There’s a beeping noise, and then the captain reluctantly takes her mouth off of yours.
She flips open her communications device.
“Yes?” she says into it, her body still pressed against yours. “What is it?”
For a moment you think the call might have killed the moment for her, but then she kisses you again as she waits for a response.
“Where are you?” the voice on the other end says. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to debrief my second in command,” Lipchik says, not even trying to hide her annoyance at the interruption.
“Good,” the voice says. “An emergency has come up. We need to talk to you both right away.”
“Can’t it wait?” Lipchik groans. “We’re up to our neck in work.”
And as she says “neck,” she kisses the most sensitive part of yours. Her lips make a loud smacking sound, and then she bites you just hard enough to elicit a surprised yelp.
“What’s that noise?” the voice on the other end of the communicator asks.
“Nothing,” Lipchik says. “The Commander’s just getting a little excited.”
She plants another kiss lower on your neck.
“Everyone else is already assembled in the briefing room. Hurry up.”
“Can’t it wait fifteen more minutes?” Lipchik asks. “My first officer has something he really needs to get off his chest.”
As she says it, she unzips your jumpsuit so she can press her lips to your pecs.
“No. Briefing room. Now. That’s an order.”
The communication device beeps again and Lipchik closes it and sets it to the side. She groans in frustration again but sits up in the bed and gets back into her jumpsuit.
“I still don’t know anything about what’s going on here,” you say, fixing your jumpsuit as well. “What am I going to do during this mission briefing?”
“Don’t worry,” she says to you. “The Admiral will do most of the talking. I’ll answer for both of us. If he says anything directly to you, just say ‘Yes, sir’ or ‘No, sir.’”
She walks to the door ahead of you, letting you get a good look at how that skintight jumpsuit hugs her tight little ass. You climb up from the bed and follow her out of her cabin and down the corridor, still flushed from your make-out session.
Your captain leads you into the briefing room. It’s dark, with just enough lights around the room to see the table and chairs and find your way into one of them. You can only make out shadowy silhouettes of your crew mates around the table. But Lipchik takes the seat directly across from yours so her face is perfectly illuminated for you.
A hologram is projecting from the center of the table, a flickering image of the Admiral, an intimidating figure with steely eyes and a thick beard.
“Now that we’re all here,” he says, pointedly looking at you and your captain, “we can finally begin.”
Lipchik picks up the holo-pad on the table in front of her. You follow her lead and do the same. Photographs and charts beam off the tablet to illustrate the Admiral’s lecture.
“Now then,” the Admiral says. “The colony’s harvest has had a huge setback. It seems Alarvian snake-toads have been eating the crops . . .”
Captain Lipchik doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to the lecture. She’s looking over her holo-pad at you. She’s undressing you with her eyes, and from that smoldering look she’s giving you, it’s clear she doesn’t want to leave any doubt in your mind that that’s exactly what she’s doing.
“The Geigerliens are still demanding that we deliver an agreed upon number of our male colonists to cross-breed with their females,” the Admiral continues. “But I’m not sure how many we can afford to spare right now. And the quad-lipped Asimovian warriors have sent word that an attack on our colonies is imminent if we don’t agree to their treaty.”
You feel Lipchik’s foot against your leg, and for a second you think maybe it’s an accident. But then she uses her heel to push your legs apart and plants her sole directly in your crotch and begins rubbing you with it.
A surprised and pleasured moan escapes your lips. All eyes turn to you.
“Is there a problem, Commander?” the Admiral asks sternly.
“No, sir,” you say, reaching below the table to push the captain’s foot away from your groin. “Sorry. Don’t mind me.”
“And the worst part it, none of the colonists have been preparing to meet these crises in any way lately. There was a problem with the water filtration system about a week ago. Before they found the problem, they all seemed to be infected by this water borne bacteria. Ever since then, they can’t get any work done, because all they want to do is . . . make out with each other. It’s like there’s an illness that just makes our colonists want to reproduce with each other, all the time, night and day!
You look over at Lipchik. She wiggles her eyebrows at you, then puts her elbow down by her holo-pad and pushes it over the edge of the table.
“Oops!” she says loudly. “How clumsy of me! Keep talking. I’d better look for that thing I just dropped.”
She disappears beneath the table. A second later, she pokes her head out.
“Commander,” she says. “Could you come down here and help me look for my holo-pad?”
She disappears again and you swallow the lump in your throat. You’re hesitant to join her, but when you feel a tug on your ankles, you realize she wasn’t actually giving you a choice. As she pulls you so you slide out of your seat and under the table, everyone around thinks the reason you’re disappearing down there is because you’re a dutiful subordinate.
Lipchik smiles wickedly from ear to ear, then pins you to the floor and kisses you hard on the mouth again.
“You’re so cute,” she says. “Don’t worry. No one can see us down here.”
But you’re not so sure you’re going unnoticed. She keeps giggling and smacking her lips really loudly when she kisses you. She keeps bumping the briefing table as she writhes on top of you. Occasionally, one of her ridiculously long, shapely legs pokes out from under the table, stretches out, arches gracefully, then disappears again, followed by your own leg emerging and kicking erratically in response to her passionate kissing.
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