[This is just the beginning of a short story I'm working on. I plan to post more of it as I write it.]
Muriel sauntered across the ship’s metal-plated flooring in sandals, giddy, her arms filled with contraband Peruvian chocolates and a cabernet snuck in all the way from Bordeaux. These indulgences were merely short of impossible to obtain and even though she would have loved to see the faces of some of her more prosperous counterparts, the risk involved would have been too great. Her closest companions were never above pettiness and if she pushed too hard, they just might go looking for the first transport official on board.
The red and white plaid tablecloth was just another attempt at hominess, although to her taste, it was rather flat. But it was better than the standard gray tabletops this piece of junk for a starship fancied, so she said nothing. Jonathan, her man--for the moment anyway--sat with his perfect pearly whites staring her in the face. She smiled seductively, though a hint of contempt made its way into the creases of her forehead. Jonathan didn’t seem to notice.
Da da-da da, da da-da da. Muriel tried her best to hum some sexy little ditty. It was mostly for her benefit, but it looked like Jonathan didn’t mind; his head bobbed back and forth at each of her notes.
“I bring presents,” she said as she laid down the chocolates and wine on the table.
“Early Christmas?”
“Hardly,” Muriel replied. “I wouldn’t waste these on you. They’re my presents.”
“I’m glad to hear you care.” Jonathan grabbed the wine bottle and stared at it. Confounded, he picked at the cork with his fingers. “Now how do you expect us to get this off? The nearest corkscrew is at least a few hundred light-years away.”
Muriel chuckled lightly. “You’ll figure it out somehow.” She placed a bare foot on his lap and rubbed. She had also broken into the chocolates, which were in the process of being swiftly devoured. They were interrupted by the sound of static then a high-pitched beep.
“Another check of the warning system,” Muriel said with a sigh. “Keep on the bottle. There’s no need to worry.” She ate another chocolate. “I am rather tired of all these drills we’ve been having as of late.”
“Should we go to the deck?” Jonathan asked, but by the look on Muriel’s face he had already judged what she thought of that prospect.
A muddled voice came through the intercom this time, and then there was another period of static. It had an eerie feeling of silence to it.
“That’s never happened during the drills, Muriel. Perhaps we should take emergency precautions. This all sounds rather odd.”
“No!” she insisted, aggravated. “Give me that bottle!” She attempted to remove it with her nails, but had no more luck than Jonathan. “Don’t you have a knife or something?”
“Forget it. I already tried it. It’s impossible to dig it out of there.”
“Just give it to me.”
“Fine.” He dug in his pants and pulled out a pocket knife. Muriel undid it, pushed it into the cork, and forced it down until it caved into the bottle and the liquid within it.
“See,” she said with a smile and took a long pull.
Impressed, Jonathan reached for the bottle. He poured it into the plastic tumbler he had ready and sipped from it. Muriel reclaimed the bottle and continued to take large swigs.
“You are lovely, my lady,” Jonathan whispered, his voice slurred. Muriel continued to rub his lap with her foot. At least he was doing something right.
She remembered nothing else of the night, and when she woke uncomfortable and sore the next morning on the hard plated floor, Muriel found the wine bottle empty and the chocolates fully eaten. She left them, unconcerned now that they were expended. Now she just had to find Jonathan.
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