My Prize (20 page)

"What's so special about it? Aside from those incredible flowers?"

"It's called the Ecstasy Tree." He pointed to a low tangle of branches that spread out from the base like a platform of sorts over the grass. "That is the bed upon which lovers take their pleasure, to see if they can make the flowers bloom."

Boralle frowned at it, and then looked back at the man. "I know you..." She said, struggling to remember.

"Yes, you do."

"You...
you
sold me Rory's vessel." She'd placed him as the trader of antiquities.

"I did, Boralle North. You were the right person. As was he."

"Who are you?"

"I am called the Guardian. This place is Anyela."

Boralle blinked. "This is where Rory came from, isn't it?" she guessed. Her agile mind put two and two together and arrived neatly at a total of seven hundred and ninety three point four two.

"Well," the man smiled, "...you could say that. He has been here, certainly. He spent time here learning what he needed to know."

"Why am I here?
Am
I here? I'm dreaming this, aren't I?" The questions tumbled from her lips, one after another, as she struggled to deal with this experience and put it into terms her mind could comprehend.

The Guardian smiled. "You are here. Sort of. Don't worry about it, Boralle. Just enjoy it. Look around you, look above you..." He gestured to the sky, which was darkening as they spoke, fading from brilliant blue to a darker hue and beginning to show little flickers of stars.

It was incredible, and Boralle watched as the sun slowly dropped and the passage of an Anyelan night began.

"That's the universe up there, Boralle. The same universe as yours, as Rory's, as the Magans'and the Fralliens'."

She glanced at him, the shadows of evening making his face enigmatic and hiding the expression in those unusual eyes of his.

"It's an ordered yet chaotic thing. Changing, growing, shrinking, expanding...none of us fully understand it. And yet we work to keep it on its course."

She nodded, listening intently now.

"You have a job, Boralle. A task that brought the Laird to you, and one that will help us in our assigned mission. Do not doubt that tomorrow will be a challenge, but also do not doubt that you will prevail."

"I will?"

He smiled. "You will. You and Rory together. Man and woman, united, can succeed in whatever they put their minds to. It only takes a little self confidence and a lot of something else..."

She gazed at the stars. "If it's love you're talking about, Guardian, then I guess I will prevail tomorrow. Because I've found that I have that in abundance."

"You do indeed, my dear. Rory is a lucky fellow." The Guardian joined her in gazing at the stars.

They were silent for a moment, then something made Boralle ask a question she didn't even know she was thinking.

"Can I keep him?"

The Guardian shimmered before her eyes as the Anyelan night fell.

"Do you want him?" The question fell into the growing distance between them.

The answer came straight from her soul. "More than life."

"Then—we shall see, Boralle North. We shall see..."

The Guardian's words came from a great distance, and Boralle slowly awoke, realizing that she was still tucked up against Rory in her quarters on Frallien IV.

Anyela seemed like a dream and yet not a dream.

The words she'd spoken sounded prophetic, but she knew with every ounce of her being that they had been the simple truth.

She loved Rory McAllen more than life itself. And heaven help her if she lost him.

*~*~*~*

Rory woke with the sound of Anyelan bells ringing in his ears. For a moment he expected to find himself back there, amidst the laughter and the sunshine and the colors of that magical world.

Then something moved next to him and he realized he was still on Frallien IV, still holding Boralle in his arms, and still facing the challenges of the Olympiad.

Today's
Olympiad.

The digital readout that hovered above the desk console told him it was early, too early to move away from the warmth generated by their bodies as they nestled beneath the blanket.

Boralle snuffled softly and wriggled her butt against him, pushing him a little and plastering her body even closer to his.

He wormed his way around her, bringing his knees up to rest against the backs of her thighs, and letting his hand lie gently on her hip.

She sighed in her sleep.

He hoped it was a contented sigh.

His chin brushed her head as he shared her pillow, almost surrounding her with his presence and encompassing her with his protection.

She was every inch a woman, and every inch as brave a warrior as was he. To take on this challenge, to willingly face what she was going to face this day—his heart ached with admiration for her courage and love for her spirit.

The Boralle North he knew was fundamentally shy. Yet she was about to bare her body and her heart to millions, assuming the GNN estimates of live coverage ratings were accurate—and have the most personal of sexual experiences, an orgasm, in front of cameras and judges alike.

And she was going to do this, knowing that she would be using a machine with the potential to injure her or worse.

Plus, the fate of a couple of planets and their inhabitants were resting on the outcome of this contest.

Yet she slept like a bairn in his arms. She'd put her faith in him—a magical creature who'd appeared like a genie from a lamp to regale her with wild stories about the future and the nature of the time-space continuum.

She was one hell of a woman. And he owed her a bath in the loch. He made himself a pledge to move heaven and earth if need be to make sure she got that bath. And that he was there to scrub her back.

And her front.

And maybe a few other bits as well.

His body stirred as he considered the wonderfully appealing possibility of a naked Boralle in his loch with a bar of soap and him. Naked also, of course.

A soft giggle came from the area over his heart, and a pair of buttocks twitched around his lengthening cock.

"And good morning to you, too." She turned slightly to gaze sleepily into his face. "Feels like you slept well..." She wriggled again, this time rubbing her ass against him and making him groan with pleasure.

Rory smiled down at her, his heart turning over as he quietly examined her features.

Her blonde hair was tumbled every which way, and her skin flushed with the heat of their closeness. Her eyes were soft and rested and her mouth—ah, that mouth.

Rory leaned over and dropped a light kiss on it. "Good morrow to you, lass. How lovely you are when you wake."

A snort greeted his words. "Yeah. Sure. I've got serious bed hair, dents in my face, I probably drooled half the night, and I expect my breath could vaporize a small asteroid."

"
I
think you're beautiful. The rest is of no matter." Rory knew his words sounded rather arrogant, but he couldn't help it. He truly believed what he said. Although he did wait rather cautiously for Boralle's response.

She surprised him. "I think
you're
beautiful, too."

To his astonishment he found his cheeks warming under her smile. The Laird McAllen was actually blushing.

Boralle missed the warm presence of Rory by her side as she made her way down to the arena where the events would take place, but they'd both agreed that he would probably be more of a distraction than she needed at this point, and he'd be there for her big moment, without a doubt.

Besides, talking to an invisible friend probably wouldn't endear her to many of the crowd that jostled and chattered around her. Although such behavior wasn't actually out of the ordinary, given the number and variety of races and species that intermingled on this sunny Frallien day.

In addition to their obvious and cherished sexuality, the Fralliens loved a good show. The Olympiad was custom made for the noise, color, pageantry and gaudy exhibitionism they so adored.

Not content with welcoming visitors from around the galaxy, the hosts of the event made sure that the competitors and their supporters were well entertained by music, dance, art festivals and parades featuring Frallien performers as well as others recruited especially for the occasion.

This Olympiad was turning out to be more spectacular than she had believed possible.

The morning was taken up with speeches, introductions, the reading of the contestant list and order of competitors, and a couple of large parades. Marching bands from several planets vied with each other to numb the most ears, with the winner probably being the drum corps from Agera Epsilon. Having twelve ambidextrous limbs, each capable of holding a different percussion instrument, certainly tipped the scales in their favor.

The fact that one of the instruments was actually a small shrieking rodent, native to Agera E, added the finishing flourish.

It took half an hour for Boralle's ears to stop ringing after the Agera E band had merrily pounded its way down the main street.

It was followed by the dance troupe from Agera Theta, part of the same star system. The Thetan troupe was comprised of a large number of mostly naked Thetan women, who were energetically swinging their triple breasted costumes in time to the music. They couldn't hear the music, of course, because all communication on Agera T was telepathic—the noise from Agera Epsilon having long since destroyed any Thetan aural nerves.

To compensate for the lack of ears, Thetan women had developed an extra breast, to the delight of Thetan men. For some reason, however, the males hadn't yet evolved an extra hand. But Boralle noted that their mouths seemed to be rather large in comparison to the rest of their face.

While she would have loved to species-watch for hours as the parade continued, she knew it was time for her to make her way to the arena.

Her simple white robe marked her as a contestant, and she was treated to many a smile, a bow and a nod of acknowledgement wherever she went. Contestants were honored by Frallien. Most of them, anyway.

The Magans weren't endearing themselves to their hosts.

Two fights had broken out, according to gossip, and the Magans were involved each time.

There had been some kind of dispute between a Magan and one of the judges, which resulted in the Magan being expelled from the planet, and the Frallien judge needing minor surgery.

Apparently there were some things that Fralliens couldn't shove up their asses after all.

Boralle crossed to the Olympian arena and presented her credentials to the guard at the door.

She was passed through with courteous greetings, and found herself in the Contestants Ready Room.

Now it was just her, a dozen or so other competitors, and the competition.

The games were about to begin.

*~*~*~*

A hush of anticipation fell over the arena as the first competitor was introduced.

A Cynerian male, he was typical of the species, being very tall, slender and with hair that was almost white. His eyes would be dark blue, but Boralle was too far away to be able to see them clearly. She had heard that they turned purple at the moment of orgasm, but doubted she'd get the chance to check that rumor out.

The arena itself was very large.

A circular dais rose from the center of the floor to the height of several feet, and it was on this surface that the booths had been arranged. There were twelve, spaced at regular intervals in a circle, rather like the numbers on one of the old Earth timepieces.

The workings of the booths were tucked into the plinths upon which they rested, looking like a dozen huge bubbles sitting on squat stone pillars. The air hummed slightly as the circuits were activated, and small green lights appeared as each unit declared itself all systems go.

From the center of the first dais rose a smaller one and it was to this that the Cynerian walked, climbing the steps and moving to the very center of the arena. He dropped his robe and turned slowly, displaying himself to the judges and the crowd. Several spotlights caught him fair and square.

Boralle swallowed. She knew that this was part of the event. Each contestant had to show his or her body prior to competing. This verified that they were who they said they were, and also that they were carrying no items that might affect their scores.

No masturbatory devices, for example, since the nasty incident with a sucking orchid in some past Olympiad. The Frallien who'd tried
that
little stunt was still in rehab and the rules had been tightened to prevent such a thing from happening again.

The Cynerian raised his hands in a dramatic gesture, allowing his sleek body to gleam as he turned slowly.

The crowd was appreciative, applauding enthusiastically.

The judges nodded, and his number appeared above his head, hanging there in holographic majesty. His readings were entered into the system and his unit was selected for him at random from the ones that met his physical requirements.

He crossed to the booth that was slowly opening, and slipped inside.

The crowd quieted to a rustle, an occasional cough and the squawk of a feathered Dak when someone stepped on his wing.

The Cynerian reclined on the bench and stretched languorously as the cover came back down over him, enclosing him.

A projector was activated, and the arena was treated to a wide screen holo-vid of him as he wriggled his buttocks into a comfortable position.

The moving probe was activated and began to traverse his body, stimulating his system as it went. Boralle swore she heard a pin drop somewhere high up in the crowd.

She was watching from a small enclosed area just to one side of the dais, and could see the Cynerian quite clearly, without need for any amplification by cameras or holo devices.

A stir in the audience told her something was happening.

The Cynerian was shivering slightly and his cock was starting to harden. With hardly any body hair, Cynerian men always seemed inordinately well-hung to Boralle, and she had a sneaking suspicion they worked hard at appearing that way. Her researches had told her that there was, in fact, a universal standard for male genitalia, and it bore a direct mathematical correlation to the female genitalia within which they would perform.