Dangerous Women. Джордж Р. Р. Мартин

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СКАЧАТЬ where would you like to eat?” he asked.

      “There.” She pointed at an Isanjo restaurant. Potted trees dotted the space with webs of rope slung between them. Isanjo, using hands, their prehensile feet, and their tails darted along the woven lines. Somehow none of the items on the trays tilted, slipped, or fell.

      They settled into woven rope chairs, and a waiter slithered down the trunk of the tree next to their table. His order pad hung on his neck along with a credit deck. “Drinks?” he asked, the muzzle making him lisp the word.

      “Champagne,” Rohan said.

      “Actually, I don’t like champagne,” Sammy said.

      “Oh. Your pardon. What would you like?”

      “Tequila.”

      The waiter turned dark, wide eyes to Rohan. Their blackness against the gold of his fur made them seem fathomless and terribly alien. “I’ll drink what the lady is drinking,” Rohan said, making it an act of gallantry. With a bouncing leap, the creature was up the tree, gripping the ropes and racing away.

      “You just full of courtesy, aren’t you?” Sammy asked. “Do you even like tequila?”

      “Well enough.”

      “What do you drink at home?” she asked, fixing those emerald cat eyes on him.

      “Champagne, martinis. In the summer months I’ll drink the occasional beer or gin and tonic. Wine with dinner. Why do you ask?”

      “How often do you drink?”

      “Every night,” he blurted before he could help himself. “And why the interrogation? You sound like my doctor.”

      “Do you drink to relax or to forget? Or both?”

      “You make too much of this. I drink because … I enjoy a drink in the evenings. That’s all.” Though he found himself remembering the night five weeks ago when he’d heard Juliana’s tinkling laugh as she flirted with the young officer who was currently inhabiting her bed. He had drunk himself into insensibility that night.

      Another Isanjo landing next to the table caused Rohan to start and pulled him from his brooding reverie. A bowl of dipping sauce and pieces of bread were slapped down on the table. The pungent scent of the sauce set Rohan’s eyes and mouth to watering.

      “You were drunk tonight,” Sammy said, and popped a piece of bread into her mouth. “Otherwise you would never have come backstage.”

      “Do you rate your charms so low?”

      “I rate your sense of propriety a good deal higher” was the dry reply.

      “Well, you’re probably right about that,” Rohan admitted.

      “So, why did you come?”

      “Because you’re beautiful … And … and I’m lonely.”

      “And do you think two bodies clashing in the dark will alleviate that?” she asked.

      He was embarrassed to discover that his throat had gone tight. He swallowed past the lump, coughed, and said, “Are you propositioning me, young woman?” He hoped his tone was as light as the words.

      “No. You have to do that. I still have some pride left. Not a lot, but some.”

      “You find your … er … profession to be demeaning?” The look of contempt and incredulity almost cut. He looked away from those blazing green eyes. “Well, I think you answered that question.”

      Sammy shrugged. “It’s this state religion of yours. Women are either Madonnas or whores.”

      “And which are you?” he asked, deciding to hit back.

      It was the right move. She gave him an approving smile. “Whichever you want.”

      “Oh, I doubt that. I think you’re not at all accommodating,” Rohan said.

      Their drinks arrived. She lifted hers and smiled at him over the rim of her glass. “For an aristo, you’re not at all stupid.”

      “Thank you. And for a stripper you’re not at all common.”

      They clinked glasses. She sipped. Suddenly nervous, he threw his back in a single gulp. “Whoa, slow down there, caballero. Otherwise I’ll be carrying you out of here.”

      “My driver would handle that,” Rohan said.

      “Yes, but he can’t handle propositioning me,” Sammy retorted. She picked up her menu. “Shall we order? I’m famished.”

      She made love as well as she stripped.

      Rohan rolled off her with a gasp and a groan. Shudders still shook his body. She sat up, straddled him, and raked her mane of hair back off her face. She drew a forefinger down his nose, traced the line of his lips, stroked his neck, and then rubbed his paunch. Futilely, Rohan tried to suck in his gut. She chuckled deep in her throat, and Rohan felt his penis try to respond, then collapse in defeat.

      He had wanted her so badly by the time they reached her apartment deep in Stick Town, where the Flutes congregated. He had ripped off her clothes and shoved her down on the bed. Then, with clumsy fingers, he’d freed the clasps on his shirt, ripped loose his belt, pulled down the zipper, skinned his trousers over his hips, and fallen onto her. There had been little foreplay.

      He reached up and gently touched that gamine little face. “I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t very good for you.”

      “I’m sure there will be an opportunity for you to make it up to me,” she said softly, and bent forward to kiss his lips. She tasted of vanilla with a hint of tequila on the back of her tongue.

      He rubbed his hands across her groin, and stopped when his fingers hit deep, twisting scars beneath the silken fur. How had he not felt them earlier? Too absorbed in his own pleasure and the sensations sweeping through his body. She froze and stared down at him.

      “What—?” he began.

      “I was on Insham.” He yanked back his hands as if he’s been the one who had applied the knife and cut away her ovaries. “Of course, I’m one of the lucky ones. Neutered beats dead.” The words were flat, matter-of-fact.

      He found himself making excuses, offering the party line. “It was the actions of one overzealous admiral. The government never … we stopped it as soon as word reached us.”

      “But not before three thousand seven hundred and sixty-two children were killed. Do you know how many are left?” He stared up at her, at the glitter in her eyes, and shook his head. “Two hundred and thirty-eight.”

      “You know the exact count?” It was inane, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

      “Oh yes.”

      “How did you …?”

      “One of your soldiers saved me. Me and a few other СКАЧАТЬ