Chapter Seven
By being a successful Soturi, Obi-Wan was noticing an uncomfortable level of increasing popularity and recognition wherever he and Qui-Gon went. He didn't care for it. However, the improvement in sleeping quarters was to his liking.
In Fardu-Kur, he and Qui-Gon had slept on a packed earth floor covered with thin woven blankets. In Pentari, the rooms set aside for Soturi fighters and their managers still only offered pallets upon the floor, though the bedding was greatly improved, and they each had a private room.
Pentari boasted several inns, a butcher shop, ironsmith, open market, as well as the battling arena just outside of town. A man by the name of Kes-Ki was apparently the founder of the village; the first Pentarian Soturi to win the Grand Soturi Battle and gain citizenship to Upea. The Keski Arena was named after him.
It was at the inn furthest from the arena where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan settled for the night. There was one more battle in Pentari before they would move onto the third round: The team bouts at Nu-Pea. Once they had arrived, Qui-Gon would be notified who had been assigned to Obi-Wan as a partner. They would have one day to become accustomed to one another's fighting styles, and then be flung out together into the arena to work as a team.
Obi-Wan got nervous just thinking about it. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of having to fight in sync with another, or to be forced to rely upon a stranger. How would he know when to move? When to feign? When to strike, and when to back off?
He had a lot to think about, and it was those thoughts, which kept Obi-Wan from sleeping as he stared up at the inn's cracked ceiling. Loud voices floating in from the nearby bar didn't make things better. A solid door would at least help muffle the noise, but all that stood between him and the long hallway leading to the tavern was a single woven cloth hanging from a rod.
A cloth, which was abruptly swept back by large hand belonging to none other than his Master.
"Obi-Wan, are you sleeping?"
"Not yet," the young man answered, placing an arm behind his head to improve his angle of sight.
Qui-Gon smiled, though did not enter, his head the only thing which was protruding through the drape. "Good," he replied before pushing the cloth back further. "Because I have a surprise for you. Do you recall our conversation about your…modesty with the crowd?"
Obi-Wan suddenly had a bad feeling about where this conversation was headed. "Yes," he answered with growing alarm as Qui-Gon ushered in a female. She was petite in stature, with a slim build and small breasts. Her eyes were big and brown, and her hair hung in long braids down her front and back. She was tan from the desert suns, but not a dark-skin. Her lips were full and pink, and she wore a simple silky tunic, the hem of which was decorated with colorful stitching.
"This is Pad-Me," Qu-Gon introduced the young woman, whose dark eyebrow raised in amusement when Obi-Wan scrambled about to find his clothing.
"She works here at the inn and will be your companion for the night," Qui-Gon explained, equally befuddled at Obi-Wan's rather uncoordinated attempts to cover himself.
"Master, that's all right," Obi-Wan pleaded as he fumbled about with his loin wrap, before giving up entirely and grabbing his woolen cloak from a nearby chair instead. "I was just about to go to sleep, and tomorrow's an important day…"
"I insist, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon told him with a wink just before he left, allowing the heavy red drape to fall back across the doorway.
"I watched you in the arena today," the young woman said while Obi-Wan's mind raced, and his ears burned. He could feel the blood rushing to his face and wondered if the small amount of light the single candle let off would reveal his blush. "Chu-Un is a monster. I'm glad you beat him."
"So am I," Obi-Wan said back, immediately disappointed with his choice of words. He hated small talk! Especially with a woman! Why had his Master done this to him? Why would Qui-Gon think a single night with a prostitute was going to change him? To make him more outgoing or outspoken? What was he thinking?
"If you don't mind, can I take a seat? It's been a long day."
"Of course," Obi-Wan pulled out one of the two chairs at the small table between the pallet and the rock wall. He re-adjusted his cloak about his middle and seated himself in the other, on the opposite side of her. The flickering light played with her image, and Obi-Wan took a better look at her this time, amazed to discover she looked remarkably like the woman from his vision, though her skin was a little darker.
"Would you care for a drink?" Obi-Wan picked up the tall flask from the table. "It's wine and not that bad," he explained, offering it to her.
"No, thank you," Pad-Me replied kindly, "I've had enough for tonight."
The silence between them was turning awkward, Obi-Wan's attention drawn entirely to tracing the mosaics on the tabletop. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the young woman reached across and began tracing something as well – a scar, which ran the length of the underside of his arm.
Her hand was as light a moth fluttering across his skin, but as effective as a burning torch, shooting fire up his extremity and raising bumps of chilled flesh along the other at the same time.
"Did this come from a battle?" she asked, her voice nearly as soft as her caress.
It took a moment for Obi-Wan to find his own voice, and he had to clear his throat before speaking. What was the matter with him?
"No, I've never been injured during a battle," he explained. "I got that when I fell down the side of the…" he stopped short of finishing his explanation. How would she react if she discovered he'd once worked as a slave in The Pit? That for twelve years of his life, he'd been lowered into a hole and forced to dig for sixteen hours a day?
On second thought, why should he care what she knew about him? She was nothing but a whore, hired by his Master to keep him company and bring him out of his shell.
"I fell," he began once again, although his mind refused to finish the story. He wasn't sure why.
Obi-Wan's answer seemed to satisfy his guest, and she smiled sweetly at him, the simple gesture causing the most delightful tremors somewhere deep down in his stomach.
Her fingers continued to trace the mark back down to his wrist, where she began to lightly paint his palm and fingers with touch. "It's difficult to imagine these hands are deadly weapons. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it myself," she commented, smiling up at him, her eyes glittering in the candlelight. "You fight with such patience and maturity, Obi-Wan," she continued, her caress moving back up to the hypersensitive part of his inner arm. "I've never seen a Soturi quite like you."
"I owe it all to Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan managed, his voice coming out more like the squeak of a rodat.
"Handsome and humble too," Pad-Me replied, boldly moving her chair closer and leaning dangerously near him, her caress never ceasing. The battles in the arena didn't make him this nervous! "You are a wonder," Pad-Me continued, her soft voice dropping low, her eyelids narrowing, her lips pouting.
And beneath the cloak covering Obi-Wan's lap, his reaction was obvious. Obi-Wan could not deny how much he was attracted to Pad-Me, although he was unsure if it was because of her familiar looks, or simply because he had never been touched by a woman this way.
During his years as a slaveworker, he had stayed in the shadows and watched others coupling, but never had anyone approached him to offer what Pad-Me was apparently offering him this evening.
"I," Obi-Wan stammered, embarrassment once again coloring his face, "I haven't yet slept with a woman."
Her eyes widened, and a smile of mirth lifted her mouth, though she did not laugh. "Almost too good to be true," she whispered before placing her hands around his face and placing her mouth upon him in a kiss.
Obi-Wan sat rigidly still as Pad-Me moved against him, her lips brushing across his as gently as her caress had earlier. When he felt the moist tip of her tongue brush across him, Obi-Wan retreated in shock, but complied with the gentle pull of her hands and leaned forward once again.
This time, he did not recoil when he felt the wet warmth slide across his mouth, and actually responded in kind, touching her with his own tongue; tentatively at first and then more confidently as the kiss continued. Suddenly, before Obi-Wan was actually aware of what had happened, she had drawn him fully inside, where she suckled, toyed, and intertwined his tongue with her own, causing his head to become as light as if he had drank the entire flask of wine all by himself.
She pulled back, leaving Obi-Wan's mouth hanging open, her pupils dilated with desire, her bosom heaving. She then surprised him once again by coming out of her seat and straddling his lap. In the process, the cloak that had been around his waist had slipped to the floor, though Obi-Wan barely noticed. He was much more interested in the enticing way her tongue was tracing his teeth before it was removed entirely and relocated to his earlobe, while her voice began seductively whispering in his ear.
"I wanted you from the moment I saw you enter the arena," she told him, her hands moving from his face to his corded neck, then down across the muscles of his chest.
Obi-Wan felt like he was floating…no, flying across the plains. Her voice had an ethereal quality to it, and for a moment, he thought he might possibly be dreaming, or experiencing another vision. But when her hands grasped the hardened bundle of nerves and need between his legs, Obi-Wan's eyes flew open and he boldly looked Pad-Me in the face, squaring his jaw confidently.
"That's it," she encouraged him while her small hand worked the length of him. "Let me have the warrior. I need you inside me, Obi-Wan. You don't know how much."
Obi-Wan did know. He understood perfectly. A charging rankor couldn't keep him from being with Pad-Me, from thrusting up into her, easing the desperate ache inside his belly.
He placed his hands about her thin arms and lifted her body up slightly as she guided him in - into a place Obi-Wan discovered was as hot as the suns on the midday sands.
When she began to move, the answers came. As drunk as he felt, his path became clear, and Obi-Wan could see things as he never had before.
This was the mistake in his life. This was what was missing. The old farmer had hinted about it, Qui-Gon had teased him about it, but Obi-Wan had never completely understood. Until now.
And it wasn't sex. It was this type of closeness he'd been missing, this level of intimacy with another human being he wanted. No, needed. This physical act was simply the benefit from such a relationship.
This realization, however, brought a measure of sadness to his newfound joy. He was not going to find such intimacy with this girl. She was nothing but a prostitute, who gave herself freely to anyone who would pay.
Obi-Wan knew, however, the right one was out there. Somewhere. He would find her someday soon, but for now, he would enjoy this moment and be grateful Pad-Me had helped him discover this sudden insight.
Apparently finding the tunic restricting, the young woman whisked the material over her head, exposing her breasts to Obi-Wan's gaze. She smiled before curling upon him like a tuskat, pressing her flesh into chest before drawing up his hands, which had been gripping firmly onto the chair. Pad-Me placed both of them over her small breasts and mimicked the movement she desired. Obi-Wan responded, massaging the mounds of flesh as Pad-Me added more leverage to her movements by gripping onto his shoulders.
Her inner muscles squeezed him between the up and down motions of her body, and Obi-Wan could feel responding subtle tremors along his length. It wouldn't be long now. If she would only slow down, this might last longer.
But she didn't slow down. In fact, her body's movements increased in tempo, prompting Obi-Wan to support her aggression with a firm grip on her buttocks. He physically lifted her up with each thrusting, literally allowing her drop back down onto his lap, sending his erection deeply inside.
The edges of any control he had were beginning to fray, Obi-Wan's movements becoming frantic and erratic. She grunted with each fall, and he with each thrust, until their moans became shouts, with Obi-Wan releasing all his inhibitions deeply inside Pad-Me, her womb welcoming and accepting his seed greedily.
She fell forward when the tremors had ceased, her damp hair sticking to his chest, his erection softening inside of her.
"I knew you'd be great," she professed quietly, causing Obi-Wan to chuckle with disbelief.
"I'm serious," she confirmed, lifting her head. "I'm glad you let me come in. Would you mind if I spend the night?"
Obi-Wan's brows rose in suspicion with the suggestion, but on second thought, he couldn't see why not. It would be nice to have a soft, warm body to sleep with, and a beautiful face to wake up to. Much better than Qui-Gon's bearded one. The thought made him want to find his future mate all the more quickly.
Obi-Wan fell asleep with the beautiful stranger in his arms, his only regret being that he wished she'd been someone else: Anyone other than a prostitute.
