Girls are Different
How did Kaylee know that Inara took women as clients? Why, in War Stories, did it not come as a surprise to her the way it did to the rest of the crew? Perhaps this is how the conversation went...
Rated T for discussion of sexual encounters. Spoilers for War Stories. No infringement intended, as all characters belong to Joss Whedon. Unbeta'd, so all errors are mine...
It was late in the ship's day; the last meal had been taken, the precious coffee poured out and drunk. The crew and passengers had drifted away - to sleep, to read, to polish their guns, and Kaylee, in a rare moment of engine room harmony, had popped her head round the door of Inara's shuttle, and been warmly invited in.
Now she sat, overalls around her waist and her flimsy, lacy bra (she was a girl, after all, Kaylee had thought in the little dressmaker's shop on Ceres Minor, despite the turn her life had taken which saw her living almost permanently in a set of all-in-ones and a fog of used engine oil) unhooked at the back, while Inara, with those hands Kaylee so admired (so clean! So delicate and yet so strong, with the nails neatly filed and polished. So shiny) worked on the knots in her back, releasing the tension she'd been holding since the last blowout of the gorram compression coil. The fight she had had, on hands and knees, on her back, spanner clutched in her hand or her mouth, in her struggle to get Serenity stable again! Her back had gotten so bad she could barely crouch down. Inara had noticed, and offered to help.
Ohhhh, and helping she was. Kaylee could feel her muscles relaxing, her very soul uncoiling as those hands rubbed and pushed and worked her muscles. The warm oils Inara poured over her back were scented with something spicy; she felt drowsy and happy and relaxed. If she were a cat, she'd be purring, she thought with a smile, and stretched voluptuously under Inara's hands.
"Too hard?" Inara's head appeared in her peripheral vision, dark curls falling over her shoulders. "Am I hurting you?"
"Oh no." Even her voice came out dreamy. "No, it's wonderful. Never felt nothing so good." She twisted her own head slightly, to let her words reach the Companion behind her. "Why is that, do you think?"
"Why is what?" Inara paused for a second, wiping her hands on a paper-thin cotton cloth before lifting Kaylee's mass of dark hair, twisting it up and securing it with a clasp. She pondered briefly on the little bottles of oil set out by her side, selected one and carefully allowed two fat drops to fall onto the exposed nape before her. Kaylee sighed in pleasure.
"That you know how to do...," her hand waved towards her back, "this. I mean, I've had a fair few boyfriends try fix those kinks in my shoulders, but not a'one of them was any good at it." She paused, and then went on, her voice puzzled."Why do you know how to touch a woman better'n they do?"
Inara's hands stilled for a moment, then resumed their steady kneading. There was a pause while she worked out a particularly dense knot of muscle, using her thumbs to release the tension and her fingers to soothe the reddened skin. It was some time before she answered, and Kaylee had almost forgotten her question in her sleepy contentment. When Inara did speak,her voice low, she had to think for a minute to remember what she was talking about.
"At the Academy, all prospective Companions are taught the art of skillful massage." Her fingers were sweeping over Kaylee's shoulders now, the touch light and delicate, like the flutter of birds wings. "We learn how to relieve the tension our clients may be carrying, how to relax them so that they can participate fully in our meeting." A thumb drew a line from the nape of the neck down the spine to the centre of the back. "Men and women are different - we learn how to... please... both."
Her words were deliberately vague, but her tone was unmistakable. Kaylee twisted her head again, trying to look into Inara's eyes, and was deftly returned to her original position with one sweep of a thumb.
"Please both? Do y'mean, just with massage, or, um, do you..? Her words trailed off on a querying note.
"Take women as clients?" Inara's voice was amused. "Yes, I do." Another drop of heated oil was allowed to drop onto the prominent knobs of the spine, and Kaylee hissed, half in pain half in pleasure as the liquid cooled almost instantly against her skin. Inara resumed her massage.
"I see many more men than I do women." She sighed, and Kaylee felt the puff of air against her cheek. "It's partly personal preference, partly just that so many more men request the services of a female Companion." Her hands were smoothing the white skin now, pressing just enough to feel the hard muscle beneath the soft flesh. "But just sometimes... sometimes I grow a little tired of the feel of them. The heavy bodies, the hairiness, the musky scent. Just sometimes."
She fell silent, and Kaylee ventured another question. "Are women so different then? I mean, I know we're less bristly, generally?" Her voice rose hopefully on the last word, and Inara laughed and rose gracefully to her feet. Moving to the side of the shuttle, where soft towels were being kept warm, her back was to Kaylee, her voice slightly muffled, but still audible.
"Yes, considerably less bristly." She turned, crossing the two steps back to where Kaylee sat, shivering slightly now that the warmth from Inara's ever-moving hands had been taken away. She draped the towel over her exposed shoulders and back, and knelt again behind her friend, not touching but close enough to share in the warmth soaking into Kaylee.
"It's more than just that, though." Her tone was contemplative, thoughtful. "Women as clients - it's a chance to relax the act a bit, you know, to feel safer to be myself. Men expect such high standards from their Companions, as indeed they should," her voice grew suddenly formal, "after all, we train for a long time to ensure those standards are upheld."
There was the clink of china, and Kaylee, eyes closed, knew Inara was brewing tea. Emboldened by the moment, and the glimpse she had been offered, she dared to ask the question hovering on her lips.
" 'Nara? How does it feel? Being with another woman, I mean?"
For a long moment there was no answer, and she thought, sorrowfully, that she'd gone too far, pushed the boundaries of this friendship beyond what Inara was comfortable with. The Companion's hands rested on the low table, her head, stilled, turned half profile towards Kaylee. The flickering of the many candles turned her skin a rich, warm cream; her hair in this light held the deep, glossy glow of Old Earth mahogany. The silence lengthened, and Kaylee was beginning to look for a way to retreat, to withdraw the question and apologise, when Inara finally spoke again.
"It's soft, most of the time. Soft and smooth, Kaylee. And the body under you, or beside you, or over you, it has curves and folds rather than lines and planes. Your hands cup, rather than grasp, and your flesh can mold to the other's flesh, soft on soft." Her voice was rhythmic, dreamy, and Kaylee sat hypnotised, barely remembering to blink as she watched the play of light against Inara's slim form.
"The taste... women taste like the rain. A little salty too, as if the clouds had picked up their water from a great ocean. Under your tongue, their skin glides like ivory; the nipple tightening against your lips comes as a shock just because it is such a vivid texture in the midst of so much silkiness."
The towel, cold now, slipped unheeded from Kaylee's shoulders, and Inara, catching the movement, shook her head slightly and and leaned towards her, pulling up the discarded overalls puddled round her waist, helping her fit the sleeves over her arms as if she were a small child. Only then did she allow herself to catch Kaylee's eyes, to see the pupils dilated and aroused.
And it is at this moment that Mal's voice comes over the 'com, gruff, impatient (bristly, Kaylee thinks), calling her name and something about that shee-niou compression coil, and why isn't she in the engine room?
Kaylee heaves a sigh, and Inara smiles, leaning over her shoulder to look at the pot of tea, forgotten on on the table. "Next time," she murmurs, and then, unexpectedly, her lips touch Kaylee's, slightly parted, featherlight. Her breath is cinnamon scented, and her lips so soft the little engine mechanic isn't sure she's really been kissed at all.
"Sweet Kaylee," Inara whispers, then "KAYLEE!" Mal's voice bellows over the 'com and she's up and at the door before her brain has caught up with her actions. A quick, apologetic smile and she's gone, her boots clattering on the stairs outside the shuttle, leaving Inara alone with the rapidly cooling green tea and a roomful of candles.
Next landfall is in three weeks: stretching over she flicks open her communications screen. She has had seven requests thus far for her company, and has yet to make her selection. With the memory of their conversation fresh in her mind, she sends a quick, warm note to the Councillor, then neatly blows out the candles and folds herself into her covers.
Serenity barrels on through the endless night of the Outer Territories; Inara drifts on the edge of dreams. "Sweet Kaylee," she murmurs once more, and then she sleeps.
Rated T for discussion of sexual encounters. Spoilers for War Stories. No infringement intended, as all characters belong to Joss Whedon. Unbeta'd, so all errors are mine...
It was late in the ship's day; the last meal had been taken, the precious coffee poured out and drunk. The crew and passengers had drifted away - to sleep, to read, to polish their guns, and Kaylee, in a rare moment of engine room harmony, had popped her head round the door of Inara's shuttle, and been warmly invited in.
Now she sat, overalls around her waist and her flimsy, lacy bra (she was a girl, after all, Kaylee had thought in the little dressmaker's shop on Ceres Minor, despite the turn her life had taken which saw her living almost permanently in a set of all-in-ones and a fog of used engine oil) unhooked at the back, while Inara, with those hands Kaylee so admired (so clean! So delicate and yet so strong, with the nails neatly filed and polished. So shiny) worked on the knots in her back, releasing the tension she'd been holding since the last blowout of the gorram compression coil. The fight she had had, on hands and knees, on her back, spanner clutched in her hand or her mouth, in her struggle to get Serenity stable again! Her back had gotten so bad she could barely crouch down. Inara had noticed, and offered to help.
Ohhhh, and helping she was. Kaylee could feel her muscles relaxing, her very soul uncoiling as those hands rubbed and pushed and worked her muscles. The warm oils Inara poured over her back were scented with something spicy; she felt drowsy and happy and relaxed. If she were a cat, she'd be purring, she thought with a smile, and stretched voluptuously under Inara's hands.
"Too hard?" Inara's head appeared in her peripheral vision, dark curls falling over her shoulders. "Am I hurting you?"
"Oh no." Even her voice came out dreamy. "No, it's wonderful. Never felt nothing so good." She twisted her own head slightly, to let her words reach the Companion behind her. "Why is that, do you think?"
"Why is what?" Inara paused for a second, wiping her hands on a paper-thin cotton cloth before lifting Kaylee's mass of dark hair, twisting it up and securing it with a clasp. She pondered briefly on the little bottles of oil set out by her side, selected one and carefully allowed two fat drops to fall onto the exposed nape before her. Kaylee sighed in pleasure.
"That you know how to do...," her hand waved towards her back, "this. I mean, I've had a fair few boyfriends try fix those kinks in my shoulders, but not a'one of them was any good at it." She paused, and then went on, her voice puzzled."Why do you know how to touch a woman better'n they do?"
Inara's hands stilled for a moment, then resumed their steady kneading. There was a pause while she worked out a particularly dense knot of muscle, using her thumbs to release the tension and her fingers to soothe the reddened skin. It was some time before she answered, and Kaylee had almost forgotten her question in her sleepy contentment. When Inara did speak,her voice low, she had to think for a minute to remember what she was talking about.
"At the Academy, all prospective Companions are taught the art of skillful massage." Her fingers were sweeping over Kaylee's shoulders now, the touch light and delicate, like the flutter of birds wings. "We learn how to relieve the tension our clients may be carrying, how to relax them so that they can participate fully in our meeting." A thumb drew a line from the nape of the neck down the spine to the centre of the back. "Men and women are different - we learn how to... please... both."
Her words were deliberately vague, but her tone was unmistakable. Kaylee twisted her head again, trying to look into Inara's eyes, and was deftly returned to her original position with one sweep of a thumb.
"Please both? Do y'mean, just with massage, or, um, do you..? Her words trailed off on a querying note.
"Take women as clients?" Inara's voice was amused. "Yes, I do." Another drop of heated oil was allowed to drop onto the prominent knobs of the spine, and Kaylee hissed, half in pain half in pleasure as the liquid cooled almost instantly against her skin. Inara resumed her massage.
"I see many more men than I do women." She sighed, and Kaylee felt the puff of air against her cheek. "It's partly personal preference, partly just that so many more men request the services of a female Companion." Her hands were smoothing the white skin now, pressing just enough to feel the hard muscle beneath the soft flesh. "But just sometimes... sometimes I grow a little tired of the feel of them. The heavy bodies, the hairiness, the musky scent. Just sometimes."
She fell silent, and Kaylee ventured another question. "Are women so different then? I mean, I know we're less bristly, generally?" Her voice rose hopefully on the last word, and Inara laughed and rose gracefully to her feet. Moving to the side of the shuttle, where soft towels were being kept warm, her back was to Kaylee, her voice slightly muffled, but still audible.
"Yes, considerably less bristly." She turned, crossing the two steps back to where Kaylee sat, shivering slightly now that the warmth from Inara's ever-moving hands had been taken away. She draped the towel over her exposed shoulders and back, and knelt again behind her friend, not touching but close enough to share in the warmth soaking into Kaylee.
"It's more than just that, though." Her tone was contemplative, thoughtful. "Women as clients - it's a chance to relax the act a bit, you know, to feel safer to be myself. Men expect such high standards from their Companions, as indeed they should," her voice grew suddenly formal, "after all, we train for a long time to ensure those standards are upheld."
There was the clink of china, and Kaylee, eyes closed, knew Inara was brewing tea. Emboldened by the moment, and the glimpse she had been offered, she dared to ask the question hovering on her lips.
" 'Nara? How does it feel? Being with another woman, I mean?"
For a long moment there was no answer, and she thought, sorrowfully, that she'd gone too far, pushed the boundaries of this friendship beyond what Inara was comfortable with. The Companion's hands rested on the low table, her head, stilled, turned half profile towards Kaylee. The flickering of the many candles turned her skin a rich, warm cream; her hair in this light held the deep, glossy glow of Old Earth mahogany. The silence lengthened, and Kaylee was beginning to look for a way to retreat, to withdraw the question and apologise, when Inara finally spoke again.
"It's soft, most of the time. Soft and smooth, Kaylee. And the body under you, or beside you, or over you, it has curves and folds rather than lines and planes. Your hands cup, rather than grasp, and your flesh can mold to the other's flesh, soft on soft." Her voice was rhythmic, dreamy, and Kaylee sat hypnotised, barely remembering to blink as she watched the play of light against Inara's slim form.
"The taste... women taste like the rain. A little salty too, as if the clouds had picked up their water from a great ocean. Under your tongue, their skin glides like ivory; the nipple tightening against your lips comes as a shock just because it is such a vivid texture in the midst of so much silkiness."
The towel, cold now, slipped unheeded from Kaylee's shoulders, and Inara, catching the movement, shook her head slightly and and leaned towards her, pulling up the discarded overalls puddled round her waist, helping her fit the sleeves over her arms as if she were a small child. Only then did she allow herself to catch Kaylee's eyes, to see the pupils dilated and aroused.
And it is at this moment that Mal's voice comes over the 'com, gruff, impatient (bristly, Kaylee thinks), calling her name and something about that shee-niou compression coil, and why isn't she in the engine room?
Kaylee heaves a sigh, and Inara smiles, leaning over her shoulder to look at the pot of tea, forgotten on on the table. "Next time," she murmurs, and then, unexpectedly, her lips touch Kaylee's, slightly parted, featherlight. Her breath is cinnamon scented, and her lips so soft the little engine mechanic isn't sure she's really been kissed at all.
"Sweet Kaylee," Inara whispers, then "KAYLEE!" Mal's voice bellows over the 'com and she's up and at the door before her brain has caught up with her actions. A quick, apologetic smile and she's gone, her boots clattering on the stairs outside the shuttle, leaving Inara alone with the rapidly cooling green tea and a roomful of candles.
Next landfall is in three weeks: stretching over she flicks open her communications screen. She has had seven requests thus far for her company, and has yet to make her selection. With the memory of their conversation fresh in her mind, she sends a quick, warm note to the Councillor, then neatly blows out the candles and folds herself into her covers.
Serenity barrels on through the endless night of the Outer Territories; Inara drifts on the edge of dreams. "Sweet Kaylee," she murmurs once more, and then she sleeps.