got back into her grubby exercise gear. She took her passes and left the entertainment center. Knowing Mr. Blue, she was probably on a timed pass. If she didn’t check into the spa soon, she was going to lose her spot.
She turned up at the spa and smiled. “I believe Mr. Blue has called ahead.”
The rest was a flurry of getting her into a comfy robe with her clothing stored; she was to have everything she wanted, and she opted to start with a full-body massage.
Thirty minutes later, she was getting a serious massage when there was a flurry of activity among the staff. Face down on the table, she muttered, “What’s going on?”
Her masseur left and came back in. “A group from the imperial warship came in, and they are taking over our facility for the day. All clients are being offered complete refunds and are being asked to leave the facility.”
She groaned and threw a small tantrum, kicking her feet. “Of course. Well, thanks for the ten minutes. It was great.”
She sat up and flexed the arm that frequently went numb from an old injury. “At least I can move it.”
Fennor paused and said, “Just a minute. Don’t leave.”
He came back with a smug expression. “I have a compromise, but you have to share this space.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Come on, lie back down. We will get you moving again.” Fennor oiled up his bright green hands, and when he was ready, she lay back down and kicked her sheet into position. She was moaning slightly as Fennor’s fingers dug into the scar tissue on her right arm. The footsteps and soft voices were dismissed. She was in a haze of pain as her body fought the massage.
“How long has it been, Styra?”
“About three months. I have been busy.” She grunted and kept herself facing downward as he straightened and flexed her arm to check the motion.
“Right. I will come back to that later. You are going to bruise.”
He carefully placed her arm at her side and covered it up. Fennor continued to work on her, but he paused. “I have to get some more of the medicinal oil.”
She nodded and sighed.
From the other bed in the room where another masseur was working on the other client came a familiar voice. “You have injuries.”
If her arm wasn’t completely numb, she would have slapped herself in the face. She lifted and turned her head. “I did. Now I have damage.”
“I see. Those are blade marks.” The captain was staring at her. In person, the purple of his skin was striking.
“Yeah, there is blaster scarring, too, which you might see when I roll over. So, you might want to avert your eyes at that point.” She swallowed.
“I have seen damage before.”
She nodded. “Right. Of course. I am sorry to have intruded on your stress relief.”
“I believe I should be apologizing. It seems that your need was far greater than ours.”
She blushed. “It isn’t a problem. I will be out of here as soon as Fennor has me mobile again.”
He leaned up on his elbows. “You had a day planned here?”
“Yes.”
“Then, enjoy it. We can stay out of your way.”
She looked at Gemb, who was working on the captain. He gave her a smile and a nod.
“Um, sure. If you don’t mind. That would be helpful.”
Fennor came back with the deep-heating rub, and he got back to work.
She placed her face through the cut-out in the bed, and she grunted, moaned, and groaned with every bit of therapeutic handling.
“Okay, Styra, roll over.” Fennor moved between her and the captain and held up the sheet so she could roll away from the intense silver gaze.
She flopped into position, and he tucked the sheet over her, and he started working on her arm.
The captain’s side of the room was silent. It was as if Gemb wasn’t able to work any of the tissue under the skin.
“So, are you and your ship staying long?” She glanced at him.
“A few more days. We are awaiting a personnel transfer.”
That made sense. It was common enough on Blue Station. They were in a great position for folk to come together from around the nearest six star systems.
Fennor tugged her sheet down and draped a shorter sheet across her breasts while he worked on the mess that had been made of her abdomen.
He was leaning up to look. “You took a point-blank blast to the torso.”
She nodded. “I am aware of it.”
“The scars are pale. How old were you?”
She grimaced. “Six.