Tamed By the Alien Pirate by Celia Kyle Page 0,16

a physical key, and I was wondering how I was going to get inside when it suddenly popped open.

A burly Shorcu with his central eye milked over with blindness shuffled out, bearing two heavy sacks full of beer bottles. He glanced at me and then used his hip to keep the door open.

“Hurry up. You’re late.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I hastened through the door while thanking him. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom, and then there was a portly Grolgath tugging on my sleeve.

“You must be Glitter. You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

I grinned, and tried to act stupid.

“Yeah, sorry boss. I got held up by sumthin’.”

“Don’t get held up again or you’re fired.” He jabbed his finger toward a steel door with a star emblazoned it its surface. “Talent gets dressed in there. What’s that getup supposed to be? Military meets schoolmarm? Never mind, Dolores will get you something better for the stage.”

“Stage?” I had assumed I would be a bartender or something, not a dancer. But there was no way to correct him without blowing my cover.

He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me toward the door.

“Come on. I haven’t got all day.”

I went through the door and was faced with half a dozen women in various stages of undress. I was not the only human, though the other two were considerably older than me. A Vakutan woman with an amazingly curvy body—most likely enhanced by surgery—came up to me and put her hands on her hips.

“You’re the new girl. Aren’t you? They always put the new girls on my shift.”

“Ah, yes. I’m… Glitter. Pleased to meet you.”

She looked down at my proffered hand and grimaced.

“What’s this for?”

“Ah… never mind.” I forgot that human handshakes were not the normal protocol in much of the galaxy, especially this far from IHC space. “Er… the boss said you could help me with a costume?”

She rolled her eyes, sighed, and motioned for me to follow.

“This is why he always schedules the fresh meat when I’m working. ‘Dolores, do this, Dolores, teach them all your secrets’ blah blah blah.’”

I followed her to a rack of clothing. She started taking various garments and holding them against me to check their length.

“No, no, no…it’s all too long. Don’t we have any human-sized—ah, here we go. This will look great on you.”

Dolores paused, looking at me expectantly.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Get out of those unsexy street clothes so you can change. You’re on stage in ten.”

Ten?

“Ah…right here?”

“Yes, right here. Only top tier talent gets their own dressing room, and you’re fresh meat.”

I quickly took off the coat and tech vest before I lost my nerve. Dolores’s eyes ran over my form, but not in a lewd way. More like a cold assessment of my physical attributes.

“Yeah, you’re a busty one all right.” She laughed when she saw my underwear. “What are those? Athletic shorts? That will never do. You need layers to peel off, so I’d recommend this… this… and this.”

I got dressed—if you could call it that. The evening gown had a plunging neckline to display my cleavage, and a slit up to my waist to expose my leg. And the underwear was the variety I would never pick out for myself; all lacey and girly and utterly see through. Of course, I guess that was the point.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said as I examined myself in the mirror.

“You’ll be fine. Everyone is nervous the first time. Hey, Clem, come over here and do her makeup. Will you?”

A Grolgath female stood up to assist, and my curiosity got the better of me.

“How come you all have human names?”

“Are you stupid? You see a human woman’s name on the marquee you’re more likely to stop. It’s the tits, you see. Most of us don’t have them when we’re not nursing.”

I allowed them to gussy me up like a common street whore. The sight of myself was unsettling because they spent a lot of effort to make me look cheap.

“She still looks nervous,” Clem said.

“Here, this will loosen her up.”

Dolores handed me a bottle of amber fluid with a spicy aroma. I sniffed the nozzle and it burned my nostrils.

“Come on, you’re almost up.”

Sighing, I put the nozzle in my mouth, intending to take a small sip. But Dolores pushed the bottom of the bottle, raising it up, and spilling half the contents down my throat. Coughing

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