CHAPTER THREE
Ambush
OOOOOOOOOO
KC’s ship, The High Plains Drifter, was large, but Aramis' ship was larger. Next to it, "The High Plains Drifter" was a rowboat. Its name, transcended from Sand Dragon, was Air Castle or Cloud Castle or something, and it was exactly that: a giant castle, floating in space. Watching over the deserted ship was Jackson, an old spacer. Too old to travel anymore, he still liked to go aboard a real ship when he had the chance. Whenever Aramis came to Mud Hill, Jackson got to be the watchman for the deserted ship. Over the years, they had developed a well polished act to entertain Aramis' female visitors. They were both very nice to KC but she didn't notice. She was thinking: how fortified the ship was. …show more content…
If you hear anything, stay in your room, I'll handle it." Jackson completely misunderstood but KC didn't notice. She and Aramis travel through the darken ship; there was only emergency lighting now. They passed by antique furniture, crystal chandeliers, statues, pictures, and a fountain. Aramis explained it was one of three aboard the ship: all dormant during lockdown. He was trying to impress her but KC was thinking: “On a ship this size: if the kidnapers get onboard in force, there should be plenty of places to hide.” While looked at the fountain, she thought: “What an excellent place to put an ambush.” Aramis' stateroom was spacious, which meant, elegantly large; as opposed to a realtor's definition, small with mirrors. He dropped his gear and made his way to the bar. The term bar was an understatement. It was hand carved hardwood, twenty feet long,. In front was a brass foot rail and leather bar stools; behind were glasses and bottles of alcohol, all sitting on glass shelves. That was a lot of glass for the weightless environment of space. KC still had her gear and was busy checking the other rooms for intruders. “Would you like a tour?” Asked Aramis. “Naw, that’s ok.” She didn’t realize he was …show more content…
Deep down inside, she felt the real reason for Aramis' lack of interest was: she wasn't pretty enough. So now, it was extremely gratifying, for him to play the proper attention to her. She decided to flirt back. The fact that he was really handsome didn't dissuade her at all. Being a well known ladies’ man and a scoundrel made him even more enticing and there were rumors; rumors he was an exceptionally good kisser. She wondered, if that was true. “When I was hanging out with The Crew, ” she said. “You taught me how to drink warm beer and cheep wine. I never thanked you for that.” He laughed. “Well, you’re certainly welcome, but this is not cheep wine.” “I know. I’ve matured a lot since then.” She stretched out and placed her glass on the coffee table. “Oh,” she moaned. “I’ve got to get out of these boots. My feet are killing me.” They weren’t. She made a show of taking them off; it really wasn’t that difficult. The last boot, she made look especially difficult; she had to lean against him to get the right leverage. “Ah. So much better,” and she wiggled her tows to emphasize the point. Aramis offered to massage her aching feet; she declined but ended up reclined against the couch arm, with her feet in his lap anyway. At first, her feet were ever so sensitive she couldn’t stand it but soon she grew comfortable with his touch. Head back, eyes closed she thought: “I wonder if those kissing rumors are
Ambush
OOOOOOOOOO
KC’s ship, The High Plains Drifter, was large, but Aramis' ship was larger. Next to it, "The High Plains Drifter" was a rowboat. Its name, transcended from Sand Dragon, was Air Castle or Cloud Castle or something, and it was exactly that: a giant castle, floating in space. Watching over the deserted ship was Jackson, an old spacer. Too old to travel anymore, he still liked to go aboard a real ship when he had the chance. Whenever Aramis came to Mud Hill, Jackson got to be the watchman for the deserted ship. Over the years, they had developed a well polished act to entertain Aramis' female visitors. They were both very nice to KC but she didn't notice. She was thinking: how fortified the ship was. …show more content…
If you hear anything, stay in your room, I'll handle it." Jackson completely misunderstood but KC didn't notice. She and Aramis travel through the darken ship; there was only emergency lighting now. They passed by antique furniture, crystal chandeliers, statues, pictures, and a fountain. Aramis explained it was one of three aboard the ship: all dormant during lockdown. He was trying to impress her but KC was thinking: “On a ship this size: if the kidnapers get onboard in force, there should be plenty of places to hide.” While looked at the fountain, she thought: “What an excellent place to put an ambush.” Aramis' stateroom was spacious, which meant, elegantly large; as opposed to a realtor's definition, small with mirrors. He dropped his gear and made his way to the bar. The term bar was an understatement. It was hand carved hardwood, twenty feet long,. In front was a brass foot rail and leather bar stools; behind were glasses and bottles of alcohol, all sitting on glass shelves. That was a lot of glass for the weightless environment of space. KC still had her gear and was busy checking the other rooms for intruders. “Would you like a tour?” Asked Aramis. “Naw, that’s ok.” She didn’t realize he was …show more content…
Deep down inside, she felt the real reason for Aramis' lack of interest was: she wasn't pretty enough. So now, it was extremely gratifying, for him to play the proper attention to her. She decided to flirt back. The fact that he was really handsome didn't dissuade her at all. Being a well known ladies’ man and a scoundrel made him even more enticing and there were rumors; rumors he was an exceptionally good kisser. She wondered, if that was true. “When I was hanging out with The Crew, ” she said. “You taught me how to drink warm beer and cheep wine. I never thanked you for that.” He laughed. “Well, you’re certainly welcome, but this is not cheep wine.” “I know. I’ve matured a lot since then.” She stretched out and placed her glass on the coffee table. “Oh,” she moaned. “I’ve got to get out of these boots. My feet are killing me.” They weren’t. She made a show of taking them off; it really wasn’t that difficult. The last boot, she made look especially difficult; she had to lean against him to get the right leverage. “Ah. So much better,” and she wiggled her tows to emphasize the point. Aramis offered to massage her aching feet; she declined but ended up reclined against the couch arm, with her feet in his lap anyway. At first, her feet were ever so sensitive she couldn’t stand it but soon she grew comfortable with his touch. Head back, eyes closed she thought: “I wonder if those kissing rumors are