No one was there. The apartment room was decorated in a hideously high-tech fashion, with black and chrome furnishings that did not look comfortable in the slightest. It looked cold. That was the best word he could use. No emotion softened the room. Function was tantamount.
The hologram window showed a scene out of a nightmare, where an orange sun barely lit the gloomy city. No cheer, no greenery.
Still, his training took over. He found his kit on a table near the bed, with his favorite liquids and toys within. He scanned the room and reviewed all furnishings for possible uses, either as a sexual aid or as a weapon.
Bed sheets were useful. The mattress was on a hard, unyielding box platform. The lamp on the table was black ceramic with a nice curved handle. The shade was a metal disk that threw the light on the wall. Well, it wouldn't throw harsh shadows, anyway. All the mirror-like polish was on the inside. Paris wandered over to the catering slot, where a tantalizing aroma wafted out. Something was held in the warmer function. Something savory, not sweet.
The sound of the door opening had him swivel around. Constance d'Akasha stood smiling in the doorway, wearing a thin robe that left little to the imagination.
Paris cleared his throat and gestured to the white diaphanous fabric. "That's a nice robe you're almost wearing."
She grinned like an oligarch who'd just been handed the deed to a wealthy mining planet and shut the door. The snick of the locking mechanism was audible.
Constance turned back to face Paris, and her smile broadened. "Welcome to your final exam, Paris. I am your auditor."
Paris felt his face drain of blood. "Oh, shit."
Her chuckle was not reassuring. "Under any other circumstances, I might be insulted." She crossed to the catering slot and removed two glasses of wine. Without a word, she handed him one.
"I get it." He sighed. "For me, these are adverse conditions. The one person who intimidates me and a cheerless room on a cheerless world."
She sipped her wine placidly. "Not to mention, I am female, and not your preference."
Paris crossed his arms. "There's more. You are a challenge that will be difficult in that you are one of my own profession, and as skilled in knowing the possibilities as I. It will be more than merely hard to please you."
He grinned as she raised one eyebrow in mild surprise. "Bonus points awarded, Paris. That was very astute. "
He paced and sipped his wine. "I see no sense in hiding my thought processes as I work this challenge out." He stopped and studied the cool beauty before him. "If your reputation is but half as good as the newsloops say, then you've faced every situation known to mankind as a sex engineer of the highest order."
Constance moved to sit on the hard, uncomfortable-looking bed. "True. I've been training to be an engineer since I was old enough to walk, though of course I didn't participate in the sexual studies until I'd reached the proper age."
Paris sat next to her and put his wine on the table. "You have always moved in the glittering circles of the wealthy oligarchs. I doubt you have ever known poverty of any kind."
She shot him a look from under her eyelashes. "Haven't I?"
"I meant in the financial sense, Constance." He smiled. He had her now. "We, the sex engineers, know the poverty of the heart. We give of our bodies, and ourselves but rarely are our hearts or souls touched. There is the pain of the sex engineer. To never know love."
Her eyes lowered a fraction, and a small sigh escaped. She was nearly perfect, but even a sex engineer of her quality couldn't hide the involuntary responses that betrayed every human. What was more, she wasn't trying to hide them. "Very good, Paris. You win this round."
"Then let me go for bonus points." He hazarded a guess. "Constance is too formal. May I call you Connie?"
Those unfathomable blue eyes widened and her head shot up. "Bonus points granted. Yes, you may call me Connie."
"I'll hazard another guess, Connie." He took her half-empty wine from her fingers. "I'll bet that it is rare for you to allow another engineer to pleasure you, without your input, and without your being in charge at least subtly."
Her mouth fell open a little, but she didn't speak.
"I'd be willing to further bet that no one has challenged you in perhaps many years." He smiled softly. "I hereby now challenge you, Connie. I challenge you to remember what it is to not be a sex engineer. To let your mind be blank, and simply be a woman."
She drew breath, probably to award more points. He put his fingers over her red lips. "No points awarded, and do not be my auditor for the moment. Allow me to offer a win or lose only proposition. If I can please the woman Connie, I win. If I cannot keep her fully engaged and treat her like any other citizen of the Consortium, I lose. But you must remain as Connie until the encounter ends by mutual agreement."
His fingers still held her silent, even as the lips curved into a smile. He read, Challenge accepted. He replaced his fingers with his lips, brushing softly against them. No tongues, no hands. Just a kiss as light as a breeze. She relaxed, and shut her eyes.
Her robe had a hidden seal in front. His index finger ran down the seal, and it opened with a whisper of sound. He deepened the kiss, making it slightly demanding, but concerned for her wishes. She gave and parted her lips.
When he broke the kiss, her skin was flushed slightly. A soft pink to match her pale hair. "But Paris, you remain clothed."
"Hush. Who is the engineer, for now?"
His admonishment made her pout slightly. He allowed his gaze to roam. "Thousands acclaim your beauty, but what I admire most is your mind. You, and you alone, have made this place special. How many notice the multi-faceted intelligence behind that perfect mask?"
"Not many." Her fingers twitched, as if she longed to take charge, as was the habit of sex engineers. Even when submitting to a sexual dominant, an engineer never stopped thinking of how to please. "Then tonight, let me admire the woman beneath the beauty." He nibbled on her neck, and felt the tiny shudder. "Give over control, Connie. Blank your mind and only feel."
She allowed him to push her back on the hard mattress. "That's asking a great deal."
"I know. That's the challenge to your intelligence. The one thing that is difficult." He nibbled his way down the collarbone.
She let her breath out slowly, and shut her eyes. "I think you'll win this challenge."
Paris took his time, licking and nibbling at every erogenous zone to allow her time to rid herself of every minute thing that would clog her sensory input. A pink nipple tempted him enough to suck it in and gently tug.
When he switched to its twin, Connie opened her eyes and gasped. They were hazy and unfocused. Paris took this as a sign she had managed to close off all but the way he treated her skin.
Therefore, when she wound her arms around his neck before beginning to unseal his clothes, he allowed it. Anyone might wish to see their lover naked above them. He was happy to oblige as long as her eyes remained cloudy, her breathing quick, and her skin rosy.
He let her taste his nipples, since she did it hungrily and with none of the special skills of an engineer. Just a woman tasting her lover.
"Paris," she begged, when his hand crept down to dip into her wetness.
No engineer could fake an erection, either of the clitoris or penis. There were drugs to stimulate that physical state, but they had their own signs of use. Connie bore no sign of those effects. This was then, a genuine arousal. He tickled her clit, just to send her deeper. Her squirm and the fresh gush of lubricants told him she was ready for more.
He stood, and removed his pants in a single fluid motion. No sex engineer bothered with undergarments unless the assignment called for them, so he was naked in a flash.
Connie's eyes widened. The tip of her tongue flickered for a moment to lick her lips.
Paris knew what she was thinking. She couldn't shut off everything in her memory. The knowledge that he had heavy-world genetics would come to the fore, explaining the size, thickness and rigidity before her. Most females wondered aloud, "How am I going to swallow that?"
He knew better than to suggest oral stimulation. First, he didn't need it. Second, neither did she, and if she tried, all her training would instantly click online.
"No, Connie. You don't have to attempt it. Lay back and spread."
Her blue eyes lifted to meet his. "It's huge. And purple."
He shoved her shoulder, hard. "So it is. What's more, it's going where it belongs."
