Page 69 of Moist!
chapter three
INTERVIEWS ARE FOR PERVS
Ulthrui tosses the throw pillow onto the wet wooden floor and drops next to me, folding those ridiculous tree-trunk legs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. He scoots closer, way too close, and my pulse goes haywire when that slick, three-fingered hand lands on my thigh.
“You watch the show, right?” He flashes that sly grin, blunt fangs peeking out, his green eyes basically sparkling like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“Religiously,” I mutter, because apparently my brain has stopped working.
“Then you know what happens next?”
“The interview.” I can’t help it—I’m already grinning like a total idiot.
This part always had me blushing and kicking my feet under the blanket.
Contestants could ask anything, no matter how mortifying.
But the thing that really made it feel illegal was the vitals monitor.
Two little holograms floated by our heads, ready to broadcast every spike in heart rate and stress.
Basically a big neon sign that says She ’ s thinking filthy thoughts right now .
“Do you want to go first?” I offer, praying he’ll just start talking because I’m about two seconds from melting into a puddle.
He takes a slow, thoughtful breath and taps his forehead, like he’s about to deliver some profound wisdom. Then he asks, “Am I pleasing to your human sensibilities?”
His finger drums on my thigh. Like, hello, as if I wasn’t already seconds away from combusting.
The projection throbs and starts shifting from blue to pink as my heart rate explodes.
“Do I find you attractive?” My voice comes out higher than I meant. “That’s—uh—yeah. Yes. You’re… hot.”
Obviously. Ulthrui is stupidly gorgeous.
Even if I wasn’t such a shameless perv for aliens, I’d still think so.
He’s built all wrong for a human, stretched in ways that should be illegal, with a torso that would make Michael Phelps weep.
Sure, his hands were an obvious difference, but his “hair” was a close second.
It was more reminiscent of a bundle of clear fiber optic cables, somehow still seemingly gelled (with his own special goo) into a slicked-back hairdo reminiscent of a 1990s leading man.
“You’re perfect, as far as I can see.” My eyes shamelessly travel to whatever he’s smuggling in his shorts.
“And do you want to see everything?” He laughs, my staring obvious.
My display flashes bright red, and no matter how down bad I am, I should at least regain the tiniest bit of control. Banter is what makes this part of the show the best.
“I’d love to see what’s under those shorts, but only if you’re curious to see if we’d fit together nicely.” There’s a quick pulse from his display. “I mean, do you find me attractive as well?” I say as sultry as I can muster, laying all my cards on the table.
“Though I do very much worry that you’re dehydrated…I’m very attracted to you. Isn’t that obvious?”
Ulthrui’s thumb finds my chin and tilts it up to his face, his breath fanning over my neck as he does.
I take the bait and grab onto his shoulder, my grip slipping a few times on his slick skin before I’m able to crash my mouth against his. Whatever covers his skin is sweet like honey, and I love the taste.
The alien hunk freezes as my tongue probes against his full lips.
Have any of the aliens on the show ever kissed? While our faces are locked together, I mentally flip through the Star-Crossed Match backlog in my head.
But just as quickly as I begin to panic, I feel Ulthuri ease against me. His hand slides down to cup the nape of my neck, pulling me closer and letting his pointed tongue weave against mine.
I break the kiss first, begrudgingly, but I know there’s more I want to ask.
“That was…what was that?” There’s a haze over his eyes, and his cheeks flush a candy pink—just like his monitor.
Got em .
“A kiss, a silly human thing, I guess,” I blow it off in an attempt to regain my cool.
“I’ve never done such things with my mouth,” he fawns as I catch sight of both our displays, red like fire.
“If you think that’s cool, wait until you hear about what else this mouth can do.” I laugh and watch him touch his fingertips to his lips, trying to recreate my feeling on them.
Pride fills my chest at my effect on him as I peep his vitals throbbing off the charts.
“I would very much like to see that,” he says in a daze.
“My turn to ask a question.” A smile creeps over my still sticky lips.
“Anything.” He melts back into the sofa, a puddle over a simple kiss. It only fans the flames of my ever-growing ego.
“What exactly are the things I cannot see on that body of yours?” My finger circles until it points to the somewhat-larger-than-before space between his thighs.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”