Ali Hadrix
Bad Boss
![264_8.jpg](http://andreewallin.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/264_8.jpg)
Ali was dreaming a dream, one that escaped the grasp of her conscious mind, as did people standing within the periphery of her vision in a crowd. It danced along the event horizon of her conscious mind, drawing ever closer yet ultimately unknowable. The dream was about a girl, lost and forgotten by the world, living with a soul of fire, a heart of stone, and a mind of ice. Who the girl represented, Ali knew not. It could have been herself, it could have been her mother, Myra. It could have been Kayleigh Tyven, or Zihanna Syle'a, Riley Reese, or Sitara Qin; it could be any of the women Ali knew. It could be someone she didn't know, or all of them at once, or none of them. No one at all.Ali stirred from the dream, drawn slowly from the tar pit of unreality towards the bright sunshine of the morning of consciousness. Outside the long window that served as the bedroom's outer wall, dawn break had arrived, several of Hapes' moons were visible hanging in the open sky as the sun began its long trek back to its lover the Day from its mistress the Night. In the city people woke, people dozed, people wept, and laughed and shouted and...
Ali's eyes fluttered open as life returned to the forefront of her mind, like breaking the surface of the water after a deep dive into the sea. The sunlight tore through the transparent pane, basking everything around her in fire. The shimmersilk curtains twinkled and gleamed, pinpoints of light dancing between life and death like a million little stars.
Ali looked down and found herself laying on her back. Her hips were turned rightwards. She had fallen asleep against Têhra's side, with her arm draped over the young woman's stomach and her leg drawn up over her pelvis. Ali pleasantly remembered the sensation of Têhra's supple skin brushing against the lips betwixt her legs. She felt a pressure against her chest and stomach and looked down further still, brushing long dark locks of chocolate from her eyes.
Têhra, Pelin'a of House Syle'a, lay upon her chest. The teenager's arm hung across her stomach, her hand resting against Ali's left breast. Ali wiggled her toes and could feel through the slight movement of her legs Têhra's ankles between her thighs. She must have been trying to warm her feet, Ali thought bemusedly to herself, remembering how cold Têhra's feet had felt against Ali's calves. The young woman's cheek rested against Ali's right breast, blood from her chewed lip had dried in a smear along Ali's malleable hillock.
The Republic officer smiled, glad her dream had ended, for the reality she faced was much sweeter than a half-remembered adventure that had existed only in her mind. Têhra was a pleasant little diamond of reality, and Ali was glad to be at her side. Ali clenched her hands reflexively as she yawned, feeling the plump flesh of Têhra's bottom in her right hand. Somewhat surprised with herself Ali smiled again to herself. She tested the young woman's rump a second time, squeezing it gently, feeling it give way 'neath the pressure of her fingers and return as she relaxed.
Ali decided she needed to wake her little pelin'a, and that the girl deserved to be woken in a pleasant manner. Ali maneuvered her left hand across her stomach and slipped her fingers between herself and the other woman, feeling for the telltale wrinkle of flesh hidden amidst Têhra's cream-pale thighs. She massaged the other woman gently, looking downward just far enough to lay a kiss on Têhra's forehead. "Ne nuhoy, Pelin'a," Ali murmured in Mando'a. Sleep no more, Princess. Her voice was soft and light, like the beams that filled the room around them.
Têhra's hair glistened in a much different manner than it had the night before. She shone, Ali realised, another smile brought to her tender red lips. "Ner copad gar kyr'yc ca." Ali continued, murmuring into Têhra's lustrous, silky locks. Between Têhra's legs, Ali continued playing gently with her lips, softly stirring the young woman from sleep as kindly as Ali herself had been drawn from its depths by the light of the Hapan Sun. Am I crazy for wanting this? For wanting her? Ali asked herself. If she were honest with herself she knew the situation was not ideal. Têhra, for all intents and purposes, was someone else's property in all but legality, and Ali had to find some way to make the girl hers. But even with her positive intentions attached to her actions, Ali couldn't help but feel as if her motivation were soiled and tainted with selfish aims.
Do you want her?
Who wouldn't, she's beautiful.
No one deserves to own her. Or anyone.
But someone must own Têhra, until she owns herself.
And you must be that someone, or she'll never become who she's meant to be.