I wish I could say the fact that I’m dancing for aliens is more shocking…but honestly, the aliens are just there for the show. Human men don’t seem that much different from the males I’ve encountered off Earth. Same as back home in Tampa. I guess a customer is a customer no matter the galaxy.
Most abductees fight like hell to escape, and I did at first when I finally realized what happened. That is, until I saw the dark vastness of space outside our ship. What was the point in fighting back with nowhere to go? So instead, I try my best to stay alive.
I dance, I keep my mouth shut, and I’m not punished like some of the other women. I managed to talk my way out of those terrible alien Spanish fly shots they give the majority of us, too. I’m enthusiastic enough without them, thanks to years of working the pole.
For the record, I’ve never been ashamed of being a stripper—and I was damn good at it. I always said that if those men were stupid enough to hand over their money for some illusion of control, that was their problem. I paid my bills. I knew my angles. I could unravel a man with just a fucking look. And I sleep just fine at night knowing I use those same skills to keep myself safe. No shame. Not even a flicker.
I pull my knees tight to my chest and rock, the cold metal floor biting through my skin. The skills I think will keep me alive—the charm, the performance, the pretending—might’ve just signed my death sentence. I can’t stop thinking about that room, about those women frozen mid-life, and whether this Mekkra bastard has his own collection.
Monsters keep company with monsters.
Tears burn down my face, hot against the chill, only the second time I've cried since they took me. If I have the choice again, I think I’d step out the airlock into the inky blackness of space. The cold would be quicker—kinder than I’m sure this warlord will be.
CHAPTER TWO
My stomach rumbles, but I’ve got at least another few hours before I’ll eat again. I don’t even get a hint of light during mealtime, as some kind of pneumatic tube in the ceiling just drops my mylar-wrapped protein bar down a chute and onto the metal floor.
Even though the food ration is bland and mealy, it cuts the hunger pangs. But my stomach growls, and it seems so loud in the dark.
I quickly realize that my hand on the floor is vibrating. It's not my stomach at all, it's the hum of jets engaging.
I brace myself as the engines of our ship do whatever sci-fi shit they do to prepare for landing. The familiar whirl and crunching noises that always happen before we enter another planet or station’s atmosphere fill my dark cell. I don’t know if it’s louder than usual, or if my other senses have heightened after being deprived of sight. I cover my ears as I cower in the corner and push my back up against the wall.
The room jostles, and I brace myself against the wall to keep from being bounced around like apinball. Despite my best efforts, I crack the back of my head against metal and wince.
Finally, a hush spreads as the space ceases its quaking. I reach back to the base of my skull and breathe a sigh of relief as I feel no blood there. What I will have is one helluva of a knot. But at least I don’t have to worry about getting an infection, or worse yet, needing to go into the Deenz’s terrifying medpod.
I’m still rubbing the bump when the door panel to my cell whooshes open, flooding the room with bright, yellow-toned light. My eyes reflexively snap shut. I force my lids to open, just barely slits, as my heart beats wildly in my chest.
Two Deenz figures come into my field of vision, scaled and slimy. They grip my biceps with their clawed hands and hoist me to my knees.
“Up, we have little time,” they say in unison.
The aliens drag me into the hall, my skin scraping on the door frame, before I’m able to get my feet under myself.
“I’m coming,” I stammer.
“Hurry,” they groan, their pace so much faster than I’ve seen them move.
“What’s the rush?”I ask sweetly, trying to smooth their rough edges with a little sugar.
I’m given no answers but only guided into a room I’ve never been in before. It’s small, no bigger than a coat closet. They turn me so that I’m facing the pair standing in the hallway. Before I can even open my mouth to ask what’s going on again, a clear panel slides down in front of me, and straps automatically lock and ratchet around my body.
“What the fuck—” I yelp as my ears pop and the glass in front of me fogs.
“You will obey Warlord Mekkra,” one body says as he types something into his datapad. “We’vealready advised him that there are no returns once he’s accepted the delivery, and if he’s unsatisfied, he’s free to do as he sees fit. Given his reputation, I don’t think angering him is the wisest course of action.”
Bile rises in my throat, and I hold my breath to calm my racing heart. I’m being sold to an alien who will fuck me just as easily as he would kill me. I gulp down the bitter taste welling around my tongue and muster every bit of charm I’ve got left in an attempt not to puke from the anxiety.
“Baby! Come on, we’ve had such good times together—haven’t we?” I coo, dissociating so I can default to that sweet, good-time girl persona I’ve relied on so much these past few years. “I know I make y’all fat stacks of credits. We don’t have to do this. I’m your biggest earner…send this warlord someone who doesn’t make you any money. Let’s keep this business going while the getting’s good!” I smile but hate myself for trying to offer another Bubble Babe to this warlord in my place. But fuck, if one of my worst faults isn’t my self-preservation.
“Your reputation, much like Mekkra, precedes you. You were a special request…and the trade routes at stake are worth more credits than you could imagine. We’ll be working with a whole new audience, untainted by overexposure. This side of the universe is an untapped market, and I promise losing you is worth the risk.” It cocks its head as my mask drops, and I can’t help it when the hot tears streak down my cheeks. “None of that. Can’t make a bad first impression, can we?”
With a push of his datapad, something sharp pokes the meat of my thigh, and I know exactly what it is as that familiar burn hits my veins.
“No!” I gasp, trying to wiggle my fingers to the injection site. “I don’t need that, you know I candeliver!” But the Deenz says nothing as the aphrodisiac floods my system. The itch, small but growing, starts at my center, and I tighten my abdominal muscles together as if that would stop the drug’s assault.
“Let’s not leave it to chance,” the alien says coldly.
