There were several humans and a handful of other races seeking Wives, but none of the men gave me a second look. The first was made in sheer curiosity, then they saw my red eyes, or maybe the blue hue to my skin, and they didn't look again.
It'd been like this for weeks, male after male passing me by. Not without cause, I had expected this, thanks mostly to looks. But also, I didn't carry the desperation most of the other Pre-Wives did. They needed this to survive, whereas I lived for the goal.
Not that I was desperate, but I was bored with life on this hunk of a planet. I couldn't afford a ticket off, thanks to the situation of the government where it was easy to arrive, but hell to leave.
I wanted more than life on a single planet, stuck around the same people. So maybe a traveling senator would let me have the adventure of my time, all for the low cost of a marriage contract.
It didn't mean much to me. Trade my body and company for a lifetime of being taken care of and paid for? It wasn't a hard bargain to accept.
But nothing was forthcoming. Sure, the owner of the PleasureWife service paid my board and in exchange would get a percentage of my final contract pay, so I wasn't starving while I waited, but it made me question my decision.
Not that I couldn't leave and get a job somewhere, but I wanted to give this a shot, if a small one.
One of the men, a Mandalorian if his beskar armor meant anything, walked by for the third time that day, observing me, helmeted head tilted the slightest bit forward. I wasn't his first choice-I'd seen him eying other displays more than once, but he only paused his calculated steps in front of me.
I could only imagine he was clocking my shape, size, and attraction level through that dark visor, but who knew?
"Her," he said, head cocking back to the manager's booth. "I want this one."
I swallowed back the thrill that coursed it's way through my throat, half excitement and half unsure restlessness at the fact of being married to a bounty hunter. Life was about to get a lot more exciting.
And dangerous.
While he might have thought himself untouchable behind the armor, I did my fair share of observing when he entered the private meeting room behind my booth, lead in by the manager who left as soon as he placed the contract papers on the table.
As a potential PleasureWife, I was free to not sign the contract if I so chose, and in instances where the husband put the Wife in danger, the contract would be nullified on the spot.
But if I did sign, and he was a decent person, we'd be married forever as far as galaxy law was concerned.
A handful of thoughts coursed through my head as we watched each other in silence, neither one speaking for whatever reason.
Did he ever wash his armor?
Did he like it gentle? Rough?
What did he eat for breakfast?
Was he average-sized? Below? Above?
Did bounty hunters usually get married?
Would he want me to suck him off at lightspeed?
Did he keep pillows on his bed?
"It's nothing personal," he said, pulling the binding document and pen from the middle of the table and scrawling his assent against the bottom of the page.
"I agree." I waited a beat, then when he slid the paper back to me, I looked it over-well, looked at his signature that was an average combination of print and cursive that I couldn't make sense of-then wrote my name below his.
"It's done, then," he said, straightening out of the chair like he hated sitting. "My ship's on Pad 9. Get your things."
I had all my things right there on me-well, the clothes actually weren't mine, but I kept my savings on my person at all times.
Managing to get the excited waver out of my voice, I asked, "Well, Husband, when do we start?"
He gave a slow assessment of me, whatever eyes were beneath that visor probably scanning every inch of me. Maybe it was because I'd used his new title, or because I wasn't shaking in fear, but excitement.
He let out the smallest breath, no doubt massively turned on by my willingness. I'd bet not every woman was exactly clamoring for his bed. "Tonight."
-/-
He called his ship the Razor something, a giant, old thing that looked like it had never had a heater or A/C grace its insides, but if it got him here, apparently it ran.
As he paid the pad fee plus several extra Flan, I waited behind him, staring at his back as if it'd be more penetrable than the front. It wasn't, but while staring I guessed he didn't have much back armor and wore the cape to cover up that fact. Otherwise, a cape would be an utter menace to movement, tangling in legs and catching arms if you fell.
Then, as if he expected me to follow-or didn't care if I did-he boarded without a word, leaving me free to come or go.
My stomach stirred with the decision he'd left me, the true decision. Then I recalled the wanton tone he'd used when he's said tonight, and my legs followed his steps up the ramp.
I wasn't about to stay a virgin with my willing husband waiting on board, and I definitely wasn't about to let some Twi'lek bimbo take my place.