Xora 3: Shell Game

by Brandy Dewinter

 

Chapter 1 - "Wishful Thinking"

 

Be careful what you wish for - you just might get it. I should have paid more attention to that old saying. After I had been sent out on two missions without proper training - and complaining about that a lot - my boss had finally arranged for me to, um, 'experience' full-scale Federation Field Agent training. Lucky me.

*"This isn't so bad. We've been through worse,"* the voice inside my head said. That was the result of another wish that had come true. With very unexpected . . . consequences.

*"Consequences, am I? Well, you, too, and the horse you rode in on!"* the voice - my symbiont Titania - snapped at me.

*"You wish!"* Then I had to giggle. *"You have got to learn a few more idioms. That one is getting stale."*

I suppose laughing at yourself is as good a way as any to improve your attitude, and laughing at Titania was indeed laughing at myself, for we were joined as tightly as any two beings can be. Not that I would have it any other way.

*"Thank you,"* Titania said. *"Apology accepted."*

*"Oh, Ti, you know I'm just frustrated,"* I pouted.

*"I can have you out of this in no time,"* she offered. The 'this' was the problem that was frustrating me.

*"Not without the technician finding out about you,"* I countered *"He's been staring at me, um, us ever since I walked in the door. I don't think he's even blinked."*

"He's been staring at us ever since we walked in the door."

*"Walked?"* snickered Titania. *"Is that what you call what you did? Hula dancing has less of a hip roll."*

*"That's because of the ludicrous heels you make me wear,"* I claimed. I don't think she was convinced. Unfortunately, neither was I. However, further discussion was interrupted by an even better way to improve one's attitude.

The most beautiful blonde in the galaxy walked into the room, and all the air vanished like a force field had blown into hard vacuum. At least, that's the way it seemed. Then she smiled at me. Now *that* has a wonderful effect on one's spirits. Mine at least.

Even better, it distracted the hovering tech's attention as fully as it did mine. Best of all, it did *not* distract Titania.

The blonde snickered and said, "Starshine, Xora, you really are into this bondage thing, aren't you?"

With her words, the binders that had been frustrating me fell from my wrists, courtesy of Titania finally being able to pick the locks without the tech noticing her tendrils. I wondered if he would even notice that he hadn't breathed since Tryx - the aforementioned galaxy's most beautiful blonde and the, ah, second most successful symbiont pairing in the Federation - had entered the room. Before or after he passed out, that is.

"Don't blame this on *me*," I demanded. "Jonesy scheduled me for the escape course. I think he gets off on the idea of me being tied up."

"Um, hmm," Tryx smirked, batting her huge blue eyes. "And of course, Xora dear, you expect me to believe that."

"It's true, damnit!" I insisted, blushing when I realized she was just teasing.

Then I laughed and said, "Besides, it probably is true. The horny old goat."

"You're right," Tryx agreed. "Speaking of which, that horny goat wants to see us right away."

"You mean I'm not going to be able to complete my escape artist training?" I whined. "Oh, that is *such* a disappointment!"

"I'm sure it is," Tryx said. "But duty calls and all that."

Picking the cuffs off the floor, I held them out to the still-gaping tech. His eyes were rolling in independent circles as he tried to take in both Tryx and myself at the same time, unable to decide where to look among all the opportunities. He hadn't said anything since Tryx came into the room - like I said, I wasn't even sure he had breathed. Come to think of it, I didn't remember him saying anything since *I* had showed up, either. A few stammers, maybe, but nothing with much semantic content.

After a second when he still hadn't moved despite my offer of the wrist bands, I winked at Tryx and stepped close to him. "You might want to breathe now and then," I whispered huskily in his ear. "And blink. It's not good for your eyes to dry out."

I kissed him on the cheek and stepped back, wondering how long it would be before he noticed the binders were now on *his* wrists. Tryx's crystalline giggle triggered my own richer laugh tones - thank you, Titania - and we slipped through the whisking door together.

As we strolled along the corridors - in all honesty, it would be better to say we strutted - Tryx and I resumed our unofficial but perpetual competition. Her blonde mane flowed like captive sunlight around her shoulders, and even I had to admit she had a better figure, if you like that sort of . . . extreme. Personally, I thought she was over the top.

*"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"* teased my symbiont.

*"Of her? Don't make me laugh."* Just because she had the tiniest waist in human history, offset by the biggest . . . I was not a bit jealous.

Whispering, I said to my over-curved rival, "You know, if it weren't for Bee holding you together, you'd break in half. What are you down to, 35 centimeters?"

"Thirty-two and a half, thank you very much," the breathtaking blonde replied. Then she countered, "You've been playing with your hair again, haven't you?"

"Not much," I claimed, fluffing my thick, sable mane. "Just a bit sleeker, and shinier. Tumbling curls are okay on a mission where things are . . . undisciplined, but in the base, I think smooth is more appropriate."

Then I blushed and said, "Oh, I didn't mean . . . "

Tryx interrupted me with a laugh, even if it did seem a bit forced. Running her fingers through her own - very curly - locks, she said, "Oh, well done, Xora dear. That was wickedly catty."

If she'd have been really angry, I'd have really apologized, but the humor lurking in her eyes took the sting out of her words. So of course I counterattacked instead of backing down.

"We brunettes have to do something to keep up with you blondes."

"Yeah, right, like anyone notices your hair color after you wiggle what's at the top of all those legs," she snorted. "Talk about 'throwing someone a curve.'"

"I'll have you know, I never throw myself at anyone. I don't have to."

"That's not what that inspector on Teton said," she claimed. Lying, of course.

"Like you're any better," I snapped. "Any time you breathe, you're throwing around more mass than most small moons. Twice as much, to be exact."

"Jealous?" she asked smugly, unknowingly repeating an accusation. "At least I *chose* to be this way. My Bee would never make any changes without my consent."

"Oh, that's too bad. It can be . . . interesting. Besides, Ti has my consent," I claimed. *"Eventually,"* I thought to my hidden symbiont.

*"I'll remember that,"* Ti claimed.

*"Uh, oh,"* I grimaced, but I kept it internal.

Any further, ahem, 'friendly' chit chat was interrupted by our arrival at Jonesy's office. I let Tryx duel with the robosec and slid into Jonesy's inner office just ahead of my blonde colleague.

The admiral's eyebrows never were going to reach his hairline - the shine from the overhead lights showed way too much forehead for that - but the bushy caterpillars above his eyes still made their impossible attempt every time I saw him.

Just to throw him off pace (okay, and Tryx, too) I stopped at the doorway and hit a rigid brace, saluting crisply. I guess Titania and I were becoming fairly well adapted at that, because when I snapped my heels, together - the real heels, the actual back part of my feet - she arranged for a sharp little click that for sure hadn't come from the spindly needles I walked on.

"Lieutenant Commander Xora, reporting as ordered, Sir!" I barked out sharply.

Admiral Jones didn't know quite what to say. He had made it clear he wasn't big on that sort of formality. But he also knew me well enough to look for the hidden hook in that seemingly-proper gesture.

The first hook in it was when Tryx blundered into my suddenly stationary back. That was good in lots of ways. First off, I'd been trying for some time to find a way to get close to those minor planets she waved around. Having them pushed into my back was, um, interesting. In the second place, it made her look clumsy in front of the boss. That's not really cruel. Some, ah, uninformed people thought she was the best agent he had. She was certainly damned competent and Jonesy knew it. Besides, anyone who watched her move for more than ten seconds would NOT consider her clumsy. Photons, that girl could melt hull metal with a smile so distracting people didn't notice she moved like flowing water. Well, some people might not. But my, um, counter to her spectacular figure, not to mention the attention that blondes always attract, was my admittedly more sensuous motion. Making my moves look graceful while hers looked less so was part of the game.

However, Jonesy was wise to look beyond that little ploy for something directed at himself as well. So, he nodded slowly (neither one of us should really be saluting indoors, with no caps), and took the issue on directly.

"Okay, Xora, we both know you don't usually salute when you enter the office. What are you *really* after?"

My answer was delayed just a heartbeat or two. Or fifty. I lost count because Tryx was no fool herself and though she couldn't stop herself from bumping into me, she figured out what was going on before her soft pillows were done cushioning her collision with my back. Reaching her hands out in an ostentatious attempt to steady herself, she caressed the taut globes of my derriere even as she rubbed her softer globes against my shoulder blades. I swear I could feel the erect nipples, so hard I thought they'd tear my jumpsuit - well, scratch Titania.

On the other hand, even fifty heartbeats at the suddenly accelerated rate her touch triggered in my heart took only a second to two. Forcing my consciousness back to the front . . uh, to *my* front . . . I mean, to what was in front of me. Damnit, forcing my attention back on Jonesy, I said, "Just wanted to make the point that I was a trained Federation officer, Sir."

"From which I presume you thought that was somehow in question," he replied. Then he snorted and said, "Drop that silly salute and sit down. You, too, Tryx."

Very few things Tryx did were accidental and I had no illusions about the pinch she gave my cheek - the lower one, of course - as she moved to her seat. It was very deliberate, and a promise as clear as if she had used words. But the smile in her eyes gave me credit for a point scored, and she took her seat silently so that I could continue my discussion with Jonesy. I swayed around the other seat and twirled to present my back to Jonesy, my long hair swirling about like a cape. Placing my wrists together behind me, I said, "Since you seem to like having me tied up so well, why don't you just do it yourself?"

Of course, I was looking over my shoulder when I said it, so I could see the wave of red heat flow up his forehead and over the shiny pate. After pausing just long enough to make the point, I turned back around and slid smoothly into the remaining seat.

"Or maybe, just maybe," I continued, putting a fetching pout on the full, glossy lips Titania had given me, "we could decide that after being bound on my last two missions - my *only* two missions - including some sessions with the expert jerks on Machovia who have turned that into a planetary fetish, I can be considered trained in how to escape from ordinary confinement."

*"With *my* help,"* my hidden partner claimed.

*"Of course, Ti,"* I admitted silently. *"But we can't let *him* know that."*

*"Oh, I know,"* she admitted in her turn. *"I just wanted to keep your head from swelling much more than it is."*

*"My head is *not* swelling,"* I said, then not for the first time I gasped as she tweaked my still-erect buds (after all, Tryx had just been rubbing her . . . self on me and the effects . . . lingered) with a lick/caress/squeeze sensation that took my breath away.

*"Gotcha!"* she crowed internally.

*"Stop that!"* I demanded. Of course, that just caused a repeat, but this time I was ready for it - at least as ready as I could be - and all that showed on the outside was a sudden little twitch.

"Ah, the escape course," Jonesy said, interrupting my internal turmoil. While there was still a hint of flush on his scalp, there was a smirk in his eyes as well. "Well, you were the one who wanted normal field agent training."

Before I could respond, not that I really knew what to say since he was right, he tapped a notepad and said, "Let's see. Yes, I think we can consider the escape course passed by demonstration. Next, you still have the field investigator course to take . . . "

"Perhaps my, um, investigation on Teton can be used for that requirement," I offered. "It turned out fairly well." *"With your help,"* I added silently to my tormentor, ah, partner. She took the peace offering and stopped her distractions. Which was a distraction of its own as I tried to decide if that were good news or bad.

"I thought you said your part was minor," Tryx offered unhelpfully.

"Well, admittedly discovering the clue that led to breaking up the abduction ring didn't seem like a big thing at the time," I replied. "Perhaps I should just say that I was, um, lucky." (*"I'll say you got 'lucky'. Darius was a major stud!"* *"Shhhh!"*) "On the other hand, that sort of luck seems to be a part of successful symbiont pairings. Don't you think so?"

"Oh, definitely," Tryx agreed.

Jonesy nodded and flicked at his pad. "Very well, we'll mark that one off, too. Communications were okay from your, ah, previous assignment, and so are your piloting skills. Most of the rest of this doesn't seem to apply to symbiont pairings, except . . . . hand phaser qualification?"

"Wanna bet I can put five shots with a needle phaser, shooting offhand, into a smaller group than you can manage shooting from a rest?" I challenged him.

Tryx supported my claim. "Trust me, Jonesy, Xora will hit what she aims at, if it becomes necessary."

"Very well," he said. "We'll dispense with the rest of the training program. It probably won't be necessary on this mission anyway."

*"Where have I heard *that* before?"* Titania cautioned, and I knew exactly what she meant.

"A mission? For her?" Tryx asked quickly.

"For both of you, actually," Jonesy said. Before he explained further, he ordered, "Both of you, stand up please, and move over here."

He directed us to a reasonably clear space in his office, then started to walk around, examining us in a way that was simultaneously insulting and . . . highly flattering. After a moment, he started to explain. "You both have shown an amazing ability to interact with your symbionts, particularly in the area of modifying your appearance."

Tryx nodded curiously, provoking such interesting secondary motions that I forgot to make any sort of acknowledgment of my own. Not that Jonesy needed any.

"And the specifics show that you can work with things like styling on hair and clothes, even color, quite quickly. Is that correct?"

Tryx jiggled again, and I managed to grunt something affirmative.

"So," Jonesy asked, dropping his bombshell, "could you make yourselves look like . . . each other?"

"You want *me* to look like *her*?" we both asked in such perfect, plaintive unison it sounded rehearsed.

 

 

 

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© 2003 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.