Spaceport Whore: Chapter 1 - The Girls of Newport
synopsis: After a tiring debate in the New Republic Council, Princess Leia agrees to a suggestion by Han Solo on how she might be able to relax.
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It was a typical night in a typical commercial district of Coruscant. The dim lights from the orbital solar mirrors were little more than glimmers compared to the lights from the atmospheric and orbital traffic, and the hellish glow from flux reactors and hypermatter refineries. All of those were more present in this section of The Works than others, as this particular segment of the dirty machinery that kept Coruscant running contained Newport. Originally built as a massive naval service depot during the Mandalorian Wars, it had served as one of the Old Republic military's main hubs for nearly three thousand years. Following the final defeat of the Sith at Ruusan, the sprawling starport - larger than most cities on most planets, albeit only a minor speck of cityscape on the Jewel of the Core - had been closed as part of the wave of demilitarization that had followed the victory over Lord Kaan and his followers.
For a millennium, the abandoned Newport had been sealed off from the outside planet, with rumors that remaining vagabonds left inside had interbred and created a race of sub-sentient degenerates who patrolled the once-gleaming corridors in search of interlopers to cannibalize. In all likelihood the myth of the Starport Shamblers were merely an urban legend propagated by the criminals and gangsters to keep outsiders away from where they conducted their business, as when Newport was resurrected by the reconstituted Republic Navy following the Battle of Geonosis, it was fortunately found to be completely devoid of mutants. Throughout the Clone Wars, Newport slowly regained its former status and hustle, and after the end of the war and the establishment of the Galactic Empire and its Pax Empirica, its focused turned from military to commercial, a focus retained after the planet's conquest by the New Republic only several months before.
Spoils of a thousand campaigns of conquest along the Outer Rim, soldiers on shore leave, tourists and tradesbeings and bureaucrats - on a good day, hundreds of thousands of sentients would pass in and out of Newport. From all over the galaxy they came - Humans and Bothans and Wookiees and Selkath, beings of all shapes and sizes and with all sorts of requirements. Almost as soon as Newport had been reopened nearly three decades earlier, an entire satellite community of merchants had sprung up around the spaceport, offering everything the traveler to Coruscant, whether starry-eyed first timer or jaded resident returning home, could need: cantinas for one craving Juri Juice; diners for those hungry for the classic nilluk strips with a fried vakiir egg; shops where cheap foamplas trinkets could be bought for outrageous prices; inns for those who just wanted to a place to sleep off hyperspace lag or wait after being bumped from their starliner.
And, for the discerning traveler of the most refined tastes looking for something just a bit more exotic, those were available, as well...
"Hey there, handsome. Welcome to Coruscant. You lookin' for someone to show you a good time?" Narra Tynn wriggled her not-inconsiderable bust, adjusting her halter top over them while running a green lekku suggestively over her painted lips. Her would-be paramour - a sleazy-looking Duros in the uniform of the Haj Shipping Lines - paused and looked her over. Narra preened at the attention, sticking her breasts out even more wantonly. Her top was yellow shimmersilk, her black lace bra visible quite clearly underneath; the cone of light from the street lamp Narra was standing under provided the best possible highlighting of her assets - at least, her best possible assets at this particular position. However, the highlighting was apparently not good enough this time, as the Duro shook his head, jabbered something in Bocce, and walked off.
"Zark off, you slimy blight beetle!" Narra shouted out at him, instantly transformed from sultry lady of the night to scorned vixen. "You wouldn't even know where to begin to handle a bod this nova-hot! I hope it rots off, if you even have one to begin with!" The spacer's only reply was an angry dismissal from over his shoulder, not even bothering to look back.
"Forget him, hon," Vashee, a Togruta and fellow 'professional woman' working this corner for Longarm Tarolba. She was one of the many non-Humans – 'aliens', the official terminology had been, until only recently – evicted from their work and family homes on Coruscant's upper levels by the Imperial regime, and forced to take solace – and whatever work possible – in the crowded, poorer underlevels. "There are plenty more credits where he came from." She pointed up with a lace-gloved hand, into the night sky of Coruscant, visibly in slivers between the spires of monads and arcologies and spacescrapers that formed Galactic City. So different from the night sky on Narra's homeworld of Sleheyron, a small world on the edge of the intergalactic void. Coruscant was the center of the galaxy, with a sky full of stars that not even the light pollution of a planetary city could drown out. And darting and whirling in between those stars were the lights, not only the typical speeders and spinners of Coruscant, but the freighters, cruisers, liners and battleships plying the hyperlanes that connected those distant lights with Coruscant. That was why Narra, and her fellow sisters of the night, had chosen Newport to ply their trade.
Narra, Vashee, and the other girls dotting the side of Slan Street - just outside the steerage-class entrance and exit gate of Newport, in front of the Traveler's Rest Inn - were all whores. And not the high-rise arcology-dwelling, senator-patronizing escorts most in the galaxy thought of when they thought of Coruscanti women. They were street-walking, spacer-fucking spaceport hookers. An unglamorous, dangerous, but profitable profession - at least as profitable as any job in the Coruscant Underworld. Even with the Rebellion seizing the planet several months ago in a pitched battle with the dying remnants of the Empire, followed by the recently-contained outbreak of the Krytos virus, Coruscant remained the jewel of the galaxy, and given its access to the markets of the New Republic, the volume of traffic through Newport had actually increased over the past few months.
Along with the end of the Empire's anti-miscegenation laws and the rising value of the New Republic credit, all that translated to Narra and the rest of Tarolba's girls fucking more men from more species for more money than they had ever made before.
"Maker bless the New Republic," Narra muttered to herself as she stepped back under 'her' streetlight, adjusting her deep blue halter top so a dark green nipple was just barely showing.
"What did you say?" Balria asked from next to her.
"Nothing," Narra replied. "Just hoping business picks up. I have a feeling it will." As if on queue, a massive starship - some Corellian freighter, by the looks of it - slowly swooped by overhead, coming in to land.
"May the Force be with us," Balria said with a hungry, feral smile. She was a Devaronian, the second-most senior of Tarolba's girls, under only Narra herself. Narra made it a point not to pry into the lives of the working sluts she supervised on behalf of Tarolba the Dug pimp, and to be honest in most cases she didn't care, but from snippets of conversations past Narra knew the red-furred Devaronian, body still tight and tits proud despite being in her forties, was in the profession to support her two young children, and more to the point, to make sure they weren't taken in by slavers to participate in the same profession. Balria claimed her husband has been killed in one of the Imperial raids on the Underworld that had once been so common until just recently, but Narra's guess was that, if she had even ever been married at all, the husband had either been killed in a gang war or just run off. Everyone knew that you could never trust a Devaronian male for fidelity.
As if on cue, from the multitude of cargo haulers and taxis streaming in and out of the Newport entrance portal, a decrepit, ancient shabby blue speeder slowed down, coming to a halt on the corner. The window opened and the three eyes of a Gran looked out.
"Hey, baby," Narra said, sauntering over on her stiletto heels. "Wanna have some fun?"
"How much for a Gran-bang?" he rumbled in rough, Rim-accented Basic, asking for a foursome popular among his species, where three women each impaled themselves on one of the Gran's triple cocks. Narra plumped her lips, looking him over. He didn't seem like much, and the speeder he was in looked like it had been bombed by Grievous himself during the last battle of Coruscant, but maybe he was a spice smuggler who had just brought a huge load in and was looking to celebrate, and the speeder was all he had left in storage from before he had left. It wasn't out of the question - the liberation of Coruscant had scattered the Imperial Core Security Fleet that had vaporized any smugglers caught within a parsec of Coruscant, and with the bulk of the New Republic Navy engaged in mopping up Imperial holdouts like Zsinj and Teradoc, Coruscant was for the time being a big flashing sign for smugglers, slavers, black marketeers, and anyone else who normally fled at the first sight of a cop's holosiren. The Republic would probably get wise and resume the customs searches...in six months or so, given the squabbling amongst the Provisional Council that HoloNet News always highlighted. Until then, even grubby three-eyes in bum speeders might be newly-minted millionaires. And it was her duty to aid the New Republic spirit of democracy by spreading the wealth around, right?
"That sounds like a fun party, big boy," Narra purred. "Let's see...normally, I'd say two hundred creds each, but for you, I could worm it down to one fifty?" Longarm typically let his girls do as they pleased, but he insisted on a few guidelines. Handjobs, fingering, or lekkujobs - the use of a lekku to stimulate a client's erogenous zones - were twenty creds a quarter-hour session, blowjobs (including oral sex upon a lekku or Togruta montral) or pussy-eating for the rare but not nonexistent female clients fifty (an extra five to swallow), tittyfucking or lezzie play seventy-five, fucking one hundred for thirty minutes, and anal or non-Humanoid orifice one-fifty. Extras - such as blindfolds, spanking, stun-cuffs, mechno-phalluses, or kissing - cost whatever the girls wanted to charge, within reason - Longarm didn't want to scare customers away, after all. The girls could charge any more than that they could get, but those were Longarm's minimum. Longarm charged each of his girls one hundred creds a night direct, and forty percent of what they made beyond that. It was a lot, but not as much as some of the other pimps, and certainly better than being a gangbanger's slut or Black Sun whore, and Longarm had agreements with Black Sun and the local gangs to keep his girls free of them, which went a long way in Narra's book. Besides, it wasn't like the cost of living in the Coruscant Underworld was high, especially as most of the girls shared apartments with two or three roommates. Along with a strict prohibition to not use spice or death sticks - he didn't want his money-makers to lose their looks from overuse, attract the attention of drug dealers he couldn't afford to pay off, or for his girls to spend money he might extort from them somehow - those were Longarm's only guidelines for the whores who worked for him.
"One fifty each?" The Gran sat, puzzling it over, obviously not a genius at math. Finally he shook his head. "How about a Gran-job?"
The term meant a combination blowjob on one cock, while receiving a handjob on the other two, a perfect numerical combination of a Gran tricock and the mouth and limbs of the typical Humanoid. Like Twi'leks and their lekku, the Gran and their tricocks allowed for a number of species-unique sexual styles to be named after them - a dubious honor in polite society, but useful bragging rights among the younger or more disreputable.
Narra's sultry expression didn't change, but she sighed on the inside. Apparently the would-be antilles was not a new smuggler-millionaire after all, and more to the point, was as dumb as he was stingy - he hadn't even tried to haggle down the price.
"I think that you could have a really nice time - three really nice times - for fifty altogether, how does that sound, honey?" The Gran looked like even that might have been too much, so Narra added, a little irately this time, "You do have three times the equipment than most customers, pal." Sometimes being uniquely endowed as a species had its down-side, as well.
The gears in the Gran's mind looked to be grinding away slowly, and finally he nodded. Narra nodded, then turned. "Teetee! Get over here. Got a new friend for you!" Narra briefly considered taking the job for herself, but decided to bet on her ability to get a better-paying antilles - the stream of pedestrians and speeders passing out of Newport was growing larger following the landing of the freighter, and what looked like two cruisers were coming in just now as well. Besides, she didn't really like Grans - that was more Teetee's thing. Nykki and Panki, the Twi'lek twins, were always up for a ménage à Twi, Viqi the Human had wroshyr fever and swamp fever - a predilection for Wookiees and Gungans, respectively - big time, and Kalorys the Zabrak, with her hard skin took any antilles who wanted a bit of a rough time. Kalorys had been the servant – i.e., comfort girl – of a particularly sadistic petty Imperial bureaucrat, one who enjoyed for whatever perverse reasons his de facto slave to fight back. He was one of the vast number of Imperial functionaries arrested when the New Republic established itself on Coruscant, only to be released shortly afterward when the Provisional Council realized that it didn't have the required functionaries needed to maintain a galactic government. By that time, Kalorys had already vanished underground, the New Republic too broke to even be able to provide her fare back to Iridonia. For whatever reason, her experiences beating and being beaten by her former 'employer' had not turned her off of the activity, and she found her niche ready-made among the 'staff' of the Traveler's Rest.
Teetee hurried over from where she had been chatting with Kalorys. She was a young Pantoran, her story all too familiar: young girl raised on a boring backwater of the galaxy, dreams of coming to Coruscant and making it rich, runs away to home and uses the last of her savings to buy the ticket, arrives on planet broke, and is picked up by a pimp within the week. Teetee really ought to feel lucky that slavers hadn't found her first; but while the dreams of becoming a major holostar or jizz-wailer were gone, and she still thought she could someday make enough money to return home, Teetee had not taken too badly to her life of economically-enforced prostitution. She was still young, optimistic, and innocent enough to think it would all blow over soon and she could put it behind her and forget about it for the rest of her life, and Narra did not feel like being the one to break the youngling's illusion. Currently, she was dressed in a deep cerulean Szona body stocking that, between its coloration and semi-transparent state, looked as though she was almost naked already, although it was thick enough to just tantalize rather than display her best assets. A quick dispute erupted over payment; the Gran wanted to pay in Imperial credits, which despite the New Republic's promise to eventually honor as the same as Republic dataries for all holders, were currently almost useless. However, such haggles had become common since the change of ownership of the planet, and Hutt peggats - solid aurodium, hard currency unaffected by which regime controlled the Galactic Reserve - were quickly settled on, and the Gran parked his speeder in the lot of the Traveler's Rest, Teetee climbing in to the passenger compartment, both eyes discretely by one of the old battle droids that served as protection for Tarolba's working girls. Soon enough guttural groans drifted from the speeder's open window, accompanied by what might be feminine moans, their artificiality not quite disguised by the phallic muffling. Teetee was still new, Narra reflected, and would learn to sound more natural soon enough. Not that the usual antilles noticed, or cared for that matter, whether their hooker was faking their enjoyment – holoporn had probably conditioned most of them to think that the faked holotramp orgasms were the norm.
As Nykki, one half of the set of teenaged lethan Twi'lek twins, led a Vodran customer into the Traveler's Rest - like her sister Panki, Nykki was one of the few Hutt slaves actually freed by the New Republic's enforcement of the anti-slavery provision in the Declaration of Rebellion; other than a few pidgin words of Basic, she only spoke Huttese, and so often dealt with customers of species affiliated with the Hutts - two figures stepped out of the dingy pay-by-the-hour cathouse. One was a young Human female, with black hair and purple-painted lips; the other, a limping Dug, middle-aged but still able to cackle and fuck as if he were a young Dug-pup still, despite being old enough to have served in the Dug Cavaliers during the Clone Wars, the source of the hand injury that gave him his loping limp. The pair was "Longarm" Tarolba, proprietor of the Traveler's Rest Inn and employer of ladies of beauty and good moral standing; and Viqi, the newest addition to Longarm's employ. Viqi was discretely trying to wipe her mouth; Narra could only assume that Viqi had just given Longarm his "alternative payment" - for the cost of a blowjob, he would only charge fifty, rather than one hundred, credits a night as his baseline 'protection' fee. And as easy as a blowjob sounded, those girls who took him up on the offer worked their asses off - so to speak - for their money's worth. He hadn't gotten the nickname "Longarm" for nothing.
Most girls took the "alternative payment plan" only once or twice a month, whenever they got low on rent money. Viqi, however, took it every night that she worked the corner, usually only a few times a month - which itself was not as often as most of the other girls, but not unheard of, either. She was an enigma to Narra, who prided herself on knowing as much as possible about the rest of Tarolba's group, for purposes of potential blackmail if nothing else. Viqi, however, talked little to the other girls, and let even less slip about her past.
To Narra - who liked to be in control, did not like secrets, and especially did not like secrets about things that should be under her control - this was a major irritant.
As she strategically turned around to best present her ass to a passing Sallustan, Narra took the opportunity to look the Human girl over. Narra guessed that the girl was in her mid to upper twenties, certainly no more than thirty or so. Viqi's hair ran just past her neck, partway down her shoulders, and this evening was worn loose, with a number of small braids woven in. Her hair was dark, ink-black; Narra couldn't tell if it was dyed or if Human hair came naturally to that color, but the small purple streaks running up and down it were certainly artificial. Her skin was white, soft and flawless; she had clearly been pampered for much of her life, although that alone meant little – most slaves were kept to a degree of physical comfort for the enjoyment of their owners, after all. Narra didn't think Viqi was a slave, though; she didn't quite act like a slave, even a freed one, and Narra had met her fair share of slaves in her life; and in any case, Longarm would probably keep any slaves on a tight leash - no pun intended - and Viqi tended to come and go as she pleased, like most of the other girls, perhaps even a bit more so.
No, Viqi seemed to be a prime example of what Narra had drawn too much enjoyment out of seeing the past few years - a Human noble or social climber, well connected to the Imperial regime, only to lose it all when the wicked slave state was mortally wounded with its Emperor. On the rare occasions Viqi spoke, to Narra's ear she had a refined accent common among the old blood of the Core World nobility, and Narra knew enough about Human names to know that Viqi was common on Kuat. Viqi seemed to have that refined, slightly icy look to her that Kuati women were supposed to have. Narra could guess what had happened: Viqi had no doubt been the scion of one of the major noble corporate families on Kuat, one of the ruling dynasties of Kuat Drive Yards. The KDY shipyards had been damaged by a Rebel attack, only to be nearly crippled when its former corporate director had attempted to destroy the entire facility in a joint act of suicide-sabotage. That had been just before Endor, and in the state of emergency that followed the Imperial defeat, the Empire had nationalized KDY and all of its assets - including those of the director families - and placed the planet under direct Imperial governance. Viqi had no doubt been displaced, and had come to Coruscant to try to lobby whichever warlord claimed the Imperial Palace that particular week. Her limited remaining funds had soon run out without even gaining an attendance with the Palace castellan, and soon enough...
To Narra, who didn't like to see any woman forced into this line of work, but also didn't like Humans who had profited from the Empire and its oppression of other species, it was hard to see it as anything other than the will of the Cosmic Balance.
"Ya did good, Viqi," Longarm was saying, as they walked closer and Narra could pick up their conversation. "Ya gots yer bonus today, I tells ya, heh heh heh."
It was hard to tell in the flickering streetlight, tinged red as it was by the flames from the local refinery a few kilometers away, but Narra believed she saw Viqi turning a shade of red, whether from embarrassment at the circumstances she was reduced to or anger at the Dug pimp making such light of it, Narra couldn't guess. Both, she hoped. This particular evening, the young Human girl was wearing a pink top, bright and translucent and barely more than a push-up bra, revealing the dark nipples beneath. Below was a matching synthleather miniskirt - Narra knew there were no panties beneath - and a wine-dark garter and matching fencenet stockings ran down her toned, shapely legs to the open-toed platform heels. Thranta-egg blue eyeshadow, long fake eyelashes, big plastex hoop earrings, and lipstick matching the color of her violet hair streaks completed her ensemble. Viqi was always one of the most...elaborately attired of Longarm's girls. While those such as Vashee or Teetee could be mistaken for just young women dressed for a night of fun in the Undercity, and even Narra could be assumed by an average passer-by as possibly just being a usual slutty Twi'lek, there would be no mistaking Viqi as a streetwalker. It was almost as if the woman didn't know beyond a few trashy holodramas what a prostitute should look like, and so dressed up for the role to the hilt. Narra would have expected the younger woman by now to realize there was no need to tramp herself up to that degree and save herself the humiliation - but perhaps she was on to something. Maybe it was because she was a Human and most of their clientele were aliens, maybe it was because she dressed so excitingly (for a male, at any rate) over the top whorish; but Viqi never seemed to lack for customers when she was on duty. That probably explained how she was able to take so many days off - probably the time she spends trying to get anyone in the New Republic to take her claims of reparations for KDY's Imperialization seriously, Narra thought with a snicker.
At any rate, Viqi's popularity certainly explained how she was able to afford to dress up so much. It must cost a lot of credits to look that cheap.
As Viqi came to stand next to Narra under the streetlamp, she finished wiping the remnants of Longarm's bonus from her mouth, avoiding the glances of Narra's violet eyes. Silence stretched between them; Viqi didn't chat, gossip, or fantasize about what her life would be like once she got enough money from Longarm's job to set things right, like the other girls did. Finally, Narra couldn't take it any more.
"Have a good time with the bossban?" she asked innocuously.
Viqi, who was leaning against the lamp post with her leg showing plenty of thigh, and whose eyes were nervously darting back and forth among the busy hoverstreet as if trying to find something - probably a way to avoid conversation - finally glanced back at Narra. She looked to be blushing again.
"He's...very energetic." Her voice was the soft, educated Core World accent of those who had oppressed Narra all her life, but with Viqi, the addition of embarrassment and shyness, of humiliation and vulnerability, sent a frisson of excitement down her largely-unclad spine that had nothing to do with the weather control of this sector of Coruscant not working. As if on queue, Viqi's left hand - long, fake nails painted garish red, clad in tacky bronzium-plated rings and wrist bangles - came up to brush her throat, and an image came to Narra's mind, unbidden, of Viqi on her knees in one of the dingy motel rooms of the Traveler's Rest, those tacky red-nailed hands guiding Longarm's massive Dug cock into her mouth, her plush lips leaving purple rings around the members base.
Narra shivered, her ku'nee suddenly wet. She had sex with her coworkers on occasion, and even more occasionally would perform the service with her employer she had just envisioned, but as a rule such actions almost never left her aroused. This was new. This was her suddenly wanting to pay fifty credits for the right to haul her coworker into her boss's musty motel and have her slit eaten out by the shy, embarrassed, down on her luck rich-bitch Human whore.
Narra shivered again, wrapping her arms around her torso, and this time emulated Viqi by looking out at the traffic. A spinner had stopped, but Teetee, back from her Gran-job, looked set to hook the Trandoshan occupant. As the Pantoran crawled into the Trannie's driver cab, however, another speeder approached, slowing down to a crawl before stopping in front of the streetlamp shared by the two prostitutes. Viqi looked about to walk over and approach it, but Narra took the initiative. This time it wasn't just about a paycheck, this time it was about also dealing with the wet patch on her thong, and how many times in her profession had she ever been able to say that? Whoever this antilles was and whatever he was in the mood for, he was going to get one hell of a ride.
As she approached the speeder and the occupant lowered the window, Narra plumped her lips with her tongue and, breathing heavy with need, panted, "Hey there, handsome. Lookin' for a good time?"
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