Fire and Smoke

The first firework thrust into the night sky on a pillar of fire and smoke and exploded in an orgasm of orange light. Following on, dozens more, screaming and gasping through the air, spurting streamers of bright colour across the darkness, an onslaught of noise and flashing fire.

Siri stood closely behind me as I bent over the controls, my fingers poised ready to terminate the program if a single firework should ignite or explode out of the proper sequence. He cleared his throat. "Everything running smoothly, Filo?"

"Yes, boss."

"Great. Excellent. Good job, girl, yet again." He tapped me gently on the shoulder, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary, and then moved away.

There was a big crowd, packed tightly into the narrow confines of the town square. Mostly us kakari, but other species as well: a group of huge dark shadow-eaters sat hunched ponderously in a far corner, looking easily over the heads of the smaller kakari, and I could see the small long-tailed forms of trieffi dashing excitedly along the front of the crowd, occasionally being persuaded back behind the safety barrier by the marshals. On top of the blockish, brightly painted concrete buildings framing the square perched brek'bûr, brown fur under black leathery wings, sulking loudly about the loud exploding things filling their sky and pretending unconvincing disinterest.

Only one brek'bûr watched with undisguised rapt awe and that was Beni, my colleague and friend, his head thrown back to face the sky, his mouth slightly open displaying rows of pointed white teeth, every brief flash and flower of exploding colour reflected in his huge unblinking black eyes. Beni was difficult to mistake for other brek'bûr. Raised by kakari, he didn't just bear a kakari name, he dressed like one. Now his furred form was swathed in the same fire-resistant orange cloth we all had to wear, from which protruded only his long-eared head, his strong legs and slender arms, his broad fanned tail and his great folded wings; but even away from work, I'd never once seen him follow the brek'bûr fashion of nudity.

Beni had seemed impossibly strange when I'd first met him, but after a year working together I had become accustomed to him, and at times even forgot he wasn't one of us. As my eyes flicked from him to my other colleague Kako, standing beside him, I was struck by how strange we kakari must look to the brek'bûr, with our grey hairless bodies, our tailless upright posture, our small green eyes, our long clawless fingers.

Remembering my responsibility, I turned my attention back to the fireworks. Catherine wheels spun on slender metal frames, intricate wheels within wheels producing strange organic-looking windmills of fire, making the crowd gasp. Things were reaching a climax now. As the last Catherine wheel sizzled to a standstill, the final thunderous volley of rockets was launched into the air, exploding in deafening blasts which scattered the whole sky with colours: first brilliant red and blue, then sizzling orange and yellow, finally sparkling green and white. A gleaming forest of light seemed for a moment to cast its canopy over the whole town, illuminating the delighted faces of the crowd as it sprouted and blossomed across the sky, until at last there was silence, and nothing but pale leaves of smoke drifting down from the heavens.

* * *

There was work to be done. As the crowds dispersed we moved to gather up long lengths of wire, countless igniters, supports and safety guards. Carefully, thoroughly, checking for misfired or unexploded fireworks.

Siri watched over us as we worked, officiously but not unkindly, occasionally offering polite direction and making notes on his official pad. He was tall, almost as tall as us women, and wore a small, square-lensed pair of glasses, an archaic affectation on a world where corrective surgery was both effective and free. He carried about with him an unrufflable neatness; he may have been wearing the same one-piece orange coat as Kako and I, but somehow he wore it in a way that made it seem smart, even formal. Even his crests, the three low webbed extrusions which swept back across his head from just above his eyes and marked him as a male, seemed somehow arranged.

He interrupted me as I worked. "Filo. Could I possibly see you in my office for a minute?" I left Kako and Beni to finish up and followed.

Siri's "office" was his home and means of transport, the same model of utilitarian grey metal travel cabin we each lived in. Inside was the same driving seat, the same tiny bed, the same little table and chair and miniature kitchen, but absolutely not the same chaotic untidiness which dominated my own. Not even a single postcard or knick-knack offered its personality to the room, giving it an anonymity so severe as to be distinctive. As I entered I turned to close the door, and lock it, and as I did so Siri stepped close behind me and slipped an arm around my waist.

It wasn't illegal, under kakari law, to have a relationship with your superior; but it was generally considered inappropriate, and if the company ever heard of it, it would certainly lose us both our jobs. So we kept it a secret. But now, safe in the privacy of the cabin, we relaxed. His long fingers played across my belly, and his other arm came round to rest across my chest. I leant back into him, smiling as he kissed the back of my neck and then breathed in deeply, as though savouring my scent.

"One day soon, girl, we can hold each other whenever we want, no more of this sordid secrecy." He kissed me again, a long, gentle, tickling kiss on the side of my neck.

I turned in his arms to face him, reaching around his shoulders to embrace him, and as I did so I noticed his crests, standing slightly erect and tinged red. It was hard for men to hide their lust in public; I could only assume Siri managed it by a colossal effort of self control.

Reaching up a hand, he carefully removed the pair of glasses, folded them and deposited them on the little table next to where we stood. He straightened himself and blinked, regarding me critically, and then as though I had met his approval pulled me to him and kissed me.

Siri always came across as a quiet, cautious, reserved man. His kiss was nothing like that. His kiss was hungry: no gentle meeting of lips but an insistent onslaught that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with raw animal lust. I could never have defended my resolve against a kiss like that had I tried. I wasn't trying and I felt myself melt inside, pooling down from my mouth into my groin.

We broke apart, panting. I felt lit up with lust; all the restrained passion and physical desire, fuelled by a day of insistent and penetrating thoughts about Siri, set free at last. And from the look of his crests, now standing proud and flushed a brilliant scarlet, I could tell he was as aroused as I.

We both shrugged out of our coats, me flinging the thick orange fabric carelessly to one side, he dropping his neatly over a nearby hook. Now we both stood in the nearly ubiquitous unisex kakari casual dress: nothing but a simple knee-length sarong, knotted around the waist.

Siri didn't like to talk, but he liked to be touched. After kissing again, I ran a hand over his crests, pressing them down and letting them spring back up, then down the smooth surface of his skull, around the sharp line of his jaw, and onto his neck. He stretched back his head to let me better run my fingers over the taut curve of his throat, murmuring softly as I stroked the sensitive flesh.

As I brushed the bony slant of his shoulders he moved his hands to rest gently on my hips. I felt his heartbeat as I passed down his broad flat chest, its rhythm fast but steady, and then my hands were at his waist, pausing to appreciate the jut of his hips, the curve of his back, before sliding irresistibly downwards inside the soft white cloth of his sarong, coming to rest on the firm cushion of his buttock and squeezing. He twitched very slightly in response.

The willpower needed to move slowly had deserted me. Fumbling with the material of his sarong I ripped it off him, then at last let my hands flow over the smooth softness of his groin, grey flesh dappled with white and black, then down to touch the rumpled potency of his testes, and finally sliding along the proud grey shaft of his cock, relishing its solidity, its slippery wetness, its readiness.

I looked up to meet his bright green eyes staring deep into my own. He was breathing deeply, burning lust and intent written in every feature. I allowed him to push me backwards with a hand on my chest, guiding me until I stood with my back flush against the wall, the smooth hard surface chill against my skin.

He kissed me again, even more insistent and insatiable than before. And as he did so, his hands worked my sarong, carefully unknotting the fabric from my waist and sliding it free, exposing me to him.

Pulling himself away from the kiss, he looked down to regard me. With a single finger he caressed me between my legs, running it gently around my opening, sending a pleasant tickling tingle rippling up me. And then, ever so carefully, he pushed the tip between the lips, just a little way, making me shiver in anticipation. It was there for just a second before he withdrew it, and brought it to his lips to suck thoughtfully

Suddenly his hands were back on my hips, gripping firmly. No more foreplay. Never more than a few minutes, with Siri. He stood pressed against me, pinning me to the wall, I could feel his cock as it came to rest wetly between my legs. We kissed again; intense, uncompromising; and as we kissed I reached down a hand and guided him into me, the whole length sliding smoothly in, filling me, making me shake and gasp.

He adjusted his position only slightly, and then he began, pulling back his hips and thrusting himself back into me, and again, and again, each thrust boring into me deeply, hammering me against the wall, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. I began to count the thrusts in my head.

One, two, three...

His pace was completely steady, not too fast, not torturously slow.

Ten, eleven, twelve...

Siri was a machine. He took seventy-five or sometimes seventy-six thrusts to reach an orgasm, and I relished every one of them.

Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five...

He didn't gasp, or grimace, or grin, but just stared down at his thrusting pelvis with a frown of absolute concentration.

Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six...

I squirmed with pleasure as the sensation intensified, each thrust burning brighter than the last.

Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty...

A couple of times he'd come after seventy-seven thrusts, and once after only seventy-four.

Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty...

He didn't speed up at all as the climax neared, just kept up the same unrelenting pumping rhythm.

Sixty-eight, sixty-nine, seventy...

I was nearing fruition, each thrust an injection of unbearable ecstasy.

Seventy-four...

I gasped...

Seventy-five...

I gasped again...

Seventy-six...

We both gasped as he came inside me...

Seventy-seven...

I cried out as at last I came, the sensation exploding around his buried shaft like a firework...

Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty...

A firework burning bright but fading.

Eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five.

He stopped, panting, as the last echoes of orgasm drifted apart like smoke.

* * *

It was festival night. Every town and village had its own festival night, a time in the year when everyone stopped work and came out to dance and sing and eat and drink through the darkness, work and rivalries and worries forgotten. It was always festival night somewhere. And there were always fireworks. For us, every night was festival night. That was why I loved the job.

I met Kako and Beni, dressed in green and white sarongs: the town colours. Already they were heavily hung with garlands. Kako had let somebody paint her chest in green and white abstract patterns, and Beni had achieved a similar and remarkably striking effect by smearing paint through his long fur. I briefly wondered how long it would take him to clean it out again.

"Hey, Filo, where've you been?" Beni spoke in kakari, I didn't even think he understood brek'bûr. His alien vocal chords chewed the language strangely, giving it a deep, rasping, rounded sound that had been strange at first but quite pleasant once I'd become used to it.

"Just talking tomorrow's sequencing over with the boss," I lied.

"Grr-rr," he growled, "he could do that any time, he doesn't have to keep you away from the festival. I suppose he isn't coming himself?"

I laughed. "Of course not. Can you even imagine that happening?"

He paused to think. "Yes. I think I can see it. Right in the middle of the crowd, wearing an official garland."

"Singing an official song."

"With an official girl on each arm."

I let Beni paint my chest, his clawed hands deftly applying a swirling pattern of green and white paint, while Kako went to get me a drink and a string of garlands. Once properly equipped, the three of us moved into the throng, weaving through revellers and singers and dancers and street artists and hawkers. We found a part of the crowd where there was a good vibe and a good beat, drummers and hornists sharing a slow but lively rhythm irresistible to the feet, and we joined the dance. We danced and we drank and when there was food we ate and when there was song we sang. We danced and laughed with strangers, all friends for the night. And there was always a crowd about us, because we had Beni, and people flocked around Beni, staring and pointing and laughing and cheering him on, the brek'bûr dressed as a kakari, painted like a kakari, dancing like a kakari. And Beni danced harder than any of us, jumping and twisting and prancing with surprising grace and with every evidence of being completely unaware of the gawping onlookers.

The night grew late and the festivities slowed down; the crowd thinned, quietened, calmed. Kako had disappeared somewhere, I didn't know where, and I found myself alone with Beni, both too tired for more dancing, in a quiet green corner under an aged and leafless tree. There was still a little music in the distance, but now the main sound was the chattering, groaning discord of brek'bûr voices calling out across the night sky; the debate, gossip, squabbles and seductions of a nocturnal and completely unfathomable society. I'd gotten used to it, as I'd become used to that other noise: a distant pair of rhythmic gasping screams cutting across the background chatter. To a brek'bûr, making as much noise about it as possible seemed to be an integral part of good sex.

"Hey, Filo," Beni said quietly, patting me on the shoulder with a clawed hand.

"Mmm?" I looked over sleepily. He was sat tense on the grass, his long ears erect, and I recognised an unaccountable nervousness in him.

"If you're... in love with somebody, and you can't stop thinking about them, but... but you think they might not feel the same way, should you tell them?"

I grinned. So Beni had his eyes on a girl, at last? It would be hard for him. His clothes, his kakari manners would mark him out as impossibly alien to most brek'bûr girls; he might have to deal with a lot of rejection before he found a mate who'd accept him.

"Oh Beni, of course you should! It might not go how you want, but you have to try or you'll never get anybody! It's simple, just say to them, oh I don't know, 'I love you and I want to be with you' or something like that."

"I love you and I want to be with you."

"That's it. Now who'd be able to resist that? So don't keep me hanging, who's the lucky girl?"

"No. Filo. Listen. I love you. And I want to be with you."

I started. I stared. He stared back at me with his big, impenetrable unblinking eyes, his hands twitching, swaying slightly from side to side nervously.

"What?" I said stupidly, at a loss. "Me?"

"Yes, you, it's always been you." He talked too quickly, garbling some of his words. "Remember that first day we went to the festival together? It started then, then every day after, I... I love you, I... I love being with you, I love talking with you, I love everything about you. And... and I really hope that maybe you feel the same way?"

Part of me wanted to laugh. I had a randy brek'bûr making advances on me! But most of me wanted to cry. Here was a good friend trying to be more than a friend. Blast that I couldn't tell him about Siri! It would have made a good excuse, it would have been a way to avoid breaking his heart.

"Beni." I steadied myself, and took his furry, clawed hand in my own. "I like you. A lot. You know I do. But..." He kept staring at me, with no change in his hopeful expression. "But you're a brek'bûr. I'm a kakari. We can't... be more than friends."

His head dropped, his ears lay flat back along his neck. He looked away from me. I'd broken him.

"Beni, look, you need to find yourself a pretty brek'bûr girl."

"No." He shook his head, his voice shaking. "No. I just want you." And he bent back his head and tucked it under one of his black folded wings, his kakari manners breaking down to let slip this distinctly brek'bûr expression of utter despair.

"Beni! Beni, please don't do this. We'll always be friends, just like before! I'm flattered, Beni, really, but... Beni, please come out and talk to me, I want to see those pretty eyes of yours."

It was no use. He'd curled in on himself completely, legs and arms and head and tail all tucked closely into his body. He wasn't responding to anything. I didn't know what else to do, so after a while I lifted him into my arms and started to carry him home. We were about the same size, but being evolved for flight, he was a lot lighter than he looked, and with considerable difficulty I managed to manoeuvre him to his cabin, which fortunately wasn't far, placed him gently on the bed and left him.

* * *

"You'll never guess who propositioned me last night." It was morning and I was helping Kako to pack our equipment away for the day's journey.

She stopped what she was doing and grinned at me impishly. "Was it Beni?"

"Yes! But what made you guess that? It was a surprise to me."

She gave me a resigned look. "You really are useless, aren't you? It's plain as the sun in the sky he's obsessed with you."

"Really?"

"Really really. So, I suppose I can finally give you two my congratulations?"

"What? No! Of course not!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Whyever not? I thought you liked him? Is he upset? I haven't seen him this morning."

"What do you mean, 'why not'? He's a brek'bûr!"

"Ha!" She snorted. "You don't know a thing. He's a kakari. He talks like a kakari, he dresses like a kakari, he even tries to walk like a kakari, and I'm pretty sure he thinks like a kakari. The only thing about him that's not kakari is his body, is that your issue?"

"Not exactly," I said uncertainly. Sleeping outside my race was something I'd always been interested in trying, and Beni was quite appealing in his own distinctive way, but a relationship was something far more intimate than mere sex, and dating an alien crossed a line I wasn't comfortable with. "It goes deeper than that. Wouldn't he be better off if he could find himself a nice brek'bûr girl?"

"But he's not a brek'bûr! He doesn't even speak brek'bûr. He hates them because they're what people expect him to be, and he tries to suppress anything that marks him out as one. Have you ever seen him fly?"

"I don't even think he knows how."

"Of course he doesn't. Have you ever seen him even unfurl those wings of his? Even just once?"