by Cynthia Sax
“Good.” She closed her stunning eyes. “I’m counting on you, my Vern.”
Vern watched his mate as she slept, her chest rising and falling, and a fierce protectiveness filled his form. She was his. He wouldn’t disappoint her.
Chapter Two
Win sat in the Moonbeam motel room reserved for the representative from SETI. It had taken three weeks to organize tomorrow night’s first meeting with the Silans, three weeks of not touching Vern, their daily conversations being their only link. Her body ached for him, anticipating their bonding.
Bonding wasn’t a casual occurrence on Sila. Every male worked diligently to earn his mate. Every female had to be deemed worthy.
Win would be deemed worthy. This first meeting would be perfect, restoring her blemished reputation as scientist, earning her one of the limited spots on the Silan spaceship. Vern would claim her and she’d finally touch that vibrating cock she’d watched him stroke night after night.
Win flipped through one of the fifty information kits she’d prepared for the Earth contingent. The necessary information was all there, the Silan greeting protocol, a list of key words in the alien language, the planet’s geology, a summary of the culture.
The largest section of the kit centered around sexuality and reproduction, her specialty within the field of astrobiology. As the Silans approached Earth to negotiate for viable mating partners, her findings would be thoroughly reviewed by the attending scientists.
Eventually.
Win had sent the information in advance to the select group of scientists and politicians she’d invited, but she doubted they’d looked at the material. These important people hadn’t even responded to her emails. They were busy, their limited time in great demand.
Win paused at the photo of Vern. His blue-and-green eyes stared up at her, a semi-smile on his primitive face. Win swept her thumb over his bald head and his broad shoulders, his skin as vividly colored as his eyes.
Will his skin be rough or soft? How will he taste, feel inside me? Win pressed her thighs together. Will we truly be compatible? He’s so large, ridged—
A car horn honked, the noise piercing Win’s Vern-filled reverie. My first guests are here. She jumped to her ballerina-flats-clad feet and rushed out of the simply decorated motel room into the crisp, cool night. Gravel crunched under tires as a long black limousine rolled into the brightly lit parking lot.
Ohhh…this is truly happening. Win forced herself to stand still, her stomach twisting with nerves. She’d organized similar events before but those aliens had been shams, manufactured to create publicity. These Silans were the real thing. Extraterrestrial life existed and she was the first scientist they’d contacted.
The limousine stopped and Bill, the smartly dressed driver, exited, his steps jaunty and confident, his flat black cap tilted at a rakish angle. “Good evening, Dr. Tilsdale.” The middle-aged man was a little too charming, a little too slick to be trusted, his suit jacket neatly pressed, the overhead lights reflecting in his polished shoes.
I should have worn heels, not flats. Win smoothed down the skirt of her best suit, the one she wore to funding interviews and funerals. “Good evening, Bill.”
The driver opened the door and extended his hand. Win silently repeated the greeting she’d carefully crafted, her body shaking with apprehension. Who will be the first to arrive—The Prime Minister, the Head of the Royal Astronomical Society of Canada or a representative from SITA?
“I’ve discovered two planets.” Professor Roberto, her beloved mentor, wheezed, and the driver stepped abruptly backward. “I can get out of a car by myself.” The university professor plunked her sturdy shoes down on the gravel and she stood. Her gray hair was pulled upward into a tight chignon. Dark circles hugged her pale-blue eyes. The brown cardigan she always wore hung on her frail frame. She was the most welcome sight Win had ever seen.
“Professor.” Win released the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “I’m glad you could come.” She felt more confident with Professor Roberto by her side.
“I attended your last four shindigs, didn’t I?” The older woman scowled.
Win’s face heated. “This one is different. This meeting isn’t a scam.”
“That’s what you said the last time.” Professor Roberto glanced around her, clutching her brown leather satchel as though she expected to be mugged in the remote northern town. “The location should have been your first indication, Dr. Tilsdale.” She shook her head. “They don’t call Moonbeam the Roswell of the North for nothing. The entire town is a tourist trap, preying upon people who believe we’re not alone in the universe.”
“We’re not alone,” Win insisted. “You saw the photos and the videos.” The driver removed a small brown suitcase from the limousine. Win gripped the plastic handle and rolled it toward the room she’d reserved for Professor Roberto.
“I can take care of my own things,” her mentor grumbled as she trailed behind Win. Win ignored the fiercely independent woman and continued walking.
“The photos and videos are better quality than the last set were. I’ll give you that,” Professor Roberto conceded. “And the details of the world were impressive though improbable. They made their Silans humanoid, Dr. Tilsdale.” She snorted. “You were one of the best students I ever had. You know how slim the probability of other humanoid life existing is.”
“The Silans wouldn’t have contacted us if they weren’t humanoid.” Win opened the door to the motel room, the hinges creaking. There was no art on the white walls and the carpet was a plain gray. The furniture consisted of a bed without a headboard, one nightstand with a hideous lamp, and a TV-less TV stand. It was perfect for Professor Roberto, her mentor disliking extravagance or excessive noise. “They seek females to procreate with. Our species would have to be biologically similar to produce fertile offspring.”
“That’s another improbability,” Professor Roberto scoffed. She pulled back the bedspread. The corners of white sheets were crisply folded, the cotton impeccably clean. “Tell me you didn’t spend the last of your funding money on this scheme.”
“It’s not a scheme.” Win ignored the professor’s question. She had spent all of her funding money and every last dime of her savings on this monumental occasion. It’d be the first time Earth officially made contact with an alien race. They had to make a positive impression. “When the others arrive, we’ll have a debrief.”
“There are no others arriving.” Professor Roberto sat on the bed, the mattress sagging under her slight weight. “I’m the only person attending your event.”
“You can’t be the only person attending.” Win stared at her, her stomach bubbling. “The Silans are sending one of their Rulers, their planet’s equivalent of royalty.” Her voice rose with each word. “They’ll be insulted if only you and I greet them.”
“They’ll get over it.” Her mentor fluffed one of the pillows.
“They shouldn’t have to get over it.” Unable to remain still, Win paced back and forth, back and forth, clenching her hands behind her. “They’re traveling across galaxies and our people don’t care enough to travel across the province.” Her tread rang in the quiet room, the industrial carpet thin under her shoes. “This is an absolute disaster.”
“Don’t be overly dramatic.” Professor Roberto appeared unconcerned about the potentially intergalactic incident. “You’ve been scammed before and survived. I daresay you’ll be scammed again. You always were a trusting little creature. I suppose that will never change.”
“This isn’t a scam.” Win forced her neutral tone, swallowing her scream of frustration. Her former professor was the only person on the planet who cared enough about her to travel to Moonbeam. She wouldn’t yell at her. “I can’t greet the Silan Ruler alone. They are very stringent about their roles or statuses as they call them. Rulers talk to Rulers. Fixers talk to Fixers. I’m what they call a Fixer.”
“Then you’ll fix this.” The professor swung her legs onto
the bed and reclined, not deeming to remove her shoes or her clothes. “If these Silans of yours arrive, which I highly doubt will happen, you’ll handle it. They did approach you.” Her brow knitted. “Why would they approach you? There are more respected astrobiologists in the country.”
“You’re not helping to calm me down.” Win was keenly aware of her reputation within the scientific community. “What are we going to do?” She pressed her lips together, bile rising in her throat.
“It’s been a long day and I’m going to try to get some sleep.” Professor Roberto crossed her arms in front of her chest. “If that happens, this trip will be well worth my time.” She closed her eyes, her body straight and stiff. “I suggest you get some sleep also.”
* * * * *
Win didn’t take Professor Roberto’s advice. She couldn’t sleep. Her stomach churned and her mind spun. Instead, she sat at a wood-veneer table positioned in one corner of her large motel room and she sent emails to the long list of people she’d invited, hoping desperately that Professor Roberto was wrong.
She knew in her heart she wasn’t. No one else was coming.
The other scientists didn’t believe her. Her first mistake had been choosing sexuality and reproduction as her specialty, topics that personally interested her but others ridiculed. They made snide jokes about “Mars needing women” and “Close encounters of the well-hung kind”, their comments undermining her professionalism.
Win had compounded that error by being too trusting, too eager to believe, falling for scam after scam. After the last well-publicized and embarrassing incident, she’d lost her funding, the lifeblood of any scientist.
Tomorrow would be the deathblow to her infamous career. Tomorrow, she would cause an intergalactic incident, insulting an advanced culture and looking foolish in front of Fixer Vern, the alien male of her dreams.
As though she’d summoned him, Fixer Vern’s striking face filled the computer screen. “Druzka.” The Silan male’s deep voice rolled over her body, awakening long dormant desires. For the past six years, Win had dedicated herself to science, not having room in her life for anything more. Now she fantasized every night about him, longing for hands-on research with the sexy Fixer.
“You are frowning,” Vern observed. The camera on top of her computer clicked and whirled, the lens elongating, zooming on her face. “And your beautiful brown eyes are covered with a sheen of moisture.” His lips flattened, his color darkening. “Tell me how to fix your emotional damage and I will do it.”
“You can’t fix this.” Win bowed her head and covered her face with her hands, unable to see Vern’s disappointment. “I’ve messed everything up. Only Professor Roberto arrived today. No one else will be here greet your Ruler tomorrow…because of me,” she confessed. “Storm should have never contacted me. There are more important scientists, more trustworthy people.” If she hadn’t met him, hadn’t known about him, she could have been not happy, never happy, but she would have been content.
“Talker Storm Nazwisko, the druzka of Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko, trusts you,” Vern reminded her. Storm had earned her place on Sila and been absorbed into the culture, accepted by their people. “She tells all Silans you are a great Fixer.”
“She has to say that because she’s my friend,” Win mumbled.
“I also trust you,” Vern added softly. “I think you are a good Fixer…for a human.” His voice lilted with humor, his playfulness temporarily lightening Win’s dark mood. “There is no need for damage, druzka. You will greet Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko and Talker Storm Nazwisko. Then we will fuck.”
Win lifted her head and stared at Vern. “We’re not fucking.”
Before meeting Vern, she’d never used the word fuck, preferring the more scientific term—sexual intercourse. Males had penises and testes, not cocks and balls. She had a vagina, not a pussy. She’d gradually changed her vocabulary to match his, sex becoming more emotional and less academic for her.
She cared about him…too much.
“We will fuck,” Vern repeated. “We should touch ourselves now.” He unfastened his blue flight suit, peeled the garment from his body, revealing broad shoulders and a body covered with ridges and muscle. Win’s nipples tightened, pressing against her lace bra. “You will have less damage,” he assured her.
“You think sexual intercourse is the fix to every damage.” Win unbuttoned her black blazer. He was right. She would feel more relaxed if she pleasured herself and this could be the last encounter they shared. She shouldn’t squander this opportunity. “I suppose your Fixer friends are watching this feed.”
“The entire ship watches.” Vern grinned, his blue-and-green eyes swirling. “They always watch.”
Win nodded, undeterred by their audience. “Information should be shared.” To save money during her university human sexuality courses, she’d often been her own test subject, regularly recording her own orgasms and freely sharing that information.
“I didn’t bring my equipment with me.” Win dropped the blazer on the floor. “We’ll only capture visual and auditory information during this encounter.” She stood and turned around, facing away from Vern. “That’s not sufficient.” She unfastened her skirt and wiggled. The fabric fell to the carpet, revealing lacy black thong panties. She’d worn the panties especially for him, her alien counterpart having a fascination with her generously sized ass.
Vern inhaled sharply. “That is sufficient,” he growled. “The visual information damages my control.”
Win hooked her thumbs in her panties. “I haven’t even started damaging your control.” She pulled them downward, bending over. “I’m wearing this for you, Vern.” She parted her ass cheeks, showing him the bright-blue butt plug, the color matching his skin.
“You wear it only for me.” His voice deepened even more. “You are my druzka and no other male will touch you.”
“I can’t be your mate.” Win pivoted slowly, allowing him to leisurely peruse her from all angles. With other men, she would have felt awkward, been keenly aware of her abundant curves, her plus-sized body. Vern gazed at her as though she were his sun, the center of his being, of his life, all of his attention focused on her. “We haven’t earned the right to mate, and if I continue to mess things up, we might never earn that right.”
“I will speak with Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko before we arrive at Earth.” Vern sounded certain. “I fixed his druzka.” He wrapped his thick fingers around his massive cock, that impressive part of his body also ridged. “I fabricated lube for him.” His shaft vibrated, moving up and down. “He will grant us the right to mate.”
Win sat in the motel room chair, the seat cool and hard against her bare ass. “He will grant you the right to mate.” She hooked her legs over the wooden arms, spreading herself open to him. “After he sees the disaster I’ve made of this meeting, he won’t wish for you to mate with me.”
“No one else will mate with you.” Vern’s gaze dropped to her pussy. Knowing how hair fascinated Silans, she intentionally hadn’t tamed her private curls. “You are mine.” He pumped his cock harder, his grip intensifying.
“How will you mate with me?” Win removed her bra and cupped her breasts with her hands, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, the pressure exquisite. She imagined Vern’s fingers on her skin. Would he have the rough hands of a mechanic or the soft hands of an intellectual? She pinched her nipples and a delicious pain shot through her body.
“I will claim all of you.” A bead of pre-cum formed on his tip. “I will fuck your pussy first, filling you with my seed.” As he pulled viciously on his cock, he rocked in his gray metallic space chair. Win moved with him, raising her hips toward the screen. “Then I will fuck your mouth. You will taste both of us, my seed and your juices.”
“I’ll test your flavor, ensuring you’re healthy, able to give me children.” Win drifted her hands over her pussy folds, wetting her fingertips. Her thighs trembled, her passion rising.
“My seed i
s not damaged, my Win.” Vern lifted his chin proudly, his countenance rugged. “You will like my flavor.” He swiped his thumbs over his cock head, his skin glistening with his essence. “We will have offspring.”
They would start a new race, half-human, half-Silan. Win circled her fingertips over her clit, winding her desires around her, tighter and tighter. She’d travel to his planet, see the vast expanses of space, experience new cultures, new beings.
It was a fantasy. She slid two fingers into her pussy and stretched herself open. Only the most skilled Silans earned the right to mate. Win worked her pussy as hard as Vern worked his cock. She was incompetent, a joke amongst her fellow scientists. Storm’s Ruler mate wouldn’t find her worthy of a great Fixer such as Vern.
Win ravished her pussy, vigorously finger fucking herself, her juices speckling her upper thighs. Right now, in this moment, Vern was hers, the big alien’s gaze fixed upon her form. “Vern,” she panted.
“Your Vern,” he corrected, his voice strained, skin pulling tightly over his facial ridges. His swirling eyes had darkened to the deepest of blues, the endless abyss streaked with a slim spiral of green. He was glorious, a male in his prime, his cock gyrating in his palms, his muscles flexing.
“My Vern,” Win conceded, unable to argue, past thinking, past anything except her own pleasure. She shook. She craved. She needed. Win thrust her fingers into her pussy, lifting her hips, her rhythm matching Vern’s wild bucking, their bodies in sync.
“Come for me, druzka,” he urged, his hands flying over his shaft, his lips flattening, his expression fierce. “Come for me now.”
Win slammed the heel of her hand against her clit and screamed, her passion burning with the force of a supernova, radiating energy and light. She twisted and writhed, pumping her hips in the air.
Vern’s primal roar boomed in her ears, his face contorted with release, and hot jets of cum arced from his cock head, coating his fingers. His release triggered shock waves of euphoria, bliss sweeping over Win. She cried his name, quivering with delight.