Disaster in Space/Amy:Servicing the Shipyard
From Create Your Own Story
Most girls in the same position would have called this guy a pig and flown away, but you have needs too and it's been a while since you felt anything inside you except your own fingers and a dildo. Your contact's bashful offer excites you, and you find yourself smiling. You decide you'd love to stick around for a day or two and blow off some steam - and in the long run it could be VERY good for business!
Your contact is delighted when you accept his offer. "Great!" he exclaims, grinning even wider than before. "Follow me back and we'll clear a landing pad for you. I promise you won't regret this!"
In the space of a few minutes, you arrive on the landing pad as an authorized "contractor." You blush a little, wondering if anyone besides the workers know what sort of "contract" you've made with them. You also have to wonder how many other people are let into this installation for shady purposes! Your contact is already waiting for you on the pad, and you instantly recognize his easy grin. You are also pleased to learn that, in addition to being very handsome, he is also impressively fit for a man his age.
The contact looks you up and down and whistles - evidently you also look better in the flesh. You resist the urge to do a little spin for him, showing off your taut round body in your tight-fitting flight suit.
The contact extends his hand, and you offer yours as well. He shakes it firmly - a little too firmly, actually, but then again he probably hasn't touched a woman in months or years. "I'm Earl. It's great to have you on the base." You instantly like him; his smiling face is so earnest and easy to read.
"Amy," you answer with a sweet smile, giving his hand a friendly squeeze in return.
"Here, follow me. We have a guest suite for VIPs, but nobody uses it except the damned inspectors. About time we get to put someone up who's actually welcome here."
Always alert, you look around the station interior as he leads you from the pad. You are instantly aware that every man in sight is staring at you hungrily, watching your thick hips sway majestically with every step. No one seems bothered by the pistol you are wearing on your right side, although it's possible they simply don't notice. Earl leads you past a large mess hall that must serve this entire crew module, then a dormitory for the workers who are off their shift, then what looks like a large capacitor or battery pack for the main power system. You are surprised when you also pass a bar. "All the drinks are synthetic," Earl explains. "We have to count on you for the real stuff, sweet cheeks!"
"Here's your quarters," Earl says at last. He punches a button on one side of the door and it opens to reveal a large, if somewhat plain, living space. "It has a sitting room, bedroom, a full kitchen, and head - excuse me, I mean bathroom." He beckons you inside with a stupid smirk.
"Thanks, I know a thing about ship terminology too," you reply with a wink. Men, you think. They always forget that girls live and work in space too!
Earl laughs and smiles at you like a fellow spacer. "Well now! Do you want me to show you around some, or settle in first?"
