Roman burst out laughing, mumbling something about the way the people moved out of our path being akin to the parting of the sea. When I gave him a blank stare, he shook his head and said dismissively it was some biblical reference from one of the religions on Earth. I shrugged, having nevertheless understood the analogy. Braxia, like most planets of the Eastern Quadrant didn’t observe any organized religion. In direct contrast, every planet in the Western Quadrant exclusively worshiped the Goddess, aside from a handful of them—such as Earth—that had either a completely different faith or a mix of various religions.
The tinted double doors of Bacchus opened before us, revealing the warm and luxurious interior of the erotic parlor. Despite the dim lights and the dark floor, the light-colored walls made the place feel intimate rather than gloomy. The diamond-shaped room had three stages, two smaller ones on the sides, and the main one in the center, with a series of tables surrounded by old green Chesterfield chairs. Tall pillars marked the beginning of the invisible sections dividing the three stages by creating a sound field that prevented the music from each stage from overlapping with the one of the other sections. Invisible to the eye, the energy field could be perceived by tiny distortions in the air whenever someone walked through it.
Stunning females of different species were performing artistic and acrobatic erotic dances on the different stages. They weren’t the cheap tricks found in the Commons, but true, highly skilled and talented professionals, most with formal dance or gymnastics training.
Knowing my aversion for the standard-height chairs that often proved not only too narrow for my massive frame but so low they made me feel like I was sitting on the floor, Roman led us to a wide, elevated table with cushioned high stools. We’d no sooner settled down than a beautiful Dantorian female with charcoal skin, long ash-colored hair, and slightly glowing stormy eyes walked up to us. Perched on sky-high white stilettos, a sheer, white babydoll dress and barely-existent thong constituted her sole garments. All the other females working in the establishment were dressed in a similar fashion but in various colors and styles.
“Hello, gentlemen,” she said with a glowing smile. “I am your waitress, Azoria. What’s your pleasure today? Food? Drink? Private entertainment? Or would you like to hear of your options?”
“We will each have a tall glass of your Bacchus Special,” Roman said cordially to the female who seemed barely a day over nineteen. “Trust me, you will love it,” the broker added when I raised an eyebrow at his presumption in ordering for me. He then turned back to the waitress. “I am shortly meeting with clients for some business discussions in the Pagan Booth. My entertainment requirements were included with the reservation.”
“Excellent,” Azoria said, her long nails covered in an ivory polish flying over the interface of her small datapad while taking the orders.
“And for my friend here, I have scheduled him an appointment with Hope.”
“Oh,” she said, slightly taken aback. “For a dance or a massage?”
“For the Royal Treatment,” Roman deadpanned.
This time, the Dantorian lost all semblance of stoicism. Mouth gaping, her head jerked towards me, and her horrified gaze roamed over my massive body. I was used to that reaction. Part of me wanted to laugh, but another, deeper part of me licked a wound I refused to acknowledge.
Regaining her composure, an embarrassed expression creeping up on her delicate features, she turned back to Roman.
“With Hope?” she insisted.
I frowned at the way she’d said the female’s name as if it was a ludicrous idea.
“Yes, with Hope,” Roman said, frowning as well.
“Right,” Azoria said, clearly not convinced. “I will get your drinks and inform Hope.”
She hastened away, her hips swaying sensuously with each of her steps, her legs made infinite by her crazy heels. How in the world females managed to walk, dance, and even run on such perilous footwear always baffled me. Yet, I couldn’t deny how beautiful and sexy it made them look.
“What was that about?” I asked Roman.
“The confirmation I was right to get involved,” he replied cryptically, his gaze still locked on the Dantorian.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I asked, getting annoyed.
“In due time my friend, I will tell you everything. For now, I just want you to enjoy yourself.”
Azoria busied herself at one of the two bars where the barmaid had already begun preparing our drinks. Then, the holographic curtains hiding a corridor between the left stage and the main stage parted to reveal a tall, tan-skinned female, with silver-blond hair, a nearly non-existent black babydoll split down the middle that exposed her flat belly, and a sheer thong that hinted at the plump lips of her bare pussy.
Shock, fury, then confusion coursed through me in quick succession at the sight of the breathtaking human. I blinked, taking a second look to make sure my eyes weren’t tricking me. The female looked around the room, her gaze searching before landing on us. Her eyes slightly widened, and she licked her lips in what I could only interpret as nervousness before approaching us in a sensual strut that had my blood immediately rushing to my groin.
“Is something wrong?” Roman asked, a slight worry in his tone.
“Is that your Hope?” I asked, my gaze still locked on the female continuing her approach.
“Yes,” Roman said cautiously. “Is she not to your liking?”
I turned to look at him, a severe expression on my face. “Do you know Marla?” I asked, ignoring his question.
He slightly recoiled, the genuine confusion on his face appeasing the anger that had been rising within me.
“Marla?” he repeated. “I’m afraid not.”
“She’s the human mother of my firstborn,” I replied.
Understanding dawned on him as he cast a worried look towards Hope before looking back at me, his shoulders stiffening with a tension I couldn’t quite understand.
“Hope looks like her?”
“They could be sisters,” I retorted.
“I can assure you they are not,” Roman said forcefully. “Whatever transpired between you and your son’s mother, it has nothing to do with Hope. She’s a good woman. Don’t punish her for the sins of another. Give her a chance.”
A chance for what?
Something greater than him gifting me a pleasant fuck with a stunning woman was at play here. But Hope reaching our table kept us from discussing the matter further.
“Hello, Hope,” Roman said warmly. “You’re breathtaking, as always.”
The words immediately made my back stiffen as I suddenly wondered if she’d serviced him before. But the look he cast onto her struck me more as fraternal than as that of a former lover. Although it crossed my mind, I dismissed the notion. For a reason I couldn’t explain, I felt certain Roman would never pass off a woman he’d bedded before to me.
“You’re too kind, Roman. It is good to see you well and in such impressive company,” she answered, her eyes demurely cast down in contradiction to the insanely revealing outfit she wore.
Despite her undeniable resemblance with Marla, seen up close, they were clearly not the same person, and unlikely of the same bloodline. Hope’s features were softer, her heart-shaped lips fuller, her doe eyes slightly more almond-shaped and wider. Her long eyelashes cast a slight shadow over the mesmerizing deep green of her eyes. Contrasting with Marla who dyed her hair in the sun kissed, golden blond color that had first caught my attention, Hope’s silver-blond hair appeared to be natural, including her eyebrows. Although taller and sturdier than Anton’s mother had been, the delicate curves of her body made my mouth water. Her perky breasts were smaller, but real, instead of the generous implants Marla had given herself.