"What do you think?" asked the mediator.
"I don't know," Natanya replied. "These things are so boring. The only one here slightly entertaining is the artist, and he's not even human."
"Yes," the mediator replied. "It's a fine exhibit, but too many political people. I wish it could be a better mix for you, but these people do have money."
Sasha turned around from the man she was talking to and nodded once to the mediator, who set her drink down and walked over to the couple. Natanya found a small couch to sit down on alone. She had wanted to meet someone tonight, but not with this crowd - diplomats and ambassadors and senators. It was a nice gathering, but with the same conversations she had heard many times before. Political processes were of no interest to her, and she longed for something different. Tatiana, she noticed, felt otherwise. She was chatting happily with the senator, and Natanya knew he would go home with her.
Cam sat down beside Natanya. Women from the house had been coming to his gallery for many years, and Cam enjoyed having them around. He handed her a drink. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," she said, smiling at his craggy blue face. She was fond of him. "A lot of government types here are you expecting anyone interesting?"
"I sent out a lot of invitations with the peace symposium going on, I'm expecting a lot more. It's still a little early yet."
Natanya nodded as looked toward the front doors where more people were coming in. A group of senators, an ambassador she recognized. Natanya was relieved; perhaps now she'd meet someone. The mediator was on her comlink calling the house for more women to come over. Cam knew who everyone was and described them as they entered.
"You might like him," Cam said, referring to a tall, dark-haired man in dark clothing, with a long dark blue cape. "He's an anthropologist from Alderaan, his name is Tor something. I'll find out for you. He made a lot of money from some artifacts he found on Hoth several years ago, and he's becoming fairly well known. Do you want me to introduce you?"
Natanya watched him talking to a senator. He had a pleasant face, she decided, he was laughing and talking and at least he would have something to discuss other than politics. She turned to look for Malya, who spotted her signal and came over.
"Natanya wants to meet him," Cam told the mediator, covertly pointing at the anthropologist. Malya nodded in approval and made her way over to the man; Natanya knew she would know how to discreetly introduce them.
Natanya continued scanning the crowd until the mediator appeared before her with the anthropologist beside her. She looked down, as was the custom, while the mediator introduced them. Tor sat on the couch next to hers and smiled at her, obviously intrigued. She smiled back with her practiced smile and listened politely while he told her of his anthropological accomplishments, his opinion of the exhibit, and what he thought of Corellian wine. He spoke well, and he had a good sense of humor, and Natanya actually laughed sincerely several times. Finally, he was silent, and knowing what he wanted to ask her, she gestured for Malya to join them. The mediator came over, smiling, and sat on the other side of the man, and she and Tor quietly discussed the terms of the agreement. He turned to Natanya. "Please excuse me there are several other people I need to talk to. I'll catch up with you before it's time to go."
She nodded, and he stood up and mingled with the crowd. Katarina wandered over to Natanya, who stood up to talk to her. "You got a good one," she said approvingly to Natanya.
"He's all right. At least he thinks he is." As they watched people milling around, Katarina made rude comments under her breath about the people she knew and some of their unusual preferences. Natanya started to giggle, covering her mouth with her hand; it wasn't proper for Courtesans to laugh in public, but Katarina enjoyed embarrassing her.
Suddenly, Natanya stopped laughing. A feeling came over her, like a mild tremor or an electric shock.
"Did you feel that?" she asked Katarina.
Katarina turned toward her. "Feel what?"
"That shaking."
"No are you all right?" Katarina lowered her small round glasses and studied her.
"I'm fine," Natanya replied, confused. She looked over at the entrance. There were a lot of people, but she could sense that shimmering feeling coming from one direction. An ambassador from Kalarba was talking with a man she had never seen before.
"Who is that?" she asked Katarina.
"I don't know," Katarina replied. She gestured to the mediator to join them.
Natanya couldn't take her eyes off the man with the ambassador. He was tall, with broad shoulders and long legs in high boots. Long brown hair tied back, beard, and a face that showed wisdom and experience. He was dressed in shades of tan and brown, with a sweeping cloak over his tunic and leggings. But it wasn't just how he looked. It was the self-possessed way he carried himself, and that powerful feeling he emitted.
"His name is Qui-Gon Jinn," said the mediator behind her. "He's a Jedi."
"A Jedi" repeated Natanya. "Do they all look like that?"
"Well, a lot of them dress like that. I assume they all look different."
Natanya watched him talking to Cam, who was taking the Jedi's robe to hang up. His face was calm, his gestures minimal but graceful. "I want to meet him."
"A Jedi? Why?"
Natanya turned to her in surprise. "Why not?"
Malya smiled. "I don't think you'd have too much success with that one."
"Don't they like women?"
"Well, I suppose they do, but they follow a certain code I don't think it includes dallying with Courtesans."
Natanya examined him as he rounded the exhibit. "Well, he is a man, isn't he?"
"Well, yes. But they're highly practiced in self-control. And Jedi don't have money. Besides, you're already taken tonight."
"Yes, but Natanya loves a challenge," laughed Katarina.
A slow smile spread on Natanya's face. "Yes, I do," she replied.
Malya spotted Tatiana's signal and stepped away from them to talk to Tatiana about her senator.
"I want to meet that ambassador," Katarina said. "I'll see you later." And she walked off with their typical slow, swaying walk in her full skirts. Natanya sat down on the couch and watched the Jedi as he mingled with the crowd. His body looked strong and agile; a weapon unfamiliar to her swung from his leather belt. He nodded politely to someone and bent slightly to speak to someone else. A shadow crossed her and she looked up to see Cam smiling at her.
"Katarina says you want to meet the Jedi."
"Yes," she said.
"I'll see what I can do," he told her and disappeared into the crowd. The other women had all met different men, and the party was in full swing. Malya was busy, conducting the negotiations. Natanya felt herself growing impatient. She didn't look for the Jedi, but she could feel him moving around the room; she had never wanted so badly to meet someone. She adjusted the skirts of her dark blue dress and ran her fingers through her long hair.
Finally Cam stopped by again. "I think I can get him here in a little while," he told her. "He has to make the rounds first."
She nodded, disappointed, and he sat down beside her. "Don't be upset if he's not interested," Cam said. "The Jedi aren't known for indulging themselves. There are a lot of other men here - isn't there someone else I can introduce you to?"
"No, I'm already taken tonight I just want to meet him." Cam nodded. "He's so beautiful," she continued. "I can't stop looking at him."
"They're interesting, those Jedi," Cam said. "I've met a few of them. They're very powerful but they act so unassuming. They're remarkable warriors, and I've heard they can even move things with their minds."
"I wonder if they're good lovers," she said, mostly to herself.
Cam burst out laughing. "I've never heard anything about that." He patted her hand. "I'd better walk around - I'll be back." He stood up, still chuckling, and left. Natanya watched as several of the other women left the gallery with their men, and wondered how long she would be sitting there. She caught the eye of the mediator, who sent her a glance of disapproval. Natanya should still be mingling, even though she was taken. She glared back.
That shimmering feeling hit her again, harder, and she looked up. There stood Cam, with the Jedi towering beside him. She immediately dropped her eyes.
"Qui-Gon Jinn," said Cam, "this is Natanya. Please sit down; I'll bring you both a drink." The Jedi sat down on the bench near Natanya's, scanned the room, and then turned his eyes on her. She was grateful for her glasses; his gaze was unwavering and intense. Cam returned with the drinks and quickly left. Natanya set her drink down and stilled her hands. She was trained to understand how to speak to any man she met, but this one was different - for the first time, she wasn't exactly sure how to begin. The Jedi moved his eyes deliberately from her winged headdress to her small tinted glasses to her long blue dress with its full skirts. Although he wasn't smiling, his expression suggested amusement.
"There are quite of few of you here tonight," he said, in a mild voice that gave her a shiver.
"Yes," she replied, "but only one of you. I've never seen a Jedi before."
"Well, I've never seen a Courtesan before."
Natanya sipped her drink. She didn't know what to say; the shimmering feeling he gave off confused her instincts and made it difficult for her to read him. He didn't seem to want to make idle conversation with her anyway. She studied him as his eyes scanned the room again. He didn't act restless, but rather as if he were trying to gather information. One strong hand held his glass, the other rested on his knee; Natanya couldn't help but wonder what those hands would feel like on her body. She waited patiently for his attention to turn to her again. He looked at her, and now she felt his scrutiny.
"What are the glasses for?" he asked, taking a swallow of his drink.
"I can read a man's soul with my eyes," she said.
His expression grew more amused. "Is that so."
"Yes," she said solemnly.
"Are the glasses for your protection, or mine?" She could tell he was trying not to laugh.
"Both," she replied, irritated by his depreciating tone. "Mostly mine."
"Let's see you try to read my soul," he dared her, a half smile forming on his lips.
Natanya lowered her glasses slightly and peered over them, but before she could reach his eyes, she exclaimed, "Oh! What is that?"
"What is what?" he asked, puzzled by her reaction.
"That sparkling" She could clearly see a gentle glow around him, golden and in motion. She leaned forward and ran her finger along it, tracing a path just outside the outline of his head and shoulders. The glow disappeared. She sat back, flustered.
"What did you see?" he asked skeptically.
"I don't know," she replied, never having seen anything like it.
"You were going to read my soul," he reminded her, obviously thinking she was making fun of him.
She didn't want to anymore, but she focused her black eyes on his clear blue ones. A rush of feelings hit her so fast she couldn't process them. His strength was the most prominent feeling, his piety the next. She sensed devotion, compassion, commitment, serenity, but with some conflict he was struggling with something. The depth of his soul was unbounded, and she felt as if she were falling into it; it was unlike any other person's she had ever examined. She fell back against the couch, trying to catch her breath. Then she noticed his face; it no longer held a bemused expression. He was staring at her, looking mystified.
He demanded in a whisper, "Who are you?"
Before she could contain her mind enough to answer him, she heard the mediator calling her name. She turned to Malya, who was standing nearby with the anthropologist. Natanya slid her glasses up and regained her poise. As she stood up, she looked at Qui-Gon, who had settled back on his couch; his finger stroked his moustache as his eyes followed her. Mindful of the mediator's presence, Natanya said correctly, "It was very nice to meet you, Qui-Gon Jinn. I hope we will meet again sometime," but he just looked at her as she turned and walked out the door with the anthropologist, her skirts swaying.
The peace symposium was to continue for several days, and the next evening Natanya boarded the transport with six other Courtesans, the mediator, and several guards for the short trip to the Corellian senator's palace. Senator Antos was a frequent visitor to the Courtesan house, and the women all liked him very much. His palace was really only a large house, but his parties were always fun and filled with a variety of people. The women were laughing when they arrived, all dressed alike in their public costumes but in different colors. The mediator entered the party first, followed by the Courtesans, with the guards behind them. The senator greeted the women and began to introduce them around. As Natanya received her hug and kiss, she again felt that sensation. She turned from the senator to the side of the room.
The Jedi was standing there, watching her.
He was tall enough that she could see him through the crowd. He was leaning with his back against the wall, his arms folded at his chest, talking calmly to a man standing beside him, but his eyes were on her. Natanya did what she always did first at parties; she followed Katarina to the bar and took a drink.
"He's here," she said to Katarina.
"Who?"
"That Jedi, from last night."
"Oh." Katarina took a long swallow of her drink. "What do you want with him? There are so many nice rich people here." She nodded and smiled at someone in the crowd.
"I don't know there's just something about him."
Katarina nudged her and whispered. "There's your anthropologist."
"Thanks." Natanya set down her glass and ducked out of the way to head to the back of the room before Tor could spot her.
"Natanya!" he called. She stopped, sighing, and turned around, putting on a smile. Tor held out his hands to her. "I was hoping I'd see you here. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed being with you last night."
"I'm glad you had a good time," she replied, trying not to show impatience in her voice.
"Yes, I was wondering if we could be together again tonight," he said with a hopeful look in his eyes, still holding her hands in his clammy grasp.
"Oh," She had to think fast. "I'm sorry, I can't tonight. I already have plans." She smiled pleasantly.
"I see," he replied, his face falling. He ran his finger over her palm in what he obviously thought was a seductive gesture. "It's just that I can't stop thinking about last night. I've never been with anyone like you before." He moved closer to her, backing her up against the wall. Anger rushed through her. She tilted her head so her mouth was close to his ear.
"You know I'd love to be with you," she murmured. "I can't imagine anything more wonderful! But we have a rule you can't be with the same woman two nights in a row. It wouldn't be fair of me to deprive the other women of experiencing the bliss of being with you." Of course there was no such rule, but his grip on her hands relaxed, and he nodded slowly. She continued: "You might want to meet Tatiana in particular. She's exceptionally beautiful."
Tor released her hands. "Yes thank you. I will find her." He turned and went back into the main room. Natanya let out her breath, glad to let Tatiana deal with him. He hadn't been that bad, the night before, but her mind had been far away; every touch from Tor made her wonder about the Jedi. Would his hands feel like this? Would his mouth touch me here? What would he be like, losing that formidable control? Tor was a pale shadow compared to Qui-Gon; she wasn't interested in repeating the experience.
She picked up another drink at the bar and followed the hallway to the back of the house, where there was another party room and a large outdoor patio. She slipped outside. Candles were burning under the clear night sky, a few people were quietly talking. Natanya took another deep breath and stood by the low stone wall, looking out over the city. She quickly finished her drink. This was very bad, avoiding men, her mind on a man who wouldn't have her. Natanya sighed, trying to will herself to go back inside, but she couldn't, knowing Qui-Gon was in there. She wanted to go home.
There was that feeling again. She didn't turn around; she knew he was there.
"Hello, Natanya." He was standing next to her, also looking out at the city. He was wearing his cloak, the hood down, and the breeze ruffled through his long hair.
"Hello," she replied. There was a pause while she tried to think of what to say to him.
"Who are you?" he asked, still not looking at her.
"What do you mean? I don't understand what you're asking me."
He was quiet for a moment, watching the blinking lights below. "Do you know what the Force is?"
"No," she replied.
"The Force is the energy that flows through all living things. It's part of everything we are it's what makes us alive." He paused, waiting for her response. She remained silent, wondering what his point was. "As a Jedi, I study it I learn how to use it, to listen to it. The Force is stronger in some people than in others. I can sense that." He turned to her. "The Force is strong in you."
"In me?" Natanya wasn't sure what he was saying.
"Yes have you ever felt you were different than the others? I talked to one of your friends last night after you left and she took off her glasses and looked at me the same way you did. She seemed very perceptive, but I didn't sense the Force in her like I do in you."
"I've always been different," Natanya said slowly. "I can tell a lot about someone by looking into their eyes - I can almost get inside someone's mind. I've been able to do that since I was small I just thought I was unusually empathic. That's why I was chosen to be a Courtesan; we're all at least a little empathic."
He hesitated, then said, "I'm sorry we didn't find you. We would have trained you as a Jedi."
"A Jedi!" She laughed at the image in her mind. "I couldn't be a Jedi."
His voice held a trace of sadness. "You could have made an excellent Jedi."
She caught his tone and replied, "I'm an excellent Courtesan."
"I suppose you are," he said, and turned back to look at the city. "How did that anthropologist work out for you?"
Natanya's mouth opened, but she was too indignant to answer. She turned to go back inside, but he said to her, "Please don't leave. I didn't mean to be rude I want to talk to you."
She shot him an angry glance "Talk to me about what? About what a pity it is that I'm not one of you? I don't have the luxury of taking care of the galaxy; I have to take care of myself."
He nodded, accepting her anger. She leaned back against the stone wall and bit her lip. She felt a lump in her throat.
"How long have you been doing this?" He gestured at her dress.
"Seven years."
"Do you like it?"
What kind of a question was that? "Of course - it's an honor to be a Courtesan."
He pondered her answer for a few moments and asked, "And how do you feel about the men?"
Natanya was becoming irritated at his questioning. "What do you mean?"
"The men. Do you like them, or care for them, or respect them, or enjoy them?" he asked patiently.
Natanya frowned. "I don't know; I guess so. I don't think about them."
Qui-Gon shook his head. "You're a beautiful young woman strong in the Force, obviously intelligent"
"I'm perfectly fine," she replied coldly. "How I live my life is none of your concern."
"Of course," he answered, not unkindly. Laughter filtered out from inside the house; it seemed far away.
"Don't you ever just want to be a man?" she asked him.
"What?" he asked.
"Don't you ever want to not be a Jedi, not trying to help everyone all the time?"
He stared at her. "No."
"I find that hard to believe," she replied.
"Being a Jedi is the biggest part of what I am," he said quietly.
"Not everyone wants to be saved," she informed him.
He turned to her. "I just wish things could be different for you."
She looked at him, then back at the city. The compassion in his voice hurt her. "Things can't be different for me," she said flatly.
He didn't answer. A warmth seemed to flow from him; Natanya could feel kindness and empathy in it. Her anger slowly faded. She put her hand on his strong arm and looked up at him.
"Please don't feel sorry for me; I don't."
A wave of electricity sped through her quickly from where she touched him. He turned and glanced down at her hand on his arm and then at her eyes behind the glasses. Her insides were churning, but she knew what she wanted to do. She said softly, "Would you like to come to my house with me tonight?"
He seemed genuinely surprised and was silent for a moment. Finally he said, "I don't have money for a Courtesan."
"I don't want any money," she replied gravely.
He studied her for a few moments, his eyes dark, then turned toward the opening in the wall that led to the path to the street. He looked back at her. She followed him, and they walked down the path together. Her transport driver was waiting next to the vehicle; Natanya told him she would walk home, and he nodded, his eyes on the Jedi. The night was clear and cool and bright with stars, and Natanya didn't feel a need to talk; apparently Qui-Gon didn't either. Her mind was moving quickly. What was she doing? She had never been with a man just because she wanted to before... She felt like some part of her had been asleep - and this was the man who would wake it up.
They soon approached the house, and Natanya led him around the back instead of using the main entrance on the street. The adobe house was walled to the street, with two courtyards inside, separated by a covered walkway; the front half was where the men visited, and the back was where the women lived. Natanya smiled warmly to the guard at the back entrance, and he slid open the big iron gate for her, watching Qui-Gon carefully. She punched in her code at the back door, and as the door opened, they entered, basking in the glow of the fire in the big main room. Sasha was sitting by the large fireplace with Yelena, giving her a sewing lesson. They both looked up at Natanya and gaped when they saw her guest. She said good night to them.
"Good night, Natanya," they echoed, staring, and she led Qui-Gon to the big stairway and upstairs, down the corridor, to the end where Natanya's rooms were. She opened the door and he followed her inside.
She had three rooms, a sitting room and bedroom and bathroom. She lit the lanterns in the sitting room, while Qui-Gon took off his cloak and hung it on a hook on the wall, then sat down on the small couch. Natanya opened a cabinet and asked, "Do you like Corellian wine?"
"Yes," he said, looking around. The room wasn't large, but it was snug, with colorful rugs and books and several wall hangings. Natanya poured the wine from a ceramic jug into two small matching cups and handed him one. "This is a little different; we make it here. But I like it."
The wine was strong and slightly sweet, with a bitter tang to it. He watched her drink hers and said, "I suppose I shouldn't ask how many men you've brought up here."
She finished her cup. "I've never brought a man up here."
"Never?" he said, startled.
"No. These are my private rooms. We entertain men in the front of the house."
"Then why did you bring me here?"
Natanya didn't answer; she just looked at him as she unpinned her headdress and took off her glasses.
He said softly, "Natanya we don't have to do anything tonight. We can just drink and talk if you'd like."
Her heart skipped a beat. "Is that what you'd like?"
He paused. "I would like it but I can't say I'd prefer it. I just don't want to take advantage of you."
She smiled at the idea. "Well, I would like to be with you," she replied, suddenly feeling shy. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
He looked up at her. "I'll trust that you know what you're doing."
She nodded and leaned over to him to look in his eyes - but she was startled to find nothing there. There was no sense of anything about him, as if he had somehow constructed a wall behind his eyes. Noticing her astonishment, he said, "I put my shields up."
"How did you do that?" she asked. She had never heard of such a thing.
"It's one of the things we learn as Jedi. We can't leave our thoughts open to just anyone."
"You left them open for me last night."
He smiled ruefully. "I didn't take your abilities seriously."
"Well," she said. "I need your shields down now. I need to know more about you."
"So you can please me?"
"Yes."
"Don't you know that from last night?"
"No I wasn't looking for that."
Qui-Gon shook his head. "Let's try it without your doing that."
Natanya stared at him for a moment, then said, "All right," she said, and went into the bedroom. She lit a few candles and looked in her wardrobe, trying to choose. She unfastened her dress and slid off her boots and stockings and undergarments, and then she slipped on a long sheer blue gown. She took out the pins that held her dark hair back and brushed the length of it. She looked in the mirror. It disconcerted her that she had to guess at this.
She went back into the sitting room, where Qui-Gon was refilling their wine cups. She liked having him in her room; he seemed to fit there. He glanced up at her briefly, and if he liked what she was wearing, she couldn't tell. She sat down beside him and drank again.
"So how do we start?" he asked.
She replied honestly, "I have no idea." She watched him drink; the small cup was lost in his large hands. He had such a nobility about him, as if he were descended from kings. There were no wasted movements; each one was careful and controlled. She grew anxious. How would she be able to please such a man? She had been with so many men, but this one was different. She wished she knew more about the Jedi in general - at least she would have a place to start. She finished her wine and stood up to set the cup down on the table by the lantern.
It suddenly occurred to her that she had no shields for her mind. She looked at him and he gave her an enigmatic smile. Did he know what she was thinking?
Walking behind him, she breathed in the scent of his skin and trembled. She took a deep breath before she slowly slid off the cord that bound his hair. As it fell free, she ran her fingers through it and felt him sigh. His eyes had closed. Her hands traveled down his neck, smoothing over his soft beard. Her body began to tingle in anticipation.
She wondered how long it had been since he had been with a woman; she had wanted to find that out before she started. As she slid her hands hesitantly under his layers of tunics, stroking his well-defined chest, his nipples hardened, and the change in his breathing told her that he liked her touch. Inhaling the scent of incense in his hair, she gently placed a kiss on his neck, and then another one, smiling at the soft gasp she heard from him.
Natanya slowly drew her hands out from his tunics and moved to the front of the couch. Qui-Gon studied her, his eyes dark and intense as they moved down her body. He reached out his hand and pulled her down to the couch; holding her chin in one large hand, he kissed her. His lips were soft and hot on hers, but he kept his kisses teasingly gentle, and she desperately wanted to fling him down on the floor and take him right then. Only the firm grip he had on her stopped her. His long hair swung against her face and she laced her fingers through it. She felt herself weakening, tasting the sweetness of the wine on his lips, feeling his velvety tongue exploring her mouth. His breath quickened. She tried to slide her hand down to the hardness she could feel pressing insistently against her, but he pushed her hand away from him and quickly stood up. Natanya's heart fell - what had she done?
"I want you to do something else first," he said, his voice rough. He reached over to his cloak on the hook and handed it to her. "Take off your gown and put this on."
Natanya took it from him reluctantly and slowly returned to her bedroom. She slid off the blue gown and stepped out of it and wrapped the soft woolen cloak around her. It was much too big: what was floor length for him pooled onto the ground around her feet, the sleeves reached well past her hands. The cloth was scratchy on her sensitive skin, but that only excited her more. She pulled the hood up to her head and stepped into the sitting room. He walked slowly over to her as she entered, staring at her intently. He bent down to find her face in the hood and kissed her mouth again and again, his tongue tracing her lips. What fantasy of his was she acting out?
He backed away from her and unhooked his leather belt and laid it on the couch. Slowly, watching her, he unwound the long tan-colored sash from around his waist. Then came the vest, then a long-sleeved tunic, then a short-sleeved tunic. Then his bare chest and well-fitting brown leggings, where she could clearly see the bulge of his erection and his powerful legs. Despite her anxiety, she sighed with joy at the sight of him. He was so strong and vital; the scars on his body only made him seem more heroic.
Suddenly he picked her up roughly and carried her into the bedroom, his eyes burning into hers, and tossed her purposefully on the bed. She lay still expectantly, while he stretched out beside her, his golden body bathed in the flickering light of the candles. He languidly unwrapped her, revealing her quivering body slowly. As he folded back the cloak, his mouth followed, snaking his tongue down her neck, placing soft kisses on her shoulders. "You're lovely," he whispered. She sighed with pleasure. He kissed each nipple, forcing her breath to come out fast and hard as he teased them into almost painful stiffness.
His warm, moist mouth glided down to her stomach and hips, his soft beard brushing her skin, and then he tenderly kissed her curls, lingering there for a moment. She moaned with rapture. Of all the men she had been with, none of them had ever made her feel like this - she was afraid and enthralled at the same time. Qui-Gon ran his finger from the sensitive inside of her thigh to her ankle. She thought she would melt right into the bed. She tried sit up, to reach out for him, but she couldn't seem to move.
"No," he said, shaking his head at her. She began to feel a mild tingling sensation in the back of her mind, reaching inside her thoughts. Then she was frightened - she had never felt so helpless. Now, too late, she realized that she wasn't in control, she had never been in control; he had taken charge and she had to follow his lead. She started to fight him, but he was on top of her now.
Their mouths connected and groaning, he enveloped her, exploring her mouth with his tongue, sending ribbons of heat down her body. She felt like she was drowning. His insistent kisses suddenly slowed down, and as his mouth caressed hers sensuously she felt her resistance falter and she was returning his kisses again. Raising his head, he gazed at her, smoothing her hair back from her face.
::Don't be afraid:: she felt him say. ::I won't hurt you::
Natanya nodded and then realized he hadn't said anything aloud. Qui-Gon smiled as he acknowledged her confusion. He trailed her neck and throat with nips and bites. Her body arched up to his touch as he licked the curve of her breasts and her nipples, caressing one with his tongue, then the other one, moving back and forth with an almost delicate touch. She was so wet and open for him; her need for him was agonizing. There was nothing else in existence - no other men, no obligations, no having to be someone she wasn't just his skillful mouth and hands and body. She reached to touch him, but he grabbed her hand and held it down firmly while he suckled at her breasts. She cried out softly.
Sliding his free hand down between her legs, he parted her lips with sensitive fingers, and he sighed with pleasure as he felt how he had excited her. She squirmed, not wanting him to know how he was affecting her, but knowing she had no choice. He ran his fingers gently up and down and around her silky wet opening, and then he covered her with his palm and stroked her, his hand pressing up against her sensitive bud with exactly the right rhythm. Her outstretched arms gripped the bed frantically. Waves of pleasure begin to wash over her, but she didn't want to climax without him inside her; a man had never done this before.
"No," she pleaded. She couldn't bear to be this exposed. "I want to share it with you."
::No::
Her body arched up to his hand, her eyes closed. His fingers found the sweet spot that made her nearly faint and he fondled her there.
::Look at me:: he commanded.
She shook her head.
::Look at me:: The voice in her head was harsh. Unwillingly she opened her eyes.
His eyes were very dark and clear, burning into hers, and as she looked into them her heart leaped at what she felt. She saw what she had sensed from him the night before, but now he was responding to her like no one else ever had. She couldn't speak; she could barely breathe. His body gleamed in the candlelight, his long hair casting the planes of his face into shadows. It was too much - suddenly she heard herself cry out with pleasure, her body rocking. Her head fell back on the pillow, her eyes flew shut; she couldn't stop crying out. He kept a firm hold on her with that tantalizing rhythm, and when it was over, he pulled her to him, kissing her neck and shoulders. ::Beautiful:: he sent to her mind, ::so beautiful::
Natanya buried her face in his neck, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through her, until her body relaxed. She was afraid to look at him - what would he see? When her eyes finally met his, she saw pleasure and desire and affection in his face. He took her hand and kissed each finger, his hair falling about his face.
She sat up finally and shook the cloak off her arms. He watched her, propped up on one elbow, while she slowly unbuckled his boots and slid them off, one by one.
"You don't need to do anything for me," he said quietly. "I just wanted to please you."
Natanya knelt beside him. "Well, that's very nice," she replied, "but I'm afraid it's not enough." She pushed him gently down so he lay flat on the bed, his hair spread out on the pillow. "It's time for you to stop taking care of everyone else."
The probing tingling in her mind was still there as she ran her hands down his shoulders and chest, and over his stomach. She untied his leggings, pulling them down to release his straining erection. His hips moved as she touched him with one slim finger, running it down the head of his smooth cock, spiraling around it, and down to teasingly massage his sac. He moaned, his eyes closed. She explored him lightly with her fingers, and as she neared the tip, it vibrated slightly for her, and a drop of wetness emerged.
That was all she needed. She leaned over and took his cock in her mouth, first the tip, licking and sucking, then the shaft, and she pulled harder with her mouth as she felt his body begin to tremble. Her hands traveled over his tight waist and strong legs, marveling at his beauty. One of his hands held her head firm; the other tightly gripped her shoulder. She heard his labored breathing and sighed, longing for him inside her so much she couldn't bear it.
"Natanya," he murmured with effort.
She looked up.
"You don't have to," he whispered.
"Let me," she replied, her black eyes piercing into his. She felt him hesitating and sheathed him in her mouth again, sliding him in and out smoothly. She tasted a bit of his salty-sweet fluid, and she stopped, not ready to give him release yet. Pressing her mouth to the inside of his muscular thigh, she swirled her tongue up to his sac and along the sensitive underside of his cock. He groaned and entwined his hand in her long hair.
She stopped suddenly and thought to herself, ::I will have you::
::Yes:: was the reply in her mind. She looked at Qui-Gon; his eyes were still closed and his breath was shallow. She smiled with delight at this new-found connection. Sitting up, she gazed down at his magnificent body, long and powerful, his proud erection waiting for her. She caught his nipple in her mouth, lightly twirling it with her tongue, and then the other one, excited by the soft moans coming from him. He tried to sit up, but she held his hands down, and although he could have easily overcome her grasp, he lay still, finally yielding himself to her.
Her hand reached down for his swollen cock and she drew her hand up and down it, squeezing as did, fingering the tip. She planted a kiss on his mouth and he responded hungrily, sucking on her lower lip and pushing his tongue greedily into her mouth. Their tongues intertwined as she continued to stroke him, and his hands were suddenly everywhere. His mouth caressed her breasts, a large finger probed her wet opening, dancing over the spot that made her tremble. Her hands tangled in his hair; soft moans escaped from her lips.
"Natanya," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt you."
"What do you mean?" she murmured.
"You're so small" he continued. "I might hurt you."
She smiled. She'd had big men before; she wasn't afraid, but she knew that wasn't what he was really worried about. "Stop it," she ordered. "Just enjoy it - you won't hurt me."
She quickly straddled him, pushing him down. Her body easily accepted his throbbing length, and as she twisted her hips on his, their bodies arched together in pleasure. She rode him hard, her hips grinding into his while he gripped her rear, pulling her as close as he could. Her breasts pushed into his powerful chest. Qui-Gon had buried his face in her neck and was murmuring her name over and over. She had never felt so alive. Her body began to pulsate, and then his with hers, and then he shouted, shooting his hot fluid into her, and she cried out, holding on to him tightly as her mind filled with shining gold light.
When Natanya was able to open her eyes, she saw that the light wasn't just in her mind. A golden glow surrounded him as she pushed himself up and gazed down at him. She reached out with her finger to touch it, and it disappeared.
She lay down on him and he stroked her back lovingly. Finally, she sat up, gazing down at his strong, serene face; he smiled gently at her and took her hand and kissed it. She slid off him, running kisses down his chest, her hands stroking his stomach and thighs. Stretching out next to him, she gazed into his warm blue eyes. Qui-Gon brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her, softly, over and over. He settled her back against his chest, his arms holding her tightly against him. They slept.
Natanya heard the soft tapping in the back of her mind for a while before she woke up. Sunlight was streaming in through the window, and she couldn't remember ever feeling this relaxed and content. She sat up and remembered with amazement the night before - and there was Qui-Gon, still sleeping beside her, looking peaceful and rested.
She gazed down at him, taking in his long hair spread out on her pillow; the broad chest rising with each deep breath; the long legs stretched out the length of her bed. She had never woken up beside a man before. A smile spread on her face as an unfamiliar warmth filled her body. She ran a finger over his forehead and down his nose and mouth, relishing the shape of his face, the creases around his eyes and on his forehead. She could easily worship him. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, and then heard the tapping again. She quietly slid out of the bed and quickly slipped on the blue gown that was lying on the floor and went into her sitting room and opened the door to the hall.
Katarina was there, in leggings and shirt and work boots, her long brown hair tied back. "Did you forget? You said you'd work in the garden with me this morning."
"Oh! I'm sorry I completely forgot," Natanya answered, running her fingers through her hair.
"Are you all right? We lost you at the partly last night, and the guard said you came in early, through the back door. Didn't you want to meet anyone?"
"I'm fine," Natanya answered absently, too late following Katarina's eyes to the pile of clothing on the couch. Katarina looked again at Natanya.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing." Natanya couldn't meet Katarina's eyes.
"Do you have a man in here?"
"Shhh," Natanya whispered. "Yes."
Realization dawned on Katarina's face. "Is it that Jedi?"
"Yes."
"And you brought him up here? Without paying?"
"Yes," Natanya replied defensively, finally looking at Katarina.
"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed.
"Katarina this is none of your business."
"Why would you do such a thing?"
Natanya was quiet. Then, "I-"
Katarina interrupted her. "No. I don't want to hear it. I don't. Please don't do this."
Natanya looked at her helplessly. "I know what I'm doing."
"I don't think you do," Katarina began harshly, then tears started to form in her eyes. She put her arms around Natanya's small form and hugged her close. "Please be careful. Please. I don't think you know what you're getting into." She released her and looked again at the clothing on the couch. "I guess you won't be gardening this morning."
"No," Natanya said. "But I'll be out later."
Katarina nodded, with a pained look in her eyes, and left; Natanya closed the door. She walked back to the bedroom, where Qui-Gon had awakened, and was sitting perfectly still on the bed, nude, his eyes closed, apparently meditating or praying, she couldn't tell which. His face had such an expression of serenity about it - he was so beautiful it almost hurt Natanya to look at him. She slipped on her robe over the blue gown and quietly went out to the corridor and down the steps to the kitchen. It was empty, breakfast being long over. She heated water for tea and set out a tray with bread, fruit, cheese, and honey. When the water boiled, she filled the teapot and carried the tray upstairs. Qui-Gon was standing in the sitting room, wearing his leggings, and studying a small tapestry on the wall. It was a series of blues and greens and purples interwoven, with shots of gold throughout. He turned to her with a smile.
"Good morning."
"Good morning." Natanya smiled back and set the tray on the table by the window. He had opened it and a fresh breeze was coming in. She liked the way he looked in her room, how he so quickly seemed to belong there. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead and her cheeks and her mouth. She felt herself getting weak as she returned his kisses. Finally she pulled away and gestured for him to sit down and poured the tea. "I like
that," he said, helping himself to the bread and nodding toward the tapestry. "Where is it from?"
"I made it," she told him, peeling a piece of fruit.
He stared at it for a moment, then looked back at her. She smiled at him, enjoying his surprise. His shields were down, and every time she looked at him she read more about him.
"What's a Padawan?" she asked.
"What?" he said, startled.
"You're thinking about your Padawan. What is a Padawan?"
He grinned at her. "It's not polite to read someone's mind without their permission."
"I had no idea there were rules about it," she replied, smiling back. "I always use it to my advantage."
He leaned over and kissed her and said, "A Padawan is a Jedi apprentice. Obi-Wan is usually with me, but while I'm here he was sent to Coruscant, to take care of some things on his own."
"You're worried about him."
"I always worry about him. He is my responsibility." As they ate, told her about how Obi-Wan became his Padawan and some of the places they had been together and things they had seen. She was beginning to understand the nature of the life of a Jedi, and she found it fascinating. She especially loved the look in his eyes as he spoke of it.
Suddenly he asked, "Am I causing you trouble?"
"What do you mean?"
"I heard you talking to someone this morning. She was upset."
She waved her hand. "Oh you're not causing trouble. I am."
"I know I'm not supposed to be here," he stated, taking a sip of his tea.
"No," she replied. "I can have anyone I want in here. There aren't any rules about it."
He persisted. "But men don't come up here."
"Well, this part of the house is for us to get away from men. But Katarina was more concerned about your not paying me."
"Can't you be with a man without his paying?" he asked.
"Yes; but Courtesans just don't do that. It's not a good precedent to set. And there's other reasons Katarina thinks I might" her voice trailed off.
"What?" Qui-Gon asked gently.
"Get more" She took a deep breath. "More attached to you than is good for me. Men are our business - we're not supposed to get involved with them."
Qui-Gon reached out and took her hand. "I shouldn't get attached, either. But I've never met anyone like you. You make me feel" He paused. "I like it here, in this room, with you." That strange warmth rushed through her again.
He ran his hand along her face, and she kissed it when it reached her mouth. He trembled when her tongue touched his fingers, and he pulled her into his lap, discarding her robe. She slid her arms around him and kissed him, darting her tongue into his mouth - he captured it with his tongue and they tasted each other.
Qui-Gon slid down one strap of her gown and pulled away from her kiss to reach the pot of honey on the table. He dipped his finger in the honey and delicately stroked it onto her nipple. She shivered with the sensation, and then he tenderly licked if off while she gasped with pleasure. Her body was on fire; the fluid between her legs was already soaking through her gown.
Natanya pushed herself off his lap and helped him stand, and she untied his leggings and slipped them down and off his legs. He was already fully erect, beautiful in his masculinity. He pulled her to him, roughly, and kissed her deeply, sliding her gown up so he could stroke her rear. She couldn't bear it - she threw her head back, closing her eyes, and he kissed her neck hungrily. He slipped one hand to her swollen, wet cleft and massaged her, pulsing waves of pleasure through her body.
Natanya felt a longing so intense she could hardly bear it. Qui-Gon pulled her back into the bedroom and onto the bed, licking her stomach and moving down to her mound. He spread her legs apart and ran his tongue along her inner thigh, almost to her cleft; then he did the same on her other thigh, causing another gush of fluid from inside her. She heard him laugh softly and then his tongue slid into her cleft, stroking her lips and licking around her slick opening. She wound her fingers tightly in his hair and moaned, feeling like she would faint at any moment.
"Qui-Gon," she implored, "please, please."
He looked up at her, his eyes intense and wild, and his tongue kept moving, now languidly, while he watched her.
"Please," she said again. "I'm begging you please."
Qui-Gon took one more stroke and then stood up, his magnificent cock fully erect, and studied her hungrily. He knelt on the bed, placing himself at her opening, lightly brushing her with it.
"Please," she said, almost weeping.
Qui-Gon spread her legs apart and urgently entered her. He pumped in and out, slick with her wetness, and she moaned with rapture. He pushed himself in her then, thrusting powerfully, filling her up completely. She gave a little scream and wrapped her legs around him and grabbed his firm buttocks, pulling him in to her as hard as she could. She couldn't get him close enough. He moved in and out of her, pounding against her body. Her hips twisted beneath him, stronger and faster; she felt her climax building higher and higher until she thought she would die. He moaned and captured her lips with his, shuddering while waves of pleasure washed over them. His tongue thrust in her mouth with the same rhythm as his hips. She cried out as her senses exploded with rapture.
They lay together, their bodies entwined. He slowly ran his hand up and down her back and hip; she stretched luxuriously against him. Her hand traveled lightly over his powerful chest and stomach, relishing the smoothness, the light dusting of brown hair. She couldn't bear to move, but she knew they both had work to do. Finally she sat up, and with effort, rose and held out her hand. He got up and followed her into the bathroom where she drew a hot bath. They kissed until the water was ready, then stepped in together and rested there quietly, watching the water swirl around their tired bodies, and adding warm water as the bath cooled. He reached out his hand to touch hers.
"I'm leaving Corellia the day after tomorrow," he said finally. "I have to be at a reception tonight. Can I see you afterwards?"
"Yes," she said. Please, she thought.
"How do I find you?"
"Come to the back gate and tell the guard that I'm expecting you. I'm not going out tonight."
He nodded, and leaned over and kissed her. She laced her fingers in his long, wet hair and slipped her tongue in his mouth. He started to laugh.
"We can't - I have to meet with the ambassador soon!"
"Fine," she replied, smiling. "Wash yourself then." She handed him the soap and stepped out of the tub. She went into her bedroom and put on her gardening clothes, faded grey leggings and short-sleeved shirt and worn work boots; she brushed her dark hair and tied it back.
She returned to the bathroom to see him stepping out of the tub, water streaming down his muscular body, and she handed him a large towel. He dried himself, grinning at her clothing.
"What?" she asked.
"You look so different," he replied, watching her in the mirror as she combed out his hair.
"This is how I really look," she said.
"I like it," he said, smiling. He followed her into the sitting room, where his clothes still lay on the couch. She helped him get dressed, carefully wrapping the tunics around his body, winding the sash around his waist, fastening the thick leather belt. Qui-Gon looked so splendid in his Jedi robes, but she decided she preferred him naked.
"Thank you," he replied to her unspoken thought, smiling.
"I thought you weren't supposed to read my mind without my permission," she teased.
"I'm not but if you can read mine...it's only fair." He wrapped his arms around her tightly. He smelled cool and clean from his bath; his robes smelled vaguely of incense from the party the night before. She didn't want to let go, and she sensed he felt the same way. Finally they parted, and she opened the door to the corridor, leading him down the hall and downstairs to the back door. It was quiet; everyone was out doing their chores or entertaining in the front of the house.
At the back door, the guard opened the gate. Qui-Gon began to walk out, then he turned around and looked at her. He took her chin in his strong hand and kissed her tenderly, his mouth warm and soft. He turned and strode away; Natanya watched him until he rounded the corner. She patted the guard's arm and went back inside to attend to her chores.