soon a good five feet in front of the others.
Drew looked at Taralin.
"Now how the hell am I supposed to protect him if he's way up there?"
"You're supposed to protect her. I can take care of myself," Facto assured her.
"In that case you're not as stupid as I thought you were, Fuckto."
"Facto, my name is Facto."
He stopped and turned to face her.
"You are the most irritating . . ."
"Facto!" Taralin put a hand on his shoulder. "We're almost there now. Just ignore her a few more minutes."
Facto nodded, turned and started to walk again.
"How can he ignore me when it's so obvious that he wants me? He yearns for me. My warm sensuous body pressed close to his—my squirming hips playing against his."
"Enough!" Facto screamed; his face burning bright red.
"Chill, baby."
Drew strode forward, kissed him on the lips, and then walked towards the door of the hotel they had stopped in front of.
"Look! We're here. And tomorrow I'll just be a warm, wet memory."
Facto walked up beside Taralin and they started into the hotel.
"I am not attracted to her," he assured Taralin.
"It's OK, Fuckto."
Drew opened the door and the other three walked in.
"It's not easy to be an object of desire. I live with it . . . Bar!" As if she were steel, and the bar a magnet, she let herself be pulled in the direction of the hotel bar.
"Come back here!" Facto ordered.
"You said to the hotel. We're in the hotel, and you're out of money. You're on your own."
Facto looked appealingly at the Chitzky, and he shrugged.
"Bar," he answered. As if that explained it all.
He took Taralin's hand and kissed the back of it.
"It was a pleasure to serve you."
"Thank you," Taralin said. "For everything."
"Facto," the Chitzky held out his hand, and Facto took it reluctantly. "Learn to loosen up, dude," he winked at the man and then ran to catch up with Drew in the bar.
Drew sat at the bar.
"Blow Me Hard And Often—with a twist," she ordered.
The bartender nodded and went to work.
Van Gar came in and sat beside her.
"Brown noser," she accused.
"I was just being nice," Van Gar defended. "I know that's hard for you to recognize."
"I'm nice," Drew protested.
Van Gar just laughed.
"I am!"
The bartender put her drink in front of her.
"Thanks," she said. Then turned to Van Gar.
"See?"
Behind them, a man's voice boomed through the crowd.
"Taralin! My love! My life!"
Drew turned to see the long-awaited reunion, and a strange man threw his arms around her, spilling her drink.
"Fucking idiot!" Drew swore, pushing the man harshly away, and wiping the drink off her jump suit. The man looked deep into her eyes. At least he tried to; she didn't cooperate.
"Oh, Taralin! At long last!" He pulled a very surprised Drew into his arms, and kissed her on the lips. Drew pushed him out to arms length and held him there.
"Listen, jerk. I know it's been a long time, so I'm going to let you live." She pointed to where Taralin stood across the room looking hurt. "That's yer old lady over there."
Zarco looked from the woman in front of him to the trio which stood in the door. His face fell.
"You . . . you really don't remember, then? Not me? Not any of them?"
"No. She don't remember you. But I don't guess that matters too much, since you don't remember her either. I am Drewcila Qwah. I'm the Salvager that Fuckto hired to haul your wife here."
"His name is Facto, and it is you who are my wife. My wife, Taralin Zarco."
"Buddy, I don't know you, and you're starting to piss me off big time. First off, you spilt my drink."
Facto and the others joined their King then.
"I am sorry for the deception, but, well, you were so changed, my Queen. We didn't know how to make you believe us."
"I am your sister, Stasha," the woman who had called herself
Drew looked at Taralin.
"Now how the hell am I supposed to protect him if he's way up there?"
"You're supposed to protect her. I can take care of myself," Facto assured her.
"In that case you're not as stupid as I thought you were, Fuckto."
"Facto, my name is Facto."
He stopped and turned to face her.
"You are the most irritating . . ."
"Facto!" Taralin put a hand on his shoulder. "We're almost there now. Just ignore her a few more minutes."
Facto nodded, turned and started to walk again.
"How can he ignore me when it's so obvious that he wants me? He yearns for me. My warm sensuous body pressed close to his—my squirming hips playing against his."
"Enough!" Facto screamed; his face burning bright red.
"Chill, baby."
Drew strode forward, kissed him on the lips, and then walked towards the door of the hotel they had stopped in front of.
"Look! We're here. And tomorrow I'll just be a warm, wet memory."
Facto walked up beside Taralin and they started into the hotel.
"I am not attracted to her," he assured Taralin.
"It's OK, Fuckto."
Drew opened the door and the other three walked in.
"It's not easy to be an object of desire. I live with it . . . Bar!" As if she were steel, and the bar a magnet, she let herself be pulled in the direction of the hotel bar.
"Come back here!" Facto ordered.
"You said to the hotel. We're in the hotel, and you're out of money. You're on your own."
Facto looked appealingly at the Chitzky, and he shrugged.
"Bar," he answered. As if that explained it all.
He took Taralin's hand and kissed the back of it.
"It was a pleasure to serve you."
"Thank you," Taralin said. "For everything."
"Facto," the Chitzky held out his hand, and Facto took it reluctantly. "Learn to loosen up, dude," he winked at the man and then ran to catch up with Drew in the bar.
Drew sat at the bar.
"Blow Me Hard And Often—with a twist," she ordered.
The bartender nodded and went to work.
Van Gar came in and sat beside her.
"Brown noser," she accused.
"I was just being nice," Van Gar defended. "I know that's hard for you to recognize."
"I'm nice," Drew protested.
Van Gar just laughed.
"I am!"
The bartender put her drink in front of her.
"Thanks," she said. Then turned to Van Gar.
"See?"
Behind them, a man's voice boomed through the crowd.
"Taralin! My love! My life!"
Drew turned to see the long-awaited reunion, and a strange man threw his arms around her, spilling her drink.
"Fucking idiot!" Drew swore, pushing the man harshly away, and wiping the drink off her jump suit. The man looked deep into her eyes. At least he tried to; she didn't cooperate.
"Oh, Taralin! At long last!" He pulled a very surprised Drew into his arms, and kissed her on the lips. Drew pushed him out to arms length and held him there.
"Listen, jerk. I know it's been a long time, so I'm going to let you live." She pointed to where Taralin stood across the room looking hurt. "That's yer old lady over there."
Zarco looked from the woman in front of him to the trio which stood in the door. His face fell.
"You . . . you really don't remember, then? Not me? Not any of them?"
"No. She don't remember you. But I don't guess that matters too much, since you don't remember her either. I am Drewcila Qwah. I'm the Salvager that Fuckto hired to haul your wife here."
"His name is Facto, and it is you who are my wife. My wife, Taralin Zarco."
"Buddy, I don't know you, and you're starting to piss me off big time. First off, you spilt my drink."
Facto and the others joined their King then.
"I am sorry for the deception, but, well, you were so changed, my Queen. We didn't know how to make you believe us."
"I am your sister, Stasha," the woman who had called herself
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