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Wendy Mitty has a secret life.

They absolutely demanded missionary position only, and those extra tits rubbing against my lower abdomen just creeped me out. I almost couldn't "perform." Fred thought that was really funny.

Last time I was on Terra for planet leave, Fred actually bought me a round. It was the good stuff, evidently kept out of sight behind the bar. I don't know where they got it, but it wasn't quasi. It was real.

I hadn't tasted real ale since we stopped off on Kluxord Seven. A couple of my shipmates and I slipped over to an off-limits bar in a really scummy area of Kluxord Prime. I know the alcohol is bad for you and a little too much can leave you with a real headache, but it slides down so smooth and the taste is nothing like that artificial stuff.

After I had taken a few sips, Fred leaned in real close and said, "Nothing like the real thing, is there?"

He took a sip of his own drink and then added, "Same with women."

That got my attention. I looked over at him with my tankard half-way to my mouth. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"I know some women who can give you the perfect sexual experience," he answered. He paused and looked around a little before continuing. "These are alien women," he says. "They look just like Terrans- full tits up front and everything- but once you've had one of them, you will never be satisfied with anyone else ever again."

I looked around a bit myself to make sure no one was listening in and asked, "What makes them so special? Can they pump you dry better than the women on Bumax Three?"

"It's not exactly physical," he says. "They're a telepathic race. They form a mind bridge during sex." He laughed slightly and said, "It's sort of a mind fuck."

"How come I've never met anyone from this planet?" I asked him.

"You wouldn't know if you had," he answered. "They look just like Terrans. They can even pass the DNA scans at the entry ports. The only way you can tell them from Terrans is that their eyes don't always work together. They can look in both directions like a lizard if they want to."

He then rolled one eye around and stared at me. I almost dropped my drink.

"How much?" I asked.

"For you," he replied, "free."

"Why?" I asked, starting to worry that I was being played in some way.

"We," he began to explain, "are only able to perform sexually for the first three or four hundred years of our lifespan." He grinned. "But we can maintain a telepathic link until the day that we die. As you have been describing the women you have met to me, I could see them in your mind. I could read your memories. I could experience what you experienced."

"And..." I said warily.

"I've built up enough of a mind bridge with you," he continued, "that I can read your memories in real time as you..."

He let that thought trail off as he took a big sip of his beer.

"Where are these women?" I asked.

He laughed softly. "This is my place," he answered. "And it is much more than just a bar. Our space crews have needs... just like you do. As you know, it gets very lonely in space. I provide a necessary service... for a fee, of course."

"So this is a whorehouse?" I asked rather incredulously, looking around as I spoke.

"You've never been upstairs," he answered with a very sly smile.

He then took a small control out of his pocket and pressed a couple of buttons. The ceiling above us seemed to shimmer slightly and an opening appeared. A staircase slowly descended until it stopped with a slight "thunk" right at my feet.

I looked up the bar at the rest of the patrons. They looked slightly fuzzy... like a force barrier of some sort had formed between us and them.

"They can't see us," Fred said. "They can't hear us either."

He then smiled at me and said, "Shall we go upstairs?"

As I went up the steps, I kept thinking that Jack's Place didn't look like it had a second story from out front. That should have tipped me off, but I was already starting to think below the belt like any spacer on leave.

The second floor was totally modern.

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