The old cantina was dark and raucous, but Natanya was so tired she didn't care. She sank down in her chair, grateful to be still. Her guard stood beside her, her mediator sat on her other side. No one spoke as they waited for their drinks. Natanya kept her eyes on the table in front of her, knowing that people would know what she was, and desperately wanting no one to talk to her.
The guard was a big hulking creature of some unknown origin; but he was strong and loyal, and he rarely spoke. He wore canvas and leather and was sufficiently intimidating so as to discourage onlookers. The mediator was a much older woman, dressed in black with a white headdress similar to but smaller than Natanya's - she was a sharp and discreet negotiator. Natanya wore the typical costume of her group: long-sleeved dark dress with very full long skirts and wide v-neck, trimmed with gold, showing her shoulders and collar-bone; dark winged headdress; and small round tinted glasses to hide her eyes. She was tired from traveling and wanted to go directly to the house, but the mediator insisted they stop and rest, as they were still hours from home and had been traveling all day from the other side of Corellia.
As she began to let herself relax and hear the music from the shaky band in the corner, Natanya began to feel something, something familiar but from long ago. What was that? A sense of light, of color...a presence...she looked around the room surreptitiously for the first time. There were dark, round tables with dim lights above them, and beings of many species sitting and eating and drinking, or milling around near the bar. The feeling came from over on the right. Her eyes rested on a table where three men sat, eating and talking. None of them looked familiar. One was dressed in a pilot's uniform, the other in simple clothes, pants, shirt and boots, and the third all in black.
Who was he?
As she stared at them, the pilot gestured at her, and the second man turned around to look. Natanya dropped her eyes again. Her heart was pounding; her weariness had disappeared. What was she feeling?
The drinks arrived, but Natanya was too disturbed to take hers. The mediator pushed it closer, and finally she took a sip. Her mind was flooded with thoughts she couldn't place. She glanced over at the other table, where the men appeared to be having an animated conversation. She drank slowly, wondering, when the second man rose from his seat and approached her table. Instinctively she looked down. He stood at the table opposite Natanya and spoke quietly to the mediator.
"Uh...hi. My friend and I were wondering...I'm sorry, I'm not sure what the protocol is on this...we want to know if the Courtesan would like to spend time with us."
"She is not at her house," the mediator pointed out.
"I know, but I thought...we're staying upstairs for the night. Will that be all right?" asked the man.
The mediator looked at Natanya. She moved her eyes behind her glasses slowly up the visitor. He was tall, around thirty-five, with longish dark hair and warm dark eyes. He had a confident air about him that was tempered by his apparent nervousness.
"What's your name?" asked the mediator.
"Han Solo," he replied.
The mediator looked at his simple clothing and lowered her voice. "Are you sure you can pay for this?"
"Of course I can," he replied defensively.
The mediator looked at Natanya, who bowed her head once, very slightly. The older woman said, "Let's see the other one."
The man turned and called to his table, "Wedge," and the pilot rose and walked over. He was a little younger than Han Solo, but he also had dark hair and eyes. He had an open, friendly way about him, despite his anxiety.
Natanya nodded very slightly at the mediator, then turned and murmured to her.
The mediator said, "What about the third man?"
Han Solo threw a glance back at his table. "No, he's...um...not participating."
Natanya looked over at the light-haired man in black, the one who was disturbing her thoughts so much. He was looking in their direction, his face clearly showing his distaste. She peered carefully over her glasses and stared for a moment at him. Her heart pounded loudly. Then she knew.
She murmured to the mediator.
The woman turned toward her, obviously shocked. "Are you sure?"
Natanya nodded her head very slightly.
The mediator stared at her for a moment, then turned her face to the men and said quietly, "She says there is no charge for the Jedi."
Han Solo paused in surprise, then glanced back at his table and shrugged. "I don't know...but I'll tell him." He turned back to the mediator. "How does this work?"
"You and the other gentleman will go up to your rooms. We will be up shortly."
"All of you?" Han Solo asked.
"All of us," replied the mediator. "We will handle the financial end of things upstairs."
The three men paid for their food and left the room while Natanya, the mediator, and the guard finished their drinks. The mediator walked outside to tell their transport they would be delayed, and the guard took Natanya's bag and followed her to the back where the stairs wound their way up. She was small, but her full skirts filled the narrow passageway, and by the time they reached the third story, the mediator had caught up with them. The older woman found the door to the men's rooms, and knocked.
Han Solo opened the door and they entered, first the mediator, then Natanya, then the guard. The rooms were a suite, three bedrooms and a changing room surrounding a sitting area. It was simple and worn, but clean, carved or molded out of adobe, like the rest of the building. One of the bedroom doors was closed. Natanya stood quietly while the money was exchanged.
"Who will go first?" asked the mediator.
"Me," said Han Solo.
Natanya walked over to him and took his chin in her hand so she could look directly into his eyes. She took her glasses off and let her eyes study his, searching for his thoughts and emotions. He tried to pull back, but the energy of her black eyes was so strong he couldn't move. She released him and turned to the other man, Wedge. She gazed at him the same way, making him as uncomfortable as Han. The she picked up her bag, took it into the changing room, and closed the door.
"You may go to your rooms now," said the mediator. "I will send her in when she is ready. We will wait here."
Wedge and Han exchanged glances and then turned and went into their rooms. Natanya emerged from the changing room, dressed in a sheer white silk gown, without her glasses. She looked at the mediator, who pointed toward Han's room.
"Do you think he'll like that?" the mediator asked her, referring to the gown.
"It'll be all right," Natanya replied. "It's all I have with me." The mediator nodded.
Natanya opened the door slowly. Han was reclining on the bed, still dressed, and he rose up onto his elbows as Natanya walked in. He gave her a sly smile, and she returned it, liking his nerve - to be so bold with a Courtesan! Most men were at least somewhat intimidated by her, but not this one. He amused her.
He stood up and walked slowly over to her, with that same smile, his eyes warm and full of good humor. He backed her against the wall, and looked down into her upturned face, his two hands on the wall on either side of her head.
"It's true," he said. "What they say about your eyes."
She knew he meant all of her kind, not her in particular, and she nodded, still smiling at him. She lifted her hand and touched his lips, running her finger over his chest, his stomach, and down, knowing he liked things straightforward without a lot of fuss. His mouth was already hot when it found hers, hard, with no gentleness, and he kissed her with fervor.
When it was over, Natanya saw to it that Han fell asleep right away, then she rose, slipped on her gown, and opened the door. The mediator was reading the book she carried with her, and the guard was seated at the other end of the couch, dozing. Natanya closed Han's door behind her; the door to the changing room was closed, and the shower could be heard running. Wedge's bedroom door was open, and the third door was closed as it had been before.
"He's taking a shower," said the mediator. "How did it go with the other one?"
"It was fine," replied Natanya shortly, irritated to be asked. She stared at the third bedroom door, wondering what the Jedi was doing behind it, and feeling a stretch of yearning she hadn't felt in many years.
She walked over to the changing room and opened the door; the water was still running, and Natanya stepped out of her gown. Thinking about Wedge, and what she had seen in his eyes, she drew back the thick blanket that made the curtain to the shower and stepped in. His eyes were closed while he was washing his hair, and he didn't notice her for a moment. She studied his body; very muscular, agile-looking, he wasn't as large a man as Han but he was well proportioned. He opened his eyes then and almost fell over in surprise. She laughed and grabbed his arm to steady him.
"I wasn't expecting you yet," he explained, clearly embarrassed. "I wanted to be clean for you."
"Let me help you," she offered and took the soap from the shelf. She lathered her hands and, starting from his neck, began to run her hands down his chest and arms, using long gentle strokes. He was trembling and she could tell he was shy about his swiftly growing erection.
"I've never showered with anyone before," he said with a nervous laugh.
I know, she thought, but she just smiled up at him.
"I mean, I've been with women before," he continued, "but I've never been with a Courtesan...I've never even seen one before. You women are legendary. I've even heard people talking about you in other parts of the galaxy." He paused as she soaped his stomach and back. "That feels great. Is it really true, that you know exactly how to be the perfect lover to every man you're with?"
Natanya ran her soapy hands over his penis, then gently stroked his balls. "What do you think?" she asked. Wedge didn't answer; he was breathing hard and holding on to the side of the shower for support. She pressed her mouth to his and he returned the kiss passionately, moaning under his breath.
Later, when they were done, they sat up together on the floor of the shower, smiling at each other, and Natanya dried him off. He put on his clean clothes, leggings and tunic for sleeping, and he said to her as she watched him, "I don't know what to say - you were wonderful."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"Oh, yes," he replied, and took her by the shoulders, kissing her gently. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she said, and he grinned back at her as he returned to his room. She knew he would sleep very soon; she used a technique that made that happen. Natanya's traveling clothes were still in the changing room, so she dried herself off and put on her costume. She packed the white gown in her bag and brushed out her damp dark hair; she put her glasses on. Then she opened the door to the sitting room.
"Are you done?" asked the mediator. The guard was still asleep.
"Just a minute," Natanya answered, and put her bag down. She looked over at the third bedroom door, showing a thin band of dim light at the top and bottom. She hesitated for a minute, and finally decided. She walked over to the door and knocked softly. At the "Come in," she opened the door and stood in the doorway.
He was lying on the bed, reading a large book by a lantern, and it took a moment before he looked up. He was built like Wedge, probably around twenty-five or so, with shaggy light brown hair and blue eyes. There was a sensitivity to his face that moved her, a hurt that was close to the surface. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to look into his eyes. She was almost afraid to think of it. His face grew cold as he realized it was her.
"I told Han I wasn't interested," he said shortly.
"I know," Natanya said. "I was just wondering if I could talk with you for a few minutes." Her longing to be near him was so strong she couldn't imagine he didn't feel it.
He sighed and closed his book. "All right. You can sit down."
Natanya swept her way in, choosing the straight back chair in the corner of the room. She settled her skirts around her and studied him as best she could with her glasses on.
"What's your name?" she asked him.
"Luke. Luke Skywalker." He turned around to face her. "What's yours?"
"Natanya." She noted that he asked her name, where Wedge and Han had not.
He stared at her. "How can you do this?"
"How can I do what?"
"You know...be that way with Han, then Wedge right after. I don't understand how you can do that."
She smiled gently and shrugged. "It's what I do. I've been doing it for years. Haven't you ever heard of a Courtesan?"
"Han and Wedge tried to explain it, but all I understand is that they pay you money to be with them."
Natanya thought. She spoke carefully, trying not to offend him. "Well, here on Corellia, Courtesans are an ancient tradition. It's an honor to be a member of the house. We're chosen when we're young, and we take care of each other...it's like a family."
"But men come to your house and they pay you to be with you. And you have to do it?"
"I don't have to do anything I don't want to. I pick which men I want. And yes, they pay, quite a bit."
Luke said, with obvious skepticism. "Han said you were expensive because you're supposed to be very good."
"We are very good, because we're empathic. We know what a man wants without his telling us. They look for that ability in young girls - that's how they determine who can become a member of the house."
"But it's all still fake, isn't it? No matter how good you are, or how much you know about them, you don't really feel anything for any of these men, do you? And they don't really feel anything for you."
"No, but creating an emotional bond through sex isn't our goal."
He frowned, trying to understand. "Shouldn't it be?"
"Not necessarily; at least, not for me." Natanya had never been ashamed of who she was, but under his scrutiny, she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Being in Luke's presence seemed to generate thoughts and feelings in her she wasn't accustomed to.
Luke shook his head. "But don't you want to marry? Or have a family?"
Natanya smiled. "No...why would I want that?"
"Well, don't Courtesans ever fall in love?"
Natanya's smile faded. She couldn't tell if he knew, or was just curious. "It happens. Once in a great while."
"Well, what do you do then?"
She looked at him helplessly. She couldn't answer - she didn't trust her voice, but Luke didn't persist. She knew he was sensing her feelings, and his face softened slightly. Thankfully he changed the subject.
"How did you know I'm a Jedi?"
She let her breath out and steadied her voice. "I could tell right away, almost as soon as I walked into the cantina. Your presence is very powerful to me."
"But how would you even know what a Jedi is? There haven't been any for almost thirty years...and you're how old...twenty-five...thirty?"
"I'm much older than I look - my people live very long lives, and we age slowly. I knew several Jedi many years ago. I felt the same...I guess you can call it energy...from you as I did from them.
Her words appeared to agitate him. "Yeah, well, you're looking at the last one," he spat out. "The last Jedi."
"No," she said fervently, shaking her head. "You're the first one."
There was a silence as he sighed at her words. "Yes. Isn't that wonderful. It now rests on my shoulders, the entire future of the Jedi Knights. I have no master - I'm not even a master myself. I have one student - my sister. I don't even know where to start."
"Well, how did you become a Jedi?"
Luke sighed again and began his story, starting with buying the droids on Tatooine. When he reached the part about meeting Ben Kenobi, Natanya burst out, "Obi-Wan?"
"Yes," Luke said, astonished. "Did you know him?"
"Yes I did," she said, "Is he still alive?"
"No," Luke replied, with pain in his voice, and he continued his story about meeting Han and Leia and told her how Ben was killed. "How did you know him?"
Natanya felt her heart pounding. "His master was a good friend of mine."
"His master?"
Natanya found the next words difficult to get out. "Obi-Wan was Padawan to a Jedi Master named Qui-Gon Jinn." She almost choked - she hadn't said his name in years.
Luke leaned forward to hear her better. "And Qui-Gon was a friend of yours?"
She nodded.
Luke asked softly, "And you loved him?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"What happened to him?"
"He was killed by a Sith Lord."
Luke sat back up. "Darth Vader?"
"No, no...that was before Darth Vader. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were in a battle with the Sith Lord, and he killed Qui-Gon. Then Obi-Wan killed the Sith." Natanya would never forget the day when the transmission came in from Obi-Wan to tell her what had happened. The other Courtesans had to sedate her and put her in bed; it took days before she could bear to be conscious, and months before she could even look at another man.
"What happened after that?" Luke asked.
"Obi-Wan became a Jedi Knight and took on his own Padawan." She finally made the connection and looked up at Luke. "Anakin Skywalker."
"My father," he said.
"Yes," she replied in surprise.
"Well, I guess I should tell you the rest of my story then," Luke said, and continued until the victory at the battle of Endor, which had only taken place a few months before. It was very late when he was done, and Luke and Natanya sat silently, both processing the information in their minds. Natanya no longer felt resentment and anger from him; more like exhaustion and melancholy.
Suddenly he asked her, "Why do you wear those glasses?"
"They help keep out information that I don't want."
"What do you mean?"
"Because of my empathy...Qui-Gon used to say that the Force is strong in me...I can almost read minds when I look into someone's eyes. The glasses keep me from doing that."
Luke leaned closer. "Please take them off."
Natanya slowly lifted them off and focused her black eyes into his warm blue ones. She had to struggle to keep tears from spilling out; she could feel his pain, his losses, his worries, his kindness, the new-found power he was learning to use, and how strong the Force was inside him. She hadn't felt anything like it since Qui-Gon.
He was looking just as intently back at her until he finally said softly, "I've never really been with a woman before."
She started to tremble. "Would you like to be with me?"
"Yes," he whispered.
She rose slowly from the chair and sat down on the small bed, which was covered with a rough blanket. He sat up, watching her while she ran a finger around the shape of his face, carefully touching his eyes, nose and mouth, down his neck and across his shoulder. She touched her lips gently to his, feeling their softness and rubbed her lips against his before kissing him. He was warm and musky; he smelled of dust, of smoke from the cantina - the scent was intoxicating to her. They kissed for what might have been seconds, or hours, then Natanya moved her tongue into his mouth, and he took it, intertwining it with his own. His arms wrapped around her, and she released her mouth from his, running her tongue over his earlobe, the down his neck. She was trying very hard to take it slow with him, but her desire for him was so strong...she wasn't sure how she would be able to contain herself. This was nothing like the other men she had been with, except one, but this was almost sweeter, after her years of sadness. She ran her hands down his body, over his strong chest and stomach, but she stopped there, to give him some sense of control. She reached up and began to unfasten his tunic, but he caught her hands and whispered, "You first."
Natanya backed away from him on the bed and unlaced the front of the dark blue dress, sliding the shoulders of the dress down over her arms. She heard him inhale as he saw her breasts, and before she could continue undressing, he reached out to stroke the sides of her breasts and then caress her already erect nipples. His touch sent waves of pleasure through her, and she could feel herself getting moist, opening up for him. She leaned over to kiss him while he explored; his fingers were gentle, almost wary, until the increasing passion of her kisses told him that she liked what he was doing. "So soft," he murmured, "so soft."
She stood up and unfastened the waist and skirt of the dress. He lay back and watched as she slid off her boots, then her stockings and undergarments, until she was naked. Her smooth body glowed in the lantern light. Luke rose and pulled her into his arms, and ran his hands up and down her back and hips and through her long hair while they kissed. He let her move her hands down to his leggings, untying the belt and sash and reaching in to touch his stiff member. He moaned quietly in her ear and ran slow kisses along her neck and shoulder. She stroked him with a gentle rhythm that grew more intense as she felt him respond - knowing she was responsible for giving him such pleasure thrilled her immensely. Slowing down her strokes to prevent his climax, she reached up again to unbutton his tunic, and this time he let her. She nearly swooned, running her hands over his strong torso. His body felt wonderful against hers - firm and warm - and she felt like she had known him forever.
Luke laid her down on the bed, stroking her breasts and stomach. He leaned over her and touched one nipple with his tongue, which sent a surge of pleasure through her body. He continued caressing her breast with his tongue, then moved to the other one; she ran her fingers through his hair while her body responded to his touch. He lifted up his head to watch her reaction and smiled at her. He shifted his attention to her legs, stroking her inner thighs and then moving his hand up between her legs. His breath caught as he stroked her, feeling how he had excited her, how hot and wet she was there. He had made her body so sensitive that his slightest touch forced a soft cry of pleasure from her mouth. As he moved his fingers over her mound and into her slit, he found the exact spot that made her tingle all over. Her breath was fast and shallow, but when she was almost ready to climax, she sat up, wanting him to share it with her. She took his hand to help him up and slid off his leggings and boots. He then became almost shy, standing there naked, watching her study him. He was beautiful, strong and lean, his eyes dark in the glow of the lantern, glints of light in his hair. She ran her hands down his arms and intertwined her fingers with his, leaning up to kiss his mouth. She then sank to her knees in front of him and ran her tongue along the crease just above his thigh, next to his penis; then she drew his firm member into her mouth, first licking carefully, then pulling on him with longer strokes. She felt his body yielding to her, one of his hands on her shoulder and one laced in her hair, and when she felt he was close to release, she withdrew him from her mouth and stood up.
Natanya pulled him down to the bed, laying him down on his back and lay next to him, her head propped up on her elbow so she could look down at him. She traced her fingers around his face, gazing into his eyes. She wanted to know what he was feeling, and the surge of emotions that emerged from him astounded her: desire, hope, happiness...even love. She wanted to tell him what he meant to her; that even though she only met him that night, she knew him, she loved him, she had been waiting for him, she would give up any other man to be with him. She wanted to be worthy of him. But no words would come out; her throat was choked with tears. Instead, she lay down beside him and pulled him on top of her. He entered her easily, locking his eyes with hers. He moved slowly, up and down, while she moved her hips beneath him, in perfect rhythm together. She wrapped her legs around him as he moved faster. His breathing became quick and shallow, and as she felt her orgasm begin to build, he called out, closing his eyes and holding her tightly to him. She closed her eyes to see the bright splash of colors in her mind as the waves of pleasure began, crashing over her like an ocean. She cried out his name, and then the tears were finally released.
Luke held her close, not speaking, then carefully withdrew himself, still holding on to her. "Why are you crying?" he asked, with concern in his voice.
She shook her head, and he gently wiped the tears from her face and brushed back her hair. "I don't know what to say," he said finally. "That was so wonderful...I wish I had the words to tell you." But he knew she didn't need his words. He looked down into her eyes; she saw tenderness and caring and contentment. She smiled at him and pulled the blanket over them while they lay there in the lantern light, wrapped in each other's arms.
"I can't believe how tired I am," he said, yawning. She knew how tired he was; she had made sure he would sleep. "You'll be here when I wake up, won't you?" he mumbled, but he fell asleep before she could answer.
Natanya climbed out of bed and picked up her clothes. As she fastened her dress around her, the tears started again, and she couldn't seem to stop them. She found her glasses and put them on. She blew out the lantern and opened the door. The mediator was now dozing, but the guard was sitting up, and Natanya got her bag from the changing room. The guard roused the mediator, who closed her book and stood up, stretching. Natanya opened the door to the hall, and as the guard got a closer look at her, he exclaimed, "What happened? Did they hurt you?" and he took out his blaster.
Natanya shook her head, the tears still silently flowing.
The mediator studied her. "No, they didn't hurt you," she said scornfully. "You love him, don't you?"
Natanya said sorrowfully as she wept, "He was so tender and beautiful..."
The mediator sighed. "Let's go. The transport's waiting."