RVA: The Trap (PG-13 for sexuality)
Dec. 3rd, 2018 06:30 pmThis story originally appeared on my Patreon page. Please consider supporting me there to see this and similar stories at least thirty days in advance of the public.
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When Rolas pulled out his palm comp from his pocket, he heard Melanie's strained voice state, "Rolas, I need your help with something."
"I'm on my way home from the meeting with the Greenholme Colony Coordination Committee," he replied, leaning back in the seat of his groundcar, while the autodriver took him towards home. "What's the matter?"
"I'm having a... wardrobe issue would be the best term," she said.
"So, get one of the servants to help you."
"I'd… rather not bother them with this."
Rolas' brow rose at this admission. Given some of the outfits Melanie wore when they were in private, he could well imagine not wanting to get Darktail Manor's servants involved. "Is that a fact?" he asked mildly.
Melanie's voice grew irritated. "Rolas, don't be a tease. You're terrible at it."
"I don't ever tease," he replied. "Are you in any danger?"
"No actually, just mild inconvenience," she admitted.
"I'll try to hurry then." He smiled to himself. "I do, however, see a bit of heavy traffic ahead. Might take me a few extra minutes to get home. Be there ASAP."
"Rolas! Don't be an arse! You need to get here as soon as…" Melanie began to shout, before he cut the connection and set his palm comp to shunt his messages to voicemail.
( Sometimes Rolas does get the better of Mel )
Shasta sat cross legged on the wooden porch of her family's house, the light of Lost Earth reflected on the screen of her tablet as it rested in her lap. If she looked up, she'd be able to see the great brown, white and blue marble hanging over her head, enormous in comparison to the tiny Moon, both out of reach.
Stay focused, she thought. She touched the stylus to the display again, modifying the blueprint of the Barachetta roadster she'd found. Chop the exhaust there, increase the size the pistons, and then reshape the bonnet to fit the supercharger…
"Whatcha doing, Shas?" Her morph, Ratfink, a four foot tall brown rat wearing shredded jeans, a leather jacket, with a toothpick perpetually jammed between his teeth, looked down at her work, eyebrows raised in curiosity. Ratmorphs weren't popular on the Ring, lacking the general cuteness most morphs tried to project. Shasta had chosen his current form precisely because it wasn't cute.
"You're hooked into the same network that my tablet is, Ratfink. Can't you see what I'm doing?" Shasta shot back.
Ratfink gave her an eye roll. "I can see what yer doing. Why are ya doing it?"
"I'm gonna build a car."
"Why?"
"Because I want to."