This time as the world of fantasy drift away from you, you find your hands pressed against the smoothness and ice of the metal wall. Your hands are slightly curved as if caught in the very spasm of pleasure, and your knuckles are freezing from the embrace. The Jedi Master presses behind you, his massive body flush against yours. His hands are firmly anchored on your hips, holding you against his body…and his erection.

You move your hips and sigh. It alerts Qui-Gon to the presence of reality once again, and he eases his grip on your body…drawing away by measures. His breath is fast and shallow…making you ache.

“That was….” He sighs, straightening his body and folding his hands into his sleeves of his cloak.

“Necessary?” you answer, pressing your leg into wall for support and to cool the heat in your mind and skin. This man has an aura to him that makes your blood boil and churn.

A low chuckle turns your head. The Jedi Master is leaning against the wall a small distance from you. His head is tilted back…and although the sound of his laugh is a musical one…it holds a tinge of ironic grief. “Can you explain to me, little one….what just happened?”

You turn to face Qui-Gon and lift an eyebrow. “You should be able to tell me, Qui-Gon. All that was said…all that happened…came from your own mind. I simply am a player of a part given to me. I must admit,” you say, stepping toward him, “it is not often that I am party to the…intense nature of the feelings that you incorporate into your thoughts.”

“It was all in my head. These conversations, then, were with myself? A very interesting concept…” he mutters.

“You were involved in great pain…great feelings of abandonment and anger at an inability to deal with those feelings. I felt the need…the want to have the connection with another…to ease the pain.” You raise your head as you turn back around to him. “All I know is what I felt…and that sense of emotion was quite acute.”

His eyes are hidden in the stray aura of a shadow. The lighting in the room is cool and disperse, painting everything is a dreamy vision…and this tall man is colored in the same manner. So tall…so proud…so distant…as he was when he walked in the room. He still has all those attributes, but they now have taken on a new facet. You know the feel of that body pressed against yours. You know the strength of the thighs hidden in the material…the way that his shoulders move in the heat of passion…the thickness of his cock. But you also know the sadness that is as ingrained in his being as his soul…and the effect it has had on his heart. He aches…and it is bone deep.

Now that you know it is there…you can see it in the ice blue of his eyes…in the firm turn of his mouth…in the sharp set of his chin and the square of his shoulders. Even now he stands against the cool metal of the wall with his back straight and his shoulders pressed against the solidity of the wall….so serious. His skin is tan, his beard graying brown, and his long hair lustrous and silky. His legs are braced apart as if preparing to carry him into battle…or away from one. Physically, he is simply a man. And his simplicity houses a complexity of emotion and thought that you feel ungrounded and tossed in the air by him.

“You look at me as though you know me, little one,” he says quietly.

“I think I do…as much as anyone does…”you answer, turning your head away from him.

“I hold my thoughts very close to me….very privately….that you have seen them is very unsettling.” He grumbles, his voice rolling like thunder across the landscape.

“What you view as failings, Jedi, are incredibly endearing. It makes you….” You sigh. How can you convince this man that his thoughts and feelings are not only acceptable but also welcomed by you? That it is refreshing that his fantasies include an emotional edge….

You feel the warmth of the surrounding air on your skin, and shiver as the last of the cool mist’s aura leaves your mind. You hear him approach you, his footfalls sudden and loud in the closed area of room. His hands fall to your shoulders, squeezing firmly. “Thank you.” His one hand ventures to cup your chin to make you look him in the eye. “Though I think this has gone on long enough, don’t you?”

Your eyes stare into his blue ones even as his hand cradles your jaw. The warmth from both portions of his body heats you from the inside like a furnace.

“Let’s end this.” He states plainly.

You turn your cheek into the meat of his hand loving the way that the rough skin that is there harshly rubs your skin. “You do not wish to use this for the purpose for which it was intended?”

He tilts his head to the side to eye you as his thumb slowly strokes the skin under you bottom lip. With a sigh, he centers his attention on the curve of flesh there. “And what would that be? I think I have already seen all that there is here.”

“You can steer the fantasies as well, Qui-Gon…in the way that they are conceived and acted out…from the very beginning. All it takes is concentration on the path that you wish it to follow.” You gaze at him. “You can tailor it to your wishes and what you want…consciously..”

He stares at you for a short period of time, his eyes getting softer…like the sky as twilight approaches. “Consciously…that is a very tempting idea, little one.”

“Yes….the woman you want…the situation you enjoy…the setting that brings it all together. This often how this room…this place is used…for men that have been apart from their loves, their families…or indeed…wishing to be apart from those very same things.” Your voice is low…unable to be louder as his presence steals your very strength of voice.

His thumb rubs against your chin again, and his mouth curves in a gentle smile beneath his mustache. You raise your hand to touch at his lips. He allows the caress with a sigh. This man attracts you…and you want him to enjoy the offerings of this room.

“What do you want…?” he asks quietly.

“Me?” you lower your hand to have it brush at his chest, the rough material of the tunic and the mountain of muscle.

“You. What do you want….” He asserts again.

“I…” you are confused…you are have never been given this offer. And it is an impossible offer….you are as much a part of this room as breathing is a living being. You cannot steer your own metamorphosis. It must come from another.

“You don’t know what you want?” he asks lowly, “You have no wish for yourself?”

“ I am incapable of having a wish for myself, Qui-Gon…I have to be apart of another’s mind…not my own…” your brow knits together, pulling your skin tight.

“So any thing that happens here…is of my doing, completely.” Qui-Gon tilts his chin down even lower, training your eyes with his. “Your pleasure is…my responsibility.”

You squint, looking at this tall man that holds you chin. His skin is so warm…it seems like he is the sun…and by that the star that you centers you. His other hand brushes at your shoulder. You lean back against the wall that is right behind you. Only to realize that it had changed…without your knowledge…to a cool tile.

His thumb continues to brush at your chin, as you feel the immense size of the room collapse in on itself to form a cozy, yet spacious room. The one side of the room that you face turns to one big plate of glass stretching from floor to ceiling. Through its great spance, there is a sole source of light that shines…the moon. Its large peaceful presence floods the room in silver light…its fullness takes up most of one of the panes. So beautiful….

As the light sweeps across the floor to just dust the room in its glow, you realize that the room has completed its change. It is open and soft…lit gently with various candles in addition to the moonlight. Cool colored tile, flimsy and dreamy fabric…it is simply and yet completely beautifully a….

“Lounge… a place to submerse in water…”

“Among other things…yes.” He answers, stepping away from you a little. You miss his closeness and lean forward almost as if following him.

You nod…understanding what he is saying and you raise your arms to wrap and cross over your chest as if for warmth. You wait for yourself to change…to morph. Your head whips up as your clothing changes to a filmy cotton dress, but your body remains the same. Qui-Gon’s clothing changes as well, changing to a loose pair of cotton pants and nothing else…it flows over his body…like a curtain on the wind. White against a man dark from the sun.

He turns to look at you before walking over to the window. “Is this acceptable?”

For some strange reason, you find it very acceptable.

“Why have I not changed?” you ask quietly as your bare feet cross the tile. In one corner of this new world created, there is a collection of plants…ferns, really…and they add a feeling of life and the smell of earth to a barren place. You stop bare inches from it, and reach out to run a frond through your hand.

“You said I could steer the fantasy from beginning to end, little one. All that was involved was concentration. I chose to have you remain as you are…to let you experience this as yourself.” His voice is clear, although from where you stand you can no longer see him. You step forward to look around a large wall of curtain to see him near the window…gazing over the landscape outside. His arms are looped behind his back and you can see the strong protrusion of his shoulder blades. You want to run your hands between them and kiss the skin. It would be soft you decide, as the area is normally hidden from the world and its harsh nature.

“As myself…” you echo, moving forward. The curtains next to you flutter in the breeze of your passing, like a cool colorless cloud.

He turns as you near…seeing you both in the reflected light of the window and as a solid entity. “Have you never experienced these fantasies as yourself? As who you are?”

“It is and will never be an issue, Qui-Gon. I am Juntardian by birth…it is what we do…shape shift according to others will or by exterior influence.” You stop your travels, and are facing the window.

“Have you never wondered?”

You turn to face him. In profile, his defiant chin and strong nose are even more evident. The shallows of his eyes are darkened from the shadow effect of the moonlight…it makes it almost impossible to see him…the real him. Have you ever wondered indeed… “You question the way of things often, Jedi. That much is plain in your bearing. But I cannot question who I am; to do so would invite problems that I am incapable of handling. As a Juntardian…I have no true identity…no true personage…I have a neutral state but…”

“Well, then…as your neutral state…have you never experienced it as the woman that you appear to be?” his voice lowers to a conspiratory whisper.

The tone of his voice and the stance of his body incite no argument…he wants an answer. “No.”

“No?” he sounds incredulous, unbelieving. His hands land on his hips and he turns to face you. “Well then…”

You eye him with trepidation. He is a kind man: a warrior, yet with a calmness and warmth to his personality that makes him approachable. But this is a situation that throws you completely off-guard.

“You were involved in helping me see a part of myself…or my past that would help to heal me…I should, then, by all rights, be involved in a situation that will help you to expand your knowledge of yourself.” His face is settled, not showing emotion in either way. You have a sudden image of this man as a teacher, as an exporter of knowledge to another generation. His blue eyes now widen as he looks closely at you. “Don’t you agree?”

“I don’t have…” your heart suddenly stops you think that he might have taken your involvement in the last wonderful, yet painful, fantasy as a way for you to enjoy his pain.

“I simply wish to enjoy this with you…” as you open your mouth to talk, he lifts one of his great hands to press against your lips. “The you I have seen and talked with here, little one…not some philosophical middle ground. Will you allow this?”

It is on the tip of your tongue to deny him. And you realize that that option…the elusive option of denial has never been presented to you…indeed, you have never even wished for it. Yet, here it is…laid in your lap and able to be used. And it is that simple knowledge…the profound feeling of self-will, that brings you to accept. If the power to deny gives a rush such as this, what would the experience of acceptance do?

You nod slowly, your eyes wide.

He returns the nod just as slowly, watching every play of your features on your face.

And then, the world tilts.

All that is assured is the feeling of the tiled wall to your back, its cool evenly spaced texture clearly felt against your back. His hands are curled around your hips, hoisting you off the ground. Your body is pressed into the cool wall and into his hot body to the height that your lips are even with and can taste his chin. One of his thighs slips between yours and that movement frees a hand which climbs to tangle in your hair. As he pulls your hair to tilt your head back for his lips to taste. Unreal…and yet…

His lips close over your upper lip and suckle gently. You experiment your ability to touch by closing your own lips over his only to feel the harsh beard rub against your tender skin. He is kissing you…heartily and completely…tenderly. His lips slip from yours trailing down your chin and you throw your head back to rest against the tile with a reverberating thud. You barely feel the hit as his mouth moves along your jaw.

“Feel…don’t think…experience…” he instructs lowly, making your body shake from his attentions and his rich vocalizations.

You gasp as his leg moves between yours, rubbing. It is hard and hot…memorable. “What?”

“Let your body guide you…let your body lead you in this…as I am letting mine. Just…breathe and feel.” He inches his mouth to your ear and you groan with the wet, hot humidity that you feel latch onto the flesh. You dig your nails into the flesh of his shoulders and tighten your legs about his waist. Your legs are barely covered with the cotton shift that you wear and you can feel every small nuance of his body. Every ridge of muscle warms you, supports you, and keeps you aloft….pinned against the wall. His one hand inches behind your waist and pushes you against him completely…so that there is no question of the solidity or the sheer power of his body.

You flatten your palms against his bare skin. Smooth…tight…you don’t have time to process the feelings and texture completely before you are lightly bounced on his thigh. It distracts you from your thoughts about your surroundings…all there is, is him…his body, his….mouth. Gods….

If you were a pane of glass…you would be steamed over by now…his breath is so torrid…and his lips. They trail over your cheek to your chin where the teeth nibble lightly before moving on….

A low groan startles you. You realize it is from your own mouth, and then, like a siren call to a sailor, his mouth returns to yours, forcing the lips open to plunge his tongue inside. Your head tilts to the side, to accommodate his mouth, his movements…and he holds your head there. Your toes curl and your muscles tighten…white flashes explode behind your eyelids as you feel the roughness of his tongue rubs against the roof of your mouth.

He pants as he pulls away, almost as though he had forgotten to breathe. Your pounding heart and rushing breath joins his. His nose rubs yours gently, simply touching…a whisper of silk against your skin. “Let’s…” he breathes, “ let’s move this elsewhere.”

You fight to nod; the muscles in your neck are watery and loose. Your muscles are tense elsewhere: in your legs that are hooked over his hips and in the hands that cup his shoulders. Hot in your center…wet…and yet cold in the tips of your toes and fingers. Confusion and yet…perfect harmony…nature…

He laughs lowly, studying your face. He easily lifts himself away from the lean against the wall and walks slowly with you passed the curtain into an enclosed area, squared off by the fabric. Within there is a sunken area, squared in the floor. It is large and surrounded by a low glass wall. He stops in front the center of the paned glass window to set you to the ground gently. The tile is cold under foot.

A sudden aroma assaults your senses and you see a low collection of candles by the sunken section of the floor. Lavender and vanilla are thrown to the air by the flames and mix gently to touch at your skin and senses. At the sound of falling water, you turn to watch the shower dance to life. Water erupts from all corners of the low enclosed, sunken area and steam immediately rises.

“Little one?”

Qui-Gon moves behind you. His fingers trace on your collarbone, just skirting the bone under skin. They move symmetrically to your shoulders and touch the loose straps of your dress. The heat and steam have already made the material heavy. You tilt your head back, allowing your hair to run against your back as his fingers find and exploit a particularly sensitive place. His touch makes you arch, shiver and sigh.

His lips fall to the tendon in your neck as he eases the straps off of your shoulders and down your arms. You lift one hand to bury in his hair; gently pulling at the long mane that falls over his own shoulder. He mutters nonsense words against your skin….the actually vocalizations are lost…it is the movement of his lips against your skin that draw your attention…indeed…the whole of your senses to the one small patch of skin that he assaults.

Nibbling teeth…bathing tongue…sweet, tender yet rough lips…you groan at the heat that you feel there and at the moisture that flows out of you. The dress continues its fall, drawing along you arms to lower over your breasts, down over your waist…to pool on the now wet tile. The sunken area is still a short distance away, but it is close enough that moisture has blessed every inch where you stand now.

“Gods…” he whispers, as his hands rise again to cup your breasts in the palm of his hands. You smile and gently remove his hands from your body, stepping forward to the sunken area and the falling water. Every direction, all at once, it falls to run out of the drain in the floor. There is a low seating area under the spray. You slowly walk down the steps to feel the heat…the steam engulf you. And turning…you see a sight that you are sure will remain with you all your days.

The spanse of glass faces you, and through it, the cool large moon. Candles are everywhere around, scattered on the floors and shelves…and Qui-Gon. The tall, proud man that you have come to know this day stands in the beams from the moon… his back to them. Slowly his hands inch inside his leggings and he lowers them to the ground…allowing them to fall. And you see….perfection.

The steam surrounds you…tightly…like a friendly cloak. The darkness is heavier here…like it has sunk with the floor. Water splashes over your back…running rivets down your skin. But as warm and humid as the air is…the sight of Qui-Gon walking slowly across the floor…approaching with the moon at his back…is enough to evaporate what water remains on your skin. His muscles glisten in the silver beams, his long legs stride…his cock, semi-erect, lays against his thigh. His arms are almost motionless…held in check as his body glides across the floor. You are mesmerized by his form…drawn to it like a moth to flame.

It is only as he gently steps down the remaining step that you find the spell broken. His feet slap against the floor as his massive body enters the enclosure with yours. His hands slide under the already wet hair to lift it away from your neck and the warm hand pulls you to him. Your hands land against his wet, strong chest as he gently kisses your nose and then runs his bearded cheek against yours. Your hair is ruffled by your ear, caught in his fist, and pulled gently. As you tilt backwards, his lips find and encounter your chin and water. You can almost feel the water run over your skin and into his mouth.

His hands fall from your hair to run down your neck, over your shoulders to cup and lift your breasts. They fit into his hands as if made for them. The touch is like water itself…flowing…and there as if a part of you. Your nipples rise, greeting his fingertips, his thumb as it sweeps over your skin. You gasp and swallow some water as he pinches the flesh lightly, as if just teasing the flesh. Your back bows…so much contact and yet…none…Your hands run down his chest to his waist…feeling every ridge.

“What do you want…love?”

You shiver from the cool air and falling warm water…. and his voice. “Show me…”

His fingers lower and skirt around your hips, curling into your flesh. The water has made your skin slippery and his hands move easily. “Show you what…little one?”

“What it is you have planned.” You whisper, nibbling lightly on his chest. He visibly shivers as your teeth scrape at his skin…to ease the sting…you chase the nips with your tongue.

His chuckle rumbles throughout his body. It vibrates your lips as they lay against his skin. His arms tighten and he pulls you completely against every inch of his now slippery, muscular body. “The only thing I have planned, is to make love to you tonight; how….is up to you.”

The smell of fresh water and steam bathes your senses making you inhale deeply. With gentle, not tentative, hands, you touch his upper thighs and flatten your palms against his lower abdomen. His muscles retract but he remains still…close…allowing both the water and you to caress his skin. Heat rises from his center, and your hands are drawn to it, skirting lightly the crease between his thighs and his abdomen. Your hands circle the width of his semi-erect cock gently squeezing. It hardens more at your touch.

You decide not to look down, but rather up at his face. His head is thrown back under the spray; his eyes are closed…his mouth is slack. You smile and lean forward, pressing your lips to the center of his chest while stroking his cock. You squeeze gently. “Is that enjoyable?”

“Between the water and your hands, little one…this is heaven.” His voice echoes off the low glass wall, and it is gravely and tight. You cannot see his eyes; he still keeps them shut in pleasure.

You nod, brushing your wet hair against his chest. His cock is growing…warming in your hand…quickly. He is very responsive to both your stroking and kissing. His hips move with a gentle rhythm in time with the stroke and he purrs with each small kiss to his neck, chest and arms. Steam is thick in the room now as if rising to join you. The heat is so strong that it relaxes your muscles even under the stress of arousal. So relaxing and yet so tense…

His cock rises also…strong and heavy. It lengthens and hardens…becoming the extension of his libido that it is. You keep your hands stroking gently as your tongue traces his nipples….switching back and forth between the two. It amazes you that the water and steam rise as he does…the droplets blessing him and forming almost an aura about him.

You turn your head down and watch your fist wrapped around his penis. One finger just gently traces the head of his cock, just under the head…around the crown. It is purple, hot, and beautiful. You feel your knees begin to weaken…and you feel a want in your mouth to taste…to run your tongue up its length. Your tongue sweeps out to run over your lower lip, to pull in the moisture there…you want to take in its length….

His groan is the only warning before your head is grabbed and tilted to receive his mouth. It latches on like a clinging drop…fighting to break out of the mold…covering you. His hips collide with yours..slipping…rubbing his length into your body. Your hips, your nerves respond…sending jolts of excitement along their forged paths. Heated skins dance against each other, tongues sweep and join each other, and water courses down backs, legs and chests. It is a symphony of texture.

When you are both breathless, Qui-Gon pulls away, his tongue running across your upper lip…gathering drops of water and marking you with his saliva. “Jedi hear thoughts.” He whispers. “And the wish you had to taste my cock was particularly loud.”

You smile, continuing to stroke his heated length. Although the sound of falling water is loud, you can still hear his pants. His hand falls to join yours, brushing against your body. “Do you enjoy the feel of my body?” he grits out. Qui-Gon’s hand turns and brushes against your curls, your center, lightly dancing across the skin. “Like I enjoy yours?”

You tilt back your head to look him in the face. “I enjoy touching it…but I would rather have your body inside of mine.”

His eyes flash in the low light. A large hand wraps around your wrist and pulls it away from his body. Lifting it to his mouth, he kisses and nibbles at the tender skin on the interior of your wrist. “That is an invitation that I cannot turn down.” Those blue eyes stare at you over your skin.

You reach for his shoulders. The need to feel his body moving in and with yours is eating at you, making you ache…want….wish. In your mind, there is no time to leave the shower…you have to quench the heat now. With a push, you try to move his body down…to have it collapse on the seat in the shower. He remains immovable, despite your efforts. With a half smile, hidden in his beard, he eases himself down to the seat. “Here…little one? Do I have this right?”

“Don’t tease,” you sigh, rubbing his muscles in his shoulders. You separate your legs, moving to straddle his legs. Your hand tilts back his head to kiss him gently. His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you to him. “Here.”

He allows your hands to tangle in his wet locks. He tries to anchor you to him, but you step back and turn. You sit down facing the wall, within a stretched arm’s length. You can see the curtain around through the frosted glass. Qui-Gon is silent for a few moments before he groans. “Like….”

“Like this, Qui-Gon,” you say, widening your thighs. Looking down, you see his engorged cock hard and eager between your legs. As you stare at it, it twitches. You rise up on your legs, standing slightly and reach to encircle its girth now burning hot even compared to the steamy water. You know you are wet…you can feel the moisture running out of you….feel it coating your thighs….you want it to coat him. With a gentle finger, you gather up the weeping that his own cock is producing and you spread it around his crown and down his shaft. His head thuds against the wall as he throws it back. Then with an eagerness that almost embarasses you…you position him and slide down on his cock.

Your neck joins his in an arch of pleasure. You can feel yourself spread and claimed. Water hits your chest running down over your aroused, raised nipples, across your tender stomach to coat the joining of your bodies. He shouts a moan, and reaches around to capture your breasts in his palms. The fingers pull and twist gently at your nipples making your hips twitch. And you rest for a moment.

Then you tense your legs, and rise. Your head is resting in the nook of his shoulder and neck…you can hear his pants in your ear. He is muttering low words, telling you with no pattern that he wishes you to move…rise and fall. Without further words, his hands fall to your hips to help you move…almost bodily picking you up off his lap and easing you back down.

So much heat…Gods. Your feet slip on the wet tile…his teeth nibble at your neck…his cock fills…everything…everywhere. Qui-Gon picks a tempo that is to his liking…and there is nothing for you to do but to lift your hands and hold onto his head. You fight his tempo, swiveling your hips in a circular motion. His hand leaves your hips to feel at the joining of your bodies. “Ah…yes.”

You moan in answer. But it is not enough. Leaning forward, you brace your hands against the wall. It is hard to balance but the angle…heavens. He understands the move and reloops his hands around your hips. You can feel his legs tense and he begins to lift his hips against yours. And it is all you can do to keep from melting.

Your skin is assualted; your hands slip around on the frosted glass. The feeling of his shaft and head spearing you, spreading you…making you his…making you full….is incredible. You begin to groan his name…it echoes off the walls…overpowering the sound of the water. In….Gods…out….he lifts and allows you to sink slowly back down on his cock. Circling his hips…lifting you…lifting his hips…tense muscle…hot body…steam.

Your neck arches and your hair slaps against your back…and your eyes fly open as you hear his loud grunt of need. You can see the moving shadows against the curtains…thrown there by the candle flames. It is a mixture of fire and ice…the mixture of the moonbeams and flames….beautiful. But by far it is the ballet of the hips….

“Please…” you beg.

He lifts his hips at a fast pace. Qui-Gon’s deep voice joins yours…echoing back from the walls like a wild call.

“Qui-Gon…”

At the sound of his name, he begins to move more quickly and holds your hips steady to receive his thrusts. Heat flushes throughout your body…the harkening approach of your orgasm. You can taste it…feel it…you tense your muscles in anticipation. He grunts in pleasure…

“That’s it, love…tighten….Gods!”

Water and moon…man and steam…tensed thighs and hardened shaft…it is too much to take….you rocket into the night…almost screaming in pleasure. Your thighs tense to hold you…but the rest of your body weakens as your orgasm takes all your strength. He continues to thrust, holding you steady even as you threaten to fall. With a loud groan he pushes down on your hips to keep you against his body as he pumps his seed into you. His orgasm washes over the both of you…too oversensitive to have another one…you simply grunt and hold on as your body revels in his onslaught.

His head lands on your back…wet against your already wet skin. Slick…everywhere. Your breath evens out…his returns to normal….and the sound of the falling water continues rhythmically, as the moonlight bathes the world.

“Beautiful,” Qui-Gon breathes as he kisses between your shoulder blades.

"The room has not changed.”

You are wrapped in Qui-Gon’s arms, nestled in a towel. He is dressed simply in a pair of leggings. He nods absently, tracing your arm with his finger. The moon is nearing to set in the sky, having traveled far during the evening. You both are settled in an area of cushions with plants behind you. Fronds and leaves hang low in front of you.

“No, it hasn’t.”

He pulls your head away from his shoulder with a gentle hand. The thumb buries under your hair to rub at the skin. “It hasn’t for a reason.”

His eyes are soft in the low candlelight. They have burned down during the night…the air is alive with the smell of melted wax and the acid of smoke. The flames have grown throwing more slanted and wide shadows on the curtains…the walls. You sigh and allow his caresses…feeling warm, safe.

“Do you like this, little one…?” He holds your head still, just cupping it. His fingers skirt at your cheek. It is as if he is trying to maintain contact with you…not restrain you in anyway. “This room…this place? Is it relaxing to you?”

You ease away from his hand to turn and look about the room. There is the large window, filled with the peaceful moon. Various shelves line the room, low…covered with plants…filling the air with their earthy aroma. The shower is quiet now…even the drips of stubborn straggling drops has ceased….leaving the room silent. The curtain has been replaced completely around the sunken area of floor, its flaps hanging peacefully. The cushions that you sit on are plush and cool…comfortable…and are covered in fresh pastel colors…pleasing to the eye. You take a deep breath and sigh. Yes…this world is comforting…warm…peaceful and you do like it.

“I can see that you do,” he whispers, leaning forward to put his lips in your hair. “Keep it this way….use it when you are alone here.”

You turn and gape at the Jedi that holds you. His arms tighten around you….holding you close. One of his eyebrows quirks…rising into his brow. Keeping your eyes trained, he leans back against the wall and shifts you. “This is not something you do normally….is it?”

“No….the room is simply what it is when there is not an occupant.”

“Can you keep it this way?” He asks, rubbing your neck gently.

You bite your lip for a moment, before he lifts a solitary hand to rub gently at your lip…freeing it. You sigh. “I don’t know….I’ve never tried….but by all rights….it should be able to be done….but I would like…to”

He is very quiet as he just looks at you. You feel gentled and held. His lips move for a moment before he speaks as if he cannot decide what to say. Finally he stops and simply says: “Then, keep it.”

The hallway is empty…echoing with each footstep. Qui-Gon’s steps are louder than yours…a gift of his superior weight and height. He is just slightly ahead of you, his cloak actually close enough that it touches your legs as you walk. Familiarity has made him less intimidating…more charming. His tall proud bearing is comforting; his folded arms and stern personage are almost lovable; his long legged strides, although hard to keep up with, are indicative of his profound strength. But it is his long silky hair, his warm lips, rough beard and wide shoulders and chest that soften what remains hard about him. Yes, Qui-Gon is a Jedi Master…but you know him as a man.

He slows as you take a corner. Ahead there is the central meeting room where you will leave him in the company of his young friend and the administrators of the dome. Slowly he turns to look at you, but you know that there is nothing more to say that has not already been said. You keep your head straight, allowing your hair to flow against your back and neck. Your muscles are tense. His nearness keeps you primed…like a foot solider for his commanding officer.

Qui-Gon stops completely near the door. You stop as well, folding your arms over your chest and turn to face him. The air is absent of everything…sound and smell. You stand there and look at the tall stranger turned familiar across the low lit hallway. “Qui-Gon?”

He looks at the ground for a moment before answering. “I have learned much…and enjoyed it as well, little one.”

You smile with a quirk of your lips. “As have I…” you answer.

He tries to say more…to talk more, but you turn and face the door ahead with stubbornness. The coolness of the floor seeps through your shoe bottoms and you curl your toes to counteract the shivers there. “It is better if less is said.”

He nods…you can see the movement out of the side of your eyes. Turning slowly, he starts to move towards the door once again. His steps are strong again, but he keeps them tame so that you can match them. With a flurry of his cloak and the sound of his footsteps…he enters the room ahead of you.

“23?”

You turn to face your room mate. She is the same height as you, the same build, and in possession of the same physical attributes. “Yes?”

She appears to be different somehow. “What did you….learn?”

“Yes…strange idea that…learning…24.” With a sigh, you place your clothes quietly down on the bed. “I…learned…that there is more to life than what I have seen. What have you learned?”

“The same,” she folds her clothes as well. It is the same schedule that you always follow…but it has changed in some ways.

You nod.

“Do you think it will change us?”

You stop folding your clothes and stand back. Your life has already changed; you can feel the difference in the depth of your soul. In your mind, you can see the room…the beams of the moon dancing in the windows…the soft cushions and curtains…the smell of life, and man surrounding you. “Yes…yes I do think it will change us. In ways we cannot even begin to imagine.”