2
"It's puce. Puce!" Britmar clenched her fists, pounded them on her legs. She barely noticed Uanaso slip something into his jacket pocket. Then, he gaped.
"Babe. That dress..."
"I know; it's disgusting!" Britmar imagined Lara's ear to ear grin that she'd escaped as quickly as she could.
"Disgusting?" Uanaso's frown made his head droop slightly. One of his horns caught the light and shone in Britmar's face for a second. "That's uber sexy, babe," he said. "It makes your boobs rock."
"It's puce," Britmar repeated. "I have red hair, remember? Look at my face." She waited for only a split second. "It's up here. My complexion is pasty and I have red hair. This color is horrible on me!"
"What is puce, anyway?" Uanaso seemed not in the least concerned.
"It's this awful shade of green, idiot," Britmar said huffily.
"Hey," he said and stepped toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I think you look amazing." His eyes wandered down to her breasts. Again.
Sneering, Britmar shoved him away. "I don't care if the girls can do a jig in this dress," she growled. "The picture in the catalog showed it as navy. This monstrosity has to go back."
"We'll be late," Uanaso protested. "They frown on that sort of thing at these posh places in the Upper City."
It was to be a fine date at a rizty place. Britmar, however, stomped her foot. "Then I guess we ain't gonna make that reservation," she said definitively. "I'm not going outside dressed like a clown."
"Fine," Uanaso said, his eyes dangerously close to rolling back in his head. "I'll have to comm them to cancel." He reached into the same pocket and pulled out his comm, before stepping outside.
Britmar left a blistering message with the upscale store's droid and a scathing rebuke for Lara. They were closed, however, so she wasn't getting that dress off her hands until tomorrow. That also meant she had nothing fancy to wear, anyway. It was good Uanaso was canceling.
"Wait a tick," Britmar said, scowling into the full length mirror. "Why would he bother to cancel? It's not like we give a nikrat's ass about some high class eatery on this backwater dump of a planet."
Just as she was about to activate the security system and listen in on whoever he was talking to, the door slid open and he walked in. "All taken care of. And, I figure we can go to the Spacer's Luck, cantina and casino in the Lower City. You know, since we're here." He winked at her and despite her anger, her heart fluttered a bit.
"You remembered," Britmar said. Maybe there was some hope of salvaging this date after all. It was where they had first met. She'd gotten into a bar fight with some schutta, and when her rough crewmate had tried to interfere with a broken bottle, Uanaso had swooped in to take out the creep.
"That's right, babe," he said and bared his sharp teeth. "Whatta you say? Change into that little black number you got, that pushes your rack up to your chin and let's get."
Britmar fought back a blush, kissed him on his nose. "You're a charmer," she said and hurried back into the bedroom. Off went the disgusting, high priced piece of space trash, and off came the silk slip, too. Her black dress was tight and the midriff was absent, supporting her bosom and showing an incredible amount of finely toned flesh.
"Maybe I'll tear him out of that jacket later. With my teeth," she mused as she slipped herself into the dress. It fit just as she'd remembered. Better, maybe. When she came out of the bedroom, Uanaso's jaw dropped. "One of many, tonight," Britmar said with a smirk.
Swoop bikes zigzagged here and there in the Lower City. Gangs were mostly glorified clubs. They didn't fight too much, mostly bragged about their swoops and raced them every so often. Something about men riding throbbing, phallic shaped machines and claiming to be macho. It made Britmar giggle every time she thought about it.
The Spacer's Luck had a fine casino. Pazaak, Sabaac, Quasar machines, just about anything you could imagine was here for your enjoyment. That, and the gambling no doubt made the proprietors very wealthy.
The attached cantina could have been a little fancier. But it was a lively atmosphere, and that was one of Britmar's favorite adjectives.
"I heard they got some new dancing girls," Uanaso said as they walked in, arm in arm.
"Down boy; concentrate on the here and now," Britmar said. "Let's get a booth, then we can check out the scenery."
Despite it being a cantina in the Lower City, one of the things that made the Spacer's Luck a bit of upscale was the maitre d' droid. "Greetings and welcome to the Spacer's Luck," it said in tinny tones. "Do you have a reservation?"
"Uanaso," her Zabrak boyfriend said, ignoring the droid. His focus went past the clattering can and into the cantina itself. His eyes darted here and there, like he was looking for something – or someone. Britmar watched him closely.
"Ah, here it is," the droid said. "Table for two, this way, please."
"Can we get a booth instead?" Britmar asked when the droid led them to a round table in the middle of the action.
"I'm sorry," the droid said, not sounding sorry. "We are booked full for the night on account of the first rate entertainment the owners have managed to secure. Enjoy your meal at the Spacer's Luck; and why not try the casino afterwards? You might get lucky."
"Well, I suppose this'll do," Britmar said. She waited for Uanaso to hold the chair out for her, but he sat down, his eyes glued to the stage. This date was quickly souring. Again.
"Hello? Forget about me?" Britmar asked as her chair squealed along the floor.
"Sit down, babe, I think the show'll be starting soon," Uanaso said absently. Inside, Britmar began to steam again.
The waiter droid arrived while Britmar was still studying the menu. "What will the lady have?" it asked in monotones.
"Uh, is the sea bass fresh?" she asked.
If the waiter had flesh, it might have frowned. "Probably when it was on Dantooine," it said.
"Ugh," Britmar said and kept looking. The band began to bring out its instruments and the place filled up quickly. What could be so amusing? It's not like no one had ever seen a thousand Twi'lek dancing girls gyrate half naked on a stage before. And that was usually before puberty set in.
"I think I'll have the green salad and the six ounce nerf tartar," she said at last.
"And you, sir?" the waiter asked.
At last, Uanaso pried his eyes off the stage. He seemed befuddled and perused the menu like a man possessed. "Tuber fries and a nerfburger, extra rare," he mumbled. The waiter clanged away.
Britmar reached out to clasp her boyfriend's hand. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" she said.
"Uh, what? Yeah, a long time," he said. His hand felt cold and he barely squeezed hers back.
"What's wrong?" she asked. Then, she remembered the object he'd slipped into his pocket when she first came out of the bedroom. Suspicion leaped into her throat. "Who were you talking to when I put on that gods awful dress?"
Now Uanaso gave her his full attention. When he was distracted like this, he only gave her full attention when he was going to get some, or when he was about to tell a boldfaced lie. "Some bad debts, babe," he said and grinned wickedly. "Some people don't know when to quit asking for payment."
"Who is this bad debt to?" she demanded.
Just then, the lights went low. The band began to play, softly at first. All the men and women in the place seemed to tense up, as if expecting something terrible – or wonderful – to happen at any moment. Britmar shuddered at the sudden dip in temperature she felt from their rapt attention.
A spotlight struck out, near the edge of the stage. A silky smooth leg, golden tan in shade, slipped out. It was toned, lithe and sensual. The crowd roared. Britmar found herself wanting to roar, too.
The leg disappeared. The back end of a form slithered out from the curtains, wearing a sequined – but not overly gaudy – dress that had so little fabric it could scarce be called a dress. It was more like the mere suggestion of a dress. Tan, toned skin. Excellent physique, form and shape. All of a sudden, Britmar saw what all the excitement was about. This was no Twi'lek dancing girl.
When she began to sing, her voice resonated against the walls of the cantina. It sounded like angels singing. She belted out the first few lines from a cantina standard in the Twi'lek language. Britmar was an instant fan, along with everyone else.
Then, as quickly as it began, the love affair ended. The star of the show bounced up to the front of the stage to thunderous applause, her head back to allow her larynx room to force out that high note. When she lowered her head, horns gleaming in the spotlights, her full, rosy lips glittering, frosty blue eyes dancing, Britmar's hands balled up into fists and she screamed. Not that anyone in the cantina could have heard her over the din of music, singing and applause.
"That son of a-"
To be continued...