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“It was set to the lowest setting. He’ll recover in a few minutes” she says before closing the door. The sound of the bolt locking makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Shit,” I say when he hasn’t moved after ten minutes. Zorn’s far sicker than I had realized.

I realize Zorn is in torpor after pulling the three-by-six-foot radiant heating bed to sit in front of the French doors.

I looked it up on the Internet yesterday when he started moving slower.

I was going to ask him about it today. It’s documented that Draals will go into torpor to conserve energy when they can’t regulate their body temperature.

Their movement and thinking slow way down. Well, he’s certainly in torpor now.

The rock has begun to heat, now all I have to do is get him onto it—he’s out cold. Cold being the operative word.

When I searched the Internet, the pictures all showed naked males on their heated rocks. Okay, I can do this.

Kneeling behind his head, I scoop under his armpits, then drag him toward the rock.

“Holy crap, big guy. You should be on wheels too.” He weighs a ton.

Now that he’s lying next to the artfully-painted plastic creation meant to look like moss-covered granite, I need to pull him onto its surface—naked.

I unbutton the crimson military coat he arrived in. It’s thick and warm and has honorific bands ringing both sleeves. One day during a pause from our gin rummy game he proudly explained each and every one to me. I needed the break—I couldn’t bear for him to beat me one more time.

He served in his military since he and his clutchmate Zoriss turned nineteen. As an only child, I envy the stories he told me about how closely bonded he and his brother are.

After I remove his thick coat, I peel off two hoodies, a sweatshirt, and a t-shirt.

I’ve never seen much of his scales other than his face and hands because he’s always cold and covered from neck to toes.

Clothing alone, no matter how thick, isn’t enough.

They need radiant heat, from either the sun or an artificial source, on a regular basis.

Swallowing, my gaze sweeps down his body from hairless head to waist. It’s obvious now why some of my fellow Earth women are standing in line for his kind. His body is . . . amazing.

Wide shoulders narrow to a trim waist and flat stomach.

Rather than his muscles being obscured by the pattern of his scales, they seem to be enhanced by them.

There’s an armband circling his right bicep that looks like it might declare his military ranking.

It’s intricately engraved with a ruby in the middle.

There’s something fascinating and sexy about this adornment that declares his accomplishments.

I pull off his black knee-high boots. They remind me of something you’d see on a medieval pirate.

My fingers get stumped for a moment at his waistband, then I figure out the closure and pull his pants down.

I get the answer to a question that’s been niggling at the back of my mind. He does, indeed, go commando.

Don’t look , I admonish myself, although it takes every ounce of willpower I possess to drag my gaze back to his face.

There isn’t a person alive on the planet who doesn’t know Draals have two penises. Two penises! I live on a planet with only women. I’ve never even seen one .

Well, that’s not true. My mom owns one of the biggest sex toy manufacturing and distributing operations in the world. I grew up helping in every facet of the business from injection molding to hand painting pale bluish veins to assembly to inventory management.

I’ve probably seen more cocks, human and otherwise, than almost any other female on the planet—just not live ones.

I use the same technique as before to push, pull, and drag him onto his basking rock, which I’ve turned up as high as it will go.

After hurrying to the bedroom and grabbing the bedspread, I’m just about to cover him when I allow myself one minute.

One measly minute to visually inspect my alien roommate.

Did I call him repulsive? Really? Then why is my mouth dry? I can’t even swallow or lick my lips, although I’d like to.

Dipping to my knees, thick blue bedspread still in hand, I delay just a few more seconds to drink him in. This time, I allow myself to look at his flaccid penises, or is it penii? Why am I using these precious seconds to wonder about grammar?

Because of my precocious childhood introduction to the nude male form and the fact that I’m a manager in the sex toy factory, I believe it’s fair to call myself a connoisseur of penii.

As penii go, these are beauties, although I can mostly only see one.

If I’d designed this pattern and configuration, it would win an award.

They stack on top of each other and call their top one their secondary, the one that’s farther between their legs is their primary.

The research I conducted indicated they match each other in size.

In addition to some interesting bumps, there’s a bulge about halfway down the shaft, at least the one I can see, that looks like it would feel amazing during sex.

“Enough!” I scold myself when I realize hot bolts of arousal are surging through my body. I demurely place the spread over him and tuck it around his sides.

After jumping on the Internet, I try to figure out how long his torpor will last. An hour later, I’ve learned there are many factors involved in determining how long a Draal stays in torpor. I decide to just carry on and wait.

At bedtime, it suddenly dawns on me that sleeping with him would keep him warm. Why I didn’t think of this days ago is beyond me. Well, no it’s not. Days ago I hadn’t gotten a glimpse of his body which is quickly overpowering my aversion to his reptilian face.

Scolding myself, I head to the bedroom. I’m pretty certain that crawling into bed with a comatose person would violate a hundred consent rules, although it’s not like abduction and false imprisonment haven’t already stepped over that line a teensy bit.

~.~

The next morning, I wake to the smell of bacon.

At one point in my teens, having grown up with an entrepreneur, I actually drew up a business plan and pitched it to my mother requesting seed money.

My plan was to create a company that made the smell of bacon into a perfume.

I received a flat refusal from my mother.

I guess the seeds of my stress-eating were already firmly planted by then.

After washing up, I pad to the kitchen to see Zorn in the kitchen making bacon and eggs. Draals don’t have to eat every day, but I imagine coming out of torpor gave him an appetite.

“Good morning. Feeling better?” I ask cheerfully.

“Yes.”

That rock must have done a great job warming him because he’s wearing only low-slung jeans and a smile. His shoulders look even wider than when he was crumpled on his faux rock yesterday. Somehow, he’s morphed from an alien into a masculine alien. An arousing one.

Sexuality is an open thing in our society, especially in a household where my mother made a very good living because the populace openly embraced the acceptance of sensuality and self-pleasuring.

Mom brought home my first sex toy before I had an urge to use it.

The fact that I think of sex often, have a healthy sexual response system, and masturbate with a veritable cornucopia of well-designed toys is neither unusual nor surprising.

What is unusual and surprising though, is that the desire slicing through me is more compelling than anything I’ve ever felt.

And even more shocking? It’s directed at the reptilian cooking bacon not ten feet away from me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so chipper,” I say, surprised I can sound casual as my eyes rivet on the masculine ‘v’ of his shoulders narrowing to his hips.

“I hadn’t basked since you met me,” he says, an easy smile turning up his almost nonexistent lips. Nonexistent lips, I might add, that I wonder what it would feel like to kiss.

“Have you eaten already?” I ask as I spy a greasy plate at his place at the table.

“A whole pan of bacon,” he says with an unabashed grin. “Maybe you’ll let me share this next pan with you. How many eggs?” he asks, holding one up.

“I thought we determined you hate these.”

“But you don’t. Now that I know how to use your stove, I don’t mind cooking for you.”

“Two eggs, thanks.” He really is a nice guy. He could have made the last few days miserable. I have to give him credit.

We’re both finishing our last bites when he cocks his head and looks around. It’s almost like a dog who just heard a dog whistle.

He walks to the sliding glass door, splays his hands on it, presses the side of his head to the surface, and freezes as if he’s paralyzed. Although I don’t know what’s going on, I know enough to be quiet.

Five, maybe ten minutes later, he stands straighter and stalks into the bathroom. An hour after that, I work up the nerve to check on him.

“Um, Zorn,” I call from the bedroom doorway. “Zorn? You okay in there?”

When there’s no answer I add, “I’m getting worried.”

He clears his throat, opens the door, and joins me. Gone is his open, happy face. Gone is the eye contact we’ve shared freely for the last few days.

“Zorn, I was worried you might die yesterday. You know, the torpor. And now I don’t know what to think. Are you okay?”

“I need to leave, Annora. I need to leave right now. I’ve been trapped here too long already.

I was in there alone, thinking, weighing all my choices.

I understand enough to know your mother will be punished for what she’s done.

You might also be in trouble. I haven’t tried too hard to escape because I didn’t want either of you punished.

That’s over now. I must find my brother.

“I will find a way out of this house. My decision on how much to tell the authorities will depend on how difficult you make this.” He tips his chin defiantly.

“There’s no way out, Zorn. I have no desire to keep you here against your will. If you know of a way, I’ll help you.”

He tips his head, “You will?”

“Absolutely. But why is it so important now?”

“Draals are born in clutches. Usually two to four at a time. All clutchmates have a telepathic link—some are stronger than others. Zoriss and I have a strong link. We were the only two in our clutch and our bond is powerful.

“I’ve only felt a wisp of our connection since they separated us on the ship. It’s more powerful now, likely because I’m stronger now that I’ve basked. He’s in trouble and I need to find him.”

“He was on the same ship with you?”

He nods tightly.

“Let me help.”