Curvaceous Kevlar and other inspired tales

One Night At Luna's - Part 9

The queue looked like it hadn't lessened since I'd entered Luna's earlier. Jupiter was back on duty, checking IDs and making sure the men knew the rules, but he recognised me and waved me straight in.

"Sleep well?" Pluto asked from behind the bar. He served a few more blokes before it was my turn. "What can I get you?"

"Breakfast," I admitted.

"I'll order some pancakes. They were always your favourite," he replied, heading for the kitchen window to talk to the chef. Once he was done, he brewed up two cups of coffee, setting one in front of me and keeping the other for himself. "So, eight hours left on the station. What're your plans, Persephone?"

"First – breakfast. I also need to find Andromeda. Have you seen her?"

He shook his head. "She left with Luna at the end of her shift, around an hour ago. They looked like they were headed home to bed."

I sipped my coffee. "Well, when you see her, tell her we both lost our bet, so neither of us owes the other any money."

"You gonna tell me what the bet was about?"

"No. It didn't involve you – it was about one of my crew." I looked around the bar. He had two bartenders working beside him, giving him plenty of time to have coffee with me.

The chef dinged the bell to get his attention. Pluto grabbed my plate of pancakes and clinked them to the bar before me.

I stopped humming The House Rules in time with the band and dug in.

The fork clattered to the empty plate just as Cotton Eye Joe started up. A new shift of girls slapped their flanks in unison.

"Doesn't it just make you want to dance?" Pluto asked.

I laughed and stood up. "Sure, but in a private room, not out here. You up for round two in Cell Four?"

"Maybe." He eyed me speculatively. "Does Rule Seven still apply?"

 I considered for a moment. "No, Pluto. Not in private. You can grab whatever you want to."

"Then hell yes!" He signalled a bartender to deal with the dirty dishes we left behind.

"What would you've said if I insisted on Rule Seven?" I asked as we undressed.

Off came the budgie smugglers, without a sock or songbird in sight. He flashed a grin, too. "I'd have still said hell yes."