Page 42

Seeker

Home.

The word resonates with me. Even though Jen amends it quickly, I recall that she’s extended an offer of permanent hospitality.

And I’m warming to the notion.

When we reach the lodging place, she collects a parcel from the front office.

I suspect it’s the protein powder she procured for me.

I’m heartily sick of the stuff, but I fear experimenting with other sources of nutrition.

The soy, as she calls it, is keeping me alive and not making me sick.

I’m fearfully aware how few my resources are on 97-B.

I make a beverage and consume it, as I haven’t eaten today. Jen orders food for herself and we settle on her bed, which has been made in our absence. After covering the windows to deter curious onlookers, I settle nearby when she turns on the television, then hands me the control device.

“You pick,” she says.

I find a show that seems interesting at first. People are having a meal together, but the scene soon changes, and now the humans are removing their clothing, rubbing their mouths together and making sounds that suggest duress or arousal.

Judging by how Jen’s colors shift in response, I surmise it’s the latter.

And now I’m curious, so curious. If I can cause her to make those sounds as well. If I don’t let her touch me, I should be able to resist imprinting or creating a life bond before I’ve made that decision logically, committed to her with her my heart and mind.

“Jen…”

“Yes?” She’s not looking at the screen anymore, nor at me either.

“Are you interested in me? Physically? Sometimes I think that you are. But I do not wish to presume.”

Groaning, she covers her face with her hands. “You’re not supposed to just…ask like that! Come right out with it, why don’t you?”

“Then how else am I meant to attain the information?”

“Yes, I think you’re hot. And I’m very attracted to you.”

“Hot? My temperature is variable.”

“Desirable. A person who…” She seems to struggle to find the right words. “Who makes me feel things I usually don’t.”

“Can you explain?”

“Sure. I’m turning that off first, though. They’ll be doing it soon.”

“And you don’t want to watch that?”

“It’s distracting. So, to answer your question, normally I don’t think about having someone touch me. I’ve had crushes before, always on aliens, but it was just…romantic feelings, I guess? Damn, this is embarrassing to talk about.”

“Why?”

“Actually, that’s a good point. It shouldn’t be.

” She takes a breath and faces me, gazing at me fully for the first time since the show became sexually specific.

“I’m gray ace. That’s someone who doesn’t think about sex that much.

I do have a libido, but I take care of myself and move on.

The idea of needing a partner for that is weird to me.

That also means I rarely experience sexual attraction.

I say rarely now, because before meeting you, it was never. ”

I process her words and it’s impossible not to feel as if I have received an enormous gift. This precious person desires me? What a treasure I have unexpectedly received from the universe.

“Thank you for telling me. I have information to share as well, if you would hear it?”

“I would love to.”

“My people only experience yearning for those with whom they have formed emotional bonds. And once we permit the relationship to be consummated, it creates a unique neural pathway. That being holds the keys to our pleasure center. We do not imprint lightly or casually. Though we can survive the loss of a partner, it’s akin to…

” What metaphor will she understand? Jen waits while I sort my thoughts and decide the proper way to describe it.

“Losing the ability to smell sweetness or see a particular color.”

“Whoa. Now I get your hesitation when I touched you before. I guess there are no breakups on your world.”

“It is rare. And when relationships change, they usually expand. If you loved your first, you love them still, but we are allowed to love others too. There is less focus on ‘mine’ and ‘yours.’ We are a creator culture, not one that consumes.”

“I wish I could see your home,” she says in a wistful tone. “Just once.”

“There might be a way. But I’m unsure whether a memory walk would work with a human partner.”

“Memory walk?” Her expression becomes intent.

Others remain an enigma to me, but Jen has become a mystery I must solve. I want to collect the facts that create the unique wonder of her dazzling, inquisitive soul.

“It allows me to reproduce a moment mentally. I return to that moment in time with all associated sights, sounds, and smells. If we were connected, it would carry you with me as well. You could see my home and family through my eyes.”

“A mind link that only works with your chosen partner?”

“Similar.”

I shift my visual spectrum and notice that once again, she’s glowing warm in regions devoted to sexual excitement.

If she felt shy to discuss such things, perhaps I should simply offer to provide gratification?

My desire to please her hasn’t changed. If anything, that need has grown more intense, especially given her revelations.

“I would like to touch you,” I say then. “With your permission, of course. But I wish to learn what brings you pleasure.”

Her breath catches. “Before, I couldn’t believe you just asked. Now I’m grateful. I want you so badly, it’s ridiculous.”

“Disrobe and we can begin.”

The air charges with expectancy as she removes layers of fabric, not too many today.

Her body is pale and soft, gently curved.

Some human bodies do display color shifts, though not in familiar spectrums. Jen flushes beneath my scrutiny, going rosy as I glide an exploratory touch down her limbs, barely skimming her sides.

The texture of her skin changes, little bumps appearing in the wake of my caress.

I have read about a language that allows humans with limited visual perception to read through touch.

Perhaps that is what these bumps are for as well, inviting me to learn her body through this means.

I close my eyes, allowing my other senses to take over.

She smells delicious, sweet and salty at the same time.

Her skin is smooth, and I savor the skips of her pulse.

She shivers beneath each curious tracery, her body sharing responses wordlessly.

I use that point of contact to decipher the nuances of her pleasure, the slight arch of her back becoming my guide.

Carefully, I shape the contours of her, then venture to the swell of her breasts.

Soft, so very soft. To my surprise, Jen doesn’t react.

The information I’ve encountered indicates that this is an erogenous zone.

“I haven’t done this a lot,” Jen whispers. “But that doesn’t work for me.”

I pause, pleased she’s communicated her preferences. “What will you enjoy most?”

“My stomach. My thighs. My throat. Even my back. Those places feel good to me.”

I take those specifications literally and reroute my explorations to the named vicinities, lightly swirling patterns on her skin. Her lower limbs open wider and she begins to squirm, shifting restlessly as if she craves more. Her breath is faster now; she’s making sounds as I gently rub her thighs.

“How is this?”

“So good. I’ve never had a massage feel this way,” she gasps.

I take it as a compliment, praising my manual dexterity. Desire simmers in me also, but putting my need on display would change the tenor of the encounter. Right now, I want only to please Jen, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

“Turn over,” I invite.

She obeys without question. Her eagerness is intoxicating, lighting my senses to the point that I can see and breathe only her.

I touch her lightly, skimming down her spine, until the bumps appear on her skin here as well.

Then I deepen the contact, kneading her pliant flesh.

She utters a sound that spears through me, nearly forcing an involuntary response.

No. I can control myself. I will.

She lifts her body into those long strokes, and by fluttering the nictitating membrane, I glimpse the polychrome beauty unleashed in her open response.

Jen glows with heat at the heart of her need.

I have no experience to call on, and I have not pursued an investigation into sexually pertinent materials.

But I know enough to understand where she craves contact.

When I extend the touch to framing her slick, needful flesh from beneath, she shudders and starts to move, hunching up and down in jerky, helpless motions.

I need to do little at this juncture, only watch her face in profile.

She bites her lip, trying to stifle the sounds that overwhelm her as her urgency increases.

I wish she wouldn’t. I want to hear those little noises, each breath and groan.

Her movements become more forceful; she grinds against the bony arch of my extensor.

I wish I knew what else to do, but she seems to be enjoying this very much.

“Almost,” she manages.

Her eyes are tightly closed, and I wish she was looking at me, as I’m riveted by her.

She quakes, trembling, and the wet heat on my skin increases.

Judging by the hues of her body and the slowing tempo of her breath, she’s peaked, come to human satiation.

When she opens her eyes, she rolls to the side, freeing my limb from captivity beneath her body.

“You seemed to enjoy that,” I say.

“It was amazing,” she tells me.

A warm feeling spreads through me, though I strive to hide how moved I am. This has been my first sexual encounter with an alien; Jen would doubtless say the same, so we are sharing important firsts this night. “I learned everything from you.”

Her hand trembles when she touches me lightly, right on the colors that are shimmering just this side of violet. I’m all repressed need, and it is making me dizzy.

“You’re a fast study.”

I don’t have the right words to express how much her trust meant to me, but I hope this suffices. “That was beautiful. You are.”