The beginning of the end is the end of the beginning (unknown philosopher).

The whole world witnessed it. A red supergiant star, Betelgeuse, exploded in a supernova. That star had only one terraformed planet, Betelgeuse VII. 96% of the population was rescued and relocated to a sister planet, Betelgeuse S, located at ten light years away. Press in the whole galaxy commented about this event.

Only the best bait will catch the biggest fish (ancient saying).

How could anyone settle near a star that will soon go supernova? How was it possible to convince millions of people to go there and start a new life? Had they no idea that soon nothing but ashes will remain of them?

It’s been another week on the run, I’m almost back on course, and I’m horny.

Really horny.

Really really horny.

How horny am I? I’m beginning to think seriously about toys.

Ci and Lia either didn’t have any or didn’t want to use them on me, and for that I’m thankful. I squirmed every time they tried to put something in my pussy, and after only one night they stopped trying.

Finally Carolyn pings me, and I have to put on pants. They’ve got the money.

To Ci’s mind, I check my terminal, then get up and immediately start dressing. I don’t have any way of telling her where I’m going, or that I plan to come back.

Do I plan to come back? Eleven wouldn’t have come back. 11 will.

Something has broken deep inside me. I cry on the inside, laying in their arms, while I try to process what has happened. Something has happened inside my head and it’s devastating.

Sometimes a hooker would cry after sex. I tried to get offended, but the truth was, I never really cared that much. Not even enough to look down on them for it.

Now the emotional tole of the last two days, hell the last three months, is hitting me more deeply than I thought I could feel. These damn lesbians have mind-fucked me.

I stir myself awake, and look around for a clock. They pulled the chip with my watch in it, so there are no little numbers on my wrist. I check anyway, like I’ve been doing for months.

There’s one on a table. I’ve been asleep for almost ten hours. Good for you, Eleven. A third of the day, just like they recommend. I sleep too much on the ship.

I lounge in the sheets for awhile. They’re very good quality. I think this is because this bed used to belong downstairs, and who wants to stay in a whorehouse with cheap sheets?

I fold up the dress really well, and it fits into the new purse. The old purse also fits in there. It’s not large and baggy, but I can fit a surprising amount inside. I sling it over my shoulder, and pose again. It’s perfect with the jeans and the jacket.

Hand on the door handle. Deep breath. Step through the door. No. Strut though the door. “I’m gonna wear these out,” I tell Marcus. It’s probably the boots that are making my hips move like that. I’m pretty sure I’m not doing it on my own.

I step out of the hanger, into the core, on the zero level, and there’s just ringed corridor with some personal elevators, and a bunch more freight lifts. D’Neesha’s is on level 2? I find the button, which is on a box, suspended from the ceiling, by a cable. The lift doesn’t close, just jerks to a start. I watch the innards of the tube scroll past, and look out on the first level for a moment.

I’m getting a welcome signal. Someone wants me to come visit them.

There’s a little HAM Digital receiver in the flight deck. I picked it up in a truck stop, with a wink and a nod, for $100 bucks, ten years ago. It’s about the size of a lunch box, with a four foot antenna cluttering up the deck. I’ve got a pretty heft load on the antenna, so it’s strong enough to pick up from inside the ship. There’s no jack for an antenna on the surface hull, and it would get melted into vapor on re-entry in any case.

Okay. I’m ready to touch my pussy now.

The clothes have me hotter than ever. I turn off the monitors, then turn them all back on again. Why do I want to watch myself? Why wouldn’t I want to watch myself? I’m hot as hell.

Still in the stockings and heels, still squatting, my fingers run down my chest to my stomach. It’s a straight line to the tip of my clit. On the monitors I can see it peaking out of my engorged lips. I don’t go straight for it, I’ve been around the block a few times. I know what a woman wants.

What this woman wants is tantalization.