"Andrew J. Offutt - Spaceways 01 - Of Alien Bondage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

certainly not between these two: his was Tarkjadar'rahj. She fell back
happily, almost chuckling as tall grass enveloped her. Its yellow-green was
decorated with little blue shadeflowers like dropped sapphires. "Just
formalities," she went on, "no more. You know my mother is delighted with
you-and father too. You are the second best mate-son available." He jerked up
onto his knees. Light olive, his short tunic fell in rumpled furls on his
thighs. Like rocks, those thighs. "Second best! Second best, Janja!" She
laughed. With her eyebrows arched in a pretense of cool lack of concern, she
tossed her head. The brief pale cap of her hair did not fly. The maidens of
their people trimmed their tresses, as the men did not. It was blond as his,
her hair; pale as the clouds that drifted overhead like wind-puffed fleece.
Clouds and hair were as if faintly gilded here and there-gilded by the soft
lips of Sunmother and Her loving spouse. A huge phrillium was caught in the
smooth short thatch of Janjaheriohir's hair. Tarkij had plucked it from among
many, only a few moments ago. It covered half her head on that side. "Welll .
. ." she said, teasing without showing it, "there's Pansij. ..." Tarkij fell
to one elbow beside her. He bent over her with strong teeth poised in
imitation of feral menace. "Pansij! Huh! He will be fat and jiggly and almost
hairless within eight hardrains. Probably seven. Pansij! Hmm ... I think ... I
think I shall bite this off." Tarkij had no fangs to bare; his canines were
barely developed, the same as hers. His threat was to the mounds of her
tunic-covered breasts, firm in their muscular youth. That was of short
duration, on Aglaya. Heavy gravity soon dragged them 15 down. In natural
consequence, long slopes were considered beauty. There was little premium on
firmness on Aglaya-except in the legs, where it was necessary. Janja wriggled
as if fearful, deliberately making her bilobed bosom quiver beneath her loose
tunic of turtle white. She chuckled low hi her throat. Then she closed her
eyes while he bent to kiss one nipple. It was only just discernible through
the fabric. He nuzzled. His hands moved onto her. Her body's instant response
was unconcealable, but she masked the response of her mind. She wriggled,
rolled away. She pounced to her feet: a woman-girl girl-woman whose firm
musculature barely showed along her 156-centimeter shortness. She was a gentle
buff color all over from the warmth of Aglaya's Sunmother. Sunmother hid Her
face but was generous with Her heat, and some ultraviolet bled through
Aglaya's strange sky to touch the skins of Her people and h'ghtly toast their
pinkness. (For two woman-cycles of the year, She sent them less heat and the
rain fell both harder and colder. Sunmother, the Tribemother said, was
occupied with Her loving mate and could not be bothered with mortals. That was
as it should be, they all agreed, for even a god must have love.) Now Her
daughter Janja had pounced to her feet and was gazing down at Tarkij. Those
pearly eyes could be soft and liquid as the brook that giggled in shade
through the forest. They could also be as cold as the droplets that hung from
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broad leaves after a downpour. Tarkij knew about the coldness that could
harden her eyes, but she had not shown it to him since her body had responded
to the call of the nearer moon- the male, at this time of year-and began to
follow its rhythmic pattern. Not since Tarkij had changed her, that day in the