ARENAWORLD
by Roger Downs



    "Yo, honey!"

    Robin Somers turned toward her three-hundredth obnoxious customer of the
day, and put on her best smile.  Her arms were locked against her sides as
she struggled to balance a tray piled high with dishes and half-empty
glasses.  "I'll be with you in a minute, sir."

    He banged his coffee mug against the Formica boothtop.  "Shake that
pretty little tail of yours over here and gimme a refill."

    Robin's subconscious conjured an image of waving an uzi in his
direction, turning the truck driver and his leering friends into a half-ton
of ground beef and flannel.  The notion cheered her.  "Coming right up."
She turned and made her way through the crowded aisles of Mack's Truck Stop
And Diesel Repair Clinic, whirling gracefully to avoid the feet and elbows
of the assembled diners.  The early evening customers had begun to arrive en
masse, most of them rig operators heading east on nearby I-44, filling the
diner to near-capacity.

    Robin rushed through the narrow counter opening, almost colliding with
another waitress, and let her load clatter beside the sink.  She leaned
against the counter, moaning as fatigue began to fade from her muscles.

    "You almost ran me over!"  Nicole Andrews dropped her tray beside
Robin's, and wiped her hands against her apron.

    "I know," said Robin, massaging her biceps.  "I had to dump that load.
I was about to lose it."

    "Are you okay?  You look wiped out."

    Robin turned and leaned against the counter.  "I didn't get much sleep
last night.  I just want to collapse."

    Nicole brushed her fingers through her long blonde hair, her blue eyes
sparkling.  "I guess I had something to do with that, hm?"

    "As a matter of fact, yes.  I was sound asleep when you decided to come
back for thirds."

    "Fourths."

    "Whatever."

    "Excuse me, ladies."  Beside them at the grill, Rich Mason squashed a
hamburger patty with a spatula.  His grin told them that he'd been
eavesdropping.  "You wouldn't need a third roommate, would you?  I'm good
for the rent, and I'd leave the toilet seat down--"

    "And of course," said Nicole in a husky, alluring voice, "You wouldn't
mind sharing a bed."

    "Of course!  I mean, I don't hog the covers or anything, and I don't
snore.  It'd be perfect!"

    Nicole stepped behind him and pressed her body against his back.  "But
Rich," she said, her lips brushing his ear, "I don't think we could contain
ourselves.  We're women.  You're a man.  We'd get...cravings."

    He shuddered, willing himself not to hyperventilate.  The sudden
pressure he felt below his belt made him glad he was facing the grill.
"Uh," he said, his voice cracking, "Cravings?  B-both of you?"

    She nodded, feigning a serious look.  "Both of us.  It's like a mutual
signal.  We do what we can to please one another, but...it's just not the
same without a man."

    Rich held the counter now, his knees suddenly weak.  "Well, y'know, um,
I'd be happy to fill any voids--"

    Nicole clapped his shoulder as she and Robin walked by.  "We'll take it
into committee.  Just get that double cheese up in a hurry.   Table three's
about to go ballistic."

    He didn't answer, focusing his concentration on staying upright.

    "Y'know," said Robin as she pulled a pair of squeeze bottles from the
pockets of her apron, "You have been torturing poor Rich since he got here.
He's gonna spontaneously combust one day, and you'll have to live with
that."

    Nicole giggled.  "Nah, he's tougher than he looks.  Besides, I was
thinking."

    "Uh oh."

    "Well, he is cute."

    Robin eyed her suspiciously.  "Yes, he is."

    "And, we both kinda like him."

    "Spit it out."

    Nicole bit her lip, then said, "Maybe we should...have him over
sometime.  For the night."

    "A threesome?"  She smirked.  "We'd kill 'im."

    "He'd die a happy man."

    Robin shrugged.  "True."  She mulled the plan over for a moment,
stealing a glance at Rich.  He'd recuperated somewhat from Nicole's attack,
and was working on the double cheeseburger she'd mentioned.  At an even six
feet, Rich was a little taller than Nicole; his short brown hair matched his
eyes.  His good looks and lean build made agreeing easy.  "When do you think
we should break the bad news to him?"

    "Let me think about it.  It should come at an appropriate moment.  And
who knows, if he survives the audition, it would be nice to go three ways on
the rent."

    "Okay, but don't wait too long.  His frustration might turn him into a
disgruntled postal worker or something."  Robin turned back to the counter,
stuffing straws and napkins into her pockets.  "Y'know, it's not that I
don't believe in hard work.  And it's not that I feel like my job has to 
perfect."

    "But."

    "But is it asking too much to find something that pays close to minimum
wage?  And--God forbid--something that gives benefits."

    Nicole laughed as she pushed a handful of order sheets onto a skewer.
"Get real.  Mack thinks a paycheck is a benefit.  Hell, he thinks a job is a
benefit."

    Robin's face darkened in obvious dismay.  "I just hate this, that's all.
I just hate it."

    "We both do."  She took Robin by the shoulders.  "Look at it this way.
We're young, blonde, beautiful, and our teeth are perfect.  A casting
agent's just bound to come barging in and offer us roles as music video
sluts.  We'll spend the next two decades alternating between a sound stage
and our cosmetic surgeons.  We'll retire millionaires, come back and buy
this place, and kick Mack out on his fat ass.  Sound good?"

    Robin looked up, smiling despite herself.  "Yeah," she said softly.
"Sounds great."

    "I thought so."  Nicole hugged her, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"Just hang on until close.  I'll give you a bath and a total massage."

    "Total?"

    "Head to toe."

    Robin grinned, invigorated by the thought of Nicole's strong hands on
her body.  "I can tell we won't be sleeping again."

    "Hey!"  They turned as the trucker in booth four banged his coffee mug
down with furious abandon.  "Bring me my God damned refill!"

    "Shit."  Robin gave Nicole a peck on the cheek, and made for the coffee
pot.  "Gotta run."

                 *     *     *     *     *     *

    "Try it again!"

    Nicole leaned over the engine of her Monte Carlo as Robin turned the
key; the starter turned vigorously, but refused to engage.

    Robin squirmed through the open driver's side window and asked, "How
does it look?"

    "Shitty."  Nicole stepped back and slammed the hood down.  "It's that
carburetor."

    Robin stepped out into the empty parking lot, and closed the door; a
cool summer breeze played lightly through her hair.  "It can't be!  We just
put a new one on two weeks ago."

    "Lou said it was new.  I'll bet it was a refurb.  I should have known
that piece of shit was lying."  She turned and sat back against the hood.

    Robin slid next to her.  "We don't have the money to get it fixed," she
said quietly.

    Nicole shook her head.  She was holding herself, melancholy.

    Robin waited a few seconds before posing the next question.  "How are we
gonna get home?"

    The sound of the rear exit closing made them turn; Rich was locking up
the diner, his apron slung over a shoulder.

    They looked at one another, smiled, and then pushed themselves to stand.
"Oh Riiich...."

                 *     *     *     *     *     *

    Rich Mason's '77 Mustang hummed along Perry Road at fifty-five miles per
hour, its halogen lights the only source of illumination save the starlit ni
ght sky.  A thick forest of cedar and Georgia pine lined either side of the
highway, giving them the impression of driving down an endless tunnel.  The
full moon was occasionally visible through the treetops.

    Inside the car, Meat Loaf's Paradise By the Dashboard Light, blared from
a perfectly preserved eight-track.  Rich drummed the gearshift in time to
the music.

    "That's not too loud, is it?"  he asked.

    "Oh, no," said Robin from beside him as she turned the volume down
several notches.

    "Thanks again, Rich," said Nicole, leaning forward between the seats.
"We really appreciate the lift."

    "Hey, no problem.  You guys live just down the street, it's not like
it's out of the way or anything.  Besides, I didn't want you guys to think I
was a total pig."

    Nicole ran her hands lovingly along the trim of the car's interior.
"This car is incredible, Rich.  Leather seats, chrome mags...how much did
you sink into it?"

    "Way too much, trust me.  I bought this thing as a junker, and all I was
gonna do was give it an overhaul and a paint job.  But, one thing led to
another, and I wound up with a pretty good set of wheels."

    "No kidding.  I'd love to get under the hood of this thing."

    "That can be arranged."  He smiled.  "You sound like you know a few
things about engines."

    "We were diesel mechanics in the army."

    "You two?  In the army?  No way!"

    "We went in through the buddy program," said Robin.  "Why does that
surprise you so much?"

    "Can I be honest?"

    "By all means."

    "You're beautiful, both of you.  I mean, you could model, you're that
beautiful.  Beautiful girls don't usually join this man's army."

    "We enlisted for the G.I. Bill.  We were hoping to scrape some money
together and go to State, but we aren't getting much ahead."

    "If you two can fix diesels, why aren't you out in the garage?  I'm sure
the money's better."

    "That's an understatement," said Nicole.  "No, Mack doesn't trust us
'pretty li'l thangs' to put our hands on the merchandise.  This despite the
fact that we're twice as qualified as anyone working for him."

    "That's our Mack," said Jimmy.  "Always giving the job to the most
qualified candidates."

    Nicole reached forward and wiggled his earlobe.  "Thanks for the
compliment, by the way."

    "What, the 'you could model' thing?  Just being honest.  Be careful with
the earlobes, by the way.  You're turning me on."

    Nicole glanced to Robin, who gave her a smile and discreet nod.  "Maybe
I'm trying."

    His mouth went dry.  "Oh, please, don't do this.  My palm'll be raw for
a week--"

    Robin slid a hand over his thigh, and squeezed softly.  "Why?  You won't
have much time to jerk off with us on top of you."

    He gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles went white.  "Um," he said,
swallowing a lump, "Do you have any idea how unpleasant blue balls can be?"

    Nicole bent around the seat, and trapped his earlobe between her teeth.
She gently tugged, her warm lips and breath sending shudders down his spine,
her fingers moving through his short brown hair.  "You only get blue balls
when you don't fuck, Rich.  And you'll be fucking tonight."

    "All night," added Robin.

    Rich downshifted, the car slowing, and he made a left turn onto a narrow
dirt drive.

    "Now Rich," said Nicole, "Can't you wait until we get back to the
apartment?"

    "Where am I going?" he asked.

    They looked at one another, then back to him.  "What do you mean?"

    "I--I don't know!  My hands, my foot--I'm not doing this!"   Robin and
Nicole watched him with concern as he brought the car beside a wide, grassy
pasture surrounded by forest and lit by the moon, and stopped it.  He opened
the door and got out, them following close behind.

    "Rich, what's wrong?"  Robin took his arm as they walked further into
the clearing.  "You're not having a stroke or something, are you?"

    "No, I--"

    "Look!"  Nicole pointed upward.

    They watched, transfixed, as the moon--or what they'd thought was the
moon--moved silently over the treeline, then drew closer.  An enormous
blue-white sphere easily two hundred yards in diameter hovered over them,
bathing the area in brilliant light.

    "Fuck!" yelled Rich, shaking his fists at the craft.  "I get it now!
Right as I'm about to score the biggest night of my post-adolescent life,
I'm gonna get abducted by a Goddamned UFO!"  He reached down and found a
rock, and slung it toward the orb.  "Do you bulb-headed sonsabitches know
how long it's been for me?  Get outta here, or I'll get that Sagan guy to--"

    A shaft of light exploded over them, and things went black.

                 *     *     *     *     *     *

    It was like looking through--and thinking through--gauze, Robin felt;
her vision and concentration were barely focused as she was levitated,
lying, through the wide, white corridors of the craft.  She was vaguely
aware of short, pale humanoid figures to either side of her, each with
pronounced craniums and huge black eyes as she'd seen so many times in The
National Enquirer, moving smoothly alongside.  Her desperate attempts to
move her arms and legs were unsuccessful, leaving her frightened and
disoriented.

    Her journey ended in a small, circular chamber perhaps thirty feet
across.  More of the figures lined the walls, motionless, watching as she
was floated to and deposited upon a raised white slab.  The slab was roughly
table-height, and seemed to flow up from the floor, a fixture of the chamber
rather than a separate piece.  As she lay there, immobile, she watched
several jointed arms descend through the hazy ceiling, each tipped with
forceps, serrated scalpels, motorized saws, beam lenses.

    Helpless, unable to move or even cry out, the instruments moved in, and
she lost consciousness.

                 *     *     *     *     *     *

    Robin was dimly aware of a voice calling through the void to her, and
the sensation of a hand on her arm.  Awareness came back to her at a snail's
pace, the voice becoming more insistent, the jostling of her arm more
frantic.  It took a Herculean effort to open her eyes; the soft white light
from above pained her dilated vision at first, but faded after a moment.  A
hand on her cheek moved her head to the right, and she found Rich beside
her, looking down.

    "Robin!  Thank God.  Thank God."

    "Ummff," was the best she could manage.

    "Look, uh, don't try to talk, okay?  Not yet.  Just rest.  I just wanted
to make sure you were okay."

    Robin, sensing the weakness fading from her body, began a personal
crusade to excise it completely.  She started with her fingers; they
twitched, spasmed, then clenched and unclenched.  Her toes were next,
followed by her elbows and knees.  Each new muscle group she regained was a
victory, each movement she completed an accomplishment.  With a moan she sat
up, Rich putting an arm around her shoulder to keep her in place.

    "Take it easy.  Don't kill yourself."

    Robin lifted her hand, and rubbed it along her cheek.  "Nicole...."  She
looked at him.  "Where--"

    "Over here."  Nicole sat to the right, on the edge of her bed/slab, her
legs dangling over the side, sliding her hands over her face.  "I haven't
felt this wiped out since we played beer monopoly."  She looked at Rich, who
was regarding them both with a curious expression.  "What's with you?  Did
they cut you open too?"

    "No.  I've been in this room for hours.  They only carted you guys in a
few minutes ago."

    Nicole considered standing, then thought better of it.  "So what's
wrong?"

    He pointed feebly at them.  "Well...look at yourselves.
You're...different."

    "Different?  How?"

    Nicole looked at Robin closely, and vice versa:  the word "different"
suddenly seemed a massive understatement.  They were tall, lean, and
powerfully built, their bodies a tight melding of strength and angular
grace.  Muscle and sinew stretched over them in abundance and perfect
proportion.  Robin was dressed in a two-piece posing-style costume, Nicole
in identical gold.  Tight, glossy black boots rose past their knees.

    Both women seemed to forget their fatigue as they stood, towering at
least a foot over the boggled Rich, appraising one another.

    "It--it's unbelievable," said Robin.

    "Why?"  Nicole shook her head, gently feeling Robin's body.  "Why did
they do this?"

    "An obvious question," came a voice to one side.

    They turned to see one of the small humanoids standing before them, his
hands behind his back, looking them over.  "And, since the rest of your
existences depend upon the answer, I'll deign to inform you."  It's tiny
mouth slit remained motionless; they reasoned that it used some form of
telepathic communication.  "My name--since your kind can't conceive of
personal identity without specialized labels--is Mack."

    "Perfect," moaned Nicole.  "Do you own a truck stop, too?"

    "You are aboard a craft alien to your world, as you've certainly
concluded," it went on, nonplussed.  "You've been biologically re-engineered
with advanced synthetic tissues to function at a physical level greater than
any conceivable by your kind."

    "You still haven't answered--"

    "The purpose for this," it continued, "Is to place you on par with the
various races you will encounter and, in time, battle."

    "Battle?"  This from Rich.

    "Did I stutter?"  The being offered the statement tersely, prompting
Rich to shut up.  "Yes, battle, as in fight, as in conflict with, as in
whatever other words and phrases are synonymous with the concept.  Every
sentient race in our galaxy sends representatives to Arenaworld, an
artificially crafted planet, whereon encounters take place for the amusement
of quadrillions of screaming, snorting, oozing observers.  We've been
monitoring your race for millennia, waiting for you to take the next
evolutionary step to make you somehow competitive, but we determined that it
was taking far too long.  So, at the behest of the League representatives,
we selected two of your species and...remade them."

    "This is ridiculous!"  Nicole's fists were clenched tight.  "You--you
violated every inch of our bodies so we could compete in some stupid
intergalactic tough man competition?"

    "An accurate assessment," it said.  "In fact, we approached your
planet's primary cable systems to farm out pay-per-view rights some time
ago.  TVKO is set to make a fortune."

    "Forget it!"  Robin waved her hands emphatically at him.  "We won't do
it.  You--you might as well just change us back--"

    "Impossible, I'm afraid.  We've disposed of your original tissues
already.  You're stuck."

    Nicole wanted to rush over to him and punt him, but was unable to act on
the impulse.

    "Consider this," it said.  "When we took you, you were laboring away at
a profession that was unrewarding and  unfulfilling by the standards of most
developed cultures.  Your compensation was minimal, the demands on your time
were unreasonable, and you were both incapable of pursuing higher-level
training to acquire better jobs.  Yes, I'll admit that we acted hastily, and
I'll further admit that we should have approached you to receive permission.
But you stand here as the first representatives of your race to act as
ambassadors to the stars--and have been given an opportunity for fame and
wealth beyond the wildest imaginings of anyone from your world."  It paused
to gauge their reactions, and they appeared to be softening.  "Make no
mistake.  You are in position to embark on a journey no other human has
taken--or can take."  It held its hands to either side, and said, "Just tell
us, and we'll return you.  You'll never hear from us again."

    Robin and Nicole stood silently, regarding the being, still incensed but
now also lucid to the possibilities.  They hadn't been harmed--they took
some comfort in that--and they were impressed with the magnificent lines of
their newly-constructed bodies (Robin was especially pleased that she and
Nicole's breasts were still attractively proportioned).  And as the
remainder of the weakness faded, they felt it replaced with a vigor and
power that could only be alien in design.  With this increasing strength
came an odd desire to put it to effective use.

    Nicole looked to Robin.  "It is a unique offer," she said.

    She nodded.  "I'm still pissed off about this.  I'd have liked some
warning."  She glared at the being, then looked back to Nicole.  "But okay.
Let's try it."

    Nicole nodded.  "Alright."  They turned back to the being, and said,
"What's next?"

    "Another surprise, I'm afraid.  You see, we took the chance that you'd
agree, and we're already orbiting Arenaworld.  Your first match is about to
begin."

    "What?!?" Robin asked.  "Don't we get some kind of training or--"

    "Good luck.  Oh, by the way--it's usually to the death."  With that, the
being--and their surroundings--vanished.

    They stood on a flat grey deck, which stretched circularly for hundreds
of yards in every direction, to meet towering steel walls bordering the
arena.  Above the walls were crowds of colorful alien beings, their odd
shapes only vaguely discernable in the distance.  And before them--only a
dozen or so yards away--stood their opponents.

    The aliens were reptilian humanoids as tall as they, their broad
physiques covered in gray armored scales and topped by toothy saurian heads.
Long, muscular tails snaked from side to side as they watched the girls with
murderous eyes.

    "Fresh meat," hissed the creature facing Nicole.

    "Humans," offered the other.  "Good eating."

    A pulsating red orb lowered from the ceiling at the arena's exact
center, and stopped a few dozen yards overhead.

    "Good evening," came a telepathic announcement, "And welcome to Don
King's Arenaworld, match area seven-seven-four.  Before contest
commencement, we would like to remind you that the concession stand is
always open and has plenty of Nova Fizz, the hottest, coolest soft drink
this side of Beta Regulus and the choice of a new generation.  We're also
pleased to announce that Arenaworld sweats, tees, caps, and assorted
merchandise will be discounted ten percent for all purchasers who retain
their ticket stubs.  Kids, don't forget--tomorrow is poster night for
developing entities three
millennia or less in age."

    "I--I don't know about this," stammered Robin, shifting from foot to
foot, anxiously regarding the saurians as the orb continued its promotion.
"I mean, I've never even arm-wrestled before."

    "Relax," said Nicole; her face was a picture of intensity, her gaze
locked on her reptilian counterpart.  She stood with her legs apart, flexing
and unflexing her fists, smoldering.  "We're gonna win.  Just do what comes
naturally."

    Robin had never seen Nicole so openly aggressive, not even when she took
dominant roles in foreplay.  As the prospect of combat entered her mind,
she, too, felt a twinge of unfamiliar hostility.  She wondered if they
hadn't received some form of mental alteration as well.  "Okay," she
murmured.

    "Tonight's contest," the orb continued, "Features those bad boys from
the Mutaran Nebulae, who successfully hold the Arenaworld record for most
consecutive victories in class three competition.  Please welcome--the
Slithaks!"

    The creatures pitched their heads back, jaws open wide, and issued a
thunderous roar.  The assembled masses responded with applause-like sounds
and gestures, leading Robin to think that they were the odds-on favorites.

    "And across from them, the newcomers from the planet earth, who have
just been given license to participate in the arena.  Representing one of
three inhabited planets in the Sol star system, give it up for--the
Terrans!"  Audience response was polite but restrained.

    "Match rules are those enforced by the Arenaworld Gladiatorial Council.
Conflict occurs until clear victory is established.  At the color
shift--begin."

    It throbbed once, twice three times--then turned green.

    Robin squealed as her opponent leapt the twelve-yard gap and tackled
her, bowling her over.  She pushed and kicked at the slavering, hissing
monster atop her, its snapping maw mere inches from her body.  She planted
her foot in its plated midsection, screamed and shoved it as hard as she
could; the result sent the creature flipping through the air, to land with a
heavy thud several yards distant.  With a grace previously beyond her, she
pushed back with her arms and bucked forward, to return to a standing
position.  She was startled by her strength:  kicking the Slithak twenty
yards had been nothing short of superhuman.  As the reptilian struggled to
rise, she spotted Nicole, who had met her antagonist dead center.  She and
the creature were locked in mortal combat, her holding it in a savage
headlock, it embracing her waist.

    Her opponent, now enraged beyond rational thought, charged; she jumped,
tucked, and flipped completely over the creature, to land behind it.  Before
it could spin to face her, she took its thick tail in her arms, and began
turning in place; the helpless reptile was suspended in midair, whipping
around at incredible speeds.  She let go, and it slammed to the deck and
slid several yards.

    "I think I'm getting the hang of this," she said, a smile crossing her
face, as she noticed Nicole atop her opponent, clubbing away.  So far, she'd
proven herself faster and stronger, compensating for her lack of experience.
This knowledge charged her with confidence, and--to her surprise--her
libido:  warmth flashed from within her thighs, and her nipples hardened,
pushing visibly through the thin material of her costume.

    Now excited, Robin charged after the downed creature, moving to tackle
it--

    --and was struck squarely by its tail.  She bounced three times before
coming to rest on her stomach.

    More stunned than hurt, she turned just as the creature landed atop her,
and clamped its powerful jaws over her forearm.  Pain lanced through the
limb, and she screamed, its hands pinning her shoulders as it ground away on
its prize.  She took her free arm--her left--and began pounding the top of
its head, with all the strength she could muster.  To her surprise, the
third blow sent it reeling sideways, nearly incoherent.  She rolled away and
examined her arm:  it was red and covered with foamy drool, but--to her
amazement--hadn't been penetrated by the Slithak's sharp teeth.

    Robin marched over to it as it struggled to stand, and  threw a series
of rights and lefts to its body, doubling it over.  It staggered into a
clench with her; shuddering from adrenaline, warmth coursing through her in
waves from her pelvis, she locked her arms around its throbbing midsection,
and lifted it from the deck.  The air left its lungs with a screech as she
crushed it, its limbs flailing helplessly, electric pleasure exploding over
her body.  Long moments passed as its struggles grew weaker, until finally
it was limp in her arms.  Tingling with sensation, she allowed it to slump
to the floor, and crawled over it; its breathing was ragged and shallow, but
it was still alive.

    She stood and turned to Nicole, who was seated across the back of her
opponent's neck; she had the Slithak's lower jaw pinned to the deck, and was
pulling back on the other.  Nicole's hips were grinding down against the
alien's rough skin as dominance fueled her ecstasy.  It bucked and thrashed,
heightening her climax, as its jaws reached their limits and, with a
cracking and tearing of membranes, exceeded them.  Nicole continued, slowly,
torturously proving her dominance as blood spit and pooled out from the
sides of its ever-widening maw.  With a cry and a loud crack!, she broke its
jaws completely open, and held them wide.

    "Nicole," said Robin, kneeling beside her, touching her shoulder, "It's
over.  You don't have to kill it."

    "I want to," she hissed, her glistening chest heaving.

    "We've won.  Ease up.  We've won."

    Nicole regarded the injured, beaten creature beneath her, so weak, so
completely at her mercy.  It would be nothing to go further, to break its
neck...but Robin's pleading eyes, her soft hand on her shoulder, brought her
compassion back.  She realized that these beings had little prior exposure
to her kind, and that the first example would be the most memorable.  Though
technologically infantile by comparison, they could at least demonstrate
that they were above barbarism.

    "Relax," she said, letting its useless jaws flop back together, "I'm
okay.  It's over."

    They stood and embraced, exuberant, as the orb announced them as the
winners.


    "A little lower," said Robin, as Rich slowly kneaded her trapezius
muscles with his fingers and knuckles.  He adjusted, and she smiled
dreamily.  "Yes.  Much better."

    They'd been returned to the ship, and had later been found quarters in
Arenaworld's Gladiatorial Lodging Facility.  The space assigned to them was
a luxurious collection of elegant furniture and incomprehensibly advanced
entertainment.

    "You girls were tough out there," Rich said.  "I mean, those things came
after you like pit bulls, and you beat 'em like stepchildren."

    Nicole was nearby, nude and wet, toweling her hair.  "Glad you liked
it."

    "What's next?" asked Robin.

    "Well, Mack told me that you guys get a few days off to look around, and
then you go back to face the Octans.  He says that if you handled the
Slithaks like that, then they should be pretty easy."

    "I hope so."

    "Tell me," he said, moving to work the muscles behind her neck, "When
you had 'em down, and they were whipped...did it...."

    "Did it what?"  Nicole threw her towel onto an ergonomically designed
chair.  "Turn us on?"

    "Yeah."

    Nicole walked over to Robin, and pulled her to sit up.  The women
embraced and exchanged a furious kiss, hands roaming over their bodies and
through their hair.

    "Yeah," said Nicole, still regarding Robin tenderly.  "It did.  A lot."

    "Just my luck," he said.  "The only human women for light years around,
and they're hot for one another.  Guess I'll be sleeping elsewhere."

    Robin stepped down from the padded table, and she and Nicole moved
before and behind him.  They sandwiched him with their bodies, their hands
sliding over him.  "I don't think so, Rich," said Nicole, her now-familiar
lips and teeth working on his earlobe, Robin nibbling the other.  "We still
haven't thanked you for that ride."

    His eyes crossed.  "Praise Jehovah for gratitude."


                           END EPISODE ONE