Chris Lowry [Lowry - Love Machine

LOVE MACHINE The Dipole Series By Chris Lowry
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Grand Ozarks Media Copyright @2016 by Chris Lowry All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 the scanning, uploading and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the authors intellectual property.

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LOVE MACHINE CHAPTER ONE The NC 17 was moored in the D section of the halfway space station between Mars and Earth.

Tinker stood at the triple paned window that offered a view of the vast expanse of space and his pride and joy floating against the inky backdrop. Darling, he whispered against the reinforced plastic that separated him from the vacuum. You make my dangly bits tingle. Excuse me? a rough voice interrupted his reverie. Tinker turned and saw a couple behind him. The man was six inches taller than he was and outweighed him by a hundred pounds, but only in his shoulders and massive slabs of meat that most people called arms.

He showed them off in a hideous orange tank top tucked into the narrow waist of pants that ballooned around his legs. The woman next to him wasnt wearing much else. Tink had seen hookers in the brothels he liked to frequent with heavier gauge gauze covering their nether regions than she was wearing. It left little to the imagination, which was how the pilot normally liked to see women. Except when their steroidal boyfriends glared at him like this one was. Scuse me, mate, he flashed a charming smile.

I wasnt talking to your lady. The modified giant glanced up and down the steel corridor. There aint no one else here. Tinker looked first one way. Then the other. They were both empty.

He did it again, just to be sure. Yeah, youre right, he said. Theres just you and me and her. Then you had to be talking to her. Tinker shook his head. Nope.

I can see how you would think that though- Then you were talking to me? Do I make your dangle tingle? Bits, Tinker corrected. Dangly bits, and no. No you dont. Whats the matter with me? the guy sneered. You think Im ugly or something? Tinker gulped. He did think the guy was ugly, but he was pretty sure that if he said so, it would be taken personally, and probably violently.

He didnt want things to get violent. He just wanted a drink. And maybe a camera to capture the vision of the striking woman standing in the corridor. He tried not to stare. Failed. I was talking about my ship, he pointed over his shoulder.

That aint your ship, the giant grumbled. Tinker nodded, his eyes locked on something shiny in the navel of the woman. She had a trail of glittering gems that led all the way from her belly button down to- Of course its my ship, mate. They why is it leaving? Tinker blinked and turned. The tether to the NS 17 floated free from the docking berth. Ports on the back of the ship blasted frigid geysers of air into space to turn the ship away from the space station.

He beat against the plastic glass. Hey! he shouted. Thats my ship! The rear rockets began to glow as soon as the NC 17 was clear of the station. No! Tinker screamed. But he could do nothing as the rockets engaged and the ship, his ship took off, racing away. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and ripped him around off the glass.

How are your bits now? the giant asked. He didnt wait for an answer and instead punched him into the sweet oblivion of a blackout. CHAPTER TWO Tinker woke with a monster hangover. His head pounded, his tongue felt like sandpaper, and the cargo hold of his ship smelled like putrid discharge. He cracked open one aching eye and groaned. His jaw hurt, his face hurt and there was something he needed to remember, but he couldnt.

The memory of it tickled the edge of his awareness. It was important, that much he could recall. He glanced down at his naked crotch and legs below his wrinkled shirt. He snaked a hand down to double check for missing parts and let out a sigh of relief when he counted all the parts. Everything was where it was supposed to be. Morning lover, a voice purred next to him.

Tinker angled his head to the far side of the bed and blinked the cracked open eye through a series of winks, working to bring the face in focus. She was gorgeous. Long red hair piled on top of an angelic face, pouty lips and green eyes that he was pretty sure were contacts, because emerald wasnt a naturally occurring color, was it? He blinked some more and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Morning? he croaked. You were amazing last night, she said as she rolled off the bed and draped a silk robe across her firm backside. He got just enough of a glimpse to make the blood in his nether regions start boiling before she turned back to him, all the good bits hidden in clothes now.

He looked up. But her face though, a face made for men to go to war, for poets to compose sonnets, a face made to cry out in pleasure just for him. He felt the stirring stir again. Look who else is up, she giggled. Thats going to cost extra. He yawned, stretched and shrugged all at once, hoping that it didnt look as awkward as it felt and sending up a silent prayer that the combined muscle contractions didnt loosen his sphincter to squeeze out some gas.

You have to pay last nights bill first lover, she purred. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and felt stuffed full of cotton. He ran a sandpaper coated tongue around the desert in his cheeks and across his teeth, working up enough moisture to make speech possible. Pay? he finally managed. Her green eyes took on a hard look that flashed across her doll like features and then disappeared just as quick. She reached behind her and pressed a communicator button on the wall.

You do have credit? she asked. The smile was gone, the face an impassive wall of frozen indifference. Credit? he tried to sit up and failed. He worked at it for several moments, working to clear the fog from his clouded mind and get the muscles in his stomach to listen. There was a lot of grunting, a few moans and finally a victory cry as he managed to roll over onto his stomach and use his arms to leverage up into a seated position. The door whisked open and a woman glared down at him.

At least he thought it was a woman. She had qualities attributable to womanhood at least. A pile of blue gray hair was mashed into a crooked bee hive on her wrinkled face. She wore granny glasses perched on the end of her nose, half moon spectacles that made her look older, angry and imperious at the same time. She was taller than Tinker, filling the door with broad shoulders that had to be huge because of her massive arms. Her forearms were bigger than his thighs.