by Lil Gibson
She groaned. Slowly, she peeled herself off him and inquired, with as much dignity as she could muster, "Where're my, uh, clothes?" In commandeering the comforter to cover everything below her chin, she had exposed Zorroc to below his navel. He smiled. She gulped. They had slept together naked.
Striving mightily for a level of sophistication she didn’t possess, she remained facing him rather than cowering back under the covers. Doing so brought her eye level with his chest. He was smoothly chiseled with powerful muscles and…no body hair. Her gaze traced his torso, arms, and face; she refused to drop her attention downward to check any lower regions. Equal parts perplexed and intrigued, she longed to touch him and feel his marble satiny skin beneath her hands.
"Many humans lack an over abundance of hair on certain areas of their bodies, your American Indian a good example. We are not so different," he pointed out softly, taking her hand and running it slowly over his chest and abdomen then groaning his appreciation.
As he allowed her access to his sculpted perfection, she wondered exactly how red her face had become; judging by the heat it radiated, she'd bet it matched beacon proportion.
He had unwrapped her the night before and been awestruck by her perfection. Her almond eyes, already bewitching with their combination of siren promise and childlike innocence, left him unprepared for her body…she was a miniature goddess. His very own fairy sprite.
"What are you doing in my room?" she squeaked.
He smiled intimately. "These are my quarters, I live here."
"Then what am I doing here?"
"You live here too," he replied logically.
She blinked, licked her lips, and ventured forth like she hadn't fallen down some alien rabbit hole. "Zorroc," she began carefully, "we have known each other for less than twenty-four hours. I have family, friends, and a career, which I will not forfeit to leave with you. You don't know me and I don't know you, add to that our differing cultures, not to mention diverse planets and well…we're different. We're too far apart to successfully build a life together and too dissimilar for any kind of a relationship besides friendship. I appreciate your problem and sympathize, and will help you in any way I can, but you must realize that my life is on earth. Surely you can't expect more from me than that."
"And you must realize, my little Cat," he stated with equal gentleness, brushing a wisp of hair from her cheek and then slowly rolling until he had her body trapped firmly beneath his, "that your body reaches for and clings to mine in the night. Your eyes follow me whenever I am in seeing distance, and your mind is consumed by thoughts of me and what it will be like to be touched by me, as a male touches a female. All of you are mine for the taking. You will help me do what needs to be done for the good of my people and all else I require," he finished.
"That is utter nonsense!" she denounced and blushed even more profusely. Was she that transparent? Okay, she did find him mesmerizing; who wouldn’t? But he merely aroused her curiosity. No—not aroused, there would be no arousing going on. He merely peaked her curiosity in a cultural sort of way. Kind of like hands across the water, but without the hands. Well, obviously with the hands because his hands and body were playing havoc with her libido at the moment. Whew. "I am an American and proud to be one. I do not intend to fly off to live on another planet and you can't keep me prisoner if I am to help you recruit women. I have an idea, but it will take planning and my freedom," she countered, pleased her voice actually worked.
"We will discuss your ideas at a meeting scheduled for later this afternoon, but now it is time to begin your lessons." He moved to cover her mouth with his.
Lessons? Echoed her last coherent thought as he began to tutor her in the finer points of intimate explorations.
* * * *
He still could not read her. They were on their way to the meeting to discuss how to secure women for Gattonia, but Zorroc's mind focused solely on Catarina. Her mind suffused a murky sea of confusion. Desire battled with shame; confusion with determination; trepidation with temptation. He had quite short-circuited his little Cat. Unacquainted with desire and sensual pleasure, inherent to all Gattonians, she defined innocence, infinitely more naïve and unaware than Zorroc realized. He blamed himself for his own naiveté where she was concerned. Determined to make her acknowledge his physical claim on her, he completely discounted her inner welfare. He could barely accept what his mind transmitted with persistence and certainty. She was a virgin. Unable to stand her inner turmoil a moment longer, he pulled her into the first chamber they came to and secured the panel. Cat looked around, confused, but before she could pose the question, Zorroc leaned on the table and pulled her between his legs, enveloping her in his warmth and his scent. Cat stiffened, unaccustomed to the physical contact, but soon relaxed, letting his heat seep into her and finally turned her face into his chest putting her arms around his waist. She sighed.
"Everything will be fine, my own, you have my vow on it," Zorroc whispered gently as he stroked her lower back, neck and gently smoothed her rebellious locks. As benign as he intended his ministrations, she began the journey toward sensual overload, yet again. She will be fire in my bed, he perceived with a satisfied feline smirk; she will incinerate us both.
"We should go; we will be late for our meeting," she mumbled into his now pebble hard nipple, breaking into his latest fantasy of her.
"They will not proceed without us," Zorroc defended, his eyes glittering triumphantly; pleased he could read her once again.
As he stepped forward to release the panel, he snagged Cat's waist, not wanting to relinquish his connection with her for even a moment.
"Good afternoon gentlemen," she greeted hastily, as they entered the meeting room. She slid onto the soft bench like seat Zorroc indicated. He crowded in beside her, leaving her surrounded but untouched, with their thighs connected only by body heat and his arm draped on the bench back behind her. She'd rehearsed her presentation countless times that day in between bouts of sensory overload brought on by recollections of her first lesson. Now, if she could just get her mind focused on the meeting and off the feel and taste of him, she might actually make sense; he moved slightly closer. Focus! Think of something else!
She observed the Gattonians present and identified them as the same four who’d escorted her the day before. She reviewed her strategy one last time. She'd employ a business like, take charge approach, to show that she couldn't be intimidated or controlled but remained sensitive to their problem and ready with solutions. She'd be charming and endearing, someone they could trust, she would take a deep calming breath… Bad mistake that last bit of advice, her senses filled with his scent, she groaned inwardly before proceeding. "I work in public relations and sales for a company called Gemstone Media Solutions, we book motivational and metaphysical conventions," she explained. "We are sponsoring a Science Fiction Convention beginning one week from today that will run through the weekend and are expecting over fifteen hundred attendees. Many will be in costume and all will be interested in extraterrestrials.
"I can book two of you as speakers on the possibility of life on other planets or some such and your appearance, even as you are, won't draw the attention of any wannabe E. T. Exterminators. You haven't by chance seen Galaxy Quest, have you?" At their stunned silence and universal blank looks, Cat concluded they had not. "Well uh, the point is you'll fit right in. You can have the rest of your people circulate and pinpoint those you think would consider being mail-order brides for another planet and enlist eligible women from there. Mail-order brides are a time-honored tradition on my planet. Well, not off-world mail-order brides that I know of, but the old west was a big believer in them. So, what do you think?" she concluded. No one moved. She had obviously rendered them speechless with her creative approach and innovative solution; all except for Zorroc who'd had some kind of coughing fit and dashed from the room.
Prolinc, though the first to recover, looked like a bug under a light. Definitely the right approach, Cat confi
rmed.
"What kind of presentation would be required?" Prolinc asked.
"Well, you are the head of security, why not talk about how to thwart bad guys in the future? Maybe discuss where weapons research is headed and how it will protect and defend us good guys."
"An excellent suggestion, Catarina," Zorroc affirmed behind her. He'd returned, she sighed thankfully; the room lacked warmth without his presence beside her. Where had that thought sprung from? He probably just represented the most familiar figure in her current altered reality.
"I believe Cat has come up with a workable plan, quite ingenious, Catarina," he complimented in a purr. "You can speak on futuristic weaponry, Prolinc, and you, Carpov, will speak on future advances in medicine, hypothetically, of course. Maybe you will catch the eye of an earth female of your own," he commented merrily, "who would like to be your mail-order bride."
Prolinc and Carpov looked sucker-punched while Sycor and Bandoff began to cough.
* * * *
"You must let me go," Cat persisted. "If I don't show up there will be questions asked and plans jeopardized—mainly yours. The future of your people could be contingent on my showing up for work and setting everything into motion," she ended, exasperated.
They had been arguing since arriving back to his quarters an hour before. He did not want to let her out of his sight and though she could not escape him, he did not want their connection weakened by the familiarity of her former life. Something might happen to her without him there to protect her. She was helpless and guileless, an irresistibly easy target for any desperate, unscrupulous male, like himself. Not that she lacked intelligence; she had a quick wit and flexible mind with an imagination to match. The plan she had come up with to locate women was brilliant in its simplicity. Clearly, though, the sprite needed a keeper, and he disliked his orders being questioned. "I will think on what you have said and come to a decision within your earth hour."
Cat sat on the bed, which she had been informed was called a platmat and tried to evaluate her emotions. It wasn't easy. She obviously had never been truly kissed before. His kiss had zapped her to life in a most dramatic demonstration of possession and control, making everything previously familiar suddenly disorienting and strange. And all from one touch of his lips on hers. A touch that possessed and bombarded her with conflicting inner missiles of passion, fear, desire, logic, love, wariness, need and most of all confusion. She needed some space, some time alone to recover her equilibrium, some time away from him to get this crazy infatuation under control.
What did she find so alluring anyway? Sure, okay he was beautiful, sexy, had a voice like hot chocolate syrup and a lazy predatory heat that poured off him in rivulets, only to settle unerringly in her lower belly. Gentle, when he wasn't demanding obedience, and sometimes even when he was; smart, yet attuned to what she had to say. Other than that, he was nothing special except that he slightly resembled a cat…
She was doomed.
Even cultural differences aside, they would never be on an equal plane. Comfortable with his sexuality, she defined the Princess of Prudes. Big, brawny, and beautiful, she exemplified scrawny and average. It would never work. Why would he stay with her? Certainly not because of her overpowering allure, didn't the man have eyes? Men did not notice her with Dee and Angel around. That was the problem with having drop-dead gorgeous friends; men's eyes popped out at the sight of them at which point a general stampede ensued. Sometimes it was all she could do to duck out of the way before being trampled. It probably accounted for the reason she was so quick on her feet. Whoever said life was fair? Her panel slid open. Sycor and Bandoff had arrived to escort her to earth.
They went to a chamber that looked a lot like a Star Trek transporter. They would not allow her to go unescorted, and waited until Zorroc showed up who insisted on holding her throughout transhift. "I can do this by myself, you know," she insisted, "it hardly requires a sense of direction."
"No," he taunted with a smile and held her securely as her body lost consciousness; a common occurrence that would dissipate once her body acclimated to the disorienting effect of the transport stream.
She awoke in her bed, well rested and alone.
"I called Gemstone yesterday," her aunt deftly explained as she bustled toward the window to open her blinds, "and told them you were feeling a little under the weather but would arrive as chipper as usual for the Tarot Assembly Conference today. Breakfast will be ready when you are, sweetheart, but I think it would be wise to start moving." Cat gazed at her Aunt Helen and then around her room; neither had changed. No way could the last twenty-four hours plus have been a dream…or nightmare, she conceded. "Aunt Helen," she queried, "where have I been for the past twenty-four hours?"
'It must have been a very good party or I'm sure you would remember. You were with Dee and Angel, I assume, and got in some time late last night, else why would you be here," she responded logically while glancing at her niece a little awkwardly.
She was hiding something. Cat knew it. "So, you didn't see me arrive."
"No dear, we didn't wait up for you."
She would not meet her eyes this time. Well, that mystery would have to wait; she had a conference to put on. As she jumped out of bed and headed for the shower, she wondered how her aunt had known to call her in sick the day before.
"I have never seen so many weirdos gathered together in one place. The freak police are probably going to invade and cart us off mistaking us for one of them." Angel nodded toward a couple of particularly colorful tarot queens, in there mid-sixties. The gathering contained the most colorful assortment of fruitcakes Angel had observed in some time and she could tell that Dee shared similar thoughts.
"I doubt it, we stick out like two black and white characters in a color movie, do you think these fortune-tellers will recognize us for the frauds we are and attack us with Technicolor," Dee asked.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Angel returned comically in a rare role reversal soliloquy. Dee lived and breathed self-defense and protection, to the point of forcing martial arts lessons on both her friends until they could beat Jean-Claude if they had to. She made them train with weapons, as well. The three were formidable.
"I never pegged you as a comedian, Angel, have you spotted Cat yet?"
"Behind you." Cat surprised both of them. "I don't have time to talk, meet me at Grumpy's in an hour. This is serious. No is not an option," she reiterated and disappeared.
Sitting at Grumpy's, Cat had no idea how much, or even what, to tell her friends and, further more, didn't know when her cat man would come to reclaim her. A surprised Todd swiftly concocted a frozen Margarita as he greeted her. He made it a double, surmising correctly that she needed it. He engineered two more when the remaining threesome entered.
"Don't say a word, just let me talk." She scanned the room, as if looking for someone she wasn't sure she wanted to see. "Thursday evening on my way to the car, I met this cat person I mistook for a pooka. He was beautiful and blocking my car, and well, he kidnapped me. As it turns out, he wasn't a pooka at all, but a Gattonian from a planet called Ganz, outside our solar system, somewhere, and they asked for my help in finding women to return with them to their planet to make babies. Their women are sterile because of some sort of virus." She scanned the room again. "Anyway, we're going to use the Sci-fi Convention as our hunting ground for prospects, so I don't think it would be wise for you guys to be in the vicinity…just in case. I plan to slip away during the function. Got all that?"
Even knowing her for over eighteen years, Dee struggled to grasp what her friend relayed. Angel recovered first. Cat had a disorienting effect on people, at times, and dull moments proved amply rare. "Slow down and make sense," Angel directed, looking around for some kind of boogey man to appear. "I know we've watched Harvey at least a dozen times, but surely you know there are no such things as pookas."
"Well, I know that now but tell the truth; which makes more sense: Pookas in the form of cats
or cat people from outer space? If you saw a cat guy, what would you conclude? I mean he's standing there in front of you, a foot from your rear bumper and doing an outstanding impression of an inert object, you go up and touch him…to verify he's real, of course, then you look around for the Candid Camera people and well, what would you think?"
Over the years, Catarina had rendered them speechless with maddening consistency; now provided no exception.
Dee took a turn. "Are you sure that's who they are, what proof do you have?"
"Uh, gee Dee, they take me to their space ship via beam-me-up-Scotty technology, then tell me about their problem and ask for my help. I've counted at least twenty-five of them, I just don't see how much clearer it could get," Cat burst out, unable to contain her agitation.
Dee and Angel looked at each other then back at Cat. As impossible as it seemed, it had to be the truth. They'd known each other too long and been through too much not to trust each other implicitly. Dee shook her head to clear it before stating, "You can't go alone, that’s out. We stick together and for God's sake, do not agree to go with them. I know you, if you agree you'll follow through. They haven't asked, have they," Dee demanded.
"Uh, it's been mentioned but I don't think it'll come to that." She fidgeted slightly. "I mean I can't see them actually forcing someone against their will."
Angel emitted a non-angelic snort while Dee's eyes rolled back in her head. "Alright," Dee finally responded, "let's put our heads together and come up with a plan."
"What do you read from her, is she committed to the path you have set for her?" asked Prolinc, reaching for another double taco with extra cheese, sour cream, hot salsa and jalapeños. "If they talk much longer, we will need another platter of tacos." The unusual food proved better than catnip to the Gattonians. Zorroc along with Prolinc, Sycor and Carpov lounged companionably at the mall taco stand across from Grumpy's, garbed in appropriate earth attire and sunglasses—and inhaling, none too fastidiously, platter after platter of extra large tacos.