Lanard is looking forward to transfer with Nick Reckage for more than the usual reasons: not only is he the least intimidating First she's ever been around, but he's also a hottie. If she can manage to be rid of her repressed need -- well, he is an ex-rogue, isn't he?
Lanard thinks to herself:
Lanard: After all, if I'm going to be the head of another Farris House, I'd better get some Farris-capable Companions, and breeding them is something I can do without any Tecton approval. As opposed to trying to get one to move in with me, which is going to be pretty difficult on the basis of brandy deals alone.
Lanard: On the other tentacle, it's a slow process: twelve, thirteen years for the first new Companion. Still, slow but sure.
Lanard fiddles with the clothes she's wearing, which while not the usual thing for a transfer, are supposed (according to the saleswoman, at least) to be just the thing for inciting the lust of Gen males. She doesn't realize that the colors of the design are those of Householding Naros, gold and silver.
Lanard also rearranges her hair, which (again, according to the best recommendations) is supposed to be perfectly arranged, while at the same time appearing to be strategically messy, as if she had just finished having sex instead of hoping to start it.
Lanard of course isn't feeling the emotions that should be going with all this, but she feels quite confident that the clothes, the hair, and the perfume will do their own work as soon as her feelings are appropriately (or inappropriately) released.
Nick strolls in a ~~ casual ~~ fashion towards the transfer suite he reserved for himself and Lanard. He's not particularly excited about this transfer -- Lanard doesn't really match him -- but he intends for her to have the good transfer she needs so badly. He hopes that afterwards, Kat's enthusiasm after her satisfactory transfer with Roger will make up for any lack of inspiration on his part.
Lanard's ~~ anticipation ~~ leaps up, but without actual intil -- as yet. She moves to the transfer lounge and arranges herself in a rather impractical but hopefully seductive pose.
Nick opens the door softly without signaling, exercising a Companion's traditional privilege.
Nick: Hello, Lanard.
Nick's eyes widen a bit as he takes in her costume.
Lanard: Hello, Nick. I'm glad you came up to see me.
Nick looks at Lanard in ~ mild confusion ~, having expected a somewhat different greeting.
Nick: I'm sorry if I worried you. I thought I'd left plenty of time to get here.
Lanard: Oh, I wasn't worried, never fret.
Lanard is managing to suppress her stutter without raising her overall tension level and stuttering worse, a pretty remarkable achievement for her. Pitching her voice in a low register seems to help.
Nick: Good.
Lanard pats the other side of the transfer lounge with the motion of someone trying to attract a cat.
Nick moves over to sit by Lanard, managing the fields so smoothly that it doesn't cause a ripple in the ambient.
Nick: Are you worried about this transfer?
Nick figures that's the most likely explanation for Lanard's peculiar behavior.
Lanard: I have the utmost confidence in you, Nick, truly.
Nick isn't sure what to make of the Narosian outfit.
Lanard smiles at Nick in an attempt to put him at his ease.
Nick: Good. Go ahead and lean on my field for a moment, and I'll work on you a bit.
Nick offers his hands for Lanard to take.
Lanard ~~ leans ~~ on Nick's field cautiously, takes one hand as offered, and then drapes her arm across his chest to take the other. Physical contact is said to be particularly arousing, and it makes the costume a skootch more revealing.
Nick ~~ focuses ~~ his attention on Lanard's laterals, however, not her scrawny Sime breasts. He has, alas for Lanard's schemes, tentatively concluded that she has an assignation planned with someone else, once she's finally had a good enough transfer to get her into condition to enjoy it.
Nick: Is there anything in particular you like in a transfer?
Lanard's stutter returns at this question.
Lanard: I-I hardly know. Everyone who's g-given me transfer has pretty much done it their way, even if they weren't formally therapeutic transfers.
Nick: Ah. Well, what have the ones you enjoyed most been like?
Lanard drops the seductive pose as she tries to think.
Nick encloses her in a ~~ warm and safe ~~ nageric bubble, to help her express her feelings.
Lanard: Well, my F-First Transfer was the best, of course, and I was massively overcontrolled by the Farris Gen who served me. So I suppose that I l-like to be, well, overpowered. And you are so much stronger than me, nagerically I mean of course.
Nick: Of course. Although there are lots of ways of overpowering, from this...
Nick takes a ~~ moderately heavyhanded ~~ grip on Lanard's field.
Nick: ...to this.
Nick lightens his hold until it can barely be zlinned, although his nager still manages to hold Lanard's need neatly at bay.
Nick learned such subtlety working with Arat, who disliked feeling controlled.
Lanard: I think I p-prefer the first style? If it's not too much trouble? I've never been offered a choice in transfer before.
Lanard has completely forgotten about all her advance preparations.
Nick: I see. How's this, then?
Nick firms his grip on Lanard's field, while maintaining his trademark flexibility.
Lanard: Be -- firmer. More controlling.
Nick considers for a moment, then alters his projection to make his control a little more obvious.
Nick: Better?
Lanard: Yes. But Nick?
Nick: What is it, Lanard?
Lanard: Don't ask me what I want. Just -- d-d-do it.
Nick: Hmm.
Nick pays very close attention to the way his body is responding to Lanard's need, and slowly starts working to dissolve the remaining resistance and raise her intil. He does intend that Lanard get her three barrels of brandy worth out of this transfer.
Lanard's selyn system responds to this ~~ manipulation ~~ by increasing her resistance rather than decreasing it.
Nick: It's all right. I've got plenty of selyn for you. Zlin for yourself: you're not going to be shorted this time.
Lanard overcomes the obsession of need enough to smile crookedly at this.
Lanard: Nick, I don't know what "shorted" means.
Nick: It means you've had to stop before you could really satisfy yourself for much too long. You don't have to worry about that, this time. See?
Lanard blushes.
Lanard: No, no. I don't mean I don't actually know what it means, I've just never come close to experiencing it, what with all those over-bright Farris nagers. They pump me full of selyn once a month, and then I go back home to Nysek, where I never feel safe or secure. So I live my life flip-flopping between overmatched and no match at all.
Lanard looks down at her pumps, one of which is now hanging off her foot.
Lanard: Flip-flopping, is that right?
Nick: It's close enough. Let me see.
Nick ~~ considers ~~ a moment, then delicately starts to shut away a small piece of his nager, bringing the available selyn more in line with Lanard's actual capacity. He increases his grip on her nager at the same time, showing ~~ firm control ~~ but what he hopes is a more enticing nager.
Lanard zlins Nick's nageric brightness diminishing to a more bearable level.
Lanard: That's good, that's good.
Nick holds the projection, fixing it in his mind, then goes back to working on Lanard's intil. He wouldn't normally have an easy time fooling even so weak a Farris channel as Lanard, but Lanard appears willing to join in the deception.
Lanard begins to relax and allow her intil to rise, then forcibly clamps down on it again without meaning to.
Nick: Oh, don't do that.
Lanard: I-I want to.
Nick ~~ coaxes ~~ the intil back up.
Lanard's intil rises again under Nick's expert Donor work, but she is still ~~ resistant ~~.
Nick: It's hard to surrender control, but I'm the Gen here. You're in my charge.
Nick experiments with a touch of stronger control, trying to gage how much Lanard really wants to be controlled.
Lanard: Don't want -- Don't want to surrender.
Lanard lets her intil ~~ flare ~~ at the thought she's having.
Lanard: Want to be --
Lanard blushes again.
Nick insinuates his nager into Lanard's while she's distracted by talking, and releases her intil.
Nick: Want to be what?
Lanard can barely get it out.
Lanard: Forced.
Lanard knows this is Wrong, but it's what her body ~~ needs ~~.
Lanard: Do it. Push your selyn into me. Whether I want it or not.
Lanard's intil goes completely flat.
Nick tries to play along, in hopes that it will salvage what's turning into a less-than-satisfactory situation.
Nick: Ah, but you see, you don't have a choice about whether or not you want it.
Nick releases her intil again, and this time doesn't let it be grabbed back.
Lanard: Y-yes. No choice. Do it.
Nick works carefully, not wanting to leave Lanard with lasting damage. He wishes he knew a lot more about her peculiarities, before being forced to experiment on her.
Lanard's selyn clock has been counting down, and now it's time. Without warning, she wraps her tentacles around Nick's arms, but doesn't go for the fifth contact point.
Lanard: [hyperconscious, too loudly] Do it. Force your selyn into me.
Lanard is all intil and all resistance at the same time.
Nick leans forward to make lip contact, envisioning an avalanche to add a tiny hint of ~~ implacable determination ~~ to his projection.
Lanard feels the selyn begin to trickle across the barrier of her self-imposed resistance and signals ~~ more harder faster ~~.
Nick subtly undermines the resistance, and lets the selyn flow increase. He's hoping to get Lanard to the point where sheer Sime survival instinct takes over.
Lanard repeats the previous signal.
Nick lets the flow increase a little, and the ~~ determination ~~ in his projection, a lot.
Lanard sees she isn't going to get what she wants, and wrestles down her resistance by main force, letting the transfer of selyn happen by itself. She feels the selyn coming into her system, and tries to pretend that it's against her will.
Nick is less worried about burning Lanard now that the resistance has diminished, and is therefore able to increase the notes of ~~ irresistible force ~~ in his projection without losing the illusion he's maintaining that his nager is less strong than it actually is.
Lanard zlins the arrival of satiation without true satisfaction, and dismantles the contact. Her earlier plans are in ruins, and her head feels like it's stuffed full of some awful slime.
Lanard focuses her eyes on Nick's face.
Lanard: Sorry, Nick. I g-guess you c-can only do as much as you can.
Lanard blushes once again as she thinks about the absurd clothes she's wearing. She just wants to get them off and into something sensible again.
Nick: Lanard, resistance like that isn't something you want to play with.
Lanard shuts her eyes and shakes her head.
Lanard: Please, Sosu. No lectures. In fact, j-just go. Please.
Nick: Should I call your naztehr?
Nick refers to the woefully inadequate, but familiar, Companion that Lanard brought with her.
Lanard: N-no. I'm high field. And I don't want to see anyone. Just let me alone.
Nick studies Lanard for a moment, and judges that she's not a danger to herself or others, and thus not subject to having her wishes countermanded.
Nick: All right. I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you wanted.
Lanard holds her hands over her eyes to shut out the outside world, which unfortunately makes the state of her inside world all the more perceptible. She looks up at Nick beseechingly and signals, "Go".
Nick sighs, and leaves, closing the door behind him.
Lanard makes double sure the door is secured, and begins methodically to take off the damn clothes and put her familiar, if ugly, Nysek Sectuib's outfit on again.
Lanard: [to herself] The shen with all this.
Lanard curls up on the lounge, half dressed, and waits until she has enough strength to deal with the outer world again.
Lanard: Next month a new plan. Maybe.