Slave by Cheryl Brooks Page B

without a female, which I assumed was to ensure that offworld men wouldn’t run off with any of the local women.
    The female dress was sheer and revealing, but stopped short of actual nakedness, which also seemed a bit odd to me. I mean, there were plenty of other places where the women wore virtually nothing, while you hardly saw any skin at all on a male. Then again, I reminded myself, I had seen plenty of other bizarre customs on my trek across the galaxy, and this was just one more to add to the list. I sometimes wondered if contact with other worlds was what had made them become even weirder—you know, just made them try harder to be different?—but I had no way of proving that hypothesis.
    As I had thought, Cat looked spectacular dressed as a native of Statzeel. The white shirt had a high collar, billowing sleeves, and was open to the waist—it truly had no buttons on it whatsoever—and there was a black leather vest to wear over it. The black breeches were skin-tight and stretchy, but where on other worlds there would have been a fly or a cod-piece, on Statzeel there was a big hole surrounded with decorative embroidery, through which his cock and balls protruded. A red sash at the waist and black leather boots with Spanish tops to the knee completed the ensemble. He looked for all the world like a feline version of a swashbuckling pirate of
the Caribbean with an exhibition complex. The only thing missing was the cutlass thrust through his sash.
    “Well, if it isn’t Puss in Boots!” I exclaimed.
    “Damn!” I swore softly. “You look good enough to—”
    “Fuck?” he suggested with a hopeful lift of those exotic eyebrows.
    “Well, yes, actually,” I admitted. Of course, if I was being honest with myself, I would have to admit that he always had , even on Orpheseus Prime when he was filthy dirty and in restraints. Though I couldn’t count myself among their number, I’m sure there were plenty of women who would have had an orgasm just from the mere sight of him standing up there on the auction block—though I must admit that seeing him dressed like this almost did it to me. Well, it made me think about it, anyway! I can’t recall ever having had what you’d call a spontaneous orgasm in my life. Come to think of it, I hadn’t had very many of the other kind either….
    “If I had known that you would prefer me in such clothing I would have gotten dressed before this,” he said ruefully. “I will have to remember that.”
    “Yeah, well, don’t get too cocky, Kittycat!” I advised him. “Just remember we have a job to do and a sister to rescue.” I was about to suggest that he keep his shirt on, too, when I realized that, at least in his current situation, the use of that particular expression to encourage patience would have been a bit ridiculous since, dressed as he was, he could service as many females as he chose without ever having to undo so much as a button. In fact, the more I considered the matter, the more I became convinced that it was quite possibly the most
practical male attire I’d ever seen, and if you wanted to compare equipment size, it was unsurpassed. Of course, if your dick happened to be minuscule, there was no hiding that sad fact, and any woman would certainly know what she was getting into well in advance of any introduction, let alone an exchange of vows. I wondered why it hadn’t caught on in other places throughout the galaxy, but decided that there were some people who preferred the element of surprise that came from unzipping their fly—and plenty of other guys who just didn’t like the idea of their most prized appendage hanging out where someone might whack it off, whether accidentally or on purpose.
    The hail came through just then and Cat took a seat at the communications console. “I am Carkdacund Tshevnoe of the trade ship—”
    “ Jolly Roger ,” I whispered.
    “ Jolly Roger ,” he went on smoothly, “requesting permission to land.” He seemed