Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [50]
Thales blushed. ‘N-no,’ he reassured her. ‘On the contrary. It is mine that offends.’ He touched his face. ‘My skin ... I apologise for it. Until recently I was . . .’ He trailed off. It would sound ridiculous even to his ears to proclaim his prior handsomeness.
‘What is your name?’ she asked.
‘Thales.’
‘Well, Thales-who-wears-a-mask, my name is Aleta, and you’ve presented with the last of our free VIP services. An exclusive offer. There were only very few available. You must be a valued member of the Commander’s community.’
‘I’m a visitor. That’s all. The Lamin at the information desk gave it to me,’ Thales said truthfully.
‘How unusual.’ Aleta gave the smallest of frowns. ‘Our Ardour franchise is new to Edo, and the VIP offer is part of our normal entry deal to a new world. Usually it would go to a select few.’ She smiled. ‘But you have the ticket, Thales - so you get the experience.’
‘Experience?’ He began to feel a little uneasy. ‘I am merely looking for distraction . . . with a woman.’
‘Oh, my sweet young man, you’ll get that. Now come.’
She held out her hand; so charming and so sure of herself.
He grasped her fingers without thinking, and she pulled him to his feet. His groin tightened to have her cool, firm grip upon his. He was unused to touching unfamiliar women.
She led him along a corridor that appeared to travel in an arc. Partway along she chose a door to enter - seemingly at random - and ushered him inside.
Thales stepped into another plain, clean, blue-tinted room. But something about its construction told him that it was not built from the refuse like the rest of the station. The walls were a curious malleable material and the floor was dressed with a soft, plush carpet. Two armchairs sat in one corner, and a large smooth, square, sponge-covered platform in the middle of the room. The object was twice as wide as the bed he’d been sharing with Bethany.
Aleta motioned for him to sit in one of the chairs. He did as he was told, noticing a small unopened sachet and a sealed drink tube on the side table next to him.
Instead of joining him she positioned herself close to the platform and pressed down on its surface. A small compartment unfolded and she settled herself onto its bench seat and laid her arms along the arm rests.
‘Tell me, Thales, have you experienced Diversion before?’
He shook his head dumbly and wet his lips. ‘Is it a . . . substance?’
She gave the same smile as before. ‘In a way.’ She seemed to be enjoying herself, he thought, as if his naivety amused her. ‘Now we must get to know each other, so this can truly be the experience you want...and need. Sometimes our visitors find it difficult to talk to a stranger.’ The smile again. ‘On the table next to you there is small sachet. I encourage you to open it and suck out the gel. It will help us communicate.’
‘What is it?’ he asked nervously.
‘A mild disinhibitor. The active ingredients are listed.’
She waited patiently while Thales fingered the barcode and listened to the chemical composition. The terms meant little enough to him, but he felt better for having gone through the exercise. ‘I’ll consider it,’ he said. ‘But not just now.’
Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Very well, but feel free to enjoy a drink while I ask you some questions. It is important - for the sake of your own enjoyment - that you answer them honestly.’
He nodded and broke the seal on the drink container, supping it down. He’d never imagined that this type of service required conversation. But then he had never really considered what it might require. His physical needs had always been met by his wife, and more recently Bethany. Before Rene there had been studium girls but nothing regular or significant.
‘Agreed,’ he said.
‘Would you be more comfortable removing your mask? I am a professional, Thales. Disfigurement is just another type of beauty to me.’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘You may be accustomed to such things, Aleta, but I am still learning to . . . accept it.’
She nodded and leaned back into her compartment.