Stella, My Star

2

I am pushed roughly, face first against the wall. With a strong hand pinning one of my wrists, the other flat and crushed against the cold, hard steel, you press your body to mine, and move your other hand to my stomach. You hold me motionless. Your breathing is deepening. I note that the hand to the stomach is a little self indulgent on your part.

"Well, what have we got here then? Female of the species, possibly weaponless, but I will need to check a little further to confirm that yet." You're a smart Alec, and I find myself liking that. Your hand slides back across my stomach and up and down my side- armpit to thigh, seeking anything I could take you down with. You change hands on my wrist and slide the second hand down my other side, your face moving to the other side of my neck. I am acutely aware you are incidentally breathing in the perfume of my hair.

"My second question is...Have we met before?" You are genuinely curious, and lean into the wall on your arm that pins me, the free hand resting on my lower back. Your eyes stare into mine, but I don't give you the satisfaction of eye contact. I yearn deep down to answer the question, but I deliberately stare emotionless at the wall, centimetres from my steely blue eyes. I could move now, I would need to be swift, but I want to observe how you operate in this situation.

"Let me make myself clear. I need to know who you are. You are deceptively using new recruit clothing. But I am not due for new crew, and especially not a female. The Destructor is one of two I.S.F. ships to still be a little behind the times with human resource management, unfortunately," you murmur. Wow, you are in for a surprise! You eye me up and down for any signs of identity, or to view my long legs a little closer, as your eyes fixate on them. "A gentleman shouldn't need to get too personal. It would be easier if you put us both out of our misery, and let me hear you speak. So, are you hiding any kind of weapon on this body of yours? What kind of woman such as yourself, has the courage, possibly stupidity, to come sneaking around my room?"

This raises a sly smile from me. No eye contact. There is only the possibility of one stupid person in this room. It is not me. It is a theory I feel the desire to test. I make eye contact, enough to unsettle you, and I move my flattened hand down my side, tipping a little as I reach into my thigh high boot. I find the neutraliser, compact, light and ready for stun mode. Someone needs to put you in your place. Too many months with an all-male crew, and you are far too obsessed by my sudden appearance, for my liking.

Your hand goes to my boot and edges the zipper down a fraction. It is probably a weapons check, but I desire to play the game no more. You are tempting fate...