Category: Lil’ Twilight

Ed note: The following bits and pieces surfaced on the flight yesterday. They may or may not have happened in the story. The image is what I call “Place Your Bets,” an allusion to which bits below you think really happened.

Internal Affairs visited Cait. They wanted to know where John was. Said something about a chip.

Mairi finds Trev. He’s a mess. Camera pans away with Mairi holding Trev in her arms like a frightened child, her hair blowing in the wind. She is wearing a long pleated skirt with a mustard colored blouse offsetting her auburn locks.

Dr. X discovers that Châtelaine’s undergo three months of training to communicate with their eyes.

The signal Rog recognizes comes from Kyra’s Zing Tao ring.

Taren is forced to destroy the ring, and under duress has to do it in front of Kyra.

This unleashes a side of Kyra never seen and she destroys the entire compound.

When no one is left alive, she collapses in a heap as a light is seen around her–Kieran.

When Mairi finds Trev he has blood caked on his upper lip, his eyes stare unblinking, lifeless; he can’t form coherent words or thoughts. His body feels strangely cold and he trembles uncontrollably.

Mairi puts hands on his head, closes her eyes and has flashes of his mind. She cries, something a hardened Châtelaine would never do.

Kyra spares Taren, barely. The number of dead in the compound count into the hundreds as she moved of body and mind.

Von said it was the most terrifying and beautiful birth he had ever seen.

Emy couldn’t talk about what she saw for months.

Mairi feels guilt at encouraging Trev to sow his oats.

BC is pissed Lil’ let Trev go and not kill him.

Kieran holds Kyra as Mairi holds Trev–tells her he has someone that wants to say hello, someone that did not take the last ship out of dodge.

John writes in his journal that “After the Kyra Incident” he is losing his moral compass with Cait.

Mairi looks to the heavens and cries out, “My Janus, what have they done to you.” Tears streak down her cheeks and she looks back down at Trev’s blank stare and through her tears she utters, “My dear child.” She wipes his hair away and shaking her head says, “How will you ever forgive me?” She is rocking back and forth as a mother might rock a frightened child to sleep.


Kieran says she can’t directly connect with him but that he can act as a conduit.

Message from Papa: “We can still get there from here.”

Von: (Looks at Rog) I hope you brought some snoot?
Rog: I did.
Von: Good Hynerian.
Rog: I drank it–all.
Von: (deadpans)
Rog: But I have a plan.
Von: Yeah?
Rog: Looks at John.
John: What?
Von and Rog: (Start laughing)

I Love You, I’ll Kill You by Enigma is the Soundtrack for “The Kyra Incident.”

Interview from Earth:

T: Can you explain what happened?

K: Taren’s hammer was like a pickaxe. The down stroke to Papa’s ring broke, and I shiott you not, to my mind’s eye, I saw it as clear as day, but broke layer upon layer of inhibition and doubt while harnessing a synergistic melding of practice, theory and application that took years of pieces and in an instant painted, how would you say it, a Mona Lisa.

T: Wow.

K: Don’t ever say that word again in response.

T: Okay.

K: (starts laughing) I’m just shiotting you. Bring more whiskey–nine glasses.

T: (just smiles)


Trev, prone, naked and secured by ankle and wrist, swallowed the fifth sip, with a little help from Lil’s firm hand fisting his hair. Sal moved to his prostrated rear and slapped her tight and taut boy like a farmer slapping a side of beef. His flesh was warm, unlike her own species; and he had an instrument, full and ripe, alien and exotic, that seems to pulse and throb and hang with a certain sense of living heft as if his heart were in his arse rather than his chest.

Mairi sat with the quiet patience of a weary cat in a sunny window, content to let Yul sleep as long as she liked. The operation, the doctors had said, somewhat nervously, had gone better than expected. More tests would be run later, they said. So she sat and rubbed her head but succor eluded the feeling of being sunburned from the inside of her skull. Dr. X promised she would heal, fully. She still thought he was a complete bastard.

John played the signal again. Rog listened. John looked. Rog listened some more with the look of a school boy trying to convince his teacher he knew the answer when he really didn’t. John played it again. Rog, blessing his own hide, yelped for effect, and did a little dance; his eyes shown with recognition fueled by hope. John just shook his head.

Ariel crawled into Cait’s lap, the soft light of a reading lamp holding the pair in the warm repose of mother and child. Cait held back a sigh as Ariel nestled in tight to her chest, pushing her little head and primrose hair into the twin softness of living pillows. Turning the page, she read slowly, trying to lose herself in the story, trying to crowd out the anger in her heart until she heard her daughter sigh and she realized she had not turned the page for quite some time.

+My dear friend, we meet again.+

Kyra opened her eyes as one to light after many days in a cave. There was a voice, but no one was there. She looked for Em and Von but they were not there either. The room was white and rather bright, the edges fuzzy and from somewhere in her heart, she would later swear, was a taste of things past and a remembrance of things to be.

Kieran? Is that you?”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Trev, Mairi, Yul, John Discovery, Rog, Lil’ Twilight, Ariel, Cait

Like a Bull

Lil’ handed Trev a clear v-shaped glass with a narrow stem. Five different liqueurs, five different colors, each maintaining horizontal integrity shimmered in the soft glow of Lil’s quarters.

“I’m not thirsty,” said Trev. “And–“

Lil’ licked her crimson lips, slowly. “I think you are.” Placing her delicate and perfectly manicured finger under the stem, she slowly lifted the glass toward Trev’s parting lips. Neither broke eye contact with the other. “Five sips, sixty seconds apart, and then–“ Lil’ smiled with dimple and eye.


“The wonder of modern chemistry. The first liqueur, the sapphire one, drink up, massages the pain centers in your frontal lobe.” Seeing Trev’s reaction, she added, “No worries my sweet, before you feel anything, it will be time for the second liqueur, the golden one. Let’s just say you’ll experience something akin to warm honeyed aloe soothing the throbbing in your temples. Your mind will go slightly fuzzy, but only until the third liqueur, the emerald one.”

“Is this safe?” I mean—“

“Trevor,” whispered Lil’, her nails tracing the outline of his reddening cheeks, “if your heart stops beating, I’ll personally get it started again. And Trevor, I’ve never failed in that endeavor.” She squeezed his thigh.


“And Trev?”


“If you interrupt me again I may just cut off your gonads before you get to the fifth.” Lil’ smiled, “Time for the second.” He drank the golden liqueur. “Good boy. Now, the emerald potion will make you feel warm, all over. You’ll feel on the verge of wetting yourself and that is where the fourth liqueur comes in, assuming, of course, you don’t actually wet yourself. Now, you wouldn’t loose control right here in front of me, would you Trev?”

Trev started to speak but Lil’ stopped him with her finger. Nodding her head, Trev followed suit. “Good. Now, the fourth, the citrine one. Goes straight to the centers of fear and control in your brain, the very one’s the third elicits, and loosens, as they say, the ties that bind. Only once the fourth liqueur takes effect, will you be ready for the fifth.”

Trev’s comm started blinking. Lil’ quickly slipped it from his waist to her pocket.

“The fifth, my sweet friend, which by the way, only works in conjunction with the first four, is nothing less than a pure shot of adrenalin.” Lil’ paused. “To your agent of masculine surrender. How should I put this? At this stage, you’ll feel like a bull in the chute, or so it seems from my perspective, not that I’ll be complaining.”

Trev was in stage two and his mind started to slip. Lil’ took his hand. He followed. There would be no china broken on her watch. Sal was waiting.

“Mairi, is he on his way?” asked Yul, trying hard to keep her eyes open.

“Yes he is,” lied Mairi.

“Good. I want Trev here, by my side during the operation.”

“Get your rest darlin’. I’ll let you know as soon as he arrives.”

Categories: Story, Lil’ Twilight, Trev, Mairi, Yul

Destearian Glass

“Who is it Sal?” asked Lil’

“Says his name is Trev,” shrugged Sal, Lil’s frontdesk bulldog. Sal had more than eighty years in the industry and normally wouldn’t have given Trev’s request the time of day, but there was just something about the look on his face that made her pause. He looked familiar, but then, after awhile, all the clients looked about the same in the dim light. Still, wasn’t often she felt the need to stare a little longer than necessary.

“Trev? I don’t know a Trev.”

“Well, says he knows you. Called for you by name.”

Lil’ laughed. “Come here Sal. You know my name isn’t exactly private. What’s up? Why are you bringing this to my attention? Come on?”

Sal grinned. “You know—“

“You want a favor, don’t you?”

“Now, I didn’t say that.”

“I can see it in your eye Sal. You want to take some privileges with this one. Maybe slip in after he is secured and blinded. Come on, just say it.”

Sal smiled. She saw every client they serviced. And she had access, at least with most, to the view whenever she wanted. But to participate, well, that was a different matter altogether. “Okay, I wouldn’t throw him to the moon for eating crackers, and it has been awhile, but—“

“I knew it. Show our friend back. I’ll see what I can do.” Lil’ looked in the mirror, straightened her hair and noticed Sal was still there. “Why are you just standing there? Move. I wanna meet your little friend. Who knows, I might be interested in this one myself.”

Lil’ moved to the front of her desk, her trademark destearian glass jacket, riding just to the top of her hourglass hips, clinking as if in tune. She crossed one long leg over the other, parted her lips just enough to catch the eye and ran her fingers through her primrose hair. Not often had Sal ever made such a request. Got to keep the hired help happy, she thought.

Trev walked in with Sal in tow. Lil’s looked up. “Damn, it’s you! I knew you’d be back. Hey Sal, this is Trevor.”


Lil’ ignored her. “Come on in Trev. Please have a seat.” As he started to walk she added, “Oh Sal, that will be all.”

Lil’ moved to the sofa beside Trev, her light blue glass jacket revealing more than the eye could see but less than the imagination would admit. Her skin, natural or not Trev could not tell, shimmered porcelain white in the bluish reflections of the waves below, just a hint of gold dust on each cheek rising to either side of her perfectly shaped crimson lips. “I was wondering when you might return? Few can resist the waters for long, especially after their first indoctrination.”

Trev had spent the better part of a week working up the nerve to come back only to see it all washed away in the melodious tone of Lil’s voice, like warm honey on a summer day he would later describe it. Sitting next to Lil’, alone, in the dim light, her perfume neither too strong nor too light, a hint of smile on golden cheeks, well, it was just all too much. He looked straight ahead and his brain was telling him he was looking at her autumn eyes, which seemed to smolder in hints of deep browns with flecks of subdued oranges, but where his eyes were pointed and what he saw were two different things, and he wondered if she knew–didn’t take long.

“You happy to see me or did you just forget how to blink?”

Categories: Story, Trev, Lil’ Twilight

Lil’ Twilight administered the Waters of Divine Decadence herself. Trev was never the same.

Backstory: (as far as we know)

Ancient landing pads on a distant and remote moon servicing the local shipping population, quite an unruly clientele, especially with Big Cephelus lording over the local whoring trade and none the too happy with business of late.

Lil’ Twilight, his main ho, and, to be fair, a technician turned artisan in the trade of warm commerce, charged twice the going rate and still made more money in tips than BC was earning off her keep. And there was the rub.

So one day, BC called Lil’ into his office, the one overlooking the main pad, so he could keep an eye on local traffic. His desk faced the main window and he had Lil’ sit on the sofa before him. She, for the occasion no less, wore illuminated destearian glass garments, which left nothing and everything to the imagination.

Well, Lil’ jingled over to BC’s desk, reached into her incandescent pocket and tossed a credit chip onto his desk.

“What’s this,” he frowned.

“Pick it up.” Lil’ leaned over, her ample amplitude of creamy delectation pointing the way.



“Where did you get this?”

“A poor innocent little soul. Name is Trevor–an off worlder. Seems he was so discombobulated, he left it behind.”

BC worked the chip between his fingers back and forth and forth and back, his eyes ablaze with a dull gleam just short of malicious, more akin to lust than greed; yet, with BC, where one began and the other ended no one could say, or perhaps no one had the gonads to say. Either way, to say he was a biomorph of lustful greed or greedful lust would be to state a fact known to all and to all agreed.

“Come round the desk Lil’. I think you need to show me the proper appreciation for taking such an instrument of unrighteous seduction from your weak and feckless hands. Do you have any idea how much trouble I’m about to save you?”

Lil’ moved around the desk, her eyes dropping in sync with her knees. “BC, darlin’, I’m gonna show you how much I appreciate your burdensome and ever faithful endeavors to always look out for my best interest.”

BC let out an audible sigh as Lil’ traced her perfectly manicured nails along the top of his thighs.

With a blink of his eyes, he closed the blinds and turned on his digicorder. Lil was worth more than the occasion.

Lil’s fingers danced in unison and BC’s knees parted. She smiled and rolled her eyes to half moons, just a glint of light catching the corners like the diamonds on BC’s thick finger.

Lil’ was a master of playful anticipation, of allowing the client’s imagination to do what she never could, never would. Her magic worked in the spaces between the notes, as she like to say, and this, in her mind, is what separated her from all the rest.

“Feeling tumid I see,” she purred with a voice smooth as her honeyed scarlet lips. “Or is that turgid and tumid?”

BC sighed with heavy lids, his eyes just slits.

Lil’s nail converged, lightly upon bulging custom silk, a velvet hammer of female delight, or so she would argue.

Categories: Story, Trev, Lil’ Twilight, BC, Sketches