“Sir, Sir, Sir!” comes her reply, as if answering some primeval call. We eventually relax, collapsing into each others arms, sweating and panting....We look into each others eyes and as one say “Baby, you’re the best!” before laughing at ourselves. After a few minutes she feel me becoming soft inside her and start to slip out from her hot, wet pussy. Her face pouts and she looks disappointedly at me saying, “Aren’t you going to fuck me again, Sir?” “Not today, my beautiful angel,” I reply. Why the omission?Plausible deniability maybe?Shame?Or just good old fashioned fear?Maybe it was there before, unaware of what it was truly for without the light to give it a real purpose. Who knows. One night, that was all it took for it to eradicate what had been made before. A single night, and the world around us crumpled into blood and dust before them. Most of it anyway. In darkness, they swept silently over us while we slept soundly in our beds. Following the night they rode, riding. So I ask again, whose privacy and safety isbeing violated?"The two women by the door started to cheer."You tell her girlfriend!" one of them shouted."It's not right!" The woman persisted. "A man pretending to be a woman.I'm going to report this to security!" She turned and headed to the door."Don't listen to that old hag," one of the girls said as they walkedtoward the stalls. "You be who you need to be," said the other."Come on," Veronica said to Jessica, moving toward the door. "I'm readyto. We are in an awesomely ancient (according to the Aer Lingus' AI) construct that was put here to capture the entire energy output of a type G star. We are actually in what seems to be a spaceship graveyard though. The area we're in seems to be maintained by some sort of AI that so far we haven't been able to communicate with. Luckily for us we had just fueled up by essentially cannibalizing a methane boulder so if we can't figure out how to communicate with the AI that is the curator of this.