“I think she was worried about you,” he said. “Did she keep her word?”
“Well, she keeps moaning and demanding to know when I’m going to leave the Navy and start living,” Janelle said. “Other than that… she does talk to me, whenever I can’t avoid it.”
“I know the feeling,” Henry said. He had relatives he was forced to be polite to, whenever there was a formal dinner or some other social event. And foreign ambassadors, who always seemed as bored as Henry himself felt. “But at least she hasn’t cut you completely out of her life.”
“I don’t think my father would let her,” Janelle said. She pulled him in for another kiss, then hesitated. “He was always more proud of me than he let on, I think.”
Their lips met, again. Henry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, then started to stroke the edge of her jacket. She shivered slightly against him, then kissed his lips harder as his touch became more and more intimate. It was strange, part of his mind realised, the part of him that never fell completely to emotion. She didn’t seem to have any reserve at all, no awareness that making love to him was making love to a prince. Was this what it was like to make love without reservation?
“Not here,” she muttered, as his fingers started to pry open her uniform jacket. He’d always wondered — it had been the source of many jokes — why the designers had made the jackets so they could be opened quickly. “We could get caught.”
Henry felt himself flush. Just because they’d been alone all the previous times they’d shared in the blister didn’t mean they would always be alone. He drew back for a long moment, feeling oddly disgruntled by her sudden change, then smiled as an idea came to him.
“We could use one of the private suites,” he said, softly. He felt himself flushing a moment later, torn between embarrassment and horror at his words. If she didn’t want to go any further… what would she say to him now? “I…”
“We could,” she said, with another kiss. “Let me see.”
She pulled her terminal off her belt and tapped it with her fingers, her hair falling down to surround her dark face. Henry stared with unabashed interest, wondering how much of her appearance was the result of genetic engineering before deciding he didn’t give a damn. It wasn’t something a gentleman asked, in any case; besides, there was quite a bit of genetic engineering in his own family tree.
“One of the rooms is currently available,” she said. She looked up at him, her brown eyes bright. “You want to go?”
“If you want to,” Henry stammered, suddenly finding himself tongue-tied. He was no virgin — assorted crawlers and the womenfolk of Sin City had seen to that — but there was a difference between such prostitutes and a girl who wanted him for himself alone. “I don’t mind.”
Janelle laughed out loud. “I’m sure you don’t mind,” she said, as she pulled herself to her feet and held out a hand. “Check your appearance, then come on.”
Henry smiled and followed her through the ship’s corridors, trying hard to remember what he’d been told about the private suites. It had been one of the lectures he’d received from Wing Commander Paton, one of the ones he hadn’t paid much attention to at the time. He honestly hadn’t expected to meet someone interested in Charles Augustus, rather than Prince Henry. The crew could use them for some private fun time — the Wing Commander had used those exact words — provided they didn’t break the rules on fraternisation. As a member of the Admiral’s staff, Janelle wasn’t in the prohibited categories.
He watched as she pressed her fingertips against the sensor, opening the hatch, then stepped inside the chamber. It was large enough to qualify as a luxury cabin, at least on the standards of most military starships, although it was no larger than a cheap hotel room. One bulkhead was covered with a strict warning about breaking the regulations concerning relationships while onboard ship; the others were gunmetal grey, as bland and boring as possible. A mirror hung on one bulkhead; behind it, there was a shower and hairdryer. He smiled as the hatch closed firmly behind them and locked. It did look like a cheap hotel room.
“I have three hours until I have to go back on shift,” Janelle said. Now they were alone together in a locked compartment, she sounded almost nervous. “And yourself?”
Henry checked his watch. “Four hours before my next active duty shift,” he said. “If the aliens attack early…”
He had a sudden mental vision of having to snatch up his clothes and run for his starfighter, probably in his bare feet. Moments later, he started to giggle. He’d been told that some pilots had scrambled so quickly that all they’d worn was their flight suits and nothing else, but it was probably against some regulation or another. Part of the reason one squadron was kept at permanent launch readiness was to buy time for the remaining pilots to dress and sprint to their planes in a more formal manner. Haste, his instructors had said, bred forgetfulness.
Janelle giggled too. Perhaps she’d had the same thought.
“Sit down on the bed,” she ordered. “Please.”
A quaver in her voice betrayed that she was still nervous. When Henry obeyed, she straddled him and pushed him down until he was lying flat on the mattress. She started to kiss him, each kiss slowly growing stronger and stronger, then pulled away and started to undo her jacket. Her bare breasts bounced free, both as perfect as the rest of her. Henry reached for them and cupped them in his hands, then started to stroke the nipples gently. She let out a dull moan, shifting awkwardly on top of him. Sin City had been an education in more ways than one.
“Relax,” Henry whispered, trying hard to keep his desire under control. He quickly removed his uniform, then his underclothes. She stared at his nakedness as if she hadn’t seen a nude man before, something that seemed more than a little odd. Even if she was virgin, surely she would have seen porn. “We have plenty of time.”
Afterwards, they lay together in a pool of shared sweat, smiling tiredly at each other. It had been her first time, Henry realised; he felt a moment of gratitude for the whores of Sin City, no matter how shameful going there had seemed the first few times. They’d taught him how to give pleasure as well as how to take it. It was an expensive service, but worth every penny. Besides, as North and the others had pointed out, girls liked it when guys made them have a good time too. It brought them back for more.
He looked over at her, feeling his smile grow wider. “Was… was that good for you?”
“It was,” she said. “I… thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Henry said. “You were great too.”
He found himself wondering just what he could do with her, apart from sex. There were plenty of places they could go on the moon… but, sooner or later, he would have to tell her the truth. And then… who knew what she would say? Most of the girls who would like the idea of being Queen were the type of girls who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Buckingham Palace. A stab of guilt shot through him and he sat upright, suddenly cursing his own desire. But he’d wanted to be normal, just for once.
“We’d better shower,” Janelle said. He couldn’t tell if she’d picked up on his mood swing or not, but she didn’t seem to want to lie down and cuddle any longer. “You never know what will happen.”