Blues for C Part 2 of 2
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Blue HandChapter 10 free porn video
A hand kept shaking his shoulder urging him to wake up. The glue around Porter’s eyes finally relented and his eyes looked directly into the gathered fabric of a maid’s bosom. The view was a new experience for him.
“Erp?” squeezed out of his constricted throat as he tried to make sense of the scene before his eyes.
“Sir, you need to awaken and get dressed,” the somewhat familiar voice insisted. “Your guests will be here soon and you’re practically naked.”
Porter heard the word “naked” and his muscles jerked with juvenile fear in one involuntary twist. The curvaceous blouse retreated, and a face swam into his vision, “Are you okay, sir? Do I need to call a physician?”
“No,” Porter said louder than expected as his awareness came back, “What affliction chases me no doctor or demon can cure.” He glanced over her shoulder and noticed that the light was waning outside.
“How long did I sleep?” Porter’s curiosity was a better cure for focus than a young woman far inside his personal space.
“At least three hours, sir; the dinner hour is quite near and...” she was cut off by another of his questions.
“Is Kanji still in my bed?”
“Yes, your beast is still in your bed and she is not happy that I touched you. Could you allay her fears before I embarrass myself in a most personal manner, sir?”
“Yeah, I have the same problem,” Porter replied without thinking. “Kanji, come here and make nice, girl.” Then the admission that tripped off his lips gave him an ever-new stabbing pain of embarrassment in the back of his brain.
The young woman never registered his reply. The wastecat had come off the bed at Porter’s request and was slowly making her way towards them. She stopped to stretch her muscles and to extend her claws fully. The maid gasped at the sudden appearance of the Kanji’s formidable weapons.
The cat found Porter’s right elbow dangling of the chair and nudged it with her nose. Porter scratched behind her ears and slowly made his way down her spine. As he hit her favorite spots, she began to purr deep in her chest. The woman unfroze slightly and offered her open hand to the cat to sniff. Kanji inhaled her scent and decided to ignore her.
“You’ve passed inspection. Welcome,” Porter announced. “Now that you’ve seen me far more naked than most people ever have and met the approval of my mistress,” he indicated Kanji, “would you tell me your name and give me some news of my clothing.”
“I am Doina, sir,” she said with a brief bow of her head. “Your clothes that you brought with you were quite, uh, well used, and they will be ready later tonight. Amongst the clothes that are available, I have found evening clothes that should fit you.”
Porter stared at the proffered clothes, of no style he had ever seen, but they were soft and puffy in the sleeves and legs. “Good. Would you take the cat for a walk while I change into these clothes?”
Doina’s eyes went very wide. “Sir?”
Porter chuckled, “I’m just pulling your leg. Turn around and I’ll slip into these garments.”
“That was not very funny, sir” Doina crossed her arms while her back was turned. “What does ‘pulling your leg’ mean? It doesn’t sound pleasant.”
Porter found the buttons on the pants without a hitch. The man’s blouse, however, was a bit too complicated for him to sort out. He asked Doina to turn around and help him button the mess of fabric despite his showing of ignorance.
As Doina kneeled before him, she leaned into him as she wrapped the flap around his back. Her face pressed into his stomach as she reached around to grab the strip and bring around from the other side. His body went rigid at her touch.
Scrambling to hold his wits together Porter finally explained that ‘pulling one’s leg’ meant he was teasing her, but gently so. Doina finished buttoning his costume and stood up. Porter looked at her to tell him what to do next.
“You have a hard stomach for a man your age,” Doina blurted out and then flushed red in embarrassment. She choked out, “Do you need anything else, sir?”
Porter was so flattered by her words that he glossed over the implied invitation in her unguarded statement. He would remember several hours later. He wanted to take up Zeb’s jig and dance across the room. Just when this world looked like a downward spiral of doom and death, these little gifts would fall into his lap.
He turned to peer around the room, but he could no longer see the corners in the fading light. “Light!” he chortled, still celebrating her compliment. “We need light to chase away the gloom!”
Doina seemed to vacillate between excitement and disappointment. She took the striker from its cupboard and lit the sconces that were placed strategically around the room. She also fired the torches that were fastened to the outside wall on either side of the doorway.
She put away the device and drew near, very near to the fidgeting Porter. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”
Porter was fumbling for an answer when a noise caught their attention. Both turned to the clanging of metal and the marching of feet traipsing through the garden. Kanji leapt to her feet, licking her chops.
“Dinner has arrived, sir. I’ll be off but will return to turn down your bed,” Diona said and then snuck a peck on his cheek before she sauntered out of the bungalow. Porter was tongue-tied for a moment as the freshness of her kiss lingered on his cheeks.
“Ho, Ho there, young man,” called out the Mage Teodor as he announced his arrival. “That lass has a saucy bounce in her step. You must have done something right,” he indicated with his thumb pointing backwards out the door.
On the heels of mage came a young woman also dressed in tight blue robe that left no doubt as to the health of her figure. Her auburn hair shimmered in the light and her eyes were a bright blue that sucked in Porter’s attention. Kanji, who had been sitting next to Porter, sprung silently to her feet and padded over to the young woman. The cat gave her a good sniff and then placed her head under the woman’s left hand.
“She likes you,” Porter said, holding back what he was really thinking, ‘I like you, too.’ “She wants you to scratch behind her ears.”
“Ah, Gilly, it appears that you have made a new friend and a good one to have if I say so myself,” the mage said. “Mistress Gilly, may I present the spaceman, Mister Porter. Both of you are of the Blue Hand. Gilly is a healer and you, Mr. Porter, are untested as of yet.”
Porter took her hand and brought to his lips to kiss it. As his mouth drew near a blue spark leapt from his lips to her hand, much to his surprise. The older mage missed it, standing at Porter’s back, but Gilly gave a little start. Porter looked up to her eyes and snared a quick flash of blue spark in her irises. He did not know what it meant but he was willing to find out, more than willing.
Porter’s fear suddenly overrode whatever lust was creeping at the corners of his brain, and he turned back to the mage, “The High Priest Iosif visited me this afternoon.”
Teodore’s jovial countenance evaporated in an instant, “Did anything of import pass between the two of you?”
“I did not say much of anything although he did not really give me a chance,” Porter said. “He was looking right through me as if I was diseased beggar blocking the sidewalk. My skin was crawling before he threatened me with death.”
Teodor replied, “He does have that effect on many people, especially those deemed as polluters. I recommend avoiding his presence.” Before Porter could ask Gilly a question Teodor announced, “Dinner has arrived.”
The servants brought in the meal complete with tablecloths and service for four. The three of them stood back as the servants fussed and fitted clothes and utensils. Then they began to unpack the foods, laying them on the counter. The aromas smelled strange and enticing to Porter. After all, he had taken all his meals in the wilderness and that fare was rough, even if it was hardy. His stomach growled for everyone to hear.
A knock on the door signaled their fourth dinner companion and a fat woman with a mole above her lip on her right side waltzed in unannounced. She was dressed in a blue robe as well. “Husband,” she directed at Teodor, “you made no mention that I would have to trek clear across the complex to find this little backyard bungalow. I was almost ready to send out the trackers to find me.”
Ignoring her misrepresentation, Teodor said, “My dear, may I introduce the spaceman, Mr. Porter. Mr. Porter, this is my wife, Mirela. She is also of the Blue Hand.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, madam.” Porter bowed but did not take her pudgy hand. In fact, he felt a bit repulsed by her appearance.
“It is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Mirela replied. “Now let’s cut through all of this polite posturing nonsense and sit down to eat what smells like a delectable meal.”
Mirela turned to the young woman. “Hello, Gilly. That cut looks good on you, dear, and I simply love that new accessory you’ve got at the end of your hand.” Kanji was still enjoying Gilly’s scratching upon her shoulders.
“Does she bite?” Mirela asked of Porter.
“Only if you’re a priest,” he said and received a hearty round of laughter for his sarcasm.
“We will get along well,” Mirela said and taking on the role of hostess, inviting all to sit. She dismissed the servants and escorted them to the door, shutting it firmly after them.
“Did the old sot behave himself, today?” Mirela grilled the young woman as if the daily update was a necessary but tedious agenda item.
“More or less,” Gilly reported. “He did much better at not rolling his eyes and pulling on his mustache at every inane comment at the court.”
“My God, surely the mage would be bald and blind after a day or two if my presentation at court was typical,” Porter boldly said.
“He was rather pathetic, today,” Teodor said as he waved his hand over the dishes of food on the table. “They’re clear of anything noxious. Let us partake of our repast.”
“Please serve yourselves,” Mirela said.
As they devoured the meal, the conversation was kept to a bare minimum; food was the priority. As he chewed, running his eyes over his dinner companions, Porter was forced to reevaluate his opinion of Mirela, wife of Teodor. He had dismissed her simply because she was dumpy and overweight. Of course, the mole added to the rejection as well, but the trigger was her weight. For all of his high-minded talk about hypocrisy and how destructive it was, he was guilty at this moment. He had judged her unworthy because she looked the part. He was ashamed because not so many months ago, he was the recipient of the exact dismissals, over and over. Had he traveled all these light years and transformed himself so thoroughly just to forget the humanity that had been the strength of his bloated body? His life had been miserable, but he had not allowed himself to be a miserable human being. ‘A hard stomach is nice, but a decent human being is priceless,’ he drilled the lesson into his brain.
Resolved, he eased back from his plate even though it still had food on it. He was full enough and at ease for the moment. He excused himself and brought his plate over the Kanji, who reluctantly ate the rest of his portion. Only on his way back to the table did Porter notice a covered bowl on the counter, which happened to hold chunks of raw meats, fish, fowl, and unknown.
He held out the bowl to the cat with a bit of remorse. “You are going to become very spoiled here if we stay too long.”
Kanji laid a paw on his forearm, forcing Porter to drop the bowl. Then she pounced into the midst of her meal, knocking aside the cracked bowl. “She had better manners on the road,” Porter said to no one in particular.
“She still has better manners than most of the court,” Mirela said.
“Hush, woman,” her husband cautioned. “Even in this removed building, the walls may have ears.”
Porter was confused, “You are the high mage and there is no technology; don’t you have the ability to block eavesdropping from your immediate vicinity?”
The mage was chewing and nodding at the same time. He swallowed and patted his lips with his napkin before speaking. “Indeed I do, but the priesthood is rather persistent and unusually clever. Statements and information leak out, always to the detriment of the speaker.”
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- 22.02.2022
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