The Art of Broken Pieces

72 Porgs (167 On the Moon)

The dining room was all silken amethyst walls, decorated with swirling gold-leafed plaster that looked like the delicate cream decorations added to fancy desserts. The chandelier above dripped with what Rey would guess were actual purple and white gemstones, casting refracted rainbows about the room. Servants in their filmy gold jewelry lined the walls, and the long banquet table was laden with a thousand different colors. An enormous holographic centerpiece disguised whatever main course lay beyond, and Rey found herself hoping it wasn't going to be like the dining show she'd witnessed. She wasn't certain how much more of the evening she could spend red-faced before she passed out from all the blood redirecting to her cheeks.

Something spicy hung in the air, pepper oils and meat twining seductively in her sinuses, causing her eyes and mouth to water simultaneously. Whatever it was, she wanted it—Rey had a long, torrid relationship with fiery foods, ever since she learned that a bite of a Jakku mission-pepper would make even the desert's midday feel cool.

She sank into the chair a servant pulled out, and was relieved when Ben waved him away to push the chair in himself. One glance at the place setting almost had her groaning. There were at least twelve different utensils, and some of them she wasn't even certain were meant to be held by hands. She'd have to watch Ben closely during dinner and hope he ate the things she wanted to try.

When everyone was seated, the hologram around the main course fizzled away. Rey covered her face.

The long golden centerpiece was both fountain and platter, with layers of plates and sculpted bowls that contained a myriad of soups and delicate sauces for the many dishes at the table. Creams and rich honeys cascaded down across the sculpture's sides into rivulets that ran around the statue's base, in reach of all the diners should they wish to partake. As Rey muffled a pained whimper at his side, Ben took in the artful sculpture that supported their feast.

Bodies both alien and human twined frozen in a tableau of eroticism, a perfect miniature of extravagance and debauchery. There were more details and positions than Ben's brain could even follow, though he refrained from any reaction of his own as Rey shrank in her seat. The features of the tiny golden faces were detailed, expressions carved at moments of orgasm, and more than a few of the fountaining sauces were quite thoughtfully and skillfully designed to flow organically from sculpted erections and alien appendages. Right before them a platter filled with fragrant spiced meats was supported by the sculpted up thrust breasts and belly of an arched human woman, her legs spread wide and lifted high to hold a small second platter rimmed with small leafy morsels. Everything between those legs was just as expertly rendered as the rest of her.

The servants were moving about the room serving drink now, their state of undress seeming less extreme as it had only moments earlier, and Ben took a deep breath and refused to show any discomfort. This was an entirely different display of status than any he was accustomed to, though it certainly fell in line with the worst rumors he had heard about certain subsets of Aurelian high society.

Rey accepted a drink of some clear, bubbly liquid and didn't even wait for Ben's okay. She tipped it back, hoping the chill of it might help to leech some of the furious embarrassment from her skin.

"Your wife appears shocked, Master Tahn," said the man Ben had been conversing with, now seated across from them. "Surely, you've introduced her to one or two of these positions before?"

"But they're on their honeymoon, Dolos," said the blonde woman. "Perhaps Sana is still innocent."

Ben clenched his fists under the table, their insufferable commentary and constant condescension burying under his skin like little needles. He longed to put them in their places, to wipe those stupid simpering smiles from their faces and watch them go wide with fear instead. Once he would have made them crawl and beg forgiveness for their rudeness. Up until now the endless necessity and formality of their time on Aurelia had been tiring, but manageable. He had been focused on the rift between himself and Rey, or on the prize they were after. It was beginning to feel less worth the humiliation they were putting themselves through. Surely fear would loosen tongues as well as subterfuge...