Zara awoke to someone stroking her face.
“Parlie, get OUTTA here!” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.
The stroking moved lower down.
“I’m not Parlie, sweetcakes,” a deep, rough voice murmured into her ear.
Zara was WIDE awake.
“Barry? Fuck! Get OUT of here!” she yelled.
He slid into the nest beside her and grabbed her wrists.
“Come on cutie, let’s pop that cherry!”
She kicked him in the nose. He grunted and tried to throw a leg over her two.
This was stupid, Zara realised. ‘Workroom! Go!’ she thought fiercely, and Barry – and the sleep nest – disappeared. She sighed, and headed for a large group of people nearby.
“Zara, darlin! You don’t look so good…” said Parlie, wandering out to meet her, “Coming down with a virus?”
She laughed weakly.
“Barry just had a go at me in the sleeping nests,” she said, pointing randomly behind her.
The group was all ears.
“Just wait, honey – Barry attacked you?” a blond girl in 18th century court regalia asked.
“Wanted to make sweet, sweet love,” Zara said, recovering a bit of her sense of humour, “Permission not important, I gather!”
“Shit!” Parlie said, looking upset, “No-one’s ever done that sort of thing here – I never even thought Barry was capable of that! That’s just…” Words obviously failed him.
“Hey, it’s not so bad!” Zara said, hugging him, “Barry forgot to lock the door! And judging from the fact that he hasn’t chased me out… he probably hasn’t noticed yet. What do you wanna bet he’s making sweet sweet love to himself right now?”
Several people snickered appreciatively.
“Come on!” Parlie said imperiously, “You’re coming to report this!”
He grabbed her hand, and almost let it go again as he felt the distress and anger she’d been hiding so well.
“Come on,” he repeated more gently, “let’s go fix the bastard, eh?”