Captain Carswell Thorne was, without a doubt, a ladies' man. He knew how to talk the talk. He knew how to walk the walk. But what he didn't know might surprise you. Carswell Thorne did not know how to have sex. He sure wanted to, plenty of times. But he was sent to military school – all boys. And then he went into the actual military – predominately men. Before he even had a chance to use his charm to seduce some lovely young ladies, he started The Soap Riot… and went to prison. And the person he shared his cell with – nobody. You can see how this would lead to a very frustrated man.
So when he met Cress, and swore up and down that he wouldn't hurt her, he also meant he wouldn't hurt himself. What if he was bad at sex and she wanted something better? What if she was a natural and he was a dud? What if –
"Captain?" He heard Cress calling from the front of the ship. "Captain, come here. It's important!"
He sluggishly climbed out of his seat in the kitchen, his half-finished drink left to fizzle out. He turned left, walked through a corridor, and took the copilot's seat in the cockpit. He could see Cress's head poking up from the pilot's seat, but she was turned away from him, her feat resting on the console. Everything seemed fine, no alerts were showing up, no flashing lights or loud noises.
"What is it, Cress?" He knew they were on track for their mission, so there should be no emergencies. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, Captain." Her voice was slow, each syllable drowsy with some kind of emotion. An emotion he had never heard from her before…
"Is there something wrong with the ship?"
"No, Captain." That same voice, it sounded strange coming from her.
"Cress, turn around. Look me in the eyes and tell me you're okay."
She started to swivel the chair around and caught herself; she turned the chair back so she was facing away from him again. But something caught his eye. Cress wasn't wearing her usual skirt that dangled just above her knees. In fact, Carswell thought maybe she wasn't wearing anything at all.
He reached cautiously towards the back of the chair and swiveled her around to face him. He was relieved to see she was wearing her new pajama dress, a short nightie she had found the last time they were on Luna. The silky material glowed slightly in the starlight and caught every last one of her curves, and he found himself getting a little stiff...
His voice caught in his throat, but he pushed through and said again, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you're okay."
So Cress looked him in the eyes and said, "Captain, why haven't you tried to sleep with me yet?"
Carswell Thorne quickly turned into a stammering mess. "Muh, uh, I… uh I didn't... Um, did you want me… to uh…"
Cress left her chair and took a new seat: Thorne's lap. She straddled him, her small framing taking up barely any room. And she kissed him. It was a slow sweet kiss, perhaps to calm him down, or maybe just because she wanted to. "Captain?"
"Yes, Cress?"
"I want you to."
