What in the universe have I done to deserve this?

For the millionth time that hour, Cherae Longbow squirmed fitfully in her seat. The restraining harness on the tilted armchair allowed little movement. Even in zero-g the seriousness of her situation weighed heavily upon her, preventing her from dozing peacefully like the rest of the occupants of the moon to Earth shuttle. The business-types and tourists could sleep like babies. They didn’t have to face what she did upon their arrival.

As Terran deputy ambassador to Vigenia, Cherae had never been called to stand before the High Commission of the Alliance of Peaceful Planets. In her ten years in the diplomatic corps she could count the times she had visited her home world—or her people, the Lakota Sioux—on one hand. Her career as an extra-terrestrial linguist had taken her from one end of Alliance space to another. As she rose in status in the diplomatic corps, taking time off to see family and friends became a rare thing indeed.

When the commissioners abruptly summoned Cherae to Earth and informed her that she was to ready herself to report immediately for a new duty station after the briefing, she knew she must have done something dreadful to displease them. What she had done wrong she had no earthly idea.

Her restless fidgeting eventually woke her traveling companion.

“Calm down,” Jax Benay, her right hand man, said. “They’re not going to cut your head off. Earthers are far too civilized for that sort of thing. You’re an Earther, aren’t you?”

“Terran. We prefer to be called Terrans nowadays.”

Cherae suppressed a grin behind her hand, pretending to yawn. Muscular yet cat-like in his agility with green-eyes and alabaster pigmentation, Jax was fairer than she was dark and as handsome as he was quick-witted. And loyal. He’d been only too happy to accompany her to Earth and then on to her next mission, saying, “I’d rather be stuck working on some frozen hell-hole beside you than slaving away on a tropical paradise for anyone else.”

“Earthers, Terrans, same difference. Now, if the Alliance was made up of mostly Martians like me…” Jax lowered his voice and arched a platinum eyebrow, his long, nimble fingers sliding up the side of her arm to rest at the hollow of her neck where it lingered a second too long to be construed as a platonic gesture. “Well, I know exactly how I’d make you pay for your crime, Madame Deputy Ambassador. Repeatedly.”

Cherae’s pussy muscles contracted with the promise of her aide’s adept attentions, but now was not the time nor place. She took a deep breath, gently removed his hand and sat up straight and proper.

“Now, Jax, you promised. Be a good boy and keep our little secret to yourself. You know the commissioners are a bunch of prudes compared to the Vigenians. They expect us to act professionally at all times. No hanky-panky in the office—before, during, or after hours.”

He saluted and winked. “Yes, ma’am.”

Cherae tried to laugh, but the strain won out. “I only wish I had your sense of humor.”

Jax placed his hand on top of hers on the seat rest and leveled his gaze at her. “Don’t worry, Cherae. It’s going to be fine. The communiqué said nothing about you being demoted. Come to think about it, it said nothing about you being in trouble at all. I think they want you to come to Earth because they’re going to promote you again.”

“A promotion would be nice, but I’ve been promoted in the field without any fancy rigmarole before. Why the change all of a sudden? Why all the secrecy?”

Jax scratched his silver-white goatee thoughtfully. “Could it be something to do with a new race who wants to enter the Alliance? You’ve heard the rumors about the Magnens wanting to join us. They’re classified as a Level C civilization. That could explain the quiet volume on the grapevine lately.”

Cherae shivered. “You mean have I heard the gossip about Commissioner Darvin falling over dead at the council table after the Magnen’s first video transmission?” She closed her eyes and clasped her hands. “Great Spirit above, please don’t make them send me there, to Magnus Prime—the death world.”

“Now, we don’t know if it’s because the Magnens are so hideous they caused poor old Darvin’s twin hearts to stop.” Jax squeezed her shoulder, but she found little comfort in the gesture. “It could be just the opposite.”

“You mean the Magnens are so beautiful they cause people to die horrible deaths?” She crossed her arms, pouting. “Hmmm, that would be different. A Level C civilization full of gorgeous alien beings.”

“Like Mars,” he added, grinning.

This time laughter slipped easily through her full lips. “Ha! What an imagination you have, Jax. No wonder your application stood out from the rest when I was looking for an assistant. You certainly are creative.”

His fingers lightly danced across the back of her hand. An impish twinkle glowed in his emerald eyes. “Yes, I’m creative in more ways than one. As soon as we’ve adjusted to Earth gravity, I’ll be happy to show you, too.”

Cherae chuckled again. The worries of the day started to melt away. Jax was right. The commissioners had said nothing about her being reprimanded. She should relax and enjoy this opportunity to visit her home world. She should simply relax.

Her hand dropped into Jax’s lap and slid under the open magazine splayed across it, caressing his cock—growing harder by the second—through the thin material of his travel suit. “Hmm, I can’t wait.”

“I can’t wait, either.”

Jax stowed his periodical and lowered his pants zipper to give his rod freedom. Reaching beneath the papers in Cherae’s lap, he slipped a finger under her short skirt, fondling her clit with equal enthusiasm. She arched her forward and moaned lightly at his deft touch.