An excerpt from THE MEN ON MARS
Here’s the blurb:
Mars fuel station attendant Helena Terra is obsessed with returning to home to Earth and she’ll do anything to get there. Anything. Including trading sex for a ride.Her boss, Nate Rickman, doesn’t want her selling her body to the scum of the solar system just for a ride. So, even though Nate has vowed never to return to Earth, he borrows a ship and gathers a crew–just to give Helena a ride home. Of course, it has nothing to do with the little menage-a-moon-people Nate witnessed or the fact he can’t get hot Helena off his mind. He’ll get her safely to Earth then blast right back to Mars, with no dangerous stops on the moon in between.That’s the plan anyway, but things never quite go according to plan…and ménage a trois leads to ménage a trouble.
(WARNING: 1 swear word in this excerpt which hopefully implies more…)
Have you ever thought of the man on the moon as sexy? Well, he is. Sexy as hell. He lives in this specially designed dome, deep in one of the moon’s famous craters. The heat shields and giant fans and other technology that I don’t understand — and don’t care to — keep him from frying under the sun’s rays.
He explained all of this to me as he bought me another drink. So I listened, since I never turn down free drinks. We were at the Mars Bar on the red planet. Space shuttles and orbiters cluttered the vast parking lot, which was really one giant launch pad. The rockets’ hatches connected to an underground moving walkway, something like the one at the Atlanta airport on Earth. The scientists had long suspected that water resided on Mars, and once they found it, the planet became a fave watering hole for the droves of transients that traveled our solar system.
“I could take you there,” said the moon man, selling me on his words with a sweep of coal lashes over his silver eyes. I swigged my drink. Maybe he could. What do I know? I’m just a fuel assistant stranded on this red rock until something better comes along. Could this be the something better?
“To the moon?”
“Literally, or is that just your pick-up line?”
“Literally. My biosphere is quite lush. All the amenities.” He leaned closer, nearly slipping from his barstool, crowding me with his six-foot frame. Not that I minded the crowding. He was a perfect specimen, and I wouldn’t mind exploring his tight pecs and abs.
I was fairly short by Earth standards, only five-foot four, but I had nice proportions, or so I’d been told while naked and sweaty in some man’s room. “I’m sure it is,” I said, trying to imagine the view from the moon. “But I’m gunning for the ultimate biosphere — Earth.”
“The moon would get you closer.”
“But not close enough. Nowhere to work, and no ships to hitch onto.”
He leaned back and rubbed his chin. “There’s mine.”
“Will you take me to Earth?” My drink, a Uranus mai tai, was beginning to take effect, softening the stark strobe lights from the dance floor, as well as making the stool I sat on seem a bit wobbly.
“Will you fuck me during the whole trip?”
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