DarthAnt66
"Hello, Ben," Tahiri said.
She was dressed in the typical black GAG jumpsuit, but on her it somehow looked like so much more. It was tight in all the right places, with a satin sheen that highlighted the suppleness of her build. And she must have just come from a workout-or at least from somewhere a whole lot warmer than Ben's cell-because the front was open clear down to her solar plexus.
"How are you feeling?" she purred.
Ben quickly raised his gaze and saw that she looked far healthier than she had when she had captured him. Her blond hair was full and silky, sweeping across her brow in a way that almost hid the three scars on her forehead, then dropping down to her shoulders in a wavy cascade. Her cheeks actually had some color in them, and her lips were full and red. Even her eyes, which had seemed so sunken and tired before, appeared larger and more animated.
...
"He speaks." Tahiri smiled, then pressed a pair of buttons, and the locks on his left wrist and ankle clicked open. "Don't worry-it won't be anything you object to." She flicked her fingers at him. "On your side."
Ben rolled up on his side-and smothered a cry of pain as the pressure sores on his back pulled free of the bunk's sanisheet cover. The bunk settled as Tahiri sat on the edge and opened the canister of bacta salve, and he realized that there was a hint of musk to her odor-a nice hint, one that he found vaguely intoxicating, but not something he remembered smelling on her before. An instant later, he felt her fingertips on his shoulder, and ripples of warm relief began to radiate outward from where she was touching him.
"See?" Tahiri asked. "Not so bad."
...
Her hand moved lower on Ben's back and began to work on a sore under the waistband of his shorts. He found her touch there a little disconcerting, but he didn't stop her. The sore did need to be dressed, after all.
Ben tried to focus on their conversation-on helping Tahiri see the mistake she was making. "Stick with the man who killed my mother? Have you been breathing coolant fumes?"
...
"You're sure?" Tahiri asked. Her hand remained beneath the waistband of Ben's shorts, but began to drift up toward his hip. "What is it that I want, Ben?"
Now Ben was really beginning to have trouble concentrating. "Uh, Tahiri?"
Her hand reached his hip bone, and her fingers began to drift over. "Yes?"
"You wouldn't be trying to seduce me, would you?"
"Ben, that's a terrible thing to say." Tahiri's hand remained beneath the waistband of his shorts. "You're only fourteen. Still a boy, really." She lifted her finger, raising the waistband. "Aren't you?"
"I'm a Jedi Knight," Ben countered. He twisted his hip, trying to pull it out from beneath her hand-and failing. "And I don't have any pressure sores up there."
"So you don't." Tahiri used a fingertip to trace a circle on his flesh.
She was dressed in the typical black GAG jumpsuit, but on her it somehow looked like so much more. It was tight in all the right places, with a satin sheen that highlighted the suppleness of her build. And she must have just come from a workout-or at least from somewhere a whole lot warmer than Ben's cell-because the front was open clear down to her solar plexus.
"How are you feeling?" she purred.
Ben quickly raised his gaze and saw that she looked far healthier than she had when she had captured him. Her blond hair was full and silky, sweeping across her brow in a way that almost hid the three scars on her forehead, then dropping down to her shoulders in a wavy cascade. Her cheeks actually had some color in them, and her lips were full and red. Even her eyes, which had seemed so sunken and tired before, appeared larger and more animated.
...
"He speaks." Tahiri smiled, then pressed a pair of buttons, and the locks on his left wrist and ankle clicked open. "Don't worry-it won't be anything you object to." She flicked her fingers at him. "On your side."
Ben rolled up on his side-and smothered a cry of pain as the pressure sores on his back pulled free of the bunk's sanisheet cover. The bunk settled as Tahiri sat on the edge and opened the canister of bacta salve, and he realized that there was a hint of musk to her odor-a nice hint, one that he found vaguely intoxicating, but not something he remembered smelling on her before. An instant later, he felt her fingertips on his shoulder, and ripples of warm relief began to radiate outward from where she was touching him.
"See?" Tahiri asked. "Not so bad."
...
Her hand moved lower on Ben's back and began to work on a sore under the waistband of his shorts. He found her touch there a little disconcerting, but he didn't stop her. The sore did need to be dressed, after all.
Ben tried to focus on their conversation-on helping Tahiri see the mistake she was making. "Stick with the man who killed my mother? Have you been breathing coolant fumes?"
...
"You're sure?" Tahiri asked. Her hand remained beneath the waistband of Ben's shorts, but began to drift up toward his hip. "What is it that I want, Ben?"
Now Ben was really beginning to have trouble concentrating. "Uh, Tahiri?"
Her hand reached his hip bone, and her fingers began to drift over. "Yes?"
"You wouldn't be trying to seduce me, would you?"
"Ben, that's a terrible thing to say." Tahiri's hand remained beneath the waistband of his shorts. "You're only fourteen. Still a boy, really." She lifted her finger, raising the waistband. "Aren't you?"
"I'm a Jedi Knight," Ben countered. He twisted his hip, trying to pull it out from beneath her hand-and failing. "And I don't have any pressure sores up there."
"So you don't." Tahiri used a fingertip to trace a circle on his flesh.
