ROOM 0017

ROOM 0017

As many writers know, there are stories that are an uphill struggle to write. You cannot find the right words, or you have no idea of how to go from scene A to scene B.

Then there are stories that basically write by themselves. You just need to be quick with your writing to keep up with the flow of your thoughts.

The story you are about to read belongs to this second kind. It was plotted, handwritten and typed in three days—which could have been two if I had not taken an afternoon off to work… yeah, I need to do that too!  It was a pleasure to write and I considered it, along with "The Stranger", my favourite Obi/Ani story among the ones I have written. I hope you will enjoy it too!

A/N: In this story Anakin did not lose his arm to Dooku's blade.

The place did not have a fancy or suggestive name. It was simply called Room 0017.

Anakin had been given directions to reach it the day he had attained Knighthood.

Along with the personal code that would now allow him to enter previously forbidden areas of the Archives, Anakin had received a box containing a mask, a bracelet, the instructions to use them, an access card and the rules of Room 0017.

The first rule was to always wear the mask when attending the place. Made in a special, shapeshifting metal, the mask did not cover features, it altered them, remodelling them in something totally different from the original. Anakin had been shocked to see how different he looked with the mask on, and had wondered what Padme would think if he went to visit her wearing it.

The second rule was to always wear the bracelet. It masked his Force signature, making it impossible to recognize.

The third rule was not to give his real name—pretty much granted, giving the use of the mask and the bracelet – and not to reveal any detail of his personal life that could lead to him being recognized. That implied the use of civilian clothes. The only Jedi garment allowed was the robe, used to go to and from Room 0017. Lightsabres, distinctive for each Jedi as their Force signatures, were of course forbidden.

The final rule was that whatever happened inside Room 0017 would stay there. A Jedi caught following another patron outside the room to discover their real identity would be permanently banned from the place. The same went for conversations: as long as one did not start praising the Dark side, what was said inside the room, even if it was a confession of some breach of the Code, had to stay there and not be reported or spread.

Anakin had read all the rules and then thrown them into the box, along with the mask, the bracelet and the access card.

What use did he have for a room where Jedi went to have unattached, strictly regulated sex, when he could make wild, passionate love with his wife every time he wished?

The box had been kicked under his bed in his new quarters and left there to collect dust.

Until now.

Anakin's marriage to Padme had not survived the end of the war and their living together in almost permanent basis. Anakin had discovered something he had not realized while spending months away, on the front lines: politics, for Padme, came before him. Especially now, after Palpatine – the revealed Sith Lord—had been eliminated, but not before he had almost brought the Republic crushing onto its knees.

Anakin and Padme had started arguing, had grown distant, until the day she had asked for the divorce and he had consented.

That day Anakin had been happy they had kept their relationship a secret for, had they made it public, and had he left the Jedi, now he would have lost both his families.

Instead he still had the Jedi. He had good friends in the Order and, apparently, even the chance to find a lover among its members.

Anakin no longer wanted to feel love, it was too painful when it ended. It was best to stick with the rules of the Code and keep love and sex separated.

So, three years after having being given the box, Anakin dragged it from under his bed and prepared to visit Room 0017 for the first time.

The place was different from what he had expected—or perhaps not because he had any idea of what he would find. He was still trying to digest the idea that, inside the solemn, mystical, dignified Jedi Temple there was a room where Knights and Masters went if they wanted to have sex. A place where all the players knew the rules of the game and nobody would play dirty or be hurt.

Anakin had visited a couple of sex clubs during his padawan days, but Room 0017 was nothing like them.

There were no multi-coloured lights, no smoke-filled air, no people wearing skimpy, revealing clothes or leather harnesses.

Instead the place looked more like an upper level piano-bar. There was a counter with high stools and several booths with tables and benches. Droids served beverages and food, while a soft, tasteful music played in the background. A series of doors opened on the far side wall, leading to small private bedrooms.

All in all, it was a nice, serene place and Anakin relaxed, to the point he discarded his robe and hung it on a wall hanger, alongside with many others.

He sat at the counter and ordered a glass of Corellian ale, his voice sounding strange to his ears until he realized the mask he was wearing altered that too. Everything had been done to guarantee anonymity.

When his drink arrived, Anakin sipped it and looked around, studying the other patrons.

There were about fifteen people that evening, sitting at the tables or dancing on a small platform. There were both females and males, and all of them looked to be human. Anakin let his eyes wander, watching if someone would catch his interest.

He paid little attention to the facial features, probably because he knew they were as fake as the ones he was sporting, and concentrated on other details. The colour of the skin, the shape of breasts, their hips, the way they moved or gestured with their hands.

His eyes scanned all the patrons, but kept on returning to an auburn-haired man who was dancing with a blond haired woman.

Not very tall, but compact, he wore a light blue shirt that showed the hair on his chest, and a pair of black trousers that, while not being tight at all, evidenced the shape of his buttocks and legs, and the slimness of his waist.

Anakin was not surprised his interest was focused on a man. He had known since he his late teenage days that he was attracted to both sexes, but he had never acted on his interest for males. To make it simple, he was a bit put off by what being with a man would involve.

However, now, he could not take his eyes off the man with the blue shirt.

There was something very sensual, if not overtly erotic, in the way he moved, especially because, Anakin was sure, it was not done on purpose. That man was not trying to arouse anybody, he was just enjoying the beat of the music.

The music ended, and Anakin's face fell when the blond woman walked to the man and wrapped her arm around his waist. They talked for a while, heads bent together and soft laughs escaping their lips, then they walked toward one of the rooms on the far side wall and disappeared inside.

There, so much for the evening, Anakin thought bitterly. The only person sparking some interest in him was already taken. It did not matter he would have never worked up the courage to ask for the blue-shirted man; he simply would have enjoyed watching him dance more.

"Hello, are you looking for company?" A male voice murmured close to his ear. Anakin whirled around and found a tall, lanky man with dark hair looking down at him with a hopeful smile on his face.

"No, thank you," Anakin hurried to say as he shook his head. "I was leaving." And before the other man could add anything, he was down off the stool and out of the room.