Beyond the Pale

Shipmating

Well, this has certainly been interesting, Castorius thought.

After the fifth round that afternoon, he lay beside Captain Caro in the double bed of her cabin. They were both dappled with sweat and breathing heavily, the bedding crumpled up at their feet.

Caro reached down to pull the sheet over her legs. She let out a long exhale. "Oh boy!" she breathed.

"Yup," replied Castorius. This was about as much dialogue as they'd had all day.

The Captain wiped sweat off her brow, staring at the ceiling. There was an unmistakably dazed look to her. "That was . . . wow!"

"Yup." Castorius felt a wave of pride. It was one thing to perform your best when your companion was every little bit what you wanted, and when the whole business was built on a more, well, traditional foundation. But this one felt like a special sort of triumph. Even though he was hard pressed to admit it had been more enjoyable than he'd expected.

He realized this had been the first time since his very first one that he'd been with a woman considerably his senior. There certainly seemed to be something to it. Roggie may have only been teasing him extolling the woman's vigor—likely he'd no idea—but it had to be conceded that that characterization was spot on. She also definitely knew what to do, knew her way around the tactical aspects of the male physique. And though they may have had aesthetics on their side, it was more than could be said about many of her younger counterparts.

No, it hadn't been too shabby at all. In between, as they'd taken breaks for Caro to go deal with her captainly duties, Castorius had also gotten to enjoy the finest of what the Imperial military kitchen had to offer. The Captain had given him free access to the fine foods that got brought straight in her cabin—as a sort of payment, as it were. It was as Castorius knew already: the officers got much better fed than the peons ever did. That, of course, went without saying. Was it too late for him to still start thinking about rising up in the hierarchy?

Probably.

The only problem—and it was by no means a small one—was that, thanks to the after-effect of the alcohol, his sense of taste was not at all at its best. It felt like such a waste to be having veal tenderloin in a red-wine-mushroom sauce, and not getting the full flavor of it. It was a crime, to be perfectly honest. And it was one of the chief reasons Castorius did not drink. Even if it did seem to increase sensitivity in other areas somewhat . . .

In any case, he'd soon had other things to think about, as Captain Caro had run back to him—all flustered and eager like a young pup in the throes of her first heat. Castorius could not imagine there being a better endorsement of his capabilities. Well, that, and the quite interesting noises she'd make during the act itself. It was as if she'd been giving birth to Pure Ecstasy.

It couldn't but bring a smile to the lips.

Is this what they mean by "foolish pride"?

The thought struck Castorius out of the blue, almost as if uttered by somebody else, and he instantly felt his mood start to deflate. It was so not like him to put himself down after a success such as this. Had he not done all that had been expected of him? Not exceeded even his own expectations?

No, he realized. It was true. He'd thus far only managed to plow through—in a manner of speaking—only the first phase of his mission. The fun part, as it was. But the Captain was still far from knocked out. For all Castorius knew, she was just recharging a bit, and would soon be ready for another round. She did seem to have a much higher level of energy and intensity than did the women a decade or two younger. Maybe this happened to all of them? If so, the future might have had something to look forward to after all.