Heart Search by Robin D. Owens

thicken. “When . . . no, I lie, a little less.” She sighed. Since the colonists arrived on Celta, the birthrate had lessened, sickness took more of a toll . . . but the compensation was that people lived much longer than they had on their home planet. Her father would be stronger than she for years . . . unless she worked harder than he on her training. Became better physically, more clever in a fight.
    She didn’t want to concentrate on physical training. She wanted to spend time honing her businesses until they were exactly as she’d envisioned . . . then laying ground for her next teahouse, a small place, catering to the ultra-feminine crowd.
    Currently both Darjeeling’s Teahouse and Darjeeling’s HouseHeart were decorated to be comfortable for both men and women, but Camellia had old pics and holos of Earthan places that were obviously targeted at women. It was an idea that had spun in the back of her mind . . . when she thought she’d be able to afford a third place. She frowned. To get the detail she wanted, she’d have to consult with the starship, Nuada’s Sword. Would that be worth the risk that it would uncover her own secrets?
    “... you need to feel a man’s hands on you.”
    Camellia reeled, luckily the wall was there to brace her shoulder against. “What?”
    “I thought that would bring your mind back to me and to training.” Her teacher’s smile was wide with real amusement. “I can tell when you’re thinking of your career and businesses. Excellent job at Darjeeling’s HouseHeart, by the way. Like it a lot.”
    “Thank you.” Camellia sucked in a deep breath. Under her tutor’s eyes she held it for a few counts, released it slowly.
    “You need to feel a man’s hands on you—in a variety of ways. Just the impersonal touch of an instructor. Hard when fighting . . .”
    Camellia had liked Laev T’Hawthorn’s hands on her . . . when they’d stood together, she hadn’t panicked. She was pleased with herself.
    “When was the last time you had sex?” asked Acacia.
    A croak stuck in Camellia’s throat. She flushed, mostly from the recollection of the sexual dream last night, but some from anger that she had to deal with this issue again.
    Acacia continued, “Sexual frustration can be used in a fight, but it’s not the best energy. Like any emotion, it can cloud your fighting, especially for an amateur.”
    Another deep breath . . . and . . . hold . . . and . . . release. “I don’t think I’ll have a problem interacting with men in a training salon.”
    “No, I don’t, either. But your best friends are female and you spend most of your time with them. When did you last have a social interaction with a man?”
    She wouldn’t talk about Laev T’Hawthorn. “I was at the Salvage Ball this year,” Camellia defended.
    “Did you dance? Touch men’s hands and waists and arms as you went up and down the lines, made the patterns?”
    “Ah. No. The music was bad.” And she and Glyssa and Tiana had left before the dancing started.
    “Camellia. You need to spend some time with men, learn that they aren’t all like your male relatives.” Acacia flicked her finger, saving Camellia’s father’s bio profile.
    “It will be good for you to experience a mostly male atmosphere. Despite that they’ve integrated the classes, most of those who frequent the Green Knight are predominantly men. Some of the evenings are social. Which reminds me.” Acacia rubbed her hands. “Maybe you can help me set up a women’s fighting-fitness club here? I’d like to bring more social events here. Maybe have drinks and food in the building next door. That space is finally for rent. We can do a trade.”
    “Maybe,” Camellia said, seeing more of her time swirl down a sucking drain. “But if you want me to go to the Green Knight instead . . .”
    “Let me work some comp time out with the owner, Tinne Holly.”
    “It occurs to me that the fee for sparring at the Green Knight is probably