even with Jerad’s warning) and set me up with a meeting for that very night. I wasn’t sure I was ready, but then again, would I ever really be ready? Is anybody ready for their first time? The Grenlin Secretary said I was to meet a Thorian Soon named Tregger. The meeting was to be at his place, and he had paid in advance, full price – even knowing that I was a beginner. The Guild took 2%.

His “place” turned out to be a fortress. It was located outside of the space port and had the look of serious wealth. I wondered what Tregger did for a living. I had the equivalent of an Earth taxi (only a lot cleaner) drop me off, with a pre-paid receipt to return at my call. All I had left to do was go to the door. I was shaking in my boots.

Anyone who has ever met a Thorian Soon can tell you that they are nearly as impressive as Kzin, maybe a bit more so because they have four arms. My mouth dropped open as I stared at the seven foot hulk before me. (Humans are pretty short in the Galactic spectrum.) Then the giant green skinned humanoid smiled and I knew that I was okay. He had teeth like mine… Soons are vegetarians.

Tregger spoke a deep melodic version of Galactic Seven, and obviously came from good schooling. He politely invited me in and asked me if I had any immediate needs. (Sort of like my Grandmother. The first thing she would do when we had company over, was show them to the bathroom.) I said that I was fine and he led me into his house. It was like him, huge and impressive. While I was oggling, he asked if I had eaten. I said that I had not, and ten minutes later I was laying on the floor naked while Tregger, also naked, dropped succulent morsels of the most wonderful fruit into my mouth.

Despite what you might think, Tregger never once pressured or rushed me, and it was a perfectly normal chain of events that led us to this position. I won’t go into the details, but Soons always eat in the nude. I was going to take my clothes off anyway, so it worked out to be a rather nice way to, break the ice, as it were. The “ice” being my shyness around other galactic races. Once I got to know Tregger as a person, had heard him laugh, felt the warmth of his skin and his gentile touch, I no longer feared him. He explained to me, that for all his bulk and strength, Thorians are really pacifists. “But we make remarkable diplomats,” he said only half joking. I learned later that he was indeed in that very profession.

As our meal progressed, we gradually became more and more intimate. Tregger would lightly stroke my belly while he fed me, then my thighs. He had four arms, and two of them were touching or caressing me at all times. I found myself comparing him to Jaled, and quickly squashed that train of thought.

It wasn’t long before I was sitting in Treggers lap, his large, but not monsterous sex just in front of me while he lightly tickled and stroked my entire body. I was nervous, but no more than I would be with any new lover. I was also so aroused that I thought I would faint. My partner knew just how to please a woman, a human woman! He told me later that I wasn’t his first, and that he had been quite fortunate to have found me as well.

I made a decision and raised myself up, my nipples poking into his well muscled, smooth, green chest. Two of his hands dropped down to my hips, as my own hands positioned his shaft. Then, with a deep breath, I gently and slowly came down on him. I was surprised at how slick I was, and found myself seated back on his thighs in no time. Tregger sighed with pleasure, his, and mine, and smiled warmly. I grinned, and then giggled like a schoolgirl.

Blushing, I realized that I was feeling quite happy, as well as aroused. It was almost as if I had found something that I had lost, long ago. Tregger laughed as well, and then gently urged my hips forward. As he did so, his other hands moved around and cupped my breasts, creating an odd, but highly erotic feeling of contact. My body was quickly loosing it’s inhibitions as I slowly rocked back and forth in his lap. His lower hands moved up and down my back in time with my own motions and made me shiver when they reached my neck.

Minutes passed, and our rhythm quickened. Pretty soon, I was getting rather physical, and also rather loud. Tregger didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he was remarkably well controlled. Or maybe it was that I was just used to Jaled’s battle cries. Either way, I decided to slow it down a bit and let Tregger set the pace. He immediately saw into what I was doing and urged me to lean back a bit, which I did. I was rewarded by his erotic caresses all up and down my now taunt torso. Two of his hands continued to rock my hips while his other two played with my nipples, danced down my sides, around my belly button, through my mons, and then down into my lap. I watched the whole thing, growing increasingly aroused the lower he went. The first time he touched my clit, I just about passed out. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, I had one hell of an orgasm… then another… and another… and another. When I finally came down (and Tregger two), I was coated with a glistening sweat that dripped from my neck and rolled down my chest. Tregger was as cool as ever, but obviously pleased.

The rest of the night was just as wonderful. Tregger made love to me a number of different ways, one of which proved to be my favorite for a long time. He had me on my knees, but upright as he knelt behind me. His hands wrapped around me from behind, pinning my arms down at my sides. One hand kept my nipples hard, while another played up and down my body randomly. Still another hand rested on my hips, rocking me gently back and forth in a steady, even rhythm. His last hand dropped down between my spread thighs and played havoc with my clit as he entered me from behind. The total effect was a cross between light bondage and a group orgy. Pure heaven.

By the time I said goodnight (he offered to let me stay as long as I wished), Tregger and I had already set up a second appointment and had become warm friends. (Very warm!) I felt wonderful, having jumped a major hurdle in my new profession, and I was quickly earning the money I would need to take the guild test. Life was good.