"Stop it, you're making me nervous." Marran ceased her helpful projections.
    "I know how, Marran." Dothan looked around. The room looked perfect, flowers, Kylla's favorites according to Mattan, a good wine, slightly enhanced, and tidbits, delicate and sweet. The metallic surfaces had been polished to a dull sheen, and the wood to a soft gloss.
    "Stay back, serve and leave. I need you neither as spectator nor advisor."
    She nodded.
    The contract had been signed, which had so pleased Tvaren both parties received bonuses.
    "What if she wants you to dance?"
    Marran projected a less explicitly erotic version of his favorite.
    "Good."

    Dothan was nervous, Marran knew. She ran her tongue along his lips exchanging enough venom to relax him into something other than a jittering idiot. He could be charming, or Kylla wouldn't have signed a contract.
    Marran felt Mattan's send, causing a sweetly loving shiver in her spine, and she warned Dothan to open the door.
    Kylla wore a shimmered gown, her status displayed in gemstones. Her dark curling hair gleamed, and her eyes were a splendid tawny gold.
    "Welcome Kylla." She did have lovely eyes, Dothan decided. He extended both hands in greeting.
    "Thank you for inviting me." Her hands felt colder than his.
    Dothan laughed, and Kylla joined him.
    "Do you feel as foolish as I do, Dothan?" Kylla asked, smiling.
    "Yes, and relieved to admit it."
    "Let's forget why I'm here, have a diverting evening, some decent conversation and get happy on the wonderful wine I'm sure you have obtained."
    "Whatever else happens, happens - or doesn't." Dothan agreed.

    She knew the newest scandals, and told the stories with a light flair for the theatrical aspects.
    He reported the signals received from a returning Piedran ship. A fortune to be realized at its docking. Dothan had designed a new power flow amplifier for this vessel. If it had worked as he theorized he would be due another bonus.
    Kylla excelled at balek, a very competitive player, fighting for every point, stealing more of her host's baltels with each round.
    The viraran had retired to opposite sides of the salon. They sat quietly, not needing words, rising only when a directed arviran thought bade an action. Marran felt Mattan's eyes follow her in each of her little errands, as hers followed him as he served his mistress. The blush had risen on her cheeks and breasts from being in the same room with her beloved again. The little undercurrent between them stayed far too subtle for the arviran couple to consciously detect.
    Dothan declared a draw after splitting two games.
    "Afraid?" Kylla asked, laying her hand upon his as he gathered the tiles.
    "Terrified." Dothan lifted the long graceful fingers to his lips. Their eyes, gold and gray, tangled for a long moment, dropping away as a tier of tiles toppled to the floor. Both arviran fasten their sights on the scattered blue and silver baltels.
    Matt glanced at Kylla. Marran felt the send and smiled.
    "Have your virar dance then, coward. I've heard she's good," Kylla said with a nod at her virar.
    Dothan gestured.

    Mattan served more wine, while Marran prepared. A light veil draped her hips and delicate chains encircled her wrists and ankles. She knelt motionless while the introductory notes played. Her hands and wrists began a restrained wave, which reached her shoulders and spine as the music swelled.
    The scent of flowers reached her, mingled with the headier perfume of blood and wine. The rising tempo of the music filled her, expanding until greater movement became imperative. Only motion kept her from exploding from the pressure within. Marran felt Dothan's surprise for the change in entertainment, but also his approval for her choice. Something new and exciting suited this situation.

    Marran radiated longing and loneliness. Kylla's eyes glittered even more brightly. The dance twisted and twined with Marran's outpouring of desperate solitude. The music trailed and the dancer crumpled to the floor and became almost motionless. A few discrete notes kept the anticipation poised for even her slightest quiver. The notes increased in number and formed a new melody, which lifted her from the reclined position on the smooth wooden floor.
    She felt strong familiar hands supporting her as Mattan joined her dance. It had been so long since she had felt his true hands stroke her real skin. No send felt like this.
    No awkwardness, his innate rhythm matched hers. Her mind - one step ahead - taught him the next twist or turn, guiding his arms to where they needed to be. A writhing gyration made within the circle of his embrace. Her hands, his hands, supple caresses of gentle gestures. His sliding soft on her breasts, hers cupping tender across his loins.
    Lifting her, her toes barely touching the floor. Leaning back, her hands buried in her own hair. His breath on her skin and the rising heat of his passion firm against her hip. A slight shrug of his shoulders caused her head to roll. Raising her leg, he placed a kiss on the chain about her ankle. Marran slid down his torso, resting cheek against thigh. Up again, another turn, his light touch traced her waist as she spun. Never dizzy, she had focused on his sweet lips in the spin. He knelt as she turned again, and she slid down his chest to poise on his knee. She tilted her head back on his shoulder. His less gentle hands caressed boldly up her body, covering her breasts. He imagined covering them with kisses instead. Arise, and move. His reaching arms beckoned her return. Supplicating, begging, demanding. He caught her wrist, drawing her in. Pliant, subtly squirming, beguiling, she complied.

    Her lithe body arched over his knee, stretching farther, secure in the trust of his firm grasp at the end of her collapse. He tore away the veil with a desperate tug. His moist tongue traced a cooling path her exposed belly. His warm clasping fingers wound in her hair, raising her upright, until she knelt before him. Matt gathered her in as he stood, turning her. Her bared back brushed against his smooth chest, one graceful slender arm reached up to draw his head closer. Kisses whispered in her ear. His teeth on her elbow, he took a tiny sip. Her blood shared with her, as their lips met. No intoxication, just an incandescent fire.
    Another lissome gyrating passage before they sunk - joined by lips, arms and intent - to the floor. She felt the strength of his back, the angle of his hip, the hot burn of his lips and slick sweetness of his teeth on her neck. The long awaited thrust of his passion inside her. At last, again, his precious blood on her tongue.
    The music fell softer - softer yet. Became silence, but the dance continued accompanied by another, more powerful, melody.
    Together. Breathless.
    Together. Ecstasy.
    Together in breathless ecstasy. Twins again.

    Gradual awareness crept in of another encounter across the room. With murmured encouragement and lip muffled moans, Dothan and Kylla consummated their contract, each kindled by the radiating thrall of virar passion.
    Hope reborn.
    Helplessly, Marran was drawn into the equally desperate gaze of her twin's eyes.
    '?'
    '!'

    Her plan had worked.