Page 83 of Mated on Live

Twenty stories in the air.

Sophie gasped, releasing Serval to step up to the iron railing. She grabbed onto it with both hands, leaning out, staring with wide eyes and a big smile at the huge area spread in front of her.

The docking bay was more like a docking wall, with all the tunnels coming together to empty out onto catwalks that covered the entire wall. They all led down to a huge, rectangular area below, upon which was spread what she could only describe as space city slums.

Big neon lights flashed, not quite concealing the fact that everything looked strangely wet and grimy for a place that certainly didn’t experience rain. Buildings were built all along the floor, and the other three walls of the cube shaped station, even hanging from the ceiling like stalactites. Stacked haphazardly on top of each other like code enforcement was just a vague notion to be ignored. Everything was made of varying materials too, each of them flashing oddly under the neon glow of all the signs.

So many signs! Every bar and inn and restaurant had a sign, all of them trying to compete with each other as the deathless concept of selling shit to suckers thrived. One advertised the best females that sold their time by the mark, while another promised the best males to tend to your every need. One bar sold drinks, right across from one that sold light. A noodle sign flashed next to what appeared to be an insect bar – which she would not be trying. It was a glorious cyberpunk collage without a speck of sunlight or greenery to be found.

She felt like she missed the chance to wear her blacklight makeup. It would have really popped in a place like this.

“Hey,” Serval grabbed her hand, holding it tight as he released his olules from his ribbon for some reason. “Don’t step away from my side, alright? Stay with me or where I put you.”

Sophie chuckled, flicking his chin. “I’ll agree with you because it’s good sense, but we’re going to have to work on your tone. Let’s go!”

Tugging on his hand, she led him towards the lift that was bringing the guests to and from the many docks that made up the wall. Her heart was already pounding with excitement. She didn’t care what he said, she already wanted to come back to this place.

It wasn’t neat and pretty and fancy, and that’s why she loved it. This place felt alive! These kinds of ramshackle buildings, all fighting with each other for space, didn’t get built in a day, or a year. This kind of place had to have been growing for a long time.

And it was amazing! She could probably spend days in this place and still not see everything and experience everything she wanted.

What was a light bar? What did aliens drink to get drunk? Or were all drinks like allowee dark wine and just made her feel a bit high? Or the Holivair flower wine that made her sleepy? How about the smoke bars? There was so much to experience, and she knew he only wanted to work.

She had her camera in a pouch on her thigh – which made her feel like a sexy video game character – but she wasn’t recording tonight. She wasn’t sure about alien laws of recording in public yet, and until she knew those things better, she was going to resist unless she had permission.

Besides, this was Serval’s night. They were working on his project.

She bounced, giddy, as they descended the large lift down to the ground floor. There were five other aliens with them. Three males, two females, all staring at her in surprise. She didn’t recognize any of their species, and she tried not to stare in turn.

“This way,” Serval said, pulling on her arm, directing her into the crowd.

And what a crowd!

There were so many types of people. She saw aliens with skin in every color of the rainbow, aliens with fur of various lengths, aliens with scales, with quills, with tentacles. And their fashion ranged from the plain, standard style clothes that Serval favored, to incredible masterpieces bordering on costumes. Some people were wearing veils, scarves, armor! Like, real armor! Capes and cloaks and some that were either close to nude or actually nude. One female with a long tail was dancing, flicking her tail and the bells tied at the end with a sassy turn of her hips. One male was wearing a mask like a respirator, walking in front of a male dressed up like a belly dancer, with glowing body paint that was distinctly smudged.

And all of them stood taller than her.

Sophie knew that humans were considered small by Coalition standards. Serval’s cousins had teased her about it. Even his sister, who was still considered an adolescent, was taller than her. But Sophie didn’t truly appreciate it until she was walking through a crowd of aliens, and she had to crane her neck to look up at everyone.

Though, she was trying very hard not to actually look. Because everyone who caught sight of her immediately stared. And their stares weren’t always just curious.

Not just a few of the males looked hungry. Eager. One actually licked his lips, forked tongue stroking over them as his fingers twitched.

But no one made a move towards her.

Which she found interesting. She didn’t even feel a hand on her ass. Aliens tended to be more evolved on the social spectrum. They were more peaceful, their justice system more streamlined and better at rehabilitating offenders so they didn’t repeat.

But surely that didn’t apply to a group of huge alien dudes on a seedy space station. There were still bad people, otherwise Earth and humans wouldn’t need protecting. So, why…

She looked over at Serval and started in surprise.

His body was tense, but his expression was calm. He moved carefully, slowly, with no wasted energy. His olules however…

The tentacles on his head were moving threateningly around the air. Their formerly smooth, wave-like motions had turned into harsh, erratic jerks. They were all free, pointing around him at everyone else like snakes preparing to strike.

And everyone that had to walk on his side gave him a wide berth.

He had told her that the sting from his olules hurt other species, but she had actually forgotten about that completely. On Holivair it had never seemed to come up, and his olules were always tied back in their ribbon. On Wav’aii, it didn’t matter, since all the people there were also allowee and were therefore immune to them.

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