Welcome To Saturn Beta - Part 4 free porn video

On the other side of the curtain stood Jackson and Amber, wearing their costumes for the event. Jackson didn't look much different now than she did during their trip down the elevator, though the pinstripe skirt she wore now was slightly shorter than the charcoal gray one she had on earlier, and the jacket was tighter around her chest. Her hair was done up in a severely tight bun, and she wore smokey black stockings above a pair of pumps, much the same style as Tyler's but with a much higher heel. She had put on some subdued eyeshadow and a swath of dark lipstick. Amber, standing next to her, looked very sexy in her belly dancer outfit. Her breasts were covered - just barely - by a bikini top, the cups made of red fabric and the rest of it made of what looked like thin golden chains. She wore nothing at all across her midriff, other than an elaborate gold belly-button piercing that dangled down below her waist. The pants she wore were sheer, like a stereotypical Arabian harem girl's, covering her nether regions with a gold lame bikini bottom but showing off every inch of her legs through translucent red organza. She wore a pair of golden-fabric slippers and a vast array of gold jewelry on her face - several heavy pairs of earrings plus two eyebrow piercings, with another ring in her left nostril. Another loose-hanging golden chain connected a high ear piercing to her eyebrow ring. Her makeup was much more pronounced than Jackson's. Her eyes were loaded with mascara and sparkling eyeshadow, and her lips were painted the same red as the rest of her costume with the same gold accents sprinkled about. She wore her hair down and it tickled the tops of her bare shoulders. "Woo woo!" Amber said, putting her hands on her hips. "Lookin' sharp, little miss maid!" "Thanks," Tyler said, trying not to let his revealing, fetishy outfit bother him too much. He smoothed the top of his skirt roughly, as if trying to get it to grow in length past the petticoat he wore underneath. "Yes, Violet, you're looking quite attractive," Jackson said, looking at her tablet and poking around on it. "And we're out of time. No hair and makeup for you today, at least nothing complex. Amber, see what you can do with her. I'm going out with the rest of the girls to get the crowd seated. Need you both out there in three minutes." "Yes ma'am," Amber said. "Not five minutes. Not four. Not three minutes and ten seconds." Amber nodded. "Understood. Yes ma'am." Scanning Tyler one last time, Jackson left the dressing room and went into the hallway. Tyler heard her heels clicking along on the ground, getting quieter as she went farther away. Amber hurried Tyler into a chair in front of the nearest vanity mirror. His ruffled bottom hit the chair, and Amber went to work. "Tick tock, tick tock," Amber said, grabbing a bottle and spraying its contents onto Tyler's auburn hair. "Well, if we're gonna do this right, we gotta spend all three minutes on your hair. It's a bit of a mess. You don't really need makeup, I shouldn't think. Your face is pretty enough as-is." Tyler grinned at this, despite himself. "Thanks. Your face is... well, it has more holes than I thought it did." "Ha ha. Look who's the funny one. For your information, Frenchie, the holes in my nose and eyebrow aren't usually in there. Same as my ears. Those're only double pierced, not triple." Amber ran her hands through Tyler's hair, submitting it to her will and the effects of whatever she had sprayed into it. It began to settle, de-frizz, and curl. "Neat thing about the nanobots - they can be programmed to swim around wherever you need them and do little detail work at a moment's notice. Jackson sent 'em a command to put in those piercings while I was getting dressed. By the time I had my outfit on, they were all done." "She can do that?" "Well, sure, darlin'. She's got the whole system right there on her tablet. If she wants to make any extra changes to your body, she just starts tappin' away and that's that. Little changes like a piercing or a bio-tattoo only take five, ten minutes or so. Bigger changes can take hours." Amber looked Tyler in the eyes, through the reflection of the vanity, as she roughly pulled a brush through his hair. "I guess she never explained that to you, seein' as how you haven't had any work done on you yet." Tyler shrugged. He didn't want to keep lying to Amber, so he kept his mouth closed. Amber fiddled with his hair some more, combing her fingers through the settled auburn mop, finally under control. "Well, honestly, she's probably done a little work on you without you noticin' it." "What kind of work?" Tyler asked, slightly concerned. "Tell you later. That's two minutes and change... we better get a move on." Amber ushered Tyler out of the chair and into the hallway. The petticoat swished atop his stockinged thighs as he walked, following Amber's jewelry-jangling behind as quickly as he could on his short-heeled pumps. He felt so exposed now, so helpless to keep his new feminine assets from showing... but he repeated the mantra to himself again and again: confident, confident, confident, confident. It helped, slightly. He felt almost normal by the time Amber turned the last corner into what looked like a dining lounge. Many tables were surrounded by about fifty total patrons - every last one of them were men - and at the front of the lounge, holding her tablet and gesturing toward the bigscreen display mounted on the wall, was Sexy Librarian Jackson, pecking away at her tablet. She was giving a presentation. "Ah, good," Jackson said, lowering her tablet. She pointed a palm at Amber and Tyler as they came into the lounge and took their spots against the back wall, standing in formation with Renee, Tanya, Zoe. A few muted wolf whistles came from the crowd. Tyler folded his hands over his apron, ignored the pervy attention of the men in the lounge, and forced a smile. Confident, confident... "Everyone, the last two of your hostesses have arrived," Jackson said. The crowd murmured with the shared appreciation of feminine beauty. "Your dancer for the evening is the lovely Amber, and your maid is the mysterious and demure Violet." The crowd roared with applause and whistling. Amber cocked her hip and waved out at her admirers with both hands. Tyler just kept smiling. God, what a ridiculous introduction. And he still had no idea what he would be expected to do tonight in his role as "hostess", as Jackson called it. "Just a tiny bit more business to take care of before the ladies begin coming around to your tables," Jackson said. She took up her tablet again and pushed the screen. "Now. Ringed Amusements employs anywhere between twenty and forty girls at a time, all of who live right here on Saturn Beta. We are a twenty-four-seven shop, on call, all the time. For complex requests or large events, of course, we'll need you to give us as much advance notice as possible. Advanced bookings can be made through our application, which you can download to your phones and tablets by scanning the code on our business cards. The girls will be passing those cards out tonight." Ah. Tyler remembered, now. Amber had mentioned this earlier - the shindig with the scouts, serving drinks and handing out business cards. These men would report back to their companies with what they had "learned" tonight at Jackson's presentation, and then they would hand out the business cards themselves and bring more business in for the girls of Ringed Amusements. Simple enough. Jackson changed the slide on the bigscreen. "We handle many kinds of events, anything you can think of, from booth modeling to food and drink service and everything in between. But, since I know none of you are particularly interested in that side of the business... let's skip to the meat and potatoes. Yes, Ringed Amusements is the best escort service on either side of the asteroid belt." This drew several more excited murmurs from the crowd, most of who started leering in earnest at Jackson, Tyler, and the four other girls in the front of the room. Amber seemed to enjoy the attention, and she struck a sexy, come-hither pose in her belly dancer outfit. Tyler kept his hands folded over his apron, trying not to think about how many horny men in the audience were looking at his face, his breasts, his fishnet-clad legs... "We're the best for several reasons," Jackson continued. "First of all, we have lightning-quick response times, should you ever find yourself lonely and in need of our services at the drop of a hat. You can either browse the available girls through the app, or you can visit any of our in-the-flesh representatives here on the station. Many of our girls, when they're not booked with events or other appointments, will often appear in the main foyers of the 17th, 35th, 48th, 74th, 101st, and 128th floor. Feel free to look for us there, should the need arise. You'll know it's us, because we'll be wearing the most attractive bodies in sight." Tyler had to admit, Jackson was good at getting the crowd riled up. The men in the lounge shifted in their seats, trying to contain their excitement... as well as contain their extremities. God, the things that happened to a man when confronted with the possibility of sex. Not that Tyler was any better about that himself. He'd acted like a caveman plenty of times during his years in Miami, and he knew he'd be acting the same way if it were him out there, in the lounge, looking at the girls instead of being one, wearing slacks and boxer shorts instead of a skirt, in possession of a half-erect penis instead of a tight little pussy. "Second," Jackson said, "we are, according to every single piece of feedback we've ever received, the cleanest service on Saturn Beta and, in fact, the cleanest in all of settled space. I know the farther away you get from Earth, the more like the wild west it becomes, and the more likely you are to have something... unpleasant happen to you, should you find yourself in the arms of a stranger. I want to stress that all the girls at Ringed Amusements are risk-free, because it's impossible for any of us to contract or transmit any unsavory diseases. Every girl in the company is swimming with nanobots, and they're quite good at keeping us all squeaky clean." Tyler had not been aware of that. He nodded, impressed, and glad too. Even though he was never having sex as long as he was in this female body, he appreciated the idea of being immune to any diseases during his time on the job, sexually transmitted or otherwise. Conventions meant lots of people, and people meant lots of germs, and germs meant high likelihood of coming down with something. "Third," Jackson continued, changing to the next slide on the big screen. "And keeping with the theme of the nanobots. All of the girls at Ringed Amusements are completely customizable. Should you prefer short girls to tall girls, Asian over white, large-breasted over modestly endowed..." Amber turned to Tyler and smiled at him. Tyler grinned back, despite himself, at the subtle reference to his new mammaries. He appreciated the gesture. She was just trying to make him feel better about the situation and confident in his body. "...we can customize your experience to your tastes. Tanya, here, was a brunette three hours ago, for instance. Amber over there only had piercings in her ears ten minutes ago. The rest of the piercings were created on the spot, while she was getting dressed, by the nanobots rather than by more traditional methods..." Amber flashed her goods at the audience once more as Jackson described her most recent changes. But Tyler suddenly felt very weird about the presentation. Of course he knew that the nanobots could be programmed to change the physical features of the person they had been planted into - he had been changed in incredible, seemingly impossible ways, after all - but the idea of changing even more, constantly, at the whim of the company's customers... that unsettled him, for reasons he couldn't quite explain. He wondered what, exactly, Jackson meant by "completely customizable." He wondered how exotic people's tastes could get, and how far the nanobots could stretch the limits of reality... "And finally," Jackson continued, "and perhaps most importantly, the other girls and I always conduct ourselves with utmost professionalism. We are running a business, much the same as all of you are running your own businesses. Don't be fooled by their faces and their figures. The women before you are all, first and foremost, professionals. We pride ourselves on our work, no matter what shape that work happens to take. We want you to feel like you get your money's worth, and we want you to be satisfied... in every sense of the word." This last statement fell flat with the horndogs in the crowd. Clearly they weren't much interested in the professionalism of Jackson's company or the women she employed. They were interested in one thing and one thing only... Jackson ended the slideshow and placed her hands behind her back. "Now, we want to thank you all for coming today. The bar is open and the drinks are all on the house. And while we're happy to make this portion of the event complimentary for you, everything that happens afterward is going to cost you. That means this is a look-but-don't-touch networking session, gentlemen." She straightened her posture, looked out at the crowd over the top of her glasses, and put on her best stern librarian tone. "Welcome to Saturn Beta! I trust you'll all behave yourselves." A few laughs came from the crowd. The bigscreen dimmed, the lights in the lounge went up so everyone could see better, and a curtain lifted on the far side of the room. Behind the curtain was a wide bar, stacked floor to ceiling with the best booze on Saturn Beta or anywhere else, staffed by three more women that rivaled any of the six on stage for attractiveness. All three of them wore the same glittering sports bra and hot pants outfit that Tyler had seen Lola in before, albeit with different color schemes. These three girls' outfits were dark bronze, light gold, and a deep purple. The bartenders all waved at the crowd and the crowd whistled and whooped back at them. Briefly, Tyler was jealous of the three girls behind the bar. He wished Jackson had put him back there, mixing drinks, instead of on the front lines with the lecherous stares of mid-level office monkeys. He would much rather have been wearing one of their sporty, shiny outfits than the insane French maid costume he currently had on. He tugged at his skirt one more time, trying fruitlessly to get it to settle lower on his legs. "Tablets and cards, ladies," Jackson said, snapping Tyler out of his daydreaming. He lined up behind Amber and waited for what was next. Jackson handed a tablet computer and a handful of business cards to Renee, then did the same to Tanya, Zoe, and Amber. Tyler received his items last. "The menu's voice activated," Jackson told him, pointing to the tablet in Tyler's left hand. "All you have to do is go out there, put your tablet on the table, and let the boys tell you what they want. It'll send the orders straight to the bar. Make sure to rotate around to every table at least once before you visit anyone a second time. Be attentive. Don't let anyone sit there with a dry glass for too long." Tyler sighed. "Be a good little waitress, in other words." "Hostess, Mr. Hillman. Hostess. I believe that's the word I used earlier. And you don't have to be good or little, either. You merely have to be professional." Tyler looked at his handful of business cards. Company name along the top, contact information on the right side, scannable codes. This card was a bit different than the ones Lola was distributing on the 48th floor yesterday. It didn't have a picture on it. "You can do this," Jackson said, sounding almost encouraging behind her usual cold, focused attitude. "You'll be fine. And, for my part, I really do appreciate you helping me out of my bind today. This reflects well on you, Mr. Hillman." And then she was off, grabbing her own business cards and tablet, and high-heeling her way into the lounge. Her hips and ass swayed under her tight, short pinstripe skirt. The other girls had already perched themselves next to tables full of laughing, leering businessmen. Tyler took a deep breath, locked eyes with a table of clients who hadn't been helped yet, and threw himself to the wolves. ***** By the time his tablet told him that his first table's order was at the bar and ready to go, Tyler had been called every feminine adjective and noun in the dictionary. Sweetheart. Sexy. Hot stuff. Beautiful. He had been asked if his legs were cold and if he wanted someone to help him warm up a bit. One man had wondered, out loud and with the encouragement of the others at the table, if Tyler's breasts were nano-designed or had always been that big naturally. Tyler, trying his best to stay confident and get into the part of Jackson's demure and mysterious maid, cocked his head and grinned flirtatiously, saying, "Oh, I'll never tell." He felt weird saying it, almost dirty, but it seemed like the right thing to say. The men at that table had laughed at the joke and then kept on staring at his giant rack, which was nearly spilling out the top of his low, swooping neckline. "That shit was funny," said Zoe, the redheaded cheerleader, to Tyler as the two of them stood at the bar together. Zoe was waiting for a glass of ice, and Tyler needed a three-olive toothpick for a martini. "That line about how you'll never tell. That was classic." "You think so?" Tyler said. "I thought it sounded... I dunno. Kind of slutty." "Oh, please. Have you seen what you're wearing? Slutty's the name of the game around here. All that talk about being professional that Jackson does... that only goes so far, Violet. Most of these johns out here just want something willing to stick their dick into. Give 'em what they want, everyone's happy. This isn't a classy crowd. No point in acting classy." Tyler shifted uncomfortably on his low heels. "I suppose so." "Seriously, though, keep it up. You're doing damn good for your first day with the company. The way you're working this room right now, I'm betting you'll have a whole boatload of jobs lined up for you by the time the event's over." Zoe fluttered her eyebrows suggestively, then lifted her tray of drinks and went back to a table of hungry-eyed men. Tyler eventually got his olives and took his tray to his own table. He shook off the thought of Zoe's "boatload of jobs" as he left the bar. "Can I get you guys anything else?" he asked, after placing all the drinks in front of their respective patrons. He hefted the tray above his head and put his other hand on his hip, trying to strike the classic waitress pose. The men at the table all clamored to be the first one to speak. "Yeah, you can get me something else - your ass on my face," one of the men said. "How about a quickie in the bathroom?" said another. "How about you crawl under the table and start sucking on whatever's down there?" a third piped in. Tyler rolled his eyes. He reached into his apron pocket and dumped some of his cards on the center of the table. "How about a bunch of business cards?" he said, smirking at all the men who had just... propositioned him. "Good enough," a greasy-haired customer replied. "Might not be tonight, might not be tomorrow, but I'm gonna get some of that pussy you got under that skirt, missy." Tyler tucked his tray under his arm, walked away from the table, and muttered "not fucking likely" on his way to the next table of unrefined slobs. The lounge was full of noise now - laughter, whistling, flirtatious table talk from Jackson's staff, and suggestive replies from the patrons with all the subtlety of a baseball bat to the face. Maybe the reason these guys were so quick to lob these kinds of comments at Tyler and the other hostesses was because they were guaranteed to work - or at least guaranteed not to earn them a slap in the face. Tyler knew this type of men, and he knew they had tried lines like these before, unsuccessfully, on other women. Women who wouldn't put up with the verbal abuse, because those women weren't prostitutes. The girls of Ringed Amusements, on the other hand... Shaking off the garbage that the last table had said to him, Tyler approached a new one that had yet to be served. He put on his most welcoming smile, tried to muster up some of that confidence Lola had talked about, and assumed the sexy waitress pose once more. "Evening, gentlemen," he said in his lilting voice, placing his tablet computer in the center of the table. "What can I get for..." Tyler stopped his spiel. He thought this table was all men as he was approaching it, but there was, in fact, a woman seated here as well, her small frame hidden behind the man to her left. She looked up at Tyler as he stared at her in shock. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't see you back there. Well, the gentlemen will have to wait. Ladies first." The men at the table chuckled at this, smiling in turn at Tyler and then at the anomalous woman at the table with them. She smiled too. She looked somewhere in her late thirties, slightly older than Tyler had been before Jackson's nanobots had done their work on him. She was plain looking but still pretty, small chested, with pixie-cut brown hair streaked with blonde highlights. She wore a lilac skirt suit that had a lot more length and swish to it than the suits Jackson was fond of. All the men at the table were acting very well-behaved, unable to be as raucous as the rest of the room since they had a woman in their presence who wasn't employed by Ringed Amusements. Tyler wondered what their relationship was. Was she a coworker of theirs? Did she just happen to sit down at this table without knowing anyone else present? And what was she doing at an event like this, anyway? Every bit of this ridiculous affair was meticulously designed by Jackson to appeal to one very specific demographic: horny, unsavory men who were scouting the entertainment options on Saturn Beta on behalf of the heavy hitters back home. This woman at the table looked too refined and professional to be a mere corporate errand girl. "I'll have a cosmopolitan, please," the woman said. "And don't let an ice cube within fifty feet of it." The rest of the table ordered their own drinks - mostly beers - and Tyler went back to the bar again to wait for his order. Amber was there as well, waiting for hers. "There's a lady over there," Tyler said to Amber, lowering his voice. "At that table near the back." "Hmm?" Amber said. She turned to look, jingling all her jewelry and costume decorations in the process. "Where?" "Jesus, don't stare at her. Just... there's a woman back there. Sitting at a table with a bunch of guys. I just thought that was kind of weird." "Darlin', this whole station's kind of weird. Nothin' really surprises me anymore. I wouldn't think too much of it. Unless the thought of other girls checkin' you out makes you uncomfortable." Tyler laughed, maybe a bit too loudly. The girls behind the bar all looked up from the drinks they were making to see where the sudden burst of noise had come from. Tyler covered his mouth as he kept laughing. Oh, God, if Amber only knew how much a woman checking him out DIDN'T make him uncomfortable... Tyler took a new tray of drinks back to the table, making a point of putting the cosmopolitan down first, then the beers and other drinks, then a short stack of business cards. He asked if anyone needed anything else while leaning over slightly, showing off the heft of his breasts in his low-cut French maid dress. All the men at the table politely declined. The woman with the cosmopolitan said nothing. Eventually every table in the lounge had their first round of drinks, and Tyler resigned himself to mincing around the room to ask how everyone was doing, offer refills, and whatnot. During the first hour of the event he was very aware of what he was wearing and how it felt on his body - the low heels on his shoes making every step slightly dangerous, the fishnets encasing his hairless legs, the petticoat swishing around his stocking tops, the bodice of the dress hugging his waist, the satin choker wrapped around his smooth neck; and the sewn-in cups of his bustline hoisting up his new breasts, which still hung with that unfamiliar weight and outward pronouncement. It felt strange, and maybe gaudy, but after a while he stopped noticing what he looked like and what he was wearing and simply focused on the tasks at hand. By the time the second hour had expired, he no longer paid attention to the feeling of the cool recirculated air on his exposed upper chest, nor did he mind the shorter strides he had to take in his shoes. He was still extremely aware of the rest of his outfit, though, and he made it a point not to bend over too far for fear of exposing his ruffled panties to the leering eyes of the event patrons. Around the time everyone in the lounge was four drinks deep, Tyler was back at his very first table, asking how everyone was doing. The men here, who had plied him with pervy compliments on his first visit, were now well into tipsy and approaching completely drunk. One of them tried to speak but was slurring his words so badly that Tyler, and everyone else at the table, couldn't understand him. Another man, greasy-haired and sitting to Tyler's immediate right, reached out and grabbed Tyler's arm lightly. "C'mon, baby," he said with a wavy, unsure voice. "Let's just get out of here right now. C'mon. This party sucks, anyway." Tyler wrestled his thin arm away. "Not happening," he said. He wiped the patron's clammy handprint off his arm. "No touching. You heard what Jackson said." "Listen, sister," the man said, sliding off the chair and rising to his feet. He stood several inches taller than Tyler, and Tyler found himself backing away a couple steps. His pulse rose as the man stepped forward. "I heard what the boss lady said. I got money. Don't worry about that." He reached a hand out and stroked the top of Tyler's skirt, at the waist, where Tyler's apron was tied. Before Tyler could pull himself away further, the man's other hand went down below his skirt and the firm netting of his petticoat, brushing against his stocking top and outer thigh. One of the man's fingers reached up to Tyler's ruffled panties, stroking Tyler's skin through the black lace. Revolted, Tyler grimaced and pushed at the man's chest as the man tightly gripped Tyler's waist and leg. Then the man leaned over and in, bringing his alcohol-tinged mouth closer to Tyler's face. Tyler turned away from him, pushed back as hard as his feminine body would allow, closed his eyes, and was about to call for help... Suddenly there was a thud, the sound of fist on jaw, and the hands around Tyler's waist and leg relaxed their grip and disappeared instantly. When Tyler opened his eyes, he saw the prone body of the greasy-haired man who accosted him sprawled on the lounge floor. The lounge had gone quiet from the shock of the punch, the speed and sound of it. Somewhere in the lounge, Zoe's voice rang with approval - "Hoo, boy. You got knocked the FUCK out!" Nervous laughter followed Zoe's comment, both from the men in the lounge and the women who were working it. Gathering his composure, Tyler turned to find his rescuer. It was another man, tall and burly enough to be one of Jackson's security guards and dressed in a nice button-down and business slacks. Tyler thought he recognized him, maybe... and after a few seconds, yes, he did recognize him. This was one of the men from the table with the cosmopolitan woman. "The lady said no touching, you deaf mother fucker!" the man said. He craned over the body of his downed opponent, examining him, making sure he was down for the count. The greasy-haired man made no movements apart from the in-out of normal breathing. Tyler backed away a couple more steps, rubbing his upper arms, trying to keep himself together. That little episode had been... scary, terrifying almost, and Tyler wasn't used to being terrified of anything. He'd felt vulnerable before, but never like this. Amber soon came alongside him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in close. "Y'all right, darlin'?" she asked, running a hand through Tyler's hair, trying to soothe him. Tyler nodded and patted his skirt above where the man had groped his thigh. God, what he wouldn't give for the skirt on this French maid costume to be even an inch longer, or for the petticoat to be slightly less poofy... he had wished for that back in the changing room, but then had been determined to stay confident, not let the outside world know how uncomfortable the outfit made him feel. The first couple hours of the scouting event had gone so well, too. There had been some sleazy comments about his appearance, of course, and plenty of lecherous gazes at his breasts and legs, but nothing to make Tyler feel unsafe. Nothing until now. Every shred of confidence Tyler had mustered up earlier had vanished when that greasy-haired man grabbed the flesh above Tyler's stocking top. He could still feel the hand there on his leg, clammy and reptilian. "Idiot," Jackson said, approaching the body on the floor. She waved at someone at the back of the lounge, and several men walked forward after a few seconds. They, along with Tyler's savior, were all from the back table where the woman drinking the cosmopolitan sat. Four of these men grabbed the arms and legs of Tyler's assailant, then carried him away, out of the lounge, as drops of blood streaked out of the unconscious man's mouth and nose. Jackson then turned to the man who had thrown the punch. "Thank you, Paul. Nicely done." "You got it," Paul said, flexing his fingers on the hand he'd used. "Any time." "You're the best, Paul," Zoe said, coming alongside him and patting his back, sounding much like the cheerleader she was pretending to be. "Man, when I saw you rearing back for that punch, I knew that dude was in serious trouble. You just unloaded on him!" "Yeah," Paul said. He put an arm around Zoe and hugged her lightly, kissing the top of her head. Zoe giggled at the attention. Many of the patrons had returned to their seats by now, silently appreciating the work Paul had just done and hoping they didn't give him any reason to come after them as well. Paul squeezed Zoe again, looking much like a linebacker with a cheerleader on his arm after winning the homecoming game, and turned to Tyler. "Are you all right? Did he hurt you?" "I'm okay," Tyler said, finally recovering emotionally from what had been done to him... or almost been done to him. "Just a little surprised. Thanks, though. Thanks for doing that. I couldn't..." Tyler held out his nicely toned but still scrawny arm. "I could never throw a punch like that." "Oh, yeah you could," Amber said, leaning her head on Tyler's shoulder. "You coulda smoked that guy like a cheap cigar, darlin'. Just didn't have your druthers about you, is all." "Uh huh," Tyler grumbled. A nice attempt by Amber to make him feel better, but completely untrue. He half-smiled at Paul. "Seriously, thank you. That was a hell of a punch. Wish I could've seen it. My eyes were closed." Jackson, smirking, took her tablet computer out of her jacket pocket. "We can arrange that, I think..." She tapped a few buttons on the tablet and the bigscreen on the far wall came to life again, briefly flashing blue before showing an overhead view of the lounge. Security camera, Tyler thought. He looked up at the ceiling and into the high corners of the walls... yep, tiny cameras everywhere. Jackson flicked between several views, then cued up some footage with Tyler's new body standing front and center, in his ridiculous French maid outfit, talking to the men at his first table of the day. He looked beautiful in this video. Slutty, given the costume he wore, but still undeniably beautiful. And confident, too! Violet Taylor, in the video, looked like a regular young lady waiting tables and talking to her customers. She didn't look uncomfortable or awkward... and, most notably to Tyler, she didn't look like she was still getting accustomed to big breasts and revealing outfits. She looked entirely at home in her role. Tyler, in the present, shifted on his low heels and leaned closer to Amber, scarcely believing that the capable young woman in the video footage was really him. Now came the part where the greasy-haired man stood up, and a disgusted look appeared on Violet Taylor's face as she backed a couple steps away from him. "Here it comes," Zoe said, excited. On screen, the greasy-haired man's hand gripped the demure young maid's waist, then her thigh. Violet Taylor pushed back on her attacker, turned her head, closed her eyes... then, from the left side of the frame, a fist rocketed into view and connected with the pervert's face so quickly that Tyler could barely register what happened. Watching the security video with great interest, the rest of the people in the lounge either laughed, cheered, or grimaced. "Now in slow motion," Jackson said, sliding her finger along the tablet's face. The whole lounge watched it again, from the moment Paul's fist entered the picture, one frame at a time. Tyler watched himself struggle with the greasy-haired man, his new body reeling in disgust and fear until the surprise of being saved took over. Amber rubbed his shoulders and murmured to him in that motherly way she had. "You did good, Violet. Okay? You did good there. You stuck with rule number one." "I didn't do much of anything," Tyler said, smoothing his skirt again. "Paul did all the real work. I just... pushed." "Good enough." Amber hugged Tyler one more time. "Gotta get back to my tables. I'm sure a lot of 'em wanna buy Paul a drink for that." Amber and the other girls went back on the job after the second slo-mo playback of Paul's punch. Tyler stood there, visibly shaken but trying to play it off as cool as he could. His pulse had returned to something near normal. Jackson brought Paul over for a proper introduction. "Paul," she said, "this is Violet." "Hi," Paul said, reaching out a meaty hand. Tyler put his own forward, and they shook. Tyler's own hand felt absolutely tiny in the clutch of Paul's. Tyler cleared his throat. "Hi. Good to meet you." "Violet Taylor," Jackson said, as if to clarify something. Paul stopped shaking Tyler's hand and turned to Jackson, mouth half agape. "Really," said Paul. "Violet Taylor." He turned to face Tyler again, who looked at both of them with confusion on his face. "Violet Taylor," Jackson repeated. "Okay, well, great," Paul said. "I'm really glad I could help out. You shouldn't have to put up with shit like that if you're not into it. I hope you don't feel guilty or anything about standing up for yourself." "Guilty?" Tyler said. "Er... no, not guilty at all. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? Let that weirdo just feel me up? No thanks." "Well put," said Jackson. "In case you're wondering, Violet, Paul is another employee of mine. Designer." "Ah ha," Tyler said, now understanding why Zoe and the other girls seemed so familiar with him. "Designing what?" Paul put his hands on his hips. "All kinds of stuff. You should come by sometime, if you're interested. I can show you around the shop." "Oh, uh, maybe," Tyler said in his most uncommitted voice. He pointed back to the rest of the lounge area. "I should probably, uh..." "Probably should," Jackson said. "And I should, too. Thanks again, Paul." "Yup," Paul said, nodding knowingly at Jackson and Tyler in turn. Something was weird about Paul... something between him and Jackson, maybe, thought Tyler couldn't put his finger on what. Paul turned and went back to his table, sitting next to the lady with the cosmopolitan, leaving Tyler more curious and confused than he'd been since arriving on Saturn Beta. ***** The remainder of the event went by without incident, with Tyler serving drinks and receiving many, many concerned questions from the patrons about how he was doing. Tyler kept on playing it off as no big deal, then eventually found himself playing the part of French maid again, dropping a dozen business cards on the table while telling the patrons that getting unwillingly felt up was just part of a day's work for a sexy little maid like himself. The men loved this, laughed at it, and told Tyler over and over again that he was doing a great job. Even the table of sleazy men that had produced the greasy-haired guy had changed their attitudes, and though Jackson had told Tyler to avoid that table for the rest of the night, they were all on their best behavior with Amber, Zoe, Renee, and Tanya. None of them wanted to end up in the hospital like their buddy did. Tyler was very relieved when Jackson at last closed down the event. The lounge emptied quickly, and Tyler and the rest of the girls retreated to the dressing room again, where everyone sat down in front of the vanities and peeled off their shoes. Tyler luxuriated in the feeling of his fishnetted feet on top of the carpet, free from those low heels he'd been wearing for hours. His feet didn't hurt, but it was nice to be flat-footed again. He sighed contentedly. "Oh, please," Jackson said as she took off her own shoes, which had a heel higher than Tyler's by several inches. "You weren't in pain out there. Don't act like you just escaped the ninth circle of hell." "Yes," said Tanya in her breathy Russian accent, pointing her own pair of pink five-inch stilettos at Tyler. "Don't." Amber folded her bare arms over her equally bare midriff. "Can we all be nice, please? This was Violet's first gig since comin' to Saturn Beta. She's allowed to enjoy the fact that it's over." "Enjoying it a bit too much, maybe," Renee said, unrolling one of her opaque white stockings, revealing the dark brown skin underneath and giving Tyler a fine view up her tight vinyl skirt. "Don't know about the rest of y'all, but I could've stayed out there all night. Guarantee you I made a fortune in tips. Guarantee you I'm gonna have freelance jobs lined up for days and days. Those boys out there were scanning the hell out of my cards." Tyler leaned over into Amber's shoulder. "Tips?" "Yeah," Amber said quietly. "The drinks were all free, y'understand, but if the customers wanted to leave us tips, they could. They just scan the code on the back of the cards we were handin' out, then throw some money our way. Easy-peasy." "Remember, Renee," Jackson said, standing up and moving into one of the dressing stalls. "You're sharing those tips with the bartenders. I'd argue they worked harder than you did tonight." Jackson lifted a hanger from the wall - it was her charcoal suit, the one she was wearing before the event. She shouldered the hanger and walked between the chairs and vanities on the way to the dressing room exit. "I'm done for the night. I'll send everyone their tips and freelance requests in the morning." "Goodnight, Jackson," several of the girls said in unison as their boss padded into the hallway in stocking feet. Retreating to their own dressing stalls, Tyler and his coworkers continued undressing and changing into their casual clothing. Tyler felt a weird sense of relief after taking off his French maid dress, his petticoat, his fishnet stockings, the choker around his neck, and the ruffled black panties. He felt somehow less exposed while in the nude than he did while wearing that revealing, titillating costume. And then, upon putting on his red lace bra and panty set, his midriff-exposing tank top and his short black skirt, he felt almost... normal. Not that he had become accustomed to wearing skirts and lingerie yet, but this outfit sure felt more appropriate to his personality than the maid dress did. After strapping his sandals on, Tyler checked himself out in the mirror, approved of what he saw, and started bagging up the evening's costume. Once done, he rejoined the other girls in the main section of the dressing room. Renee left first, waving and saying her goodbyes, bragging about how much money she expected to make in the wake of tonight's scouting event - "freelancing," she called it. Tanya left next. Amber and Zoe were the last ones left with Tyler, and the three of them departed together, grabbing their tablets (rule number three, Tyler recalled) and turning out the lights to the dressing room as they went. They hung up their costumes in the wardrobe, and exited into the machinery room. Amber and Zoe both grabbed their purses on their way out and slipped their tablets into them. "Well, I think you did great out there, Violet," Amber said, slinging her purse over her shoulder, as the three walked through the machinery room. She looked the way Tyler had grown accustomed to seeing her without all the jewelry in her ears, nose, and eyebrows. She wore a similarly styled dress to the one she had on yesterday, though this one was navy blue instead of purple. "Thanks," said Tyler. "I tried." "First day?" Zoe chimed in. She had on a tight pair of jeans and an even tighter pink T-shirt. "Hell, you did better than I did my first day. I was a wreck. Nervous as hell. Couldn't do anything right." The machinery room had cleared out quite a bit, with most of the workmen having left at some point during the scouting event. Only a few machines were still turned on, and only a few men moved between them, checking dials and twisting knobs. Tyler felt much more comfortable walking through it a second time than he did during his trip to the wardrobe with Jackson. He looked to the side of a blocky, chrome-colored machine and saw a large figure looking back his way, holding a clipboard. The figure waved at Tyler... and Tyler waved weakly back, once he recognized who the figure belonged to. It was Paul again, back at work already. But Jackson had said that Paul was a designer, not a machinist... Zoe and Amber turned to see who Tyler was waving at, then grinned conspiratorially while waving themselves. "He's such a nice guy," Amber said. "Comin' to your rescue like that, Violet. What a gentleman." "Speaking of having a bad first day," Zoe said. She elbowed Amber in the side, and the two of them giggled girlishly with each other, clearly in the know about something about which Tyler was clueless. "What is it?" he asked. "Oh, it's nothin' to worry about," Amber said as the three of them reached the elevator door on the other end of the machinery room. She pushed the up arrow and placed her hands over her dress. "You should ask him about it sometime. About his first day on the job. It's a whale of a story." "And every last word of it is completely true," said Zoe. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I could go for some food. What's say we take ourselves on up to the 73rd and see what's good?" "Ooh!" Amber said. "That one sports bar's up on the 73rd, right? LSU's playin' tonight. I wanna catch some of that. Oh, I hope it hasn't finished yet... that sound good to you, Violet? Watchin' some sports and eatin' some awful fried food?" "Um," Tyler said, taking stock of his thoughts on the subject. He was alert, awake, feeling pretty good about how he handled himself over the last several hours, still desperate to sit down for a long while after standing for so long. He looked down at his tank top and skirt, realizing - almost to his dismay - that he genuinely felt comfortable in this getup, even though it showed off plenty of his breasts, tummy, and legs. Comfortable enough to go out in public, though? Comfortable enough to be seen in his new feminine body, wearing unmistakably feminine clothing, outside of the context of his new job? Amber and Zoe looked at him expectantly, as if hanging on for his answer, hoping for a yes. Part of Tyler wanted to head back to the dormitory and sleep off the embarrassing waitress gig he just finished, hide away from the world for a while, not be around other people and wallow in his despondence over being changed into a woman... but part of him wanted to get out and do something other than moping. And he was definitely hungry, hungry enough for his stomach to squirm slightly at the thought of a cheeseburger and fries... "Sounds good," he said. "Hopefully there's some baseball on..." "Baseball?" Zoe said. "Ugh. Boring. I'm with Amber... here's hoping there's some good football games happening... Amber?" Amber backed away from the elevator, looking horrified about something, and ran back through the machinery room toward the wardrobe. "Just a sec!" she shouted over her shoulder. Tyler and Zoe looked at each other, confused, and waited for the elevator to arrive. Amber disappeared into the wardrobe, and a minute later she emerged again, then ran back to her friends, clutching something in her hand. "Well, this is embarrassin'," she said, holding the item out to Tyler. "Jackson kept buggin' me to get you one and I kept forgettin' about it. Glad I remembered before we left!" Tyler looked at Amber's hand. She held a small purse, made of quilted leather, dyed a deep burgundy, festooned with gold-colored zippers and buckles and clips. Three golden rings attached the bag to the shoulder strap on either side. It was about the same size as the ones Amber and Zoe had slung over their shoulders. "You can put your tablet there in the big zipper part," Amber said, pointing out what she meant on the side of the purse, "and put your phone in the smaller zipper part, and put all your other stuff in the big part." She opened the purse and showed Tyler the interior, which he estimated could hold as much as a small, plastic grocery bag. Excited as Amber was about her selection on Tyler's behalf, he tried not to look too disappointed about this. A purse. Him, carrying a purse. Yet another stereotypically girly item he'd be saddled with for as long as he was stuck in this body. He couldn't imagine what he'd need to carry around in this thing, nor could he visualize carrying it around all the time to begin with. He recalled Jackson asking Amber to get him one, right after Amber and Tyler had met for the first time. He also recalled his elevator ride earlier today with Jackson, who had handed him the tablet and then mentioned having a purse printed for him. She clearly wanted him to have one. And now, looking at Zoe and Amber who both had their own purses, Tyler wondered if he'd look out of place if he didn't have one himself. The last thing he wanted was to be conspicuous or suspicious... "Thanks," he said, mustering up some fake enthusiasm. He took the purse from Amber, slid his tablet into a pocket on the side, and pulled the shiny golden zipper closed. Anchoring the burgundy leather strap over his shoulder, he tried to get used to yet another unfamiliar weight on his body. "Looks good on you," Zoe said, pointing at the purse. "Matches your hair, kinda. I like it." "Ooh, I hadn't thought about her hair," Amber said, looking back and forth between Tyler's new purse and his auburn tresses. "Yeah, kinda matches. Not really. Kinda." Amber and Zoe laughed. Tyler chuckled himself and looked at the purse as it hung off his shoulder and rested against his hip. It wasn't such a big deal, if he was being honest with himself. If he could handle wearing a sexy French maid outfit for several hours in a room full of horny, busy-handed men, he could handle wearing a purse. It might come in handy, in the same way messenger bags and backpacks could come in handy. A minute later, when the elevator finally arrived, Tyler had hooked his thumb around the golden rings that connected the strap to the burgundy leather bag, copying the way Amber and Zoe held theirs. He walked into the elevator, leaned against the back wall, and waited for the doors to close. He caught a glimpse of his savior Paul just as the doors began sliding shut. Paul noticed Tyler as well, and he didn't take his eyes off Tyler until the doors had closed completely. ***** They arrived at the sports bar on the 73rd floor after a long but private ride on the service elevator to the 48th, crossing into the main part of the foyer, and taking the express elevator the rest of the way. Tyler walked tentatively in the rear, behind Zoe and Amber, clutching his purse tightly and hoping to God that nobody in the restaurant recognized him from his last trip here, less than twenty-four hours ago. While watching the Marlins and Mets yesterday, Tyler had undergone plenty of nanosurgery and had walked out looking much different than he did when he walked in. He remembered holding onto his pants with one hand and his shirt with the other, everything fitting so loosely on his smaller, shorter frame. He had probably looked almost like a deranged, intersexed bum then. Now he looked like a fashionable young woman, just coming through to have a meal with a couple of equally fashionable girlfriends. This thought comforted him, a tiny bit, as his breasts bounced lightly under his tank top and his skirt swished around thighs. Then he noticed the gawking stares of the men inside the sports bar as the hostess took Tyler's party to their table, and the discomfort began anew. "Don't know about you ladies," Amber said, taking her seat at a booth against the wall, "but I'm about to eat every last short rib on the station and a whole barrel of french fries. My stomach's plum angry with me for not eatin' more for breakfast." "I hear that," Zoe said. "I'm hungrier than hell over here." Holding his skirt behind him as he sat, just like Amber taught him, Tyler slid into the booth behind Zoe. "Yup. Sounds good to me." "By the way, Violet," Amber said, "remember what I was tellin' you about, back in the dressin' room a few hours ago? About the nanobots?" Tyler shook his head. "Refresh my memory." "So, I said, even if Jackson's nanobots hadn't done any major work on you yet, they've probably done at least a little bit of messin' around in your body. All good stuff, though. Trust me. Nothin' to worry about." "Oh," Tyler said, recalling the conversation at last. "Yeah. You were saying something about that. Jackson brought it up during her presentation today. About how the nanobots keep us all... clean." "Clean, yup," Zoe said. "No diseases for us. Best part of working for the company, right there, if you ask me. I haven't so much as had a runny nose since I started working here. Bots do a damn good job." "Well, that's only part of it," Amber continued. "There's a few other perks that those little guys give us. Jackson's programmed them to do a lot of maintainin' and protectin' from all kinds of stuff. You can't get pregnant, for one. Not unless you want to." Tyler squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly very aware of the slit between his legs, the vaginal tunnel beyond, and the other inner workings of his new sex. "No, thanks," he said, playing it as cool as he could. This was the first time he'd ever even considered the possibility of pregnancy. He had the body for it now, after all. Not that he would ever allow for this body to be taken to its designated biological conclusion, or even use his new pussy for... well, for anything that might lead up to pregnancy. He held his knees together tightly, crossed his ankles, and placed his hands over his skirt. Nothing would ever be going in - or coming out - of his vagina. Not ever. "Yeah, so, you're good there," Amber said. "Those nanobots are the best birth control around. Oh, and you don't gotta worry about havin' periods, Violet. Nice little fringe benefit." Zoe smiled. Tyler copied her, glad to hear the news. Yet another distinctly feminine thing that he had never even considered being a part of his life now, and yet another thing that he didn't have to worry about, thanks to the nanobots. Though it was those same nanobots that put him in this predicament to begin with... Amber continued. "Your feet 'n' ankles, too. Jackson has the nanobots set up to do somethin' to your tendons and ligaments and muscles and whatever when they get strained. So that means wearin' high heels and walkin' around in them really doesn't hurt that much. You still gotta keep yourself balanced and upright, naturally, but you'll figure that out with practice. So, Jackson and Tanya back there were kinda playin' a joke on you, complainin' about havin' to wear those really high heels during the event. That's their version of a joke. Neither of them is known for havin' much of a sense of humor." "Yeah," Tyler said, reflexively flicking his sandaled toes as Amber went on about the subject of feet. "Ha ha. Very funny." "What am I forgettin', Zoe?" Amber asked. "Aging," Zoe said. "Don't have to worry about that anymore, either." "Right," Amber said. "So, that goes along with the whole maintainin' thing. Your body is going to stay like that forever and ever, long as you have those nanobots swimmin' around in you. Some of the girls who've been here for a while, years 'n' years 'n' years, they haven't aged a day. No wrinkles, no gray hairs, no saggy boobs, nothin' like that." Zoe raised her finger and pointed at herself. "Exhibit A, that's me." "Yup. Zoe's been here... how long've you been here, anyway?" Zoe grinned mischievously at Tyler. "Let's have the new girl guess. How old do you think I am?" Surprised at the question, Tyler frowned and examined Zoe's face, her body, her figure... she looked about the same age as Amber, and about the same age as the Violet Taylor body that Tyler had possessed for the past day. Zoe had stunning red hair, a dusting of freckles, perky breasts, porcelain pale skin, and the amazing youthful figure that Tyler had come to expect from the girls of Ringed Amusements. Just another bombshell young woman, same as all the others. The kind of girl Tyler would have loved to take to bed, back in Miami, back when he still had his old body. "Um," he said, "I'm not sure. You look about twenty-one." Zoe laughed. "Well, gee, it's nice of you to say that, Violet. You're way off." "Thirty," Amber guessed. Zoe shook her head. "Forty," Amber said. Zoe cleared her throat and leaned forward as if to whisper. "I'm forty- six," she said. Both Amber and Tyler's eyes widened with amazement. Forty-six? Unbelievable! Tyler wanted to say something, but just then the waitress arrived at their table and started taking orders. Amber ordered three different appetizers, all of them exceedingly unhealthy, plus a round of waters and soft drinks for everyone at the table. She made a point of telling the waitress that they all wanted regular sodas, with corn syrup and calories and all that good stuff. No diet. The waitress wrote down the order on her tablet, left the table, and the conversation resumed. "Well," Amber said, "Forty-six. That explains why you're such a smarty- pants about everything." Amber turned to Tyler. "Zoe's the resident know-it-all. Thinks she has the whole universe figured out, top to bottom." "Basically," Zoe agreed. "So, wait," Tyler said, creasing his brow as he spoke, "you've been here how long?" Zoe leaned back to consider. "Came out here when I was thirty-two, right when the station first opened up to immigrants and relocations. Got hooked up with Jackson when I was thirty-four. So, twelve years on the job. And you were right when you guessed twenty-one, by the way. I showed Jackson an old picture of myself when I signed on with Ringed Amusements and asked her if she could make me look like that again. It was from when I was twenty-one, junior year of college, dressed up for Easter dinner with my family back home. She said sure, no problem, give me a couple days. And that was that. I turned a dozen years younger overnight, and I've been twenty-one ever since." She smiled broadly. "Can't complain. I'm sure my friends back home are all wrinkly and gross by now." "Oh, stop," Amber said, pretending to scold. "So that's about it, far as I can remember. No gettin' sick, no gettin' pregnant, no gettin' old. And one other thing..." The waitress reappeared with their drinks and the first appetizer - flatbread and a big bowl of spinach artichoke dip. Amber started digging in before the waitress had left the table, scooping up a big portion of the dip and pointing it at Tyler's face. "No gettin' fat," Amber said, stuffing the bread in her mouth and chewing dramatically. She continued to speak with food in her mouth. "Best part of the job, bar none. You can eat whatever you want, and the nanobots'll clear it right out of your system and keep you lookin' thin and sexy as if you'd just had half a salad. Which, if you're like me, and you grew up in the South eatin' the best food on the planet for five meals a day..." "Self-control isn't exactly little Amber's strong suit," Zoe said, elbowing Tyler lightly. "She's right, though. Dig in." And they did, ravenously, as Amber kept looking up at the television mounted on the wall behind Zoe and Tyler, watching her beloved LSU Tigers play. There was some baseball on a TV in the back corner of the restaurant, but it featured two teams that Tyler could have cared less about, so he spent his time between bites talking to Zoe. In addition to being over twice as old as she looked, she was born in an underground research facility on Venus and lived most of her life there before moving to Saturn Beta. She had never seen the sun before she took her first rocket ride at the age of twelve, from Venus to Earth's moon, where she walked on the surface for the first time in her life - up to that point, she had only been underground. "And I've only ever breathed recycled air," she added, after her story about walking on the moon. "Seriously?" Tyler said, turning toward her while crossing his legs under his skirt. "You've never been to Earth?" Amber said, pausing her feeding frenzy for the first time since the artichoke dip arrived. Zoe shook her head. "Nope. Someday, hopefully. My dad's family's from a place called... Ivyland, or something like that. It's an island. Really green everywhere, he said." "Ireland," Amber and Tyler said, simultaneously. Of course Zoe had some Irish in her, with that hair and those freckles. "Yeah. Ireland. And my mom's from the moon. And I'm from Venus. And you're from..." She pointed at Amber, who swallowed her food and said, "Oakdale, Looziana, 'Merica." She wiped her mouth and said, "Earth," as if to clarify. Zoe pointed at Tyler, who was a couple gulps deep into his sugary soda. "Mars," he said, hoping to end the conversation there before Zoe or Amber asked for any specifics. He hadn't yet designed his new life story yet, not to the detail of Zoe's or Amber's. He was used to inventing new identities for himself, given his career as an info broker, but he had always had time to prepare before. He'd barely had time to breathe since arriving on the station yesterday. He really did need to get to work on that, if he was going to maintain a viable facade while he was stuck here. The more realistically he could create the person of Violet Taylor, the easier it would be to interact with the girls of Ringed Amusements, and the safer he'd be from the wrath of Gordon Rosenthal... Rosenthal. Tyler hadn't even thought about him since stepping out of the dormitory shower yesterday. His mind and his time had been so preoccupied with his current situation, his current job... and his current body. His pulse quickened a bit as he thought deeply about what he had escaped from in Miami. He wondered how Dennis was doing. Good old dependable Dennis, running the supportive end of Tyler's info brokering schemes. Tyler made a mental note to check his smartphone when he got back to his and Amber's room on the 48th floor. Eventually the rest of their food arrived - a bacon cheeseburger and fries for Tyler, a plate of ribs and mozzarella sticks for Amber, and a basket of chicken strips for Zoe. They all ate, talked, watched football, laughed, and generally enjoyed each other's company. Tyler once again felt at ease, forgetting his various predicaments over the greasy, fatty food in front of him, none of which would find its way to his hips or gut, if Amber was telling the truth. After the food was gone, the waitress brought the bill and Zoe snapped it up without letting either Amber or Tyler touch it. "This one's on me, ladies," Zoe said, reading through the damage on the bill. She nudged Tyler to the side, urging him to scoot out so she could leave the booth. Tyler then sat back down across the table from Amber, holding his skirt behind him as he sat. He was getting good at remembering that, almost like it had become second nature, like he had been wearing short skirts his entire life. "Where's she going?" Tyler asked Amber, watching Zoe walk away in her tight jeans. Zoe spoke for a moment with the hostess at the front of the restaurant, who retreated through a side door, leaving Zoe standing in front of the hostess station by herself. Swallowing a mouthful of ribs, Amber said, "Payin' the bill." "Shouldn't she just... pay the bill with her phone?" Tyler asked. That's what he'd done himself yesterday, when he was in this same sports bar during the final hours of his nanosurgery. "That's not how she's payin' it," Amber said, eyes downcast on her plate. "Hope you don't think any less of her for it." "Oh," Tyler said, embarrassed that he hadn't figured it out before asking. His lip curled upward, a bit revolted at Amber's implication. "And don't get her wrong on this one, either," Amber continued. "Zoe's a nice lady, and she's about as classy as you can get with her freelancin' work. I know you don't like how Lola... conducts her business, out there by the elevators. That's not what Zoe's about. She has good workin' relationships with a lot of people here on Beta. A lot of businesses. Restaurants, boutique shops, even some of the minin' and drillin' types. She needs somethin' from them, they give it to her. They need somethin' from her, she gives it right back. She negotiates like a champ, too. Saw her wrangle this one coffee shop owner out of a lifetime supply of lattes for a single BJ, once." Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Hmm," he said, his tone a mixture of sarcasm and surprise. "Sounds like a good deal." "Come on, Violet. I know it's not your thing, but you can't look down on Zoe, or Lola, or... or me. I sure hope you don't look down on me for it, sugar. You do know that I do it too, right? Where do you think I went runnin' off to last night when you were in bed?" "I know," Tyler said, nodding, tightening his knees below his skirt once more. "I know. It's just... you're right. It's not my thing." "And there's nothin' wrong with it," Amber said, raising her voice, as if pleading with Tyler to understand her. "It took me a long time to accept that. You shoulda seen the family I grew up in. Woo, Nelly, would they ever be sore at me for doin' what I do for a livin', but... y'know, those are the same kinda people who'd be sore if I became a scientist or an office worker or a fishin' boat captain. My folks thought the only thing a girl like me should be doin' is gettin' married as quick as possible and pumpin' out a buncha kids before my biological clock stopped tickin'." Tyler leaned back in his seat. He'd struck a nerve on Amber, clearly, with his words and his attitude, and now she was volunteering all kinds of information about the life she left that Tyler never would have asked her to divulge. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Amber cut him off before he could get a word out. "Look," she said, eyes still riveted on her emptied plate, "if you're not okay with what this job is about, and what the day-to-day is, maybe it's not the right thing for you. Maybe you should... y'know... ask Jackson if there's anythin' else available that needs doin' in one of her other businesses on the station." "I can't," Tyler said. "This is all that was available." "Oh. Well, guess you're stuck, then." "I'm not stuc