Pucker Up

Posted on Wed Dec 21st, 2022 @ 11:56pm by Beya & Lyndon Zahn

Mission: Mission 16: Hysperia
Location: Marketplace, Hysperia
3218 words - 6.4 OF Standard Post Measure

"I'm sorry, I'm not quite following. Could you ask that again?"

It had taken a considerable amount of organising, which constituted a lot of sweet talking, and a rather long night applying a final coat of paint, but the little booth currently nestled in between the turkey-leg hut and a face-painting kiosk had turned out to be just the right dimensions to make the most of what wasn't really a designated trading plot. The two neighbouring business' had been dubious at first, which was understandable really given the nature of innovation and the courage it took to embrace it, but neither could argue that the newest addition to their retail precinct had affected clientele in any sort of negative way. If anything, the traffic had slowly increased as word had got around, though it was clear to any bemused onlooker that the booth's chief proprietor was struggling a little to get the concept of his business model across.

Lyndon smiled brightly.

"Ah yes, I see the confusion. No, the services offered here are fleeting in nature and do not in any way constitute a legally binding courtship arrangement."

He blinked, nonplussed. The huddle of women, at least six in total, exchanged glances that suggested they weren't altogether pleased with his response, but Lyndon was himself struggling to understand the confusion. A kiss for payment, a cheeky little hint of mischief, a brief titillation, for really a very good fee. It was meant to foster a sensation of goodwill and perhaps elevate adrenaline levels just a tad. What it was not meant to do, as far as all his research suggested, was lead to several propositions and, so far, one marriage proposal.

"The limitations of our services are outlined quite clearly on the board." He pointed to the chalkboard, where his sister's only concession to helping him at all provided penmanship that was actually legible. "Our rates differ depending on the nature of the kiss; hand, cheek, lips." There was a smudge that hadn't quite managed to erase the word 'other', though it took limited imagination to guess at why that hadn't lasted very long. Lyndon had been forced to confess he hadn't really thought it through; he'd been more keen to anticipate different cultural customs than to inadvertently advertise salacious alternatives.

Beya was having a great day at the market, sashaying along the various booths in a new outfit - a corset/bustier over a loose linen dress light enough for the outline of green skin to show through the white fabric. She had gotten a few widened eyes and disapproving murmurs of 'gypsy', but most of the attention had been distinctly appreciative, which she was enjoying. It had been awhile since she'd let her flirty side out since on the ship she tried to avoid being seen as a stereotype, and maybe that's why her eye went directly to a tiny booth with an unlikely offering chalked on its sign. "A credit for a kiss?" she asked teasingly, giving the proprietor a very frank once over. "Only a kiss?"

Lyndon, having managed his manners to the best of his extensive abilities long enough to see the six women off, was already mid-pinch-of-his-nose-bridge when the fresh inquiry arose. Somewhat defeated, he permitted a momentary stoop to his shoulders, punctuated by a resigned sigh, and promptly forgot everything he was about to say the moment his gaze settled on the new arrival.

Well then.

A slow, rejuvenated grin dominated his features. It was not, as many might like to accuse him of, due to any preconceived notions, nor did it have a great deal to do with any outwards appreciation of her appearance, though he'd be liberal enough with his praise if asked directly. The mere presence of another tourist, one who hopefully did not arrive with a head full of prudish nonsense, was boon enough. His personal experience with Orions was fleeting, for all they tended to thrive on Risa, but his experience was enough to gift him some hope that finally someone would understand that simple pleasures were not automatically bound by an assortment of contractual caveats.

"Well, judging by the response so far, I think I'd be thrown out of town for so boldly advertising anything more," he quipped.

A sly grin spread on Beya's face, especially on realizing the man running the booth was Risan. She'd been there before - short stops, but pleasant memories all the same, especially as Risians had such sane and healthy attitudes toward socializing. "Does that mean there are other services, just not ones you dare to advertise?" she teased. "Honestly, seeing how uptight some of these folks are, I'm surprised you could advertise simple kisses."

"Between the two of us, I'm not exactly sure I've been successful. Yet." The optimism radiated as a kind of charm, and certainly the reminder to face challenges head on saw Lyndon draw himself up from a stoop to square his shoulders. "It is generating a lot of interest though, so I'm sure it's just early days." An unguarded gaze regarded the emerald-skinned beauty for a moment before an easy grin, accompanied by a concessional side-bob to the head, saw the Risian consider her first question. "I would draw the line more in charging for those services. Takes half the fun out of it if it's suddenly paid employment."

"I suppose it could." She shrugged, and gave him a saucy grin. "But you chose kissing, and I assume you enjoy that work."

"Just trying to do my bit to spice up the atmosphere." An exaggerated humility was good natured in intent, and promptly followed by a pair of rakish eyebrows angled upwards. "There's certainly nothing wrong with combining business with pleasure if one takes care to tidy away potential misunderstandings." His eyes slid in the direction the last group had disappeared in. "Especially legally-binding ones."

"Legal-binding?" Beya laughed. Marriage was not the thing that immediately springs to her mind as a legal arrangement. "Surely no one thinks you'd be selling yourself to them for those prices? Besides, Hysperia is in the Federation. Even selling yourself is illegal, at least for more than a night."

In a manner that was easily indicative of a natural tendency, Lyndon continued to speak despite the fact that his brain was still scrambling to figure out exactly what the Orion had meant. Speak first, think later was less of a personal motto than it was a weary family's best attempt to summarise his chaos in one breath. "Well, if it's only for a night, that's more like renting oneself. Also not what this is supposed to be," he leaned out to look up at the painted sign that announced the stall's singular intent. "Perhaps the advertising could do with some adjustment."

"Limited engagement only?" Beya suggested, hands opening as though framing a theatre sign. That phrase always drew extra customers when they had a quest performer, and it had the benefit of making it plain that he wasn't available for long term contracts.

Lyndon squinted at her word choice and, in all honesty, only really picked up on her earlier confusion at about that point. It made sense; Hysperia had very little in common with his own culture and that was still at least broadly capable of the ideals espoused by the locals here, if a little wider in scope. He smiled to himself, having missed the company of people who weren't so quick to take offense to everything.

"You know," he ventured after a moment to allow deviousness to set in, "what I really need is to be able to offer some sort of variety. Not that I wish to admit defeat, my prices are more than reasonable for the quality I can assure." He offered a wink of his own. "But there is a small sliver of a chance that I may not be enticing enough to certain sub-sections of the population."

For all that she might not have picked up on references to kinky pair-bonding things like marriage and engagement, Beya was more than adept at grokking a business proposition (or any other kind for that matter). She smiled, looking Lyndon over. "I'd say you're fairly enticing," she replied with a wink. "But not everyone's tastes run to men." The observation was offered with a slight shrug, a 'what can do' acknowledgment that not everyone answered the sexual preference question with what Orions would consider the sensible answer of 'all of the above'. "I wouldn't mind adding some variety to your offering, if I get to keep my cut of earnings. There are few booths I'd like to visit with a fatter purse."

"I would consider it worth the hole in my own pocket to view an artisan at work," Lyndon responded, with a smile that faltered only a few seconds after he realised that there was possibly something a little presumptuous, nay stereotypical about assuming her level of experience, even if he knew enough about her culture to have some idea that she wouldn't be walking around as she was without a great deal of...was it accurate to call it training? He wasn't worried about offending her so much as not appearing to be of the ilk that expected to take advantage.

Actually, he was starting to remember that interacting with Orions could be complicated.

And yet, gloriously simple. "Any notion of when you might be available to start?"

Beya suppressed a chuckle at the momentary hint of worry on the man's face. It was true that she found some assumptions about her species offensive - primarily the those that cast all Orions as Syndicate or otherwise inherently unsavory degenerate characters (though the idea that any free female was an escaped slave girl was a close second) - but she couldn't imagine being upset by the assumption that she knew how to kiss, or look desirable. That last one might be a stereotype but it had become sort of built into being Orion since green skin seemed to be part of the earliest adolescent fantasies of a fair percentage of humanoids. But the fact that Lyndon had felt a bit uncomfortable about assuming was kind of adorable.

"I was just wandering around checking the market offerings, so I could start any time."

Bending down, the Risian disappeared from view for a moment and then reappeared brandishing a stick of chalk. Reaching through the booth's small window, he presented it with a slightly-embellished dip of his head. "Then if m'lady would like to make any amendments to current advertising and costing, by all means, go ahead." He tried, with limited success, not to appear too eager, though he didn't appear to have the disposition for secrecy and there was a degree of relief to be found in recruiting someone very likely to draw a crowd. The prospect of decent company didn't hurt either, Lyndon had been fielding various levels of disapproval for long enough to favour a reprieve.

"Of course," Beya replied, taking the chalk with slight curtsy and then standing on tip toe, nearly en pointe, to add herself with similar fees (it didn't seem right to change his pricing too much, but she did add surcharges for additional physical contract in case any of the patrons got grabby). "There we go, just needs the manager's approval," she said with a grin, handing the chalk back.

"Management would be foolish to protest at this juncture," Lyndon pointed out wryly, and after some adjustments that allowed the folded flaps that formed the sides of the booth to open up a little wider, he stepped out into full view long enough to gesture with both hands for her to enter. "It's a tad cosy," he admitted. "I was a little pressed for time and hadn't counted on forging any partnerships quite so soon. If it becomes too snug, some slight renovations may be in order."

"I don't mind cozy," Beya said, leaning against him before lifting slightly to kiss his cheek. She flashed a grin. "That one was free."

"As the proprietor of this jaunt, and therefore responsible for quality control, I approve of this testing regime." The twinkle in his eye left no doubt that Lyndon, despite his flowery attempts to match the manners of their hosts, did not harbour any of their prudish reservations. "Though it does occur to me that I may run the risk of reinvesting funds in ongoing market research if this continues."

"Happy to take your funds," Beya teased, flashing a mischievous grin. "But let's work at drawing some funds for you to invest." with that, she loosened the tie at her neckline to showcase her 'assets' and leaned out calling, "Come one, come all! You won't find a offer like," hands rolled from shoulders down to hips, which swayed side to side, "this anywhere else!"

The effect was immediate, and once he stepped outside the booth to provide better direction for the sudden call to invest, Lyndon could see that it was also quite profound. He'd already ruffled some feathers, in the kind of way that sounded like a protest but really presented as over-eagerness and an attempt by just about everyone to avoid letting their friends tell just how intrigued they were. His new partner's appearance was far more overt and right down the line of stalls, Lyndon could see reactions anywhere between stunned staring and silly giggles. "Sir," he targeted a poor sod trying to sneak past, "Surely it's not every day that you're afforded such an opportunity!"

"I'm married," the blushing man mumbled, unable to meet the gaze of anyone currently staring at him.

"And a lucky woman she is, though not one to deny you a once-in-a-lifetime blessing, I'd wager."

"You 'aven't met 'er," came the grim declaration and Lyndon, not quite sure what to make of such abject resignation, stood for a moment watching the man walk off before calling out.

"Then bring her along next time, we've something for everyone!"

The stallholder opposite snickered loudly.

"Hey, don't kink-shame," Beya whispered. "Let the married ones go." Stepping out, she waved to the rest of the crowd. "For anyone not tied to..." she suppressed a cringe, "monogamy, we are open to offer a taste," she lipped her lips invitingly, "of simple pleasure."

Suddenly, dozens of eyes tried to look elsewhere and failed.

"I'm a little lost," Lyndon confided in a quieter tone meant only for consultation purposes, "because it's been the same all day. There's clearly interest, they just don't want to be the first to own up to it." He glanced up at the temporary booth with a faint frown. "I did think to move somewhere perhaps a little less robust, but then we run the risk of being seen as salacious."

A perfectly shaped eyebrow cocked. "That would be bad because..?"

"What's your returns policy?"

It was a strong voice, the kind that could carry through a crowd without exerting any effort. It was also, it had to be said, quite a guarded and measured tone, confident yet not particularly expressive. A sturdy, unmoving, unfazed kind of voice that Lyndon recognised immediately. For a second, the Risian seemed poised to panic.

"Tomas, my friend," he turned, gathering his wits at lightning speed. "Good to see you. And look," he continued, momentum building as he found his stride again, "We have finally unearthed something to drag you away from that forge of yours. Have you met my associate...?"

It was then that Lyndon realised he hadn't even asked her name. Tomas stared at him impassively and, like a bug under the microscope, the younger man improvised with frantic aplomb and turned to Beya. "Tomas here makes some of the finest metalware you'll ever see."

"Oh, I know." A smile lit Beya's face as she walked over to the smith. "I bought a brace of throwing knives from him. Perfectly balanced," she added, and went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Consider that a tip for fine work. If you want more..." she winked and nodded toward the chalkboard.

The large man, the bulk of his expression lost behind the furrow of his brow and his beard, stared at the board for a long moment. Lyndon, being already of the opinion that his association with the blacksmith had got off on several wrong feet, watched the man's reaction like a hawk and very wisely chose to hold his tongue for once. Tomas, lifting a hand to scratch at his chin, eventually shook his head in resigned disbelief. "I don't think this place is ready for the pair of you."

"Surely this society isn't so repressed that they can't enjoy a kiss?" Beya rolled her eyes. "It's the simplest possible pleasure - no different than indulging in a chocolate bonbon, really, except there's no fat or calories."

"Oh, I'd wager they indulge in a great deal more, just not out in the street in full view of waggling tongues." To Lyndon's relief, Tomas huffed with something closely resembling laughter, or at least it was a scoff without any real derision for once. More surprisingly, the man rummaged in his pocket and reached out to slap some coins in front of the Orion. Behind his facial hair, the blacksmith did a sterling job of hiding his expression, but his blue eyes held a glint of something that might be accused of being humour. "Lucky for you, missy, I'm not originally from around here."

"Lucky for you too," Beya replied flirtatiously, stroking a finger along his cheek before giving him a soft kiss that was easily his money's worth given that she also moved close enough to press the softer parts of her body against the blacksmith's muscular chest. Which was quite enjoyable from her point of view and worth giving a little extra value in the kiss, though the Orion didn't really see how a kiss could be done properly otherwise.

"Nothing else quite like it."

The murmur from the blacksmith rumbled deep in his chest and, though Lyndon couldn't be sure because the expression was completely foreign as far as his experience with the man went, Tomas seemed to smile faintly and appeared pleasantly caught up in nostalgic affection for a moment. Large fingers scooped away a strand of hair from the Orion's eyes and, leaning in, the vast man added quietly in surprisingly fluent Kolari, "You know where to find me when you grow tired of his prattle", and then released her to step away. His meander back to join the crowd took him past a very stunned Risian, who winced slightly as a large hand clapped him several times on the shoulder.

Lyndon rallied.

"There you have it, folks! No finer endorsement. Spread the word, we'll be here all day!"

Squeezing back inside the booth, he deflated visibly, more an expression of relief than anything else. "That went better than expected."

"I'd say it went very well indeed," Beya said, watching the big blacksmith's disappearing figure with a very Orion smile, before giving Lyndon's biceps an encouraging squeeze. "C'mon. Let's go collect on that endorsement."