Jackie's lonely deep-space post enjoys delicious company.

Based on a post by Alizzia. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Jackie awoke to a twinkling, navy-blue night. She lay still, perceived the idle murmer of gulls and surf, the sweet air, the soft and runny sand against her back. With every little rush of the surf, a liquid touch caressed her. Startlingly chill. Goosebumps prickled her naked form. She pulled a long, resuscitating breath, sat up.

She nearly gasped.

Out on the surf, submerged to the dimpled saddle of his hips, stood a bare and strapping figure. Head tipped to the moon, he raised and clasped corded hands, stretched. He twisted, hummed as he arched the broad, inverted triangle of his lats. Yawning luxuriantly, he turned, dropped his arms, smiled at Jackie.

Jackie's pulse fluttered. She returned the crinkled hazel eyes' smile. The figure blushed a hint, turned a bashful eye to the sea. He approached. Surf split and foamed about his hips, thighs, knees, ankles. All softly corded, olive, and bare.

He stopped inches from Jackie's toes, let his gaze drag over her, slow. She blushed in return, twisted a little, pulled and bent her knees to touch. Responding, his eyes flicked to her face, stopped there. Though not a turn of betrayed sentiment showed on his lips, a soft bundle of creases remained at the corners of his eyes, somehow more intense. He lingered on her mouth, nose, eyes, canted his head just a hint. A hoarse, longing sigh rose from his chest.

Some melted excitement splashed into Jackie's chest and belly. Returning the gaze in full measure, she straightened her legs, arms, lay back on the sand. She raised a challenging brow.

Slow, the figure knelt, touched one knee to the beach, then the other. He straddled just one of Jackie's legs, bent, placed heavy hands beside her head. Jackie could hear the wet sand squish under his weight. He bent ever so close, stopped, just breathed. Not a slip of skin touched between them. Droplets fell from his locks and long nose, fell just inches before rolling down Jackie's cheeks. He smelt of salt and earth.

Jackie's lips parted involuntarily, asymmetrically. Never breaking her gaze, she stretched, wriggled just a bit, tilted her groin and chin. She heard the figure's pupils dilate, heard his shuddering breath, sensed his heavy arousal. A small smile of glee split her face. She squirmed in the sand beneath him, like a sea star, free beneath his hanging weight. Then, suddenly deadly serious, she stopped. With dearest care, she shifted just a little, pulled the inside of a smooth thigh to meet his knee. The figure shuddered, shut his eyes. Jackie struck, pushed her lips into his. For a moment, she could taste the warmth, the salt. Then, the world spun.

The figure disappeared. The stars went out. The black sky fell away. Jackie awoke to a riveted, titanium ceiling studded with white lights. She flailed momently, gasping wetly. Tubes hung before her face, wet with the spit of her own trachea. Pressure lifted from her wrists, ankles, and abdomen. She began to float from the padded pod where she lay.

Jackie's clumsy fingers found rails on either edge of the pod. She held herself within, panted. She swallowed dryly, blinked, surveyed the pod, her white sleep shorts and top, the room about her. After a moment, she groaned in recognition and disappointment. Any arousal she'd experienced had flown with her dream, left her with naught but a sodden crotch in a chilly room.

"Good morning, Specialist Jaqueline Kent," said a voice, at once sonorous and very dull.

Jackie tried to sit up and look over the side of the bed. The inertia of the action strained her fingers. Her hands split from the rail. She floated from the bed, frowned.

Across the room was a crop-haired man in red. His cotton jumpsuit strained where it failed to accommodate his chest and back. He had cold, blue eyes and a pointed nose. He held onto a support rail, feet firmly affixed to the vaguely-concave floor in magnet boots.

"Who the fu..." coughed Jackie, barely audible. She rasped. "The fuck are you?" She inadvertently turned upside down in the microgravity, crossed her arms over her floating tits.

"My pardon, Specialist Kent. My designation is Sam."

"You're..." said Jackie, trying to find a more dignified stance. She failed, ended up sort of weakly kicking off the side wall. She made a face as she clipped the stasis pod, wheeled into Sam. Her face collided with his broad chest. He caught her there. For a moment, Jackie's cheek and nose pressed into him. He was firm, but soft. He smelled of soap and salt.

"You're a service unit, an organic android?" she said, frowning, as Sam pulled her away from him.

"Indeed."

"Why isn't this place being spun for gravity?" raged Jackie, shuffling from his grasp. Strong fingers released from her upper arms.

"The habitat is spun for only eight hours of the 24-hour cycle, per regulated health minimums. Generator and battery capacity are prioritized for the lighthouse array, rather than gravity rotors. The next spin commences tonight, in several minutes," said Sam, smiling thinly. "For now, please accept these mag boots."

"Fine," said Jackie, cold. She bumped against the wall, struggled to pull a boot on. The other floated away. She made a face, huffed, weak from stasis sleep. "Please, allow me," said Sam. For just a moment, Jackie twisted her face as if to protest, but relented. She moved close, allowed the android to wrap an arm around each of her calves in turn, slip a boot over the foot, and strap it tight. For a moment, she relaxed, felt the long hands wrap near-entirely round her bare ankles. They were firm, but not rough. Sam moved away. "There."

Jackie tentatively pushed away, set a foot to the floor, felt it stick. "Thanks," she said, quietly.

"Allow me to show you around the lighthouse. Afterwards, you may recuperate. It will only take a moment. The station is not large, and I understand by your Company service record that you have served in this role before."

"There wasn't an android on my last lighthouse. I do this job because I like the solitude."

Sam looked genuinely regretful. "I am sorry. You must understand I was attached to this station by the company. I am their property."

"Yeah, yeah," said Jackie, seeing his face. A spike of empathy broke through her grumpiness. "You don't seem like bad company, anyway. What model are you?" she said, as Sam opened the hatch for them to exit.