Caged

“What is it?” asked the elegant gentleman as he shook back the handmade lace at his cuffs and struck a pose that put the cut of his silk covered calf in its best light. The black ribbons at the knees of his skin tight cream colored breeches matched the the black stripes in his waist coat and the fob that pinned back the brim of his great black hat. With practiced grace, he lifted the gold spectacles hanging by a fine chain from his waist coat and stared down at the lump in the cage.

“A curiosity, m’Lord,” said the keeper as he stroked the ends of his black mustache, the diamond in the side of his nose, the shaved head, and the scarlet silk pantaloons marking him as a Slaver of the first order. “A one of a kind, never before seen species. That is why I called you. I picked it up cheap on one of the moons of Emalia Five thinking of you and your tastes for the exotic.”

The elegant young man had heard the same claim a dozen times before. Undoubtedly the man was a pirate, this thing in the cage no more than stolen booty off the last ship he had holed to deep space before boarding and taking what had survived. Bored, he poked his ebony walking stick between the bars and prodded the filthy pile of rags with its golden shod tip. Whatever lay underneath the noisome coverings contracted into a tighter ball in the back of the cage.

“Careful, m’Lord. It is not as helpless as it looks.”

The slaver actually sounded worried. You had to give him points for theater, the dandy thought as he dropped his silver monocle. It fell into place midst the other chains and brooches pinned to the pockets of his cream colored vest.

“Nonsense,” the fop sniffed as he stabbed the silver tip of his staff into the pile of rags. “Look. It just sits there. Make it do something.” Something hissed under the greasy rags.

The trader reached up to twist at the ends of his mustache again but his hand found nothing but a growth of stubble. He blinked in confusion and shook his head to clear it of the fog that had settled there ever since he had brought the creature on board his vessel. He shifted his fingers from upper lip to lower jaw and scratched his rough chin instead. What was he thinking? He had never had a mustache. He turned back to the gentleman who seemed a little less refined and a little more tawdry as his eyes became used to the gloom. “To be honest, gentle sir,” the trader said politely, “I’ve been having problems with it. I can’t seem to train it to do anything on command.”

“You just need to show it who is boss,” the  buyer said gruffly, tapping roughly on the pile with the rubber tip of his wooden cane.

The light pouring in from the open hatch shifted and grew brighter, casting everything in the hold in a clearer light. The animal trader scowled down at the bent old man in the ragged pants and scuffed shoes. He needed to stop letting the riffraff wander in off the docks.

“Move along, old man, and make room for the paying customers,” the Exotics Trader said as gently as he could, while his hands took the cane and tugged it firmly from the man’s arthritic fingers. The gray haired man sputtered in surprised indignation as the trader guided him to the loading bay door and set his feet on the ramp down to the docks.

The xenobiologist turned back towards the cage. Something about the old man had been off putting. He wiped his hands on the brown homespun of his pants, trying to get rid of the feel of him on his skin. She chittered softly from the dark shadows inside the cage, distracting him. Tugging down the  shirt tails of his linen tunic, he ran his strong fingers through the waves of his bronze hair as he stepped close to the bars. It was just an animal but he did not want her to think badly of him.

The thing inside fluffed its golden fur with a sharp shake of her shoulders and began to sing, her voice high and thin, just at the outer ranges of audible. The keeper stared down at it fondly. He knew what she was though the knowledge seemed to have slipped his mind at the moment. The word for her species hung just there, on the tip of his tongue. He would remember it, eventually. After she stopped singing.

It was hard to hear, that song. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the lock on her door. It seemed wrong to lock someone such as her inside a cage, he thought. That thought made him pause and shake his head at his own whimsy.  The lock was not to keep her in but to keep her safe from harm, after all. He unlocked the cage door and stooped to enter.  He would sit in the sweet grass bedding, as he always did at the end of the day, cuddling her in his arms while she sang her song for his ears alone.

She smiled up at him and shifted to meet his embrace. The fur blanket slipped from her shoulders for a moment, revealing the mounds of her small perfect breast, the flash of ivory skin like heady wine, effervescing in his mind and blocking out all else.

“What do you want? I will give it to you,” he whispered desperately as he buried his face in the hollow of her neck. She smelled like summer just after a rain storm.

She smiled but it was a smile that did not reach those golden eyes as she glanced up at the open door, unable to hide her longing.

“Diamonds and silk dresses. A villa on the coast. Name it, my sweet,” he murmured as he kissed her throat. She shuddered in pleasure, allowing it and he let his lips wander further along her perfect skin. She caressed his cheek with her long delicate nails as she glanced one last time at the open door.

Relaxing into his embrace she closed her eyes, the gold color rapidly fading to be replaced by gray. “Silly. I have everything. What more is there to ask for?” she said with a sigh.