A/N: One last chapter aboard the transport. Dean can't help pumping his sources. ;)
The Pompatus Box (Chapter 10: A Woman's Eye) by frostygossamer
Lisa didn't get into religious mysticism and esoteric eastern philosophy just for kicks. She's a genuinely compassionate woman. She may be liberal in her sexual behaviour but, inside, she has a warm and motherly heart. She knows a liberated female should have no compunction about kicking this casual liaison out of bed when he has satisfied her needs, but she can sense Dean's blue-gray aura. She can't help feeling he could use a little talking cure.
"Sex can be the best therapy of all, you know? If I wasn't into the wisdom of the Hindus maybe I could make a career in that other wisdom of the ancients. It's a calling of sorts."
Dean chokes out a bitter laugh.
"In an ideal world maybe, honey. But, the way the world turns today, I'd stay the hell away from that line of work. It's nowhere near as much fun as it looks."
Time was, he may have been desperate enough to dabble, but he swore that he would never go there again and he has never had to. Lisa leans up on one elbow and assesses him thoughtfully for a moment. She smiles and runs her fingertip around the masculine line of his jaw.
"I'd given up on there being any recreation on this trip."
"Fellow passengers not a bundle of laughs?"
From what he has seen, her fellow passengers certainly lack Lisa's youthful joie de vivre.
She laughs. "The only male companionship I've had is from Mr. Death and, quite honestly, you'd believe that man could be as old as God. I've never met anyone so content with his own company. He actually sleeps with that black bag of his."
"The guy does seem kinda bloodless."
"Doesn't he. And those two independent ladies, Meg Masters and Ruby de'Mon? They're a little too interested in each other, If you ask me. Have you noticed the way Ruby follows her boss around like some...?"
Lisa trails off, searching for the least inappropriate phraseology.
"Like some mother hen?" suggests Dean.
She scoffs. "No, no, like a tiger possessive of its mate. Companion? Now that's a euphemism if ever I heard one."
Dean ponders. It's a possibility, he admits. Neither lady showed him as much interest as he was used to from the fair sex. Maybe he should have made bigger of an effort to be friendly. He isn't averse to a threesome, should the opportunity present itself.
"So you think Masters and de'Mon are getting it on, huh? Awesome."
"They act kinda shifty about SOMETHING."
His eyes go distant for a second and Lisa prods him with her finger, laughing.
"Stop it, you pervert. You don't know how annoying that is when I'm lying right here neglected."
Dean winks naughtily. "Give me a minute and I'll put that right."
"Fine. So, uh, meantime, how does someone get to be an official escort flier anyways? You pass an awesomeness test?"
"Got me a fast ship. She's my baby."
=O=
Dean has a right to be proud of his vessel. When he found her in a scrapyard, Baby was a wreck. Some rich-boy speed freak had crashed her nose first into a lunar crater, showing off to his fraternity buddies. The jerk-ass wound up in well-deserved full-body cast.
Dean lovingly restored the once sleek machine to her former glory. He was aided by a friendly Enoan space mechanic named Singer, an old soldier who had served with his father.
He ripped out the co-pilot's quarters and installed a reconditioned top-of-the-line decontamination suite: healing unit, shower, sauna, drinking water purification, bodily waste management, the works. Even though Dean has his amazing recuperative powers he can't risk tracking contagions, toxins or any other dangerous crap back aboard.
Single occupancy works for Dean. The only guests he ever lets set foot inside his Baby are the paying ones whose necks he saves and a bare handful of especially trusted friends. He lives alone and likes it. Casual flirtations like this one with Lisa are all he needs or wants.
His friends are all people who owe him something from the past. Like Ellen Harvelle who pulled a bunch of strings to get him papers in the inconspicuous name of Dean but, unfortunately, not in his real name. It identifies him as a fugitive. Without Ellen's help he and Baby wouldn't BE flying. Losing his surname is something Dean has always regretted.
=O=
Lisa lies beside him on the bed and listens to him talk with interest. She's naturally empathetic. It's what will make her such a great therapist. She has gotten Dean revealing his secret self without him even realizing. But he can argue therapist-patient privilege and he knows it.
"So, uh, what did you do before you got your wings?" she encourages.
"Any damn thing that paid top dollar. Jobs that no one else would take. Couldn't afford to be picky. Hell, sometimes I took jobs that woulda killed any regular guy."
Lisa indulgently ignores what she assumes is blatant showboating. She can't begin to know what an outstanding guy Dean really is. He doesn't tell her about the YED. That side of his life is nobody's business. Intuitively, Lisa senses he's holding something back but lets it go. She laughs prettily.
"I guess you'll be rolling in credits, huh?"
It's a casual enough question and Lisa doesn't mean it acquisitively. She's on her way to her own new remunerative position. Though Dean knows few women would be discouraged by a yes, he's not inclined to string this lady along by lying.
"Nah. I got serious outgoings. My rocketship's not exactly free to run. And I got, uh, habits. A guy's gotta live."
Lisa smiles sympathetically. "Sure. Whatever gets you through, I guess."
Dean grins, lifts himself up on one elbow, bringing his face right up close to Lisa's, and whispers huskily.
"Now, about ancient eastern literature's most famous erotic text. Hmm?"
"I'm guessing you mean the Kamasutra?"
"Uh-huh... On which page is the spanking?"
Taking Lisa by surprise, he rolls her over onto her belly and smacks her naked buttocks until they are rosy as apples. Lisa lets out one loud squeak before stuffing the corner of a pillow in her mouth. She doesn't want to alarm the other passengers and have them running in to catch then in flagrante delicto.
She squirms and tries to turn her rump away from his quick palm, but she's giggling too much despite the sharp sting of each slap. She tries to grab at his hand and he flops on top of her to keep her still, grinning gleefully. His manhood is rubbing between her plump bare cheeks and he's definitely getting hard now.
He wonders how open-minded she is about alternative positions. Is she strictly a missionary girl? His question is answered when Lisa raises her hips and wriggles her butt against his groin. It looks like she's ready to go again.
"Lisa, exactly how many chapters does this book have?"
"Thirty-six. Ten on the art of sex. But don't worry, I've bookmarked my favourite verses."
TBC
A/N: What started out as a quick hook-up turned into another info exchange. Dean has learned a lot he doesn't even know he's going to need yet. And where's Sam? Back aboard Baby...