Page 8

Chapter Eight

Roth’kar

All throughout dinner, although the food is delicious, I am thinking about this kissing . It clearly hurt Amara’s feelings when I, rather tastelessly, aired my opinion about it.

Maybe I should try kissing before I’m too harsh on Earth customs. They mean a lot to my new wife, clearly, and I don’t want to offend her. But it did seem to be a rather unusual act to mash your faces together that way.

I sit in the towel for another half hour until my clothes are dry.

Then I change into them, and I’m pleased to find them almost a different color than before—much closer to white.

They still do not match Amara’s style of dress, but at least I will be fully covered, and we can “go out on the town,” as she put it.

It did seem to me to be more of a large city, though.

Before we go, Amara retreats to the bathroom for the better part of an hour. Sitting on the couch, I pick up a few booklets she has scattered there, and my translator helps me read them. Ten ways to drive your man crazy.

I thought that was a bad thing. Perhaps I am not crazy enough for Amara.

When she emerges sometime later… I almost trip over myself getting to my feet.

It’s less that she is wearing the little black garment, and more like it has been painted over her.

The shape of her breasts is fully visible, and they are heavy and pert.

The curve of her hips and thighs couldn’t be clearer unless she was naked.

Her eyes are much darker, with thick makeup around her lashes that makes her look almost dangerous.

Her hair is hanging down in loose, shiny waves.

I can’t speak for a long moment. This creature with shining eyes and long, colored nails on her slim fingers is intended to be mine? I’m getting warm in the chest, my heart beating faster as she gets closer.

“What do you think?” Amara asks shyly, flicking some long hair over her shoulder. I track it with my eyes, and that warmth spreads downward, into my abdomen and the base of my culans. The soft ridges awaken, fluttering as blood travels into them.

Oh, no, I need to stop that from happening. If Amara was uncomfortable with the idea of my nudity, she’s certainly not prepared for this.

“You look wonderful,” I say quickly, adjusting so my erection might look less obvious. “My apologies. You were in the bathroom for a while and I need to…” I clear my throat.

She ushers me on. “Sorry! Go, go!”

I shut the door behind me the second I’m inside, taking a few calming breaths.

I did not anticipate my culans would become aroused on their own.

Usually if I need to call on them, they must be stroked, coaxed out.

But when I unclasp my belt and pull down my leggings, the two culans are clasped tightly together, already shivering.

As I lower my hand to them, they part, each one lined with the soft, fleshy ridges that clasp together to unite.

They only separate like this when eager to mate, seeking out touch, looking for parts to stimulate.

I pull out my communicator and bring up the screen I had been looking at last night—the diagram of the human female’s body.

I zoom in on the crotch, where I once again survey the shape of the vagina.

It is very different from a Karthinian’s culansa, a channel with two paths leading off from it, one to each uterus.

No, the vagina has a single entry hole leading to one uterus, and as if imagining it, my culans snap closed again and squeeze together into a single appendage that would, hopefully, fit there.

I wrap my hand around it and stroke, gasping when I secrete fluid from between the culans, coating their shivering spines.

I wonder if she’d like how they would feel inside her. They are designed to stimulate as they flutter. Is she as sensitive along her vagina as a Karthinian is?

More of my cum oozes out the sides as I stroke again, and again, hoping I can squeeze out a finish quickly and exit the bathroom before it becomes suspicious. Pumping hard a few more times, my eyes roll back in my head, and my culans seize, their spines shaking wildly as I meet my pinnacle.

I gush all over the floor, which is easy to clean.

Then I make a show of flushing the toilet and running the water before stepping back out.

Amara is wearing a pair of shoes with high heels on, while a bag on a gold chain hangs from her opposite shoulder.

The gold matches her earrings, which glint in the light.

“You ready?” she asks, her lashes falling low over her eyes. They are pure suggestion, oozing sex, and I’m stunned by how my body once again reacts to it.

“I-I believe so.”

Amara hooks her hand in my arm, the same way she did on our walk. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Rather than going in her vehicle, she leads me down the street to a plastic overhang with a big sign reading “59” over the top.

“We’re taking the bus!” Amara announces. “That way, I don’t have to drive us home later when I’m inevitably wasted.”

“Why would anyone waste you?”

She snorts. “It means drinking a lot. So much you can’t see straight.”

I grimace. “That sounds awful.”

“Sounds fun , you mean!” She’s simply lit up all over, her excitement radiating off her in waves. I find myself soaking it up, curious about what she has planned for us tonight.

The bus is an enormous, ancient vehicle that rumbles like the spaceship’s engine.

We climb up a set of steps, where Amara scans our tickets, then we find seats in the back among dozens of other humans.

They all stare as I pass, and a few giggle or gasp.

Soon the bus is moving again, and I nearly trip over myself.

Amara doesn’t release my arm as we sit together, watching the city go by the windows. It’s charming, I think, in its own way. The backwardness of humankind is almost endearing.

“We get off here,” she says after a time, sitting up to pull a wire running along the windows. The bus slows, and she leads me out the back entrance.

Then we’re standing on a street corner, and Amara seems even more excited as we head off, toward bright, flickering signs.

“Okay, so you’re going to meet two people who are very important to me,” she says, her expression turning serious.

Well, as serious as it can be, given that she’s Amara.

“First, there’s Marguerite. I’ve known her since freshman year of college.

She’s a little hoity-toity at first, but I promise, she’s a whole bad bitch. ”

I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be a good or a bad thing, but I think it’s a good thing.

“Next is Fiona. She seems sweet and happy, but she’s also a bad bitch.”

Okay, definitely being a bad bitch seems to be a good thing.

Amara giggles. “Both of them are super sweet. And they’re excited to meet you.”

I take a deep breath. I knew I’d have to meet my new wife’s friends and family, but now it’s upon us. Hopefully they’ll find me to be a good match for Amara.

We reach a building with darkened windows, so it looks like there’s nothing but blackness inside. A bright sign announces CLUB TENDRIL. We get in line behind a group of other people waiting to get in, each of them passing by a big strong woman dressed in a black jacket.

“Your visa,” Amara says, nudging me. I pull the document from my pocket and produce it as we approach the jacketed woman.

Her eyes travel from my feet to my face, ending with a quirk of her brow when she notices my antennae.

“Nice boyfriend,” she says to Amara. “Matching Program?”

“Yep! This is Roth’kar. He’s a Karthinian.”

I bring all my hands to my chest, close my eyes, and lift my chin in greeting.

“Ooh.” The woman returns my visa. “Cute. Have fun.”

Amara pulls me along through the door behind her, giggling.

“I think she liked you,” she says with a wink. “Too bad for her, you’re taken.”

I believe Amara means that I’m with her and thus unavailable, so I nod in agreement. It gives me an odd but pleasant tickle in my chest.

Inside, the room is not as dark as it looked.

Lights in all manner of bright colors swing around us, and flashes of white distract me.

More humans than I can count are dancing underneath them to the beat of the intense music.

It’s fast-paced and wild, like the sound is everywhere all at once.

I’ve never seen anything like this, with so many beings gathered in one place.

None of the dank, narrow hallways or residential cubicles in the Hole are sized to hold monumental groups of people like this, not even the slophouse.

I thought it might feel crushing, but it is strangely freeing. I am just one of many in the crowd, all moving with a frenzied liberation that makes me envious. They are so carefree.

Amara leads me through the darkness by my lower right hand toward some humans standing behind a countertop.

“What can I get for you two?” asks a woman dressed all in black.

“Two gin and tonics.” Amara whips out her wallet and provides her credit again. “Start a tab, please.”

“You got it.”

After ordering, Amara exchanges her wallet for her personal communicator, tapping out a message to one of her friends.

“Fiona says she’s here. Marguerite is on the way.” She tucks the device into her purse, scanning the crowd. She has given me one of my own, but besides saving her phone number in it, I have not given it much thought. It is rather archaic in design.

“Amara!” A tiny woman leaps out of nowhere, nearly bowling over Amara. The woman is short with cropped whitish-yellow hair and huge blue eyes. She pulls away long enough to notice me. “Oh, and the husband .”

“Roth’kar,” I say, offering my hand as humans do. She grins widely and takes it in hers, shaking vigorously.

“Fiona. Great handshake.” She releases me and gives Amara an approving nod. “Firm. Good sign.”

“You and signs.” Amara laughs playfully. Then the woman behind the counter returns, sliding two drinks across it. Amara hands me one.

“Ready to get your first taste of Earthling alcohol?”

I nod, and we each take a sip. It’s remarkably good, though strong. This is… clean. Smooth. Easy to drink.

I marvel at it as we meander away from the counter area, toward the dancing throng.

Fiona leads us to a table nearby that happens to be open, and Amara and I sit in the booth together.

There are so many other people that we’re practically forced into each other’s laps, and I have to put one set of arms around her back to make enough room.

Amara giggles and nestles into me, clearly reading my gesture as affectionate, not necessary. Fiona claps her hands.

“You two look happy together already,” she says as I sip my drink again, enjoying the flavor.

“It’s only been a day.” Amara is smiling at me as she says it, though. “But I think we’re off to a good start.”

I nod in agreement, keeping the tiny straw in my mouth so I don’t have to talk.

“There she is,” Fiona says, getting to her feet. She waves to someone behind us. “Marguerite! Over here!”

A woman appears with long, jet-black hair, in black clothing, with her mouth set in a firm line. Amara gets to her feet, pulling me up along with her. She runs to her friend and they hug, though Marguerite’s face doesn’t change from its serious expression.

“So, you’re the alien,” she says, studying me. Something about her voice sounds… dangerous. For a split second, I wonder if someone has found me out. “I would love to get to know you better, Roth’kar .”