Interview With A Dirtbag

Ch 30 - Release and Relief (Fabulous)

Breathless, Bill lifted himself off of the bed. He held his arms straight up into the air. His naked belly jiggled as he cleared his throat between heaving.

“You okay?” A feminine voice asked.

Bill’s involuntary struggling face transformed into a grin instantly, he chose words with hard consonants so as to reduce the sound of wheezing as he spoke. “Nah, I’m good.”

Another feminine voice, suddenly concerned, echoed, “Are you sure?”

Bill put his shoulder against the wall, trying to exude coolness and huffed gently through his nostrils. He gave a quick nod. “Yeah. Nah. I’m good.”

A paw-like hand with shiny red nails reached out from the bed and clamped on Bill’s nipple. “Then get back in bed,” Fala demanded while pulling him by the nipple toward her. His false composure shattered as he followed from where he was led; the sharp pain was enough for him to drop his “cool” act and awkwardly fall into bed.

Luckily he fell face first into Harley’s bare chest. She reached out to catch him and doing so made her squeeze her breasts into ideal buffers to injury. She wrapped her legs around him, as she had been doing previous to him getting off of the bed. “You don’t have to work so hard, not when there’s two of us to help cast your load.” Harley whispered into his ear before taking a nibble.

“Yeah, I just, I just want to put the effort in to let you know that I care.” Bill rolled over between Harley and Fala.

“Aww,” they said in stereo.

“Oh no, we know you care. We were all comparing notes about our interviews.”

“Harley’s so lucky to have gotten to carry you out of your office in front of all those jealous Shil’vati!” Fala complained, “Michael just had to break us up.”

“Yeah, Mikey just doesn’t understand the passion that a couple of professionals can have in an office with a desk and a black leather couch,” Bill insinuated, opening his mouth agape. His eyes darted between the two Rakiri who had bookended him.

Fala giggled in understanding. Her tit, that had envaginated his shoulder, undulated with her vibrations.

Harley thought a minute, then joined in laughing, “Oh like that porn you were showing us? I get it.”

Fala embodied the spirit of Bill’s intentions, kissed him, wrapped her arm around him between himself and Harley and put her leg up above Harley’s leg, positioning her crotch nearer to Bill’s hand. His hand gravitated toward her wetness. He stuck his tongue into her mouth as his finger simultaneously entered her. Fala breathed in quickly in reaction to his stimulation. She had let go of his nipple after she pulled him on the bed, but was back to manipulating his chest, trying to get his nipple erect again.

The pressure of Fala’s leg on hers made Harley keenly aware of Bill’s erection. She saw the two of them making out and started gripping his penis into the pit of her knee.

Fala extended her handling of Bill's chest to pulling herself up off the bed and then pulling Bill sideways in the bed with his head nearer to her. She knelt over him, her breasts swung pendulously over his face. He tried to reach up to continue his spelunking but Fala was far taller than Bill and kept her cave out of his reach. Bill didn’t let that get him down, he grabbed the flesh orbs that hung over him, pressed them together with his palms and directed both of Fala’s bright pink nipples into his mouth. He painted infinity between and around them.

Harley, not to be outdone, got up from the opposite side of the bed then slid herself down until she was kneeling down on the floor, all while keeping a padded hand on Bill’s erection. She nibbled her way up his legs until she’d found his center where her mouth met her hand. She lifted his legs, left then right over her shoulders. She let her ears drape down either side of him. When she’d gotten accustomed with his member and in a comfortable position herself, she managed to get the length of him into her mouth while also reaching beyond his balls just enough to graze his exposed asshole.

Bill spoke in an indiscernible language. Not that anyone could have heard it with his mouth full of Fala’s breast. He sucked it in a little harder so he could let go of her while not losing his grip. He reached down, instead, for Harley’s loose, wavy dark ears. He gave them a steady tug in time with her rhythm around him.

“Aww, you bitch,” Fala jabbed at Harley, “You’re stealing all the attention.” She grabbed the meat of her breast and pulled the section Bill had in his mouth out of it with a juicy pop.

Bill again spoke with the wordless language of passion though his eyes looked longingly at Fala, pleading with her to not go away. She tutted him, walked around to Harley’s side of the bed and told her to share.

Harley took one more lengthy press of Bill’s length then came up to speak after recovering from gagging, “I don’t know how he’s still going.” She wiped her muzzle and tagged Fala in to replace her.

“Human physiology,” Fala sighed, “who knew it was a gift that could keep on giving?” She thanked her lucky stars then settled down where Harley had been on the floor at the edge of the bed. She held her breasts up and pulled them at length then wrapped them around Bill’s slobber-covered boner. In sets, she bobbled them in sync and in opposite directions until Bill settled into a thrusting that she just held herself in place for him.

Harley got to the side of the bed opposite from where she started and backed herself onto the bed, straddling Bill’s face. “Your turn, sir,” she grinned then lowered herself onto his grinning face.

Bill stopped his thrusting as he used his tongue to flip through Harley’s pocketbook. Fala let go of herself since this wasn’t getting her anywhere and he’d found action elsewhere. She instead chose to take a similar tack to Harley, turned herself around and sat on Bill’s throbbing member.

The Rakiri made a handcar out of Bill, alternating their movements up and down at either end of him. This didn’t last long for any of them. Their feverish pumping stopped with a virtually simultaneous spasm of mutual orgasms.

Harley and Fala laid themselves lengthwise on either side of Bill. He looked at the ceiling with sightless eyes and breathed, “No wonder y’all broke Mikey’s bed.”

Harley lifted up off the bed, “Uh, about that,” she hesitated, “Did you guys know that they weren’t fucking when we ran in and saw Michael, Bel’a and Linnet in his broken bed?”

Bill held his hands up, “I learned it when you did, Harley, so don’t look at me.”

“What do you mean?” Fala asked without moving her face from the bed.

Harley furrowed her brows in accusation, “When we found Michael and the girls all folded up on his broken bed, they weren’t fucking, they were talking about the circumstances around Serca’s death.”

“That’s like, the opposite of fucking,” Fala said with a curled lip, lifting herself up off of the bed.

“That’s what I said,” Harley said.

Thinking back, Fala remembered, “Bill, weren’t you the one who said they must’ve been fucking?”

“Yeah, I think he was.” Harley agreed.

Bill looked from one to the other Rakiri with his hands up, “So what?” he scoffed, “You mean you didn’t think they were fucking?”

“I didn’t know what to think.” Harley huffed.

“Me either,” Fala cited, “But we were looking at Britney and we were so excited about sharing a bed with a real Human war hero and his big gun-”

“Then we heard the loud thump of the bed breaking. We ran over to see what was up, and they were all piled on top of each other on Michael’s bed.” Harley interrupted,

Fala recited her memory as well, “Then you got jealous of Bel’a.”

“I was not.” Harley fumed.

“You know how you get sometimes.” Fala took on a matronly expression.

“So what if I did?” Harley accepted.

Bill was not comfortable with the direction this conversation was going, “Good times, good times, right ladies?”

Fala put a clawed finger to his lips, “We were excited, yes, but I don’t know that I was so quick to jump his bones; but you kind of took the reins on that one, Harley.”

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“It’s only fair that we should get some if Linnet and Bel’a were.”

“Was it that we loved him and wanted him, though?” Fala’s finger still lingered on Bill’s face, both silencing and indicating him.

“I don’t guess we were a pack yet.” Harley murmured, “And I don’t know that we were kissing friends before I got…”

“Jealous, is the word you’re looking for.”

Harley quietly rumbled before continuing, “Fine. Jealous.”

Fala kept the conversation going, “Again, were we going to fuck Bill for being Bill or were we enamored by the idea of him?”

“Hmm,” Harley pondered while looking at Bill who was growing increasingly concerned, “It is more of a Shil’vati behavior to try to get with a man while the getting is good and ask questions later.”

“Now that we are asking questions,” Fala paused for effect. “What do you think now?”

Harley closed her eyes for a moment to do some soul searching. “I think we were excited, I had a moment of weakness and he took advantage of us!”

“Took advantage of you?” Bill pushed Fala’s finger from his face then thrust his fingers into his chest, “I took advantage of you?” He pointed them outward, “You two could rip me to shreds; why would I ever try to take advantage of you?”

Fala insisted, “You’re a lonely old pervert!”

“After all this, I’m the pervert?” Bill was pulling at his own hair, “You just played teeter totter on me and I’m the pervert!?”

Harley doubled down, “You saw your opportunity to have two girls at once and you took it!”

Bill smirked, “Can you blame me?”

Fala and Harley looked at each other, then directly at Bill, Fala spoke for them. “I cannot blame you, but I can assure you that we won’t fall for it again.” She turned her nose up and away from him. “You need to leave our room.”

Flabbergasted, Bill didn’t know what to say. He just looked at the two of them while he put his clothes on, “Wha-? How? Now?” Harley and Fala redressed themselves and moved their beds apart and waited for him to leave.

When he’d departed, Fala turned to Harley, “Why did you bring that up now?”

Fala shook her head, “We can’t be tied down to the idea of a partner. We need a real partner. He’s not a provider, he’s a leech.”

——-

The next morning Michael was called to Joph’rena’s office. It was a first to be sure, he wasn’t sure what it was about but he’d hoped she’d talked to someone about his armor ideas.

Her office was either empty or filled to the brim with hidden artifacts. Joph’rena seemed to keep no reminders of home, no clues about her past. It appeared spartan to him, until he sat down. Her desk was bare, though it seemed to have a double layer where a light could emit upward.

She swiped at a glass trackpad that he hadn’t readily seen at first glance. From within the desk, lights emerged creating a hologram diagram of prospective armor designs. There were three vastly different orientations of crystals on them.

“This is the first proposal,” Joph’rena tapped at the air where the first was projected. The other two designs melted back onto the surface of her desk.

Michael took a minute to study it. He gestured at it, “Can you rotate it?”

Joph’rena took a swipe at it and the projection turned as if on a pedestal. The armor was stark white with large concave shoulders and a chest piece that looked similar to a pine cone, but it too was white made of concave scales. The knee pads were smaller versions of the shoulder pads, both were bisected so that they could use a sharp geometric shape to cover the Shil’vati soldiers’ round joints like halves of pyramids with concave sides. The knee pads extended down to boots whose toe caps looked like deadly golf balls. There were crystal gauntlets that were similarly fashioned. Between these pieces was what looked like chain mail, Michael didn’t reckon this was crystal, it’s too bright to be steel; is that platinum chain mail?

Michael felt intimidated by this figure. It had sharp points where sides met. Michael would have compared it to a disco ball if someone were to fashion a disco ball into a mace. He took it a step further by putting a seven to nine feet tall Shil’vati in it, looking down on him in the heat of battle. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Yes, that was the intended reaction to this design,” Joph’rena smirked.

Michael asked his bottom line question, “Will it work against lasers?”

“Understand that lasers are accurate beyond anything you can compare it against, there’s no way to guarantee that a skilled sniper won’t be able to find a weak point. Once that weak point is found, it could be exploited. As well this isn’t ideal against high temperatures or acids, but lasers, a straight shot on any one piece of the crystals will scatter the light. The main problem is that this armor is heavy.” Joph’rena looked straight at Michael, “Not that it will be too heavy to wear, but it will be too heavy to carry a kit, weapons, run, fight or get into or out of vehicles.

“It’s also distracting to the wearer, not only for daytime battle, for which there are tinted shades installed in the prototype helmets.” Joph’rena admitted, “But also, in the small scale productions, the pod who tested the armor were distracted in their off time from regular duties because they were spending their time polishing the armor.”

“Oh?” Michael was confused, “Because they admired them so?”

“Yes, but also, when packed in an APC, there was so little room for the pod all in their armor that during bumpy rides their armors’ edges came in contact and scratched each other’s armor.” Joph’rena nodded her head in acceptance, “If the armor is scratched, it’s ability to reflect and scatter the light of lasers is diminished. If the point of this armor is to protect from lasers, and any scuffing, dirt or scratches reduce its efficacy, this armor is useless.” The armor’s projection above her desk was covered by a large red X.

“No dice, eh?” Michael accepted, more than a little bit relieved.

“No,” Joph’rena said before tapping on the next design on her desk. It arose from the desktop into the air as another holographic projection. She also reached behind her, tapped what seemed to Michael to be a blank wall from which emerged a deep drawer that slid outward toward her.

It was then that Michael noticed around the perimeter of the drawer and where it met the wall was a thin line of gold. Michael looked around Joph’rena’s office, there was a pencil thin golden grid on every wall. This office has more storage in it than meets the eye, Michael reckoned.

From within the drawer, Joph’rena retrieved what looked like a football helmet to Michael. The newly projected armor was purple and shiny. She held out the helmet for Michael to examine, “The projection doesn’t do it justice. This armor is covered in spectra chrome.”

Michael took the helmet, it sparkled as he turned it in the light. “Ooh, shiny!”

“This is a much more cost effective method of protection from lasers. It’s basically our regular armor with this chrome paint on it.” Joph’rena interrupted Michael before he could ask, “It is effective against low powered lasers. There’s a thirty to forty percent chance that a direct hit from a standard combat laser could fuse this armor into uselessness or worse, just melt the paint off and leave it susceptible to further strikes.”

“I’ve learned that that is what would make it ‘military grade’,” Michael said semi sarcastically.

“Indeed,” was Joph’rena‘s reply.

Michael peered at Joph’rena’s desk, “What about the third design?”

“This second design is the current default choice, it’s not cost prohibitive and, of course, how would we top the already elite design of Shil’vati armor?” Joph’rena smiled self-indulgently. Seeing that that didn’t sate his curiosity, she tapped the third design on her desk. The second design melted back onto her desktop and the third design replaced it.

However, this third design wasn’t a design at all. It was an image of regular armor with ribbons of tools on either side of it.

Joph’rena twisted her tusk, “Against my better judgment, I asked if I could give you access to the armor design suite so that you could see if you could do better.”

Michael stood up so he could reach the projection better. He still couldn’t. “A little help here?”

Joph’rena rolled her eyes in annoyance before tapping on her desk. She found a scaling tool. Michael watched as she slid an arrow down a bar, the projection lowered itself to just shorter than Michael’s height instead of high enough for a Shil’vati to comfortably manipulate the projection.

Michael nodded his appreciation then tapped at a tool randomly. He took an awkward swipe at the projection. He was a toddler given a professional artist's brushes and palette. “Oops, is there an ‘undo’ button?”

Joph’rena effortlessly swiped Michael’s error off of the projection.

“Maybe I’m not an armor designer.” Michael smiled dumbly. Joph’rena did not smile back. “Doesn’t mean that I can’t give some constructive feedback.” He sat back down. He reviewed the options shown to him already. “Big crystals are too heavy. Painted on crystals are ineffective.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Any designs include small crystals? Like the size of a dime or so?”

“You want us to put diamonds all over Shil’vati armor?”

“Not necessarily.” Michael pulled a memory from the depths, “Are you familiar with rhinestones?”

“Vaguely,” Joph’rena squinted.

“Have you heard of a ‘Bedazzler’?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

Michael leaned in, “I’m going to make your warriors fabulous!”

___

That evening, a figure crept in the darkness between buildings. Complacent guards strolled on memorized loops. They could walk this in their sleep. Some of them did.

Stupid fucking Shil’vati. Finley crept behind a patrol as it passed Michael and Bill’s office. I’ve waited long enough, he thought as he leapt. His relatively small figure attached itself to the upper back of the patrolling Shil’vati.

He plunged the KBAR he’d swiped from one of Bill’s boxes in the garage during the move into the patrol’s neck. It sank from the back right side of her neck forward until the tip caught on her collarbone. Finley wrenched at the handle and tried pulling it out from the business end of the guard. The patrolwoman gurgled in a fruitless attempt to grab her attacker. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the knife free. Even after she was dead on the ground, he couldn’t get it out.

Giving up, Finley rolled away from the dead patrolwoman, reached into his pocket, withdrew his gold-incisored mouthpiece and put it in his mouth. His bloody blue hands popped the piece in place. He licked the blood from his fingertips and sucked it through his teeth. The gold teeth glistened in the moonlight.

Finley’s ticking stopped.

Ah yes, the stillness returns. One down, an Imperium to go.