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THE TWAINER'S CUBE
By
Imogen Sans
© copyright by Imogen Sans, Oct. 2007
Cover Art by Eliza Black, Oct. 2007
ISBN 978-1-60394-095-5
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
Earth, 2113
Aw, man! Ariah cursed mentally, still fighting for control of her motor functions after the five-year hibernation cycle that had enabled the doctors to save her life but had complicated it at the same time. Fumbling with the zipper on her jumpsuit, she scowled silently at the fastening while she stood in the small bathroom stall at the start of the final hour of the workweek before she could clock out to go home and shower.
The years she'd spent in the hibernation pod at the clinic had thrown off more than her occasional battles with zippers or misjudged depth perception, which sent her walking into walls. In the five years she had slept while the doctors developed a way to override the affects of the poison which had leeched its way into her system during an attack on her company's home base in the Ju Vonice Quadrant, Ariah had life had continued around her. Friends had moved on, new worlds had joined the Federation, and her last living relative, Grandma Nan had died.
She was technically twenty-eight but still looked and felt like twenty three. Although she'd only slept five years, though, she might as well have been gone for five hundred with all she'd missed out on the planet as well as the Federation and with her loved ones. Only her long-time friend, Allison, had even still been around when she was brought out of the pod, cured but still weak and certainly disoriented. But now even Allison was moving on.
As an investigative journalist, Allison had finally been offered the big chance she'd been waiting for from her editor to look into a lead she'd gotten about an underground smuggling ring from the Gherban System, something about protected alien species. Now, in less than forty-eight hours, Allison would be off and away into the final frontier. Sighing sadly, Ariah re-buckled the belt around her hips and gave herself the once over to check for any signs of her infrequent bouts of unsteady hands. Once satisfied, she exited the sanitation stall and made her way to the sink to wash her hands.
"Oh, thank god it's Friday eh?" Moxy from accounting groaned at her as she freshened her garish makeup.
Ariah hummed in agreement, cringing internally at the cliché day of the week comment.
"Ariah isn't it?" Moxy asked, eyeing her through the reflection in the mirror as she paused before applying yet another application of lash enhancer with a cosmetic wand.
"Yes," Ariah replied with a subtle smile, "don't you work in accounting?"
With that, Moxy rolled her eyes and continued to thicken her lashes. "Boring as hell, I tell ya. I've never been one for numbers, I only applied for the job because I wanted to get out of the Customer Accounts Department, all the calls from Harron were such a pain in the ass. All they do is complain."
She knew all about that. Moxy, if the rumors were true, Miss I Hate Numbers, had screwed up the account of one of the biggest clients their innerworld scientific equipment supply company held and had cost the company a couple hundred thousand credits. Ariah had no idea why they hadn't fired her and promoted her to internal accounts instead, although with the view of the woman's firm ass hanging out of her faraphen skirt, she could have given a pretty good guess as to why the woman was still employed.
"So, got any exciting plans for the weekend?" Moxy cocked a finely penciled eyebrow at her as Ariah sanitized her hands under the particle stream.
"Yeah," she lied, trying her best at nonchalance, "going out to eat" ordering in, "then to a movie" in my living room on the twenty-inch panel projector. The non-verbal, internal monologue sounded just as pathetic in her head as if she'd actually said it all aloud.
"Any one I know?" Moxy smirked wolfishly as she turned around with a swish of her long sable hair to face Ariah, planting a curvy hip on the edge of the sink.
Umm, unless Chet Jarvis, incredibly hot star of three of my four favorite movies, is a close and personal friend of yours, then…no. "No," she replied, trying to keep as little lying out of the conversation as possible, "I don't even know him."
Phew, that was close!
Sympathy from the office slag was the last thing she needed right now. "Blind date, huh?" Moxy heaved a sigh, as though offering condolences to the family at a funeral of someone she hardly knew, her enhanced brows knitting in fraudulent pity.
"A what?"
Moxy took in Ariah's faded black, no-nonsense, three-quarter sleeves jumpsuit appraisingly before continuing. "Did someone set you up?"
"Yeah," the network's Friday night movie lineup, Ariah thought wryly, wishing for nothing more than that their conversation would be at an end.
"Well have a good time." Moxy smirked knowingly at her once more. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Ariah escaped the bathroom just as Moxy, began to laugh - whether with her or at her she had no idea but something told her it was the latter.
I wouldn't want the infections that go with it, Ariah scowled in unvoiced reply as she punched in the key code, and waited for the print scanner to register her so she could enter the back door of her department to finish out the remaining fifty minutes of the work week.
"Geeze," Carly, the receptionist, breathed as Ariah brushed by her in the back hall on the way to her small, window-less office, "what's the matter with you?"
"Oh nothing," Ariah lied with a sigh, this time with resigned evasion as she continued without pause to her workplace haven, "sorry Carly."
Upon reaching her desk, she noticed the light on her communicator blinking with irritating persistence. Picking up the headset, Ariah keyed in the command for her voicemail to retrieve the message.
After the usual automated date and time stamp, Allison's familiar voice crackled oddly through the receiver.
"Hey, it's me," the message began without formal introduction, "sorry this is such a crappy conn--tion bu ...." A large ripple of crackling interference faded her one remaining friend's voice for a few moments until fading back in as though someone had been messing with the volume. "... so I won't be able to go tomorrow obviously. I suck, I know, but you'll forgive me right? I'll be sure to send you something non-touristy, I know you're into that stuff. Well, I'm calling from the ship's communicator and I don't have a way for you to contact me yet but when I do, you'll be the first one I call - well, I guess the second after my editor…or my assistant, but rest assured you're in the top five of the people I'll call first when I finally can. This is so awesome! Love ya!"
Commanding the communicator to save the message for further deciphering, Ariah hung up slowly, staring at it as the blinking message light finally stopped. Oh well, she sighed, I guess that leaves Chet and me the entire weekend to ourselves.
Disappointed at having lost her last opportunity to see Allison before she left for the ten month assignment, Ariah turned back to her monitor to reply to a few more client inquiries and to check the movie listings for that night's looser-fest for one.
So begins another thrilling weekend of wild sex and thrilling adventure, she mocked herself before shutting down, in the movies at least.
"There you are Hollis," her director called from the doorway, a stack of file chips pulsating red in his hands with the foreboding of another last minute project of trivial busy work, too menial even for the interns. "I've been looking for you for over an hour." He frowned as he positioned himself just above her as she sat so he could take a look down her cleavage now and again.
Doubtful, as I only just took my first break of the day so that I could go to the bathroom. Ariah glared at the man in his circa 2081 suit so far from natural fiber it would melt if he walked through a body scanner.
"These reports were supposed to have been filed with the clients on Monday," he bit out as though it were her fault when everyone in the office knew very well that the supply reports were his responsibility. "Now, I don't want any excuses, just do what has to be done and get them out tonight. We're all team players here." With a nod towards Mitch as he waved goodnight with an odd glance at her, Director Barry Brier added insult to injury.
"I would have asked Jones to do it," he continued as he glanced in Mitch's direction, "but he has plans."
Without so much as a pause for breath, he dropped the stack upon her desk and proceeded to leave when suddenly he stopped and turned his head to look at her.
"Carbon copy me on all of those Hollis. I want to be positive on the time they were sent off tonight if the clients should ask."
As Mr. Brier made his way out the back door five minutes later, Ariah fought the urge to throw him the bird but instead attempted to break the stylus laced between her fingers, unable to relieve her of her anger but earning her some sore fingers.
* * * *
It was a quarter to nine before Ariah had even gotten through the first half of the stack. Having abandoned her high-heeled boots and dropped the zipper an inch or two down her neckline, she rubbed the back of her neck absently trying to follow the receiving details on the Mayschik Laboratories account. There was something slightly off about it, but she couldn't seem to pinpoint where someone had dropped a figure, even by the fourth time she was going over the shipment details when the chirp of her communicator caused her to jump in alarm.
Eyeing the caller ID suspiciously before finally picking up the receiver, Ariah rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair.
"Hello gorgeous," purred a silky voice on the other end of the communicator, "I was afraid I might find you with your nose still pressed to the old proverbial grindstone at this hour."
"Hi Norrik," she sighed tiredly, switching to speaker option and returning her attention to the tables displayed on her monitor, "what can I do for you?"
"Now, now, don't ask if you don't have the decency to follow through," he pouted, his deep voice full of teasing humor.
Norrik had been the closest thing to a boyfriend Ariah had in the nearly seven years since the end of her engagement and, considering she'd never even met Mr. Farvish in person, that wasn't saying much. They'd gotten to know each other when she was just a special accounts client rep and Norrik's company were new customers, mainly ordering certain Earth-exclusive items. Over the years as both of them progressed in their careers, Norrik still called her for even the littlest thing.
Their sexual banter had come into play early on and although she'd never had visual connection during their sometimes lengthy calls, the flirtatious Apollo whom Ariah had seen a few pictures of during a session of snooping through some inter-galactic press releases, even sent her the occasional dirty joke. That wasn't to say that they couldn't have a serious conversation. Boy, she was glad she could multi-task! In the time it would take her to track an order and change it for him, they could talk about anything from the morning commute buzz, to personal life philosophy.
Talking to Norrik was … comfortable, too. He was open and warm but had a way of making a woman feel she was the only other being within the next three galaxies … or at least the planet. They never talked about their dating lives, or lack thereof in Ariah's case, per se. It was mostly just hypothetical 'If you were in this situation, what would you do?' sorts of topics. Yes, not only did the man have a luscious exterior from what she could see in the low quality PR images in which he could often be spotted in the inter-galactic readers, but he was decent and interesting, too.
"I assume you called for a reason?" Ariah redirected him with a smile, restraining the thrill of his comment from entering her voice. God his accent was hot, like a mix between Earth Gaelic and something Slavic, sing-songy with a soft burr. The Baltons had a way of speaking that could send her from frigid to burning hot in about 15 seconds and Ariah leaned over to power up the small fan that sat on her desk to cool off her now building heat.
"Do I need one?" he cooed over the speaker. Having him on speaker was like having him in the room and the effect was hell on her libido.
"Generally a client has a reason for calling when they do. Was there a problem with your last shipment Mr. Farvish?" She loved goading him
Switching the subject, Norrik avoided her question. "What's that noise?"
Looking around her for a moment, Ariah's gaze soon fell on the whirling fan. "My desk fan," she supplied flatly, "now, did everything arrive as desired?"
"Isn't it the cool season there?"
Ariah puzzled over his question. "You mean autumn? Yes, it's November."
Barely contained laughter laced his voice when he asked, "Why do you need a fan on in November?"
"It's hot in here. So did you get everything you wanted?"
A small chuckle of amazement finally escaped the man on the other side of the call and passed through the speakers, "It's hot in your office?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes."
"So you're sitting in front of a fan on an early Earth autumn evening?"
"Yes. Mr. Farvish."
"Norrik," he corrected.
"Norrik, just answer my question please, I'd like to get to bed before midnight if at all possible."
"Oh gods, don't tease me," he moaned over the communicator, the animalism in his voice sprinkling goose bumps along her skin and making her nipples tighten painfully in response. "Damn these vemmish connections to Earth, I'd love to be watching you right now."
"Please Mr. Farvish." She sighed, turning off the fan and chaffing her hands up and down her forearms. The thought of Norrik wanting to see her as they spoke was more horrifying than gratifying. The connections to Balton were notoriously poor and even on the rare occasions one could get video over a communicator, the quality was usually so bad you'd generally disable it in order to keep from going cross-eyed.
"My apologies Ariah. Yes, yes, everything survived transport."
A pregnant pause filled the air between them.
"Mr. Farvish?" she called questioningly, wondering if they'd been disconnected.
"Norrik."
"Yes Norrik, why is it you've called and what made you think I'd be here at this hour - hang on, this is your office number, it must be …," she paused a moment to calculate the time difference, "it's well past quitting time for you, as well! Who are you to lecture me about staying late when you're still at your office at such an hour?"
"Alright, alright, I'll admit it," he sighed dramatically, "my name is Norrik, and I am a workaholic."
"Ha, ha very funny." She smiled. "You still haven't told me why you called."
"Hmm, well you see I have a favor to ask of my favorite Earthling," he began.
"Of me?" she smiled.
"Yes, of you, now be quiet so I can get on with it."
As Ariah waited for him to ask his favor her heart thudded thickly in her chest and something began to curl low in her belly with an unexplainable expectancy.
"I'm going to be in town for a conference next week and I need a date for a business dinner I've got scheduled with a group of investors."
Suddenly she couldn't breathe. Norrik Farvish was coming to Earth … to her town no less, and it would appear that somehow the gods were toying with her for this man, this man was asking her, plain-Jane Ariah Hollis, out on a date? Facing facts, Ariah instantly remembered the picture of him she'd been able to scrounge out of the company's security file used to help identify important clients when they came to one of the plants or offices.
"So," he continued, "do you know anyone I can ask?"
The air rushed out of her lungs so fast, he might as well have punched her in the gut. That sleazy…she fumed, trying to cover her disappointment with anger. As if! It'd serve him right if she set him up with Moxy … but he'd probably call me, after fucking her for dessert, just to thank me for the introduction. A sudden mental image of their perspiring naked bodies, Moxy bent on all fours in front of Norrik on the floor of his hotel suite as he plunged deeply into the stupid bitch, both moaning in appreciative pleasure, filled her mind and Ariah wanted to vomit.
It took a minute for Ariah to register that he was laughing. Pulling herself out of the cloud of fury that surrounded her brain, she responded shakily. "I guess one of the girls in accounting ...."
"Ariah," he said, laughing, "I'm just teasing honey, and I want to take you. Are you free?"
Just before her heart could whither and die, he had to send it pulsating toward bursting again … damn he was good.
Hmm, let me check my schedule ... yes, what else would I be doing? Watching reruns? "Um, yeah," she stopped, mentally kicking herself, then trying to correct her blunder, "I mean what day?"
After laughing briefly he exhaled. "It's entirely up to you. You tell me when you're free and I'll arrange the meeting around you. And Ariah," he waited.
"Hmmm?"
"No chickening out. I've been waiting a long time to meet you. I want your promise, come hell or high water - or vem-for-brains directors like Briar, you'll be there."
A long time? Ariah wondered. A long time as in before the attack on the company compound which left her in a hibernation pod for five years?
Nodding dumbly to the communicator, forgetting that he could not see her, she finally stumbled through her acceptance and wrote down the address of the hotel where he'd be staying. In less than seven days she would finally come face to face with the closest thing to perfection she'd ever seen.
Sudden panic hit her at the sound of the silence after the disconnection. She had just accepted a date with the hottest man she'd ever laid eyes on, only she had not laid eyes on him or anything else for that matter, at least not in the flesh. Oh god, what had she done!
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