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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Close Encounters

Ryn's first day as a slave was awful. It wasn't so much the work - hard, dirty, and unpleasant, but it wasn't like her life had been a joyride up to now. It wasn't even the treatment she received from her taskmaster, or from the other slaves, who were so relieved at the thought of finding someone lower on the pecking order than themselves that they were fairly merciless in proving that they had the power to make her life miserable. It was the awful sense of despair that permeated the place. It radiated out from the inmates of Ziro's Pleasure Palace until it seemed to soak into the walls and the floor and Ryn could feel it like a physical burden, dragging at her feet, twisting her stomach.

She thought the experience might go a long way toward explaining Anakin's obsession with freeing slaves. She knew his sympathetic senses were fueled by the Force, not biology: less sensitive than hers, and now that he'd had training he could control the flow of impressions ... but as a boy, on Tatooine? Immersed in this kind of hopelessness every day? Ryn shuddered, setting down her scrub brush for what she had some hope might be the last time that day, and surveyed her work on the gracefully curving staircase.

Not bad, she thought. She'd managed to remove all traces of whatever the Malastaran senator had yakked up on the steps, and every centimeter of the surface - real wood, very expensive - now gleamed golden-brown.

Revin snuck up from behind and goosed her under the ribs, nearly causing her to drop the bucket of sudsy water in her left hand.

She knew him without looking, now that she was paying attention, but she remembered to turn around and identify him by sight, anyway, just like anybody else. Not at all like a gifted, Force-sensitive empath.

She was getting better at that. "Revin."

She steeled herself for a taunt of some kind, since she'd been more or less patiently taking them all day. But there was no malice in Revin's presence at the moment. Instead, he felt ... awkward. Uncertain.

"Do you have chores left?"

"I have to empty my bucket and clean out the brush so it doesn't dry stiff." They'd called her to deal with the senator's "spill" after her regular chores were done. She had a sick feeling that she'd probably missed supper while she was doing it.

Unexpectedly, Revin reached out and took the bucket from her. "Here. I'll carry it."

Ryn waited for him to dash the water on the floor or throw it in her face, but he didn't do either, just swung off toward the washroom, expecting her to keep up.

Ryn fell into step beside him.

"Don't mind the others," he told her with a sidelong glance. "They just like to get their bluff in, the first few days. They id the same thing to me. Makes them feel superior."

Ryn wondered how he knew the hazing she'd undergone today, since she hadn't seen him around much. "Have you been here long?"

"A couple of years, give or take. You lose track of the time, belowstairs."

That wasn't an encouraging thought. "Sounds like a barrel of laughs," Ryn commented dolefully, and Revin did laugh.

"Well, the first few days are usually the hardest," Revin said. "Especially if you weren't born to the life."

Ryn grimaced. "I look that new?"

"Well ... yeah." Revin opened the door to the washroom and held it so she could follow him in.

There was no light, so they left the door open as Revn emptied the bucket and Ryn cleaned out the brush. "Thanks for the help," she said as they turned to go.

Revin reached over her shoulder and slapped the door shut, plunging them into darkness, and before Ryn could ask what he was doing he had grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her to him, kissing her with a lot more force than aptitude, running his hands up under her shirt to caress her waist, grunting in satisfaction when his fingers touched bare skin.

Ryn jerked back, freeing her mouth so she could gasp, "What are you doing?"

Revin still had his hands on her bare waist. he squeezed, more gently this time, trying to pull her back. "I'll make it good for you," he promised, his breathing loud in the dark room. He tried to stroke her hair. "And I won't tell a soul, I swear."

Wonder of wonders, he meant it. Apparently realizing that perhaps slower would be better, Revin had given up on removing her tunic and was nuzzling her jawline with commendable enthusiasm and no skill at all. He really was trying to make it good for her, the fool.

So ... not an assault. Just the worst seduction I've ever even heard of ...

Ryn reached out with her sixth sense and tested him. She sensed desire, loneliness, bewilderment ... but no malice or aggression. He was a walking hormone, but so were most boys his age, so she was inclined not to hold that part against him.

But this invasion of personal space has got to stop.

Ryn sighed. He probably deserved a knee in the groin for this trick ... but she couldn't help thinking that if things had been a very little bit different, that could have been Anakin, lonely and desperate and fumbling for comfort without a clue.

And she had the advantage of knowing that he really didn't mean any harm.

The road to hell is paved with ... oh, blast. Never mind.

She twisted out of Revin's grip and tugged on the door until it slid a quarter of the way open, providing some light. Then she dropped cross-legged to the floor and patted the space beside her.

Revin hesitated for about a second before folding himself up next to her. "Is this about the boy you came in with?" he asked her. "Because you stayed with him last night, even though he didn't have a blanket. And I know you didn't do anything ... like that. You know."

Yes, Ryn knew. She didn't feel like pointing out the intricacies of Anakin's abstinence policy. She shook off the insistent images of what they could have been doing last night and said, "No, this isn't about Anakin." She waited until he met her eyes and nodded his acceptance. "So what makes you think it's a good idea to go around grabbing women in darkened rooms?"

Revin flinched guiltily and looked away. "Nothing. Never mind."

Fat chance. "Look," Ryn said conversationally, "I'm not trying to give you a hard time. I'm asking for real."

Revin stared at the floor. "I thought it would be more romantic that way." he risked a quick glance at her before muttering, "It's not like I had any candles."

"Oh." Ryn refused, she absolutely refused, to laugh at him. He was embarrassed now; that wasn't good. "Okay, I get the dark part now." Maybe not the grabbing. "Why me, anyway? I mean, there are a lot of girls here."

"You smell good," Revin said, and he meant it - probably she smelled good to him because of her Lorethan pheromones, which were technically odorless in themselves but did tend to alter one's body chemistry somewhat - but Ryn could tell there was more. She probed a little, very gently, and found history of abject failure. None of the girls here would have him. Revin didn't understand why, but Ryn, after she thought about it, did. Revin wasn't bad-tempered or bad-looking, but he projected that earnest air that was like blood in the water to bullies. No one wanted to take the risk of associating with him.

Ryn wasn't sure how she could help with that. She couldn't teach him insincerity, even if she wanted to try. So instead she gave him a wry smile and said, "Good to know I don't stink. But for the record? I think most women want a little more warning."

"Okay," Revin said. He hesitated. "So does that mean we're going to do it or not?"

Yeah, that's the attitude that will get you laid. "We're not," Ryn said. "I don't think this is how I want to lose my virginity." She gestured at the dingy walls, smelling of disinfectant.

Revin started to push to his feet, angry and embarrassed.

Ryn had been around Anakin enough to predict the outcome of that particular combination. She put out a hand to stop him. "Keep up with those social skills and you might have sex by the time you're fifty. If you're lucky."

Revin dusted off his backside and glared at her. "What do you care?" he snapped.

Ryn shrugged. "You seem like a nice guy." Relatively speaking.

"Yeah. Okay. Everybody thinks I'm a nice guy," Revin retorted. There was enough bitterness in his tone to let her know he'd heard the same thing on similar occasions.

"Fine," Ryn responded. "You're a nice guy who has no seduction skills. Technique you can learn. Would you rather be a cad with lots of experience?"

Revin gave her a mutinous look. "Yes."

"Oh, come on," Ryn said, not believing him for a second. "That sort of thing leads to the most appalling diseases. And getting slapped a lot."

He grinned at that, a little reluctantly. "You didn't slap me."

"I'm a very understanding person," said Ryn. "I saw there was hope for you."

"You couldn't see a thing," Revn pointed out. "It was dark."

"Oh, sure, mock my insights," Ryn said. "See where that gets you."

"Well, you mocked my technique."

"What technique?" Ryn said, giving him a smile as she got to her feet. "Come one. We need to pick out a girl for you to romance."

"You know, I thought I made it pretty clear I was picking you," Revin said.

"I think you need to explore your options," Ryn said. "Also, it's cold in here."

"All right," Revin said. "But can I just ... can I just ... you know ... try one thing?"

Ryn eyed him suspiciously. But she couldn't sense any ill intent, just thrumming eagerness and a lot of nerves. "One thing," she told him firmly, and stood still as he edged closer.

He reached up to touch her face. "Close your eyes," he whispered.

Ryn obeyed him, senses alert in case she'd misjudged him. But he just leaned in, warm breath fanning across her cheek, and lowered his head to trail kisses down her neck, licking and biting and sucking his way to her shoulder.

It felt nice. Ryn shivered, guiltily aware that if this were Anakin in the washroom with her, she'd be a melting puddle of lust by now.

Revin stopped at her collar, farewelling her skin with one last, lingering, almost reverent kiss. "Like that?" he asked, his breathing roughened.

Hell yes, like that. Just not with you. "Yes, like that," Ryn answered, because Revin didn't need to know about her unrequited lust problems. "That was ... good."

Revin smiled sheepishly in the light from the hall, blushing with the pride of success. "I saw that done once," he said shyly. "I've thought about it a lot."

Ryn saw memories, floating to the surface of his mind: the woman's face, eyes closed in pleasure. The man, someone Revin admired because the women who shared his blankets at night were never dull and teary the next morning. He had an ambition to be like that man: strong enough to get a blanket of his own every night, kind enough not to bully anyone who shared it. It wasn't, all things considered, a bad way to be.

"Well," Ryn said, "good job. But it's still really cold in here, so ..."

"Yeah. We'll go."