Human Hospitality
by pureleaf
Chapter 20
Night In Station 6, part 1
Warning: There is some sexual content in this chapter. It gets a bit graphic, so reader discretion is strongly advised. This story has been changed from "T" rating to "M" rating.
Over dinner, Mrs. Briefs brought up her brief conversation with Vegeta earlier in the day. "You know, Bulma, he seems to be mature young man..."
"Mom!" Bulma shrieked through a mouthful of garlic bread.
"Just give him a chance when he's back. I noticed you two seemed to chat and hang out together an awful lot. Did I sense some chemistry there?"
The engineer sunk down in her chair and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, "I cannot believe we're having this conversation! For the last time, Vegeta and I are just friends, and right now I don't even know if we're friendly at this point! Please just give it a rest, Mom."
Mrs. Briefs conceded and looked out the kitchen window. "I wonder how he's doing out there..."
Dr. Briefs asked nobody in particular if they thought the Saiyan was safe.
The Saiyan stayed in his hotel suite long enough to take a twenty minute shower (incurring extra charges in the process) and groom, down a pint of fruit juice, and scan the television channels for any warnings of his presence. Once again, everything appeared to be business as usual.
"Time to make my presence known."
He left through the lobby and went onto the street, eyes scanning the clutter of neon signs and holographic advertisements competing for his attention.
Fifteen blocks away from the hotel, he'd entered a much seedier side of Station 6 and the advertisements grew less sophisticated and more spaced out. The street lamps first dimmed, then were flickering, before they seemed to have been phased out altogether. A slender woman with silvery skin and thick red hair approached, hips swinging as she came to him.
"Hey soldier, you want a date?"
"No," Vegeta barked at her and kept walking.
"C'mon, baby, let me relieve some of your tension..." she followed him and circled around him twice.
"I said no, bitch!" The Saiyan shoved her into a stone wall. He heard the wet snap of a bone breaking followed immediately after by her wailing in agony. He didn't look back and continued to walk through the neighbourhood.
After another forty minutes of walking, barely paying attention to the crowds, Vegeta came upon Madame Red's. The infamous brothel was huge and never closed. He watched a moving sign, half disgusted, as a holographic woman opened her legs to passerby.
He went inside and was greeted by an older woman with fiery red skin, cropped black hair, and dark, cold eyes. "Welcome to my house, soldier. What services interest you this evening?"
"Something basic. I only need an hour or two."
"Now, now, don't be in such a rush. Come with me," she waved at him to follow her into a tacky-looking parlour filled with old, overstuffed couches, "why don't I introduce you to some of the girls before you get too certain about what you want..."
He refused to sit and watched as two dozen girls filed into the parlour. They stood in a line before him and remained completely silent as he looked at each of them up and down.
"You," he pointed to a curvaceous young woman with soft pink skin and long rose-coloured hair, "what's your name?"
"I'm Violet," she fluttered her lashes at him, "it's a pleasure to meet you, Sir."
That's the worst name I've ever heard, but she'll do, thought Vegeta. He booked two hours with Violet and had to hide a sneer of revulsion when Madame Red asked if he wanted any of the "speciality bedrooms". Violet took him by the hand and led him into a large, sparsely furnished bedroom. The Saiyan noticed how her silky white nightgown clung to her figure and felt his heart rate rising.
She set the lights to glow soft pink and started to speak with him in a soft, high voice. "Anything you're looking to try tonight, handsome? What should I call you?"
"No. Just give me a nice striptease, a good fuck, and a massage, in that order. I paid for two hours and expect you to use your time efficiently. I am called Vegeta."
"Ohh, you're a man who knows what he wants, Vegeta. Well," she circled around him and flashed just a hint of a plump upper thigh, "let me help you out of that armour..."
Violet pulled his armour off and set it down on the floor with great care. Annoyed, Vegeta took off his own gloves and boots and motioned for her to start removing her own clothing. She slowly undressed before the Saiyan, taking many minutes and lingering in her underwear long enough that Vegeta pulled her onto the bed, impatient and ready to move on.
"Come on," he wiggled out of his pants and pulled his shirt off, "let's get to it." He stopped long enough to tear off her underwear before pushing inside her with minimal preparation and quickly built up to a steady rhythm that let him enjoy the feeling for just long enough before he reached orgasm. It only took two minutes of recovery before he told her that he wanted to go again.
After his third orgasm, Vegeta gave her a few minutes to recover before she started on his massage. He rolled onto his back, head turned so he could keep an eye on his armour, and took in a long breath to calm himself as he felt her warm hands, slicked with fragrant oil, run down the length of his spine.
At one point, she hit the stub of his tail hard enough that he yelped unexpectedly. Vegeta was surprised by his own sensitivity but relaxed quickly and apologized to Violet. "It was nothing you did. Just avoid that area, understand? It's a somewhat recent injury."
"Sure..." she whispered, "would you desire a relaxing oil, baby?"
Unfortunately for Violet, the Saiyan knew the oil she was referring to contained sedatives that could be absorbed through the skin. If the client passed out, they'd be billed for the additional time. "I'm no first-timer. I know what that shit you're trying to pass on me smells like, so no funny business. Just finish up and get out."
The rest of the massage was performed in near silence and Vegeta could sense her fear; the creeping terror that the man she was touching would kill her if she so much as mildly irritated him once more. She dressed very quickly and hurried out of the room.
Feeling a little wiped out, Vegeta dressed again, left the room, and returned to the brothel's front desk to deposit the room key and pay for his time.
"It's customary to add an additional fifteen percent gratuity to the bill as a "Thank You" to the girl. I see you spent two hours, in which case I would recommend a twenty percent gratuity. Would you like to add a tip, Sir?" A busty receptionist with orange hair smiled up at Vegeta as he carefully watched the total amount on the payment screen.
"I asked for two hours, therefore I will pay for two hours of that girl's time. The fact that the bitch walked out of that room after trying to scam me is a generous tip in itself. Good night." The receptionist's jaw went slack with horror as he tapped his ghost card on the payment hub and went on his way.
In the lab, Dr. Briefs and Bulma reviewed the blueprints for the second-generation Capsule Corp. ship and they argued back and forth about what could be improved on.
"We need to look into a lighter frame construction. The fuel consumption on the ship is dismal." Dr. Briefs wasn't happy with the life of the fuel cells and was dismayed at what he felt was an inefficient vital component to the ship he'd designed with his daughter.
"But will it be able to withstand the stress of changing levels of gravity if there's a simulator installed? We'd have to create some kind of internal, flexible scaffolding between two strong but thin walls..." Bulma leaned back in her chair and puffed on her third cigarette that hour. She tended the smoke much more when stressed, and she was feeling very stressed on that particular night.
"It's pushing one thirty. Maybe we should call it a night?" Dr. Briefs stubbed out his last cigarette, feeling burned out.
"I think so, Dad. Getting that second generation ship up and running was an endeavour in itself..." Bulma trailed off into a yawn and stubbed her cigarette into the overflowing ashtray, "we'll talk about it tomorrow afternoon. G'night."
She wandered out of the lab and into the kitchen for a cup of hot chocolate. Although she was exhausted, she needed to wind down and calm her frayed nerves before she could fall asleep. With her warm beverage, she went outside into the garden and took stretched out on a rocking lounger.
Several of the Namekians were also out, enjoying the clear night sky and comfortable temperature. "Good evening!" She waved and smiled at her peaceful guests.
"It certainly is a beautiful night, Miss Bulma. Are you well?" Elder Moori broke from the group and took a seat across from her.
"My dad and I are working on a new ship, since the last one was unexpectedly used for a little joyride..." she scowled and tried not to let her temper rise.
"It is very unfortunate that nasty Saiyan chose to steal your ship to leave this planet. I would have much preferred he found other means of transport as well, Miss Bulma."
The engineer chuckled briefly before the gnawing worry in her stomach grew suddenly much stronger. "I just worry he's going to get himself in serious trouble. I want that ship back, damn it!"
They were both laughing, but Bulma couldn't help but wonder if Vegeta could actually survive on his own. As far as she knew, he'd always been accompanied by two other Saiyans, not to mention his alliance with Gohan and Krillin on Namek. Had he ever spent a great deal of time alone? Just how powerful was he, anyway?
She didn't go to bed until four thirty in the morning.
Vegeta hit another diner after his time at Madame Red's. He ordered another huge bowl of soup with noodles, opting for raw meat, shellfish, a trio of pungent vegetables, more herbal tea, and a bowl of fruit on the side. He never consumed the refreshments in brothels, unnerved by how they were frequently prepared in huge batches and freely given.
He ate slowly, savouring his meal and enjoying the relative quiet of his mind. He did notice that more patrons seemed to take quick glances at him, and he caught one or two patrons outright staring at him before they hid their faces behind their hands or turned away.
After requesting a second bowl of soup, he swung around in his seat and faced a bulk of the diners. All the conversation ground to a halt within seconds in the diner that only the clatter of steel utensils on the kitchen cook-top could be heard.
"The rumours you may have heard about me are true, and I would be more than happy to prove it so. I am Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyans, and I'm not here to start trouble with any of you unless you choose to start some trouble. Obviously, those rumours of my demise are patently false. I'm looking for a Saiyan who calls himself "Goku", and if any of you know anything, you'd best tell me now."
A collection of grim, frightened faces stared at him but nobody responded. After two minutes of scanning the diners and trying to pinpoint anybody who looked like they may be withholding information, he decided they were just ignorant and swung back around in time for his soup to arrive.
"Waiter, please make me a new pot of tea and refresh my fruit bowl," he softly requested before turning back around again to stare at the still-silent diners once more, "you can start talking again! I'm not interested in what any of you have to say!"
On Planet 56, Jabuka couldn't shake the feeling that he knew who had drugged and robbed him. Incredibly, he hadn't sustained any physical harm in the incident, but the veteran soldier was paranoid and constantly tried to piece together what had happened.
His first solid clue would arrive when an officer buzzed his apartment and requested to come up and speak with him. Certain he hadn't committed any major offenses, Jabuka buzzed the officer upstairs and allowed him to come in. He had nothing to hide.
"I located scouter registered under your name. It was located at Sevn, Sir. I understand you were recently the victim of a robbery and this may prove helpful. It looks alright and should work fine. Anyway, that's all I came by for. Have a nice day, Sir!" A young officer quickly produced the scouter, gave the older soldier a polite nod, and left his apartment.
"Huh..." Jabuka narrowed his eyes and vaguely recalled he'd gone out the night he'd been robbed, "maybe this will help me remember..."
He placed the scouter on his ear and began to listen to the communication log from that day he couldn't remember.
To Be Continued