On the train to Mixinar, Gaskil Daystra met the woman he intended to marry. However, a man of his age and eligibility meets such a woman several times a day.
He was minding his own business with a copy of Tech Galactica magazine and smoothing the fur on his tail when a vision appeared beside him. Just a gentle bump in the whiskers got his attention as a very attractive mauve furred tummy flexed high beside him as a young woman stretched to place her rucksack in the overhead carriage rack. His eyes fell to her tight black leather pants and rose back up to where the bottom of her white half-shirt climbed partway up her purrfect breasts.
Enraptured, he failed to notice the woman grinning down at him. His gaze eventually made it to the logo on the shirt loudly proclaiming in garish red letters, These Aren't My Eyes. His attention snapped upward past her wide golden collar flush against her neck, his ears and nose turning bright red, and came face to face with...an angel. She sported her whiskers proudly, rather than plucking them, as was the fashion. Her ears, well shaped and fuzzy at their rounded ends. Her mane, a deeper mauve than her fur and falling in an arc as would a shooting star about her shoulders. Her muzzle, dainty as a teardrop. Her lips, curled in a tiny smile. Her eyes, deep amber as the Absolini sun. And she was laughing...at him.
He turned quickly away, fearing he might faint, or worse, say something stupid. Instead, he surprised himself.
"I'm booked for the window seat," he said, more into his lap than to the young woman, "but if you prefer it..."
"Very good recovery, kind sir," she replied in a thick Perinese hillbilly accent.
Upon hearing her voice, he realized just who she was, and grew even more uncomfortable.
"But," she continued, "maybe I should stay in the aisle seat and keep my option to flee screaming."
Gaskil's ears turned a deeper shade of red as he slid over to the window.
"Ah," she noted. "You have girl trouble. You were supposed to say I don't bite. Bonus points for stopping there right and not carrying on to the next part; unless you want me to."
Gaskil groaned inwardly, wishing he had the option to flee from the aisle seat. But alas, the woman, very petite now that she was sitting down and smoothing the fur around her midsection, blocked the way.
"Whatcha reading?" she asked as she leaned disconcertingly close.
"Umm, Tech Galactica?" Gaskil replied as soon as the lump in his throat cleared.
"I can see that," she pouted, "I see, now I'm treading on guy turf." Then she turned away.
Gaskil stammered a bit and pulled nervously at his mane. "Actually, it's on Micro-optical displacement systems."
The woman turned back, and leaned close again looking at the magazine. "Phased or non-phased?"
Gaskil stared at her in dumfoundment.
"What?" she grinned at him. "I've forgotten more about optics than you will ever learn, Mister..."
Gaskil paused for an impolitely long time before he remembered his name. "Gaskil. Gaskil Daystra. And you?"
"You don't know who I am?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Umm," he fumbled, "I do."
"Two demerits, you know who I am. Go to confessional."
Gaskil, growing annoyed, readied himself to leave.
"Miss Xixin," he began, but the woman cut him off.
"Ah, he recovers. And my first name?"
"Miss Lynsyl Xixin, if you will excuse me, I'll be finding another seat."
"Stay put," she growled, smiling at him with narrowed eyes.
Gaskil tried to make his legs move, but failed utterly.
Lynsyl continued, "I'm impressed you didn't refer to me as Bianca Xixi Mister Gaskil Daystra. Do you always read the articles in dirty magazines, or just the write-ups on the models who suit your fancy?"
Gaskil unfurled a copy of the tabloid rag, Midnight Star. "Your real name is used in here. But yes, I admit I've seen your other...work."
Lynsyl smiled, and not sweetly. "It's too early in the relationship for honesty Mister Daystra. You're supposed to be filling me with lies to maintain the illusion."
Gaskil frowned, "Lies?"
"Are you suggesting you aren't scheming ways to get me to coil tails with you?"
"Well, umm, yes, er, umm, no?" Gaskil felt the glass of the passenger car's window press against the back of his head but Lynsyl's face was no further away from his than it had been seconds before. "We've just met, Miss Xixin."
Lynsyl shifted back in her seat, smiled sweetly and held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you then, Gaskil," she chimed in a musical voice, a far cry from the sultry purr she'd been using moments earlier.
Gaskil, shaking like a leaf, held out his hand to clasp wrists but Lynsyl placed her hand in his.
Their hands stayed put for several heartbeats, more beats for Gaskil than Lynsyl, before she asked, "No kiss?"
Gaskil, his head swimming in endorphins and adrenaline, lowered his lips to her hand, nearly fainting from the intoxicating scent of the woman's fur oils, and managed to softly kiss her hand.
"There," Lynsyl purred, her voice once again sultry, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
The best Gaskil could do was emit a strangled whine and shrug.
"I'm not being fair," said Lynsyl. "Let's try again, I'm Lynsyl Xixin, you're Gaskil Daystra, pleased to meet you." Then she thrust out her hand.
Gaskil, knowing that this had to be another test, or rather, taunt replied, "My pardon, but your perfume still has me woozy from last time."
"You like it?"
"Umm, yes."
"Rule number one when talking to girls you are attracted to, Mister Daystra. Never pass an opportunity to relay a compliment, especially if it gives the woman an opportunity to talk about herself." With her hand still outstretched she continued, "But I'm not going anywhere without another of your delightful kisses."
Gaskil squirmed in his seat for a split second, took a deep breath and held Lynsyl's hand.
"Breathe Mister Daystra, breathe or you'll faint."
Gaskil chuckled. With the tension lifted slightly, he took a breath, and kissed Lynsyl's hand.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she asked, her hand still in his.
Nervously, Gaskil pulled his hand away.
"I don't bite," she grinned, peeling back her lips to show off a frightening set of pointed fangs. "Unless, you want me to..."
Gaskil wasn't quite sure how, at the time, but he was staring out the window at the countryside as it whizzed by, his head mildly stinging from a bump where it rested against the glass.
"Forgot to breathe again, Mister Daystra?" Lynsyl snorted.
Gaskil shook his head, lifting some of the cobwebs that had collected there. He rubbed the sore spot behind his ears, growing terribly embarrassed at the whole situation.
"Gaskil," Lynsyl continued in a softer voice, "If I'm really that...troublesome, or if you're having a...personal difficulty..."
"No-no," he stammered, "It's just...well...you know."
"Nope, don't know unless you tell me. Or I can go to the restaurant car for the trip. It wouldn't be fair for me to force you from your seat."
"No. Please. It's not you."
"There's a boring line. It's not you, it's me."
Gaskil flushed and began stammering incoherently. Lynsyl got up and reached into the overhead baggage rack.
Finding his voice he said, "It would be unfair to you as well, please stay. I'm just not that...comfortable around girls."
Lynsyl eyed him incredulously. "After all the macho posturing and bullshit I've endured you have no idea how refreshing it is to hear a male ego admit that. I must be your worst nightmare then."
Gaskil, staring into his lap meekly replied, "I'll be good. Just give me some space."
Lynsyl sat back down. "Space," she snorted, "Men and their space. But you, Gaskil, I can forgive. Are you pining for someone?"
Gaskil quickly looked away.
"Ah. I see," Lynsyl continued, "Is she pretty?"
Gaskil shrugged, shrinking into his seat. "Yeah, but she's not like you."
Lynsyl grinned. "Is that a come on?"
Gaskil jumped, realizing what he'd just said. "No! No! I mean, she's not Mymar!"
"More honesty this soon, Mister Daystra?" Lynsyl purred.
Gaskil's eyes flashed venom at Lynsyl and she shrank in her seat, looking away.
"I'll be good," she whispered.
Stunned by the woman's sudden meekness, Gaskil put his hand on her shoulder. "It's ok."
Lynsyl looked up at him and smiled. "Maybe there is hope for you yet, Mister Daystra. So tell me, Gaskil, who is this mystery lady who's stolen your heart?"
Gaskil realized where his hand was and snatched it back. "Umm," he began, nervously scratching the back of his neck, "She's no one, really."
"Is that how she sees you? No one?"
"Well, she's a little out of my league..."
"Mister Daystra, have you figured out what I'm up to yet?"
"Excuse me?"
"Any clue at all, Mister Daystra?"
Gaskil thought about it for a moment and replied, "No, but one minute you're calling me Gaskil and the next, Mister Daystra."
"Exactly, Mister Daystra. When I'm telling you the rules of the game, you are Mister Daystra. When I'm examining your applied skills, you are Gaskil. Believe it or not, I'm being far more straightforward than you deserve. So, Gaskil, do you let her walk all over you?"
"She's my boss..."
"Your boss?" Lynsyl laughed uncontrollably for over a minute while Gaskil's ears turned red yet again. Once she'd regained control of her voice she resumed, "I shouldn't laugh. I've had a fling with an employer, almost killed him once. But you have to watch those things. So, Gaskil, you let her walk all over you, do you?"
Gaskil shrugged.
"Oh, Gaskil, you're letting me walk all over you. Someone you've never met. This is a big turn off. You're completely non-threatening."
Gaskil eyed her in confusion. "With the fear the average woman experiences in the galaxy, fear of anything, most especially rapists and murdering psychos, why the hell would a lady want a threatening man around?"
Lynsyl smiled widely. "You have a lot of insight Gaskil, I like that. Have you ever had a girl you've been attracted to refer to you as a really nice guy then she goes with some abusive jerk who treats her shabbily?"
Gaskil snorted, "Have you been reading my diary?"
"No, is it in there?" Lynsyl replied gesturing to Gaskil's carry-case.
Gaskil nodded and Lynsyl scooped the case up and dropped it on her lap.
Gaskil chuckled slightly. "Don't bother, it's locked with an iris scanner."
Lynsyl replied, "I see..." and the catch popped open.
Gaskil scrambled to hold the case closed but it was too late, Lynsyl had found what he didn't want her to find.
Staring incredulously into the case, Lynsyl lifted out a paperback self-help book. "How to meet beautiful women? Gaskil, my regard for you just changed dramatically..."
Gaskil buried his head in his hands in the worst embarrassment of his life.
"Did you buy this book, Mister Daystra?"
Gaskil nodded, his head still in his hands. He remained there, in misery, until he heard some pages being torn out of the book. He jerked his head over to see Lynsyl ripping pages out, crumpling them and tossing them in a waste receptacle while muttering, "Crap, crap, crap, oh, this is good," Then she would draw stars near certain paragraphs before resuming the destruction of the book.
"Look here, Gaskil, an entire chapter revolving around my T-shirt logo. Care to read it again?" She stuck her chest in Gaskil's direction.
"Well, at least I got that book out of the bargain bin..." he muttered.
"Gaskil, Gaskil, Gaskil. The preface of a book like this should be, if you're reading this book, give it up. But as for meeting beautiful women, you're doing fine. You've met me, who's treating you like garbage and you've a beautiful boss who treats you like garbage."
"It's not like that."
"What isn't? I am treating you like garbage and you'd still follow me to the ends of the continent if I chose to lead you on. Does your boss lead you on? Can we give her a name?"
"Ellyssa Penn. And no, she doesn't."
"Ah, so she uses sex to control you. Typical human."
Gaskil stared at Lynsyl in utter disgust.
Lynsyl sighed and said, "But then again I've been wrong before. You two aren't..."
"Why am I putting up with this?" Gaskil snorted, growing genuinely angry.
"Because, Mister Daystra, I can help you. I can explain a few of the rules to you. I am assuming that you are attracted to this Ellyssa, and she knows it. Whether or not you two share the same bed-"
"We don't."
"But you want her, she knows it and uses it. Have you ever considered going straight up to her, putting an arm around her waist and saying, Ellyssa, you know I've wanted you for some time. I have a life to live and this pining on and on is useless. Do you feel the same, or not?"
Gaskil blanched at the thought. "That's crazy. She'd laugh me out of town."
"Maybe," Lynsyl replied, "But even if she did, she'd begin to think of you as a possibility."
"You don't know Ellyssa."
"I know her a lot better than you do, Mister Daystra, and I've never met her. Do you understand why so many women want a man that is at least a little threatening to them?"
Gaskil, learned enough now to keep his trap shut, just stared blankly.
"Think. Think hard. Have you ever heard of mothers chasing in front of buses to push their cub to safety, sacrificing herself in the process? It happens all the time! It's all about her cubs, Gaskil. She's asking herself, can this man protect her and her cubs? Can this man bring home a larger share of the kill to provide for her cubs? She wants to see it in a man's eyes that she is under his protection and that if anyone sought to harm her he would yank off that person's tail and hang them with it. Ellyssa doesn't want you because she doesn't believe you're intimidating enough to protect her cubs. She probably isn't even aware of this. She likely thinks you to be a nice guy but believes herself to be out of your league. Does this sound like the truth to you?"
Gaskil smiled wryly and nodded. "Sounds closer than I've wanted to hear. What do you think of me?"
"I think you're a nice guy too, Gaskil, but I know I'm out of your league."
Gaskil smiled appreciatively at Lynsyl. "But you've found the time of day to offer advice to one of the little people. Thank you."
Lynsyl smiled back, "No sweat, kid. Hope you find that someone someday." Then she stretched and yawned. "You might do well to think in the species. You and Ellyssa would need an adoption agency, and with the glut of interracial marriages on Absolin in the wake of the Great War orphanages have become almost extinct, thank the Creator. But that means you'd be raising human cubs unless you came into some real money to pay a surrogate."
Gaskil, barely listening, pulled a cushion from the back of the seat in front of him, fluffed the badly beaten old thing up as much as he was able and offered it to Lynsyl.
Perplexed, she took it.
"You look like you're dead on your feet," Gaskil noted.
She rolled her eyes. "Thirty-six hour day." She craned her neck around to see the occupants behind her, turned back and muttered, "Great, two Dangid behind us. No chance of easing the seat back with their knees almost against the seat as it is." She jammed the pillow behind her head and leaned against it.
"I hate days like that," offered Gaskil.
Lynsyl looked over at him. "It paid off. Not the way I expected it to, but it paid off." Then she leaned back forward in disgust. "This'll never work."
Gaskil stood up and gestured to his seat. "I'm fine. I can go eat something in the dining car and give you space to stretch out."
Lynsyl smiled. "You're the last of a dying breed, Mister..." she trailed off, then resumed, "Gaskil. But don't go. I...hate sleeping alone."
Gaskil flushed and Lynsyl giggled.
"Now I know I'm tired," she said. "I meant that I'd rather you stay. Like you said, you never know what sort of crazies there are out there."
Gaskil smiled, "But we've just met."
"Mister Daystra, remember, I don't believe you're threatening."
Gaskil rolled his eyes and suggested, "Why don't you take the window seat then. Pull down the blind and you'll have more options to prop yourself up."
Lynsyl eyed him suspiciously and Gaskil raised an eyebrow.
"Or am I so unthreatening you still want your option to flee?"
Lynsyl grimaced and they swapped seats. She folded her legs underneath herself, a strain on her already over-tight pants, lowered the blind, and stuffed the cushion behind her head.
"Damn, I'm getting old," she complained, "This day took the wind right out of my sails and I have a huge gig tonight."
As they sat in silence Gaskil forcibly kept his eyes from turning to Lynsyl's mind-bogglingly shapely form next to him. His head spinning with youthful hormones, he fidgeted, smoothing the fur on his tail, if only to keep it from getting ideas of its own. He nearly jumped out of his seat when Lynsyl asked him a question.
"How old are you, Gaskil?"
Once he remembered that his name was indeed Gaskil, that a beautiful woman had asked him a question, what the question was and the answer, he stammered, "Twe-twenty."
"That's about how old I was when I got out of the Cathouse for the first time."
They sat in silence for a little longer until Gaskil mustered the courage to ask, "Is it true you don't know how old you are?"
Lynsyl opened her eyes and asked, "Yes. And only one publication ever mentioned that."
Gaskil got that slow sinking feeling.
Lynsyl continued, "Sex-Kittens Annual Review from last year. It also mentioned my cup size and what hormones were used on the Cathouse to achieve it, do you remember all that too?"
"Is it still too early for honesty?" he grimly joked.
Lynsyl laughed. "It's ok, Gaskil. I put myself in that position, and I can live with it. But it's true, I have no idea how old I really am. The last best authority I have said I'm twenty-four. But some days I feel forty."
"You've never had a birthday?"
She looked away sadly and Gaskil decided his hands tightly clenched together in his lap were suddenly of supreme interest. The pillow fell upon them and Gaskil braced himself to be slapped. Instead, Lynsyl drew up the partition between the seats and asked, "Would it be an intrusion if I were to lie down?"
Gaskil, stunned, nodded, shook his head, then gestured as if to say, be my guest.
"Ma'am," he asked, "with all the places you've been and things you've seen, what are you looking for?"
"Call me Lynsyl, and I'm waiting for the last decent man in the galaxy, if he'll have me."
Gaskil snorted. "Like you'd have trouble attracting men."
"I don't have trouble attracting men, that's the problem."
Lynsyl curled up in the seats and placed her head on the pillow on Gaskil's lap. Her just over shoulder length mane spread itself over his lap and her shoulder pressed gently against his thigh. The wave of emotion that coursed through Gaskil was different now. Not the unbridled lust he'd been experiencing, but a sensation of contentment. Of comfort. Of a bizarre happiness that he had the opportunity to be just one hell of a nice guy. Gently, he withdrew his hands from under the pillow and realized he now had the problem of what to do with them. He arranged one arm over an armrest and the other on the seat back as he thought back on that one special girl who'd laughed at him when he'd asked her to dance. In your face, he thought.
He slipped into his own private thoughts for a time until, to his horror, he realized he was smoothing and resmoothing the fur on Lynsyl's arm and running his fingers through her mane. Gently, he took his hands away.
"Don't stop," she purred, "that's nice."
Incredulous, Gaskil stared at the angel resting on his lap, then smiling, he resumed running his fingers through her mane and smoothing her fur.
He had no illusions as to his chances with Lynsyl Xixin, not anymore. He had too much respect for her now to even contemplate anything beyond having a wonderful memory of a nice girl he'd met on the train to Mixinar.
---
Gaskil woke to a stewardess gently shaking his shoulder.
"Sir?" she said, "We're in Mixinar, last stop."
"Whuh?" he mumbled and rose back into consciousness.
"Last stop, sir," repeated the pleasant looking young woman.
"Thank you," he replied, and appreciatively watched her move down the aisle until he caught himself staring, and remembered his companion, who was no longer there.
For a moment he wondered if he hadn't just had a strange dream, but the cushion was still on his lap with a small quantity of shed mauve fur upon it and a single strand of Lynsyl's mane between his thumb and forefinger.
"Not even a goodbye," he muttered to himself as he gathered up his things.
At the exit, the stewardess stopped him and said, "Sir, for future comfort, when the seats behind you are vacant they may be fully reclined to form a bunk."
Gaskil stared at her in disbelief. "But they weren't empty."
The stewardess eyed him like he was a village idiot and replied, "No sir, those seats were empty the whole trip."
Dazed, Gaskil descended the train and spied a piece of paper hanging from his carry case. Cursing the destruction of his book he opened the case and withdrew an unfamiliar plastic card. Turning it over, it was a ticket to a concert. He thumbed the identifier pad and the particulars read onto the screen. First row concert seats with a backstage pass to the all female choral-pop troupe Matriarch, with Lynsyl Xixin as the opening act.
Grinning, he put the card in his shirt pocket and strode like a king to the end of the terminal where Ellyssa said she'd be waiting for him. As he caught sight of her, she was speaking with a well dressed Mymar lady with a long, flowing dark mane and light tan fur. The two shook hands and the Mymar left before Gaskil could get a better look.
Ellyssa shook her fists and bobbed her head in triumph, causing red strands to bounce around her head.
"Good news?" Gaskil asked as he came to a halt next to her.
"Oh good, you're here," she replied, scarcely giving him a glance. "I just got us a job hauling a VIP around. The terms are outstanding! Do you know who that was?"
Gaskil shook his head.
"That, was Karmlyn Sen-Tiago of Sen-Tiago Shipping. And they are contracted to lug equipment around for that pop-trash singing group, what are they called?"
Gaskil's heart skipped a beat. "Matriarch?" he offered.
"Figures you'd know all the bimbo bands. But anyway, their opening act fell through and you'll never know who they got as a replacement."
Gaskil, his head still spinning, said nothing.
"The Queen of Bimbos herself, Bianca Xixi!"
"Lynsyl?"
"Who?" she waved him off, "Never mind. The Sen-Tiago crews are going to go over every system on my ship, as part of the contract! They have no idea what they're in for."
Ellyssa did a little victory dance while Gaskil stared off into space.
"So," grinned Ellyssa, "Do you think you can behave yourself around Miss Xixi?"
"Xixin."
"Whatever. Anyhow, she's our passenger, and considering what I'm getting paid for this I'm going to have to bump you into one of the broom closets for the duration. Leave your Absolini artworks though, will you? We want her as comfortable as possible. Whatever she wants."
Gaskil grinned and Ellyssa slapped him lightly across the jaw.
"See if you can keep your eyes to yourself this time."
She produced a holo-camera and tested it. "I'll need all your help getting the living quarters ready tonight while the crews work on the ship, but I'll be leaving early to see if I can get some pictures of the band as they leave."
And something in Gaskil's mind snapped. He knew it was final exam time. He grasped her by the belt and pulled her close enough for their noses to touch.
"No, Ellyssa," he said in a low controlled tone, "I have a personal engagement tonight I can't miss."
"Umm, Gaskil?" queried Ellyssa, nervously.
"We both know I've had a crush on you for some time, but you're not using that on me tonight. I'm going out. Hire a hand at the spaceport." He took the camera out of Ellyssa's shaking hands and continued, "I'll see if I can find the time to get some pictures for you before I come back. But don't wait up, I'll be back late."
With that, he handed Ellyssa his carry case, turned tail, and walked to the transit hub leaving the perplexed woman wondering who that was and what he had done with Gaskil Daystra.
Gaskil's illusions about his chances with Lynsyl Xixin were back in full force, but now he had no idea if they were indeed illusions. He had a choice thrust in front of him, a splendid evening of what promised to be a wild party of a concert and a pass backstage, or an evening spent scrubbing ductwork to the tune of Ellyssa's constant taunts and teasing. And even for a man of Gaskil's age and eligibility, such a choice happens only once in a lifetime.
Based partially on characters and concepts created by and copyright (c) Murray M. Lee. Used with permission.
Lynsyl Xixin and storyline copyright (c) 2001 by Alqua Kalina.
Gaskil Daystra, Karmlyn Sen-Tiago, and Ellyssa Penn copyright (c) Murray M. Lee. Used with permission.