Page 37 of Border Control

“Interesting,” I murmur, scooping them up in both hands. The tension in my shoulders creaks like an over-wound spring, so I stand and stretch it out. I pour myself a glass of water and, on a whim, hold one out to Shade. A single frond dips into the surface, then flinches back, quivering as if it’s trying to shake the drop off.

“Oh, sorry.” I rip off a sheet of kitchen roll and dab them gently until they stop shivering. “No water, then. Just… vibes, huh?”

I stroke Shade’s tiny fronds, tickling my skin. Slowly, my pulse starts to ease, the jagged edge of my thoughts blunting. My mind wanders back to the barn. Not only the startling image of Dom, suspended in my ropes, muscles strained, holding himself up there for me, but also the way he rushed out the second Nevare needed him.

Dom is a good person. Strong, yes, but more than that. Giving without complaint. Completely unselfish. Always carrying more than his share. Maybe that’s why it feels right that he gets to keep his strange little pet; it’s something just for him.

I’m still stroking Shade when the back door rattles open. Ellen barrels in, lugging two empty supplement tubs. I jolt, heart jumping into my throat.

“Hi,” she says, blowing a stray strand of brown hair out of her eyes. Her cheeks are pink and the smile on her face in place of the worried frown she always used to wear is heartening to see. Must be the Ilia effect.

I say, “Hi, I’m just putting some coffee on. Want one?”

“I’ll take another fancy one, sure.” She washes out the containers in the sink. “Movie with pizza tonight. I wanted something low key because Arabella’s recovering, but I also want us to mingle with them, get to know each other.”

I keep my face clear as I wipe out two mugs. Boy, Ellen would be surprised if I admit I know more about Dom. Enough to help him with a new coping mechanism.

And explore something different. Something… darker, inside me.

“No, it’s not,” I say out loud.

“Hm?” Ellen glances up at me.

“Nothing, just thinking through my case,” I cover quickly, pressing the grind button so we’ll be deafened by whirring rotors and the bittersweet smell of my favorite beans. Great distraction.

“So, what movie is it?” I shout over the noise.

“We’ll take a vote, but Ilia wants to learn more about love on this world.” Her small smile is dreamy. Yep, she’s love struck.

Meanwhile, I’m cock struck. Any monster-fucker would be, seeing that thing, and to say I’m into tentacle action is like saying the king of England likes crumpets. Fuck yes, and in volume.

In the secure borders of my imagination, I can safely wonder what the writhing tentacles would feel like along my chin as I engulf that monster cock… or what they’d be like pulsing between my legs.

“Calm down,” I snap at myself. It’s not like he’s going anywhere, is he, and I’m just overeager because I haven’t gotten any in a while.

Shade distracts me, his arms waving again. “Huh. Seems like you respond to intense emotion, anger especially.” Maybe that gives out the biggest mind-waves or something.

I can always ask Dom if that’s the case.

Ellen's eyes go wide. “What's that?”

“A psychic plant.” I try to hand Shade over to Ellen, but they wrap their tendrils around my wrist. “Which wants to stay with me.”

“You can have it, I’m dealing with Mae the murder bird.” Downing her coffee, Ellen says, “See you later!”

As I watch her leave, it occurs to me that Ellen might be the only woman within a few hundred lightyears to have handled alien dick and lived to tell the tale. How does she cope with Ilia’s bits and pieces? Should I… ask her?

I shake my head firmly. No. Keeping my sex life and my friends separate is essential.

After I put in a few more hours to make it up to nine excluding my lunch break, I leave Shade next to my laptop and go see if my friend and the crew need any help.

The sun has set before 5pm, northern hemisphere spring for the win, but at least the tent is up, white sides flapping in the brisk breeze. Warm golden light glows from inside, and I push open the tent flap to duck inside. Blankets lie layered on top of straw bales laid out as seats, and what looks like a cross between a microwave and a mini Stonehenge squats on one of Ellen’s trestle tables.

The triplets line the back wall as if they’re facing a firing squad, all stiff arms and staring dead ahead. Only Dom’s lilac eyes drop briefly, flicking toward me, but he’s careful not to meet my gaze.

A happy glow grows in my chest. Maybe he’s having difficulty taking his thoughts off me too. Wouldn’t that be nice? I resolve to ignore him for as long as I can, putting my hands on my hips and studying the far side of the tent as if there will be a test.

Arabella waves from one side, looking a bit too pale and peaky, so I doubt she’ll want to stay very long, poor thing.