Lingerie

He was feeling pretty good, all in all, as he walked confidently down the gently curving corridor toward the recreation area. He mulled over his plans on his way to see Memah Roothes, the most beautiful and interesting female he had run across in, well . . . forever. The cantina was just ahead, up the corridor a hundred meters or so, when the bouncer, Rodo, emerged. Ratua started to call out and wave, but then, half a step behind Rodo, a second man exited the cantina. It took him a second to place the second fellow, the context and surroundings being utterly different from where Ratua had last encountered him. When he did, a chill washed over him like a splash of liquid nitrogen.

It was Sergeant Nova Stihl, the same man for whom he'd sometimes participated in martial arts demonstrations back in Slashtown.  Without missing a step Ratua turned into the next doorway, a shop featuring femwear, resisting the urge to kick in the afterburner. He pretended to peruse the racks of selections and gaze at the holomannequins. As he did, he could feel fear roiling in his belly like one of the dianoga rumored to infest downlevels. Stihl was a decent man, but there was no doubt where his loyalties lay, and it wasn't with escaped prisoners.

 A droid rolled up, gyroscopically balanced on a single wheel. "How may I assist you, sir?"

 Calm down! "I need, uh, something, ah, festive for a female friend."

 "Species?"

 "Twi'lek."

 "Skin tone?"

 "Um,teal."

 "How festive, sir?"

 "Oh, you know. Very."

 "Right this way. We have a selection of Twi'lek wear in the correct color coordinates. Something in hisp-silk, perhaps? Sleep gowns? Microgarments?"  Ratua followed the droid to the back of the shop. There were no other customers or staff about that he could see. There was a window at the shop's front, and all he wanted was to be sure his back was to it. He paid scant attention to the droid as it held something filmy and nearly transparent up for his inspection. "Yes, yes, that's nice. What else do you have?”

(...)

“How about this item?"

 He looked at the droid. It held up a piece of crimson silk that he could easily hide in his hand, with two fingers left over. The mental image of Memah wearing nothing but this filled his thoughts, momentarily banishing that of Sergeant Stihl. Oh, my.

 "I'll take that. And that other thing, too.”

***

Star Wars: Death Star Part 1 Chapter 42