Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode 8: The Sting #14

"Are you okay?" Zeta asked. They were walking along Chaka court.

"Yeah," Jack lied. He felt sick. He looked at Zeta. She had been giving him shaded looks; clearly, she didn't believe him but wasn't sure how hard she should push. Should he trust her with this?

"If you want to talk . . . well, you've been there for me through a lot."

He nodded. She was right. "It's just . . . this is hard. Umm, can we go somewhere more private."

"My place isn't far."

Along the way, he began, "It's Representative Haughland."

"The government women who came up a couple weeks ago? What about her?"

"She's put in an information request. About me."

Zeta stopped at her door and looked at him quizzically. "Part of being a diplomat," she said with a shrug. "People will pick over your public life." She opened the door and let him in. "And we are off work, for the record. This is just between friends," she said to no one in particular.

Jack understood she was really speaking to any future information officer that might be snooping on them. He marveled, as he always did, at how his Consortium friends managed to make peace with the dichotomy of their system. The data system was everywhere, recording everything. The only privacy they had was through the elaborate system of checks and balances the Information Bureau used to limit that exposure.

"My public life, yeah, I am starting to get used to that. Heck, even before moving up here, our media has been following me ever since that first trip to your base ship."

Zeta chuckled. "By the Watcher, it was a minor misunderstanding. Haven't they moved on yet?"

"They have," he admitted. "But they've found me an interesting character, I guess."

Zeta found him a tea drink and sat on the couch. "I can understand. I find you interesting." She blushed suddenly and looked away.

It was cute. But those were dangerous thoughts, because of what he was about to admit. He found a seat in a chair next to the couch.

"This isn't about my public life. It's about my relationship to Chandiramani."

He waited for it to sink in, but it didn't. "If it's private, then it should be off limits. Who is Chandiramani?"

"The Courtesan. Goes by Mani," he said.

"Oh."

"I've been seeing her for a couple of months."

"It's a private arrangement on your off time. If you don't discuss diplomacy, there is no reason that woman should have any right to know." Zeta was talking but not meeting his eye.

"I know, and I hope that's what they say."

"Then there should be no problem," she said. "I wouldn't worry too much. That relationship is private."

"I want to tell you," he interrupted.

That earned him a sharp look. Her expression was brittle. "Why?"

He thought about why. There was no simple way to start this whole conversation. "Just let me talk; it will be easier to explain 'why' after." He sighed and steeled himself. "So, like you, I've never felt particularly drawn to, or interested in, what others would call normal sexual relations. However, I do have sexual feelings."

"You want a casual outlet, no emotional demands," she said, shrugging it off but still not looking at him.

"I like bondage and . . . we call it sadomasochism."

"You tie her up?"

Jack shook his head. "She does it to me. And let's just say I like some very hard stimulus."

Zeta stared at him. He blushed, harder than he'd blushed since he was teenager. "She beats you?"

He nodded.

She let out a giggle and covered it, a twinkle in her eye. "So? Some are wired like that. You are very embarrassed, aren't you?"

"To talk about this, yes," he admitted. "Especially with you."

"Why?"

"For one thing, in my society, it is embarrassing. For another, in my society, people like you," he gestured at her collection of Chiya-batu plate books, "would be less likely to be open to talking about these sorts of things. But mostly it's because you—" He broke off.

The brittleness returned to her eyes, and she looked away.

"I think it's safe to say we both have some feelings," he said. "For each other."

Her mouth worked, but for a while, she didn't speak or meet his eye. "I won't deny it. You are one of the nicest people I've met." Her face turned crimson. "I won't beat you."

He giggled at the thought of Zeta whipping him. "I can't imagine you would."

She gave him a quick look. It was not so brittle now. "Well, but you are right. It's best to clear the air. So, we are not compatible."

"On the surface, some people have open relationships."

"So do people in our society," she replied. "Your point?"

"Just that I've never wanted what we would call a vanilla relationship, a normal relationship with a normal woman." He picked up the nearest plate book and thumbed it as he talked. "But it might be nice to have someone to do things with, to share parts of my life, even to come home to some days. This Chiya-batu, I think I might like something like that . . . but I don't think I could give up Mistress Mani."

"Are you suggesting—" Zeta stopped and then went on. "You would see this courtesan, let her whip you. Then come here, and we'd have supper, date, be together."

Now was his turn to look away, scared to see what her reaction was. "Yeah, something like that." He risked a glance.

Her face was thoughtful. "I'm not sure how to feel about her or that. But I do like the idea of me and you. Can I think about it?"

"Of course," he gushed, taking her hand. "Take as much time as you need. And if you can't, I will understand."