Thread: Star Wars:  Honey Trap (TheCorsair and Lady Vi)

The door slid open almost the moment his finger touched the switch. A lesser ship's hatch might have 'whooshed' or made some other noise, but this one was as silent as silk on skin clearly it was well maintained. Silhouetted in the doorway was a familiar form a C-class protocol droid. It's chassis was polished chrome, un-dented and unsullied by any residual smog. The droid gave a wobbling bow, characteristic of the model's weak servos. Hello Sir, and good evening to you! I am designate De'o, personal assistant to Mistress Ahkaa, The droid said with all the decorum his kind were known for. Backing away from the hatch, the droid motioned to welcome Quentin on board, his metal face unreadable. Mistress is expecting you, she will be very glad you've called. Please follow me. De'o bustled inside as though glad to be out of the unfiltered air. Once up the steps, the yacht opened into a fairly standard corridor, decorated to resemble the foyer of an Alderaanian noble house. Though the bulkheads were presumably made of standard materials, they were painted in such a way to resemble white marble. The floors were a rich dark wood without any rugs to hide the lovely grain. Sconces set into the bulkhead gave off a soft glow that illuminated several vases of fragrant flowers. This corridor appeared to run the length of the ship, with several doors on either side denoting separate rooms. At the far end of the hallway, a narrow set of stairs led upwards to the cockpit. One door near these stairs was open, and it was this room that De'o walked toward. The room Quentin was led to was bathed in natural light. A band of transparent bulkhead wrapped around the parlor along the ceiling, allowing plenty of light without damaging the privacy of anyone inside the room. Though the floors were the same expensive wood paneling, several plush rugs were scattered around the large room. The walls were painted a milky blue so pale it might have truly been white and more elegant floral arrangements decorated every spare surface with shades of green, violet, and white. A handful of comfortable-looking armchairs were clustered on one large rug around a low table. The table held no flowers, but there was a steaming teapot with two cups sitting beside a lacquered black box, beside this tea set waited a carafe of lilac-colored liquor and two stemmed glasses already rimmed with iridescent sugar. Also near this table was a brocade chaise-lounge and on this Naadia'scha reclined while skimming a datapad. The woman was small, perhaps 5'2, and as lovely as her ship. Her hair was a few shades darker than the wood beneath their feet, but polished to the same rich glow. It tumbled in curls over her shoulders, artfully arranged to look careless. Naadia's skin was alabaster pale and perfectly smooth everywhere that he could see. And he could see most of it. She wore a simple gown of draped lashaa silk, nearly translucent and soft seafoam green. The material hung loosely over her frame and spilled down the chaise to the floor so that a pair of long, shapely legs were exposed to the thigh. The plunging neckline left her chest bare to her navel, but all the proper bits were covered strictly speaking. When she looked up, her perfectly-painted red lips curved in a delighted smile and her moss-green eyes danced with a wicked humor. She stood to meet him, gems sparkling from beaded strands that connected her middle toe to jeweled anklets. Naadia moved with the easy, practiced grace of a dancer as she set aside her datapad and walked toward them. Thank you, De'o, you may leave us. Her voice was unaccented and refined, clearly through years of practice. Her pupils were noticeably large as she gave Quentin a quick once-over, but she did not slur her words. Would you care for a drink? Tea, perhaps? I have been looking forward to meeting you, I must say. But I am surprised that you came in uniform. It is your business, of course, but I thought your masters did not approve? She filled one of the cocktail glasses for herself, careful not to muddle the sugared rim. As she poured, the scent of rich fruit wafted through the room, mingling with the smell of the flowers. Naadia lifted her glass and inhaled as she sipped. Shimmering bits of sugar clung to her lips for a heartbeat before she licked them away delicately. Master Khan had such lovely things to say about you. I am so glad he finally sent you my way.