by Olivia Myers
Nothing. She waited a bit longer. Nothing.
"Vector, stop being such a...a stubborn Resstessian. If you don't—"
"Larissa."
She turned quickly. No visplay, though, where she could see him. Just an audio voc, but at least it was a live one. The important thing was, he'd responded.
"Live," she commanded the system, changing modes herself.
"I didn't use the flajec because of the restaurant," he stated. "I used it for you."
Her jaw dropped. "Me? But why? I've seen you. I watched your bioplay. It's vis, you know. I know that you're...you're green. And all that."
"No. You do not know. You said it yourself. You've never met a Resstessian."
"Oh." She didn't know what to say, except what was in her heart. He's here for one more week and then he's gone. She acted instinctively then. Both hands went to her breasts to squeeze their naked fullness. She wished desperately he were the one doing it. Her nipples felt hard and long against her palms and she pressed so firmly it almost hurt. "Well, I don't care," she said.
The delay was long, but somehow this time she didn't get the sense he'd gone.
His voc came in a soft rumble. "You want to meet again?"
Her pulse went mad. Yes. Right this instant. I want you to airskayt here now and...and...I can't even say what I want you to do because I have no idea what you are, what you're like. But I want it inside me. Whatever you have. Her sex pulsed in twitches that made her frantic. She released her breasts, clutched her waist and squirmed.
"Yes." She took a deep breath, looked up to try to clear her airway. "I don't know my schedule for tomorrow. I have a few things I need to do in the morning, but my afternoon is free. Should I voc you again?"
"Again? That would be difficult."
Her heart fell. "Why?"
"Because," he drawled, "you didn't voc me this time."
"I didn't?" She didn't understand. They were voccing right now. What did he mean, she hadn't vocced him?
"No, Larissa. You vissed."
***
By the next morning, Larissa had still not gotten over the excruciating embarrassment of last night. Every few minutes, she wondered anew what he must have thought when he'd received the visplays from her—the visplays she'd thought were simple audio vocplay messages but that had in truth captured all her visuals. Visuals of her pleading with him while pacing her penthouse, stark naked. And this time she hadn't set it to a headshot first.
It seemed she'd been more frazzled than she realized.
Frantically, she checked her settings and confirmed her worst fears; they were set to default to full body. She replayed the vis, then breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason, maybe her pacing or position, most of the stream was torso catches. A butt shot here or there. But at least he hadn't seen everything.
But still. Not good. And the way she'd fondled herself. No wonder he'd been so quiet. What had he been thinking while her hands...? No. She had to stop this.
Somehow, she focused on work. Eventually, sooner than was smart, she called it a day. And vocced him.
This time she made sure.
The amusement from last night was gone, however. He acted as though he'd forgotten the whole thing; his voice sounded low and tired. Almost distractedly, he agreed to her suggestion of a place to eat, and they set a time.
Then she got to work.
Her idea was crazy. But so was her idea to run a nightclub; so was asking a grumpy Resstessian out on a date in the first place. If she'd wanted to play things safe, she'd have picked the blond man with the nasal voice.
She went to the nightclub to get what she needed, not enamored of the idea of hunting down a flajec all over town. It took just a few minutes to purchase one off of one of her patrons, though the alien woman did give her an odd look.
She changed in the small suite she kept for herself for late nights. It took her longer than expected to find the instructions and apply the skin. But when it was on, she discovered the flajec was not uncomfortable—neither too tight nor too hot. It actually felt a bit loose. And breathing through it was just fine. She could see why these imports were so popular.
She walked to the mirror, faced it—and blinked.
The woman who stared back at her in the mirror was a stranger. Rather than a human with brown eyes, slightly dusky skin and long black hair, she saw a woman with cropped forest-green hair plastered slickly to her head and skin the color of a leafpearl.
So this is what a Resstessian woman looks like.
Larissa's hand went to her face, but she felt only warm human skin. The mirror belied that—it showed small, shimmering green scales everywhere her skin should be.
"More like a fish than a lizard, really," she told her reflection. As she expected, her voice was her normal voice.
Her face was not far different from her own, a bit more angular perhaps—except for her eyes. They were the same color she had seen on Vector's bioplay, rather round, a deep lake blue-green, with black vertical slits for pupils. The nose was slightly hooked. The mouth was a bit fuller—
She turned away quickly. She did not want to see any more. The suit had worked, that was all she needed to know. If she saw too much now, before even seeing Vector's true self, she feared she would not go through with this. She'd never forgive herself if cowardice made her back out. Hurriedly, she got dressed and set off.
The whole flajec thing had taken longer than she'd anticipated. She was late for her date with Vector. When she showed up at the Mudpile, nobody was waiting outside. She chewed her lower lip, then marched into the diner.
It was a very different establishment from The Aluminum. Dingy lighting, grungy walls, a long, narrow floor-plan with booths on either side, and no maître d' to speak of made the place a mood piece. But Larissa knew all the wait staff and the cooks. They always greeted her with a shout and a wave.
This time, all anybody gave her was a doubletake. As she walked down the aisle, scanning for Vector, she got the oddest looks. It made her suspect she should have taken a bit longer to examine herself in the mirror. The casual bodysuit she'd picked to wear was orange and yellow; perhaps she shouldn’t have chosen something so loud with her Resstessian skin.
Larissa finally spotted Vector in a booth facing the entrance at the very back of the diner. But he'd seen her first. He had half-risen and was staring at her. His face—human again, she was dismayed to see—displayed open-jawed disbelief.
She paused, then squared her shoulders and marched on. But she'd only taken three more steps before he was there, in front of her. Gripping her arms with the vice of his fingers.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he gritted out.
"Vector, you're hurting me." She looked around nervously.
His grip loosened, but not without his muttering, "Humans are too damn delicate." Then, in a slow and measured way, he announced, "We are getting out of here."
"What? Why? What's wrong with this place?"
"There's nothing wrong with this place. You are what's wrong. You're in a flajec skin. A Resstessian one."
"Hey, if you can wear one, I can wear one," she retorted, then quipped, "What's fair for the hegator is fair for the shegator!"
"You guys gonna sit down?" asked a server. "You're blocking the aisle."
Vector scowled. "No, we're leaving right—"
"Why, yes, we are, thank you," Larissa said hastily. She slipped past Vector, skittered to the booth she'd seen him in, and slithered onto the seat facing the wall.
She stared at the door to the kitchen and tensely listened to the sounds of the patrons and the waitservers, fearful that Vector would just leave. A moment later, he appeared at the booth and slid into his seat.
Her relief was short-lived. Vector leaned forward with his arms on the table and stared at her. It didn't matter that his eyes looked human; they had an alien intensity as they fixed her and she could not move. She could not even blink.
"You are playing with somethi
ng you do not understand."
Each velvety word was a sensual blow in her belly. Somehow she managed to draw a deep, shuddering breath. Her mouth opened. "Vec-Vector. Stop looking at m-me—"
Instantly, his gaze slid away. It released her enough for her to catch her breath and put one hand low over her stomach, where something disturbing fluttered, sweet and dangerous.
He addressed the wall and spoke very deliberately. "Larissa. Let me try to put this more clearly. If you don't go into the bathroom right now and take off that flajec, my sprayseed will shoot right through my damn clothes—these pants, the flajec, all of it."
"What do you mean, your spray—oh! Your sprayseed." If she got what he was saying, and she thought she did, he was talking about his male ejaculate. Through his clothes? How fascinating....
His chest was moving up and down, and his palms covered his face. "Go. Now."
He looked to be panting, but there was no color or sweat on his skin—of course not, it was fake. She reached across the narrow table and touched his cheek. Even through the skin, she could feel his heat. It was excessive. What would it be like without the barrier? Would it burn her?
Touching him was a mistake. She realized it even before his gaze arrowed back to her and she was transfixed again, paralyzed except for the sharp twisting in her loins that answered to that look.
"I want you in that bathroom. I want you out of those clothes, leaning on the sink. And if you don't do it in the next twenty seconds, Larissa, then I will drag you under the table and fuck you before thirty have passed. Now do you understand?"
She did not hesitate. She practically airskayted out of that booth and into the bathroom next to the kitchen. By then she was panting, too. Her bodysuit fell to the floor. That left just her Resstessian skin. She hesitated. Did he want it on or off? Surely she had to take it off if he were going to—
The door opened and shut. She whirled around. Vector loomed hugely in the tiny, dank room as he looked her up and down. His nostrils were flaring, a sign she did not know how to take. Was he angry or—
"Take it off!"
"Right, sure," she said warily. "But it took me forty-five minutes to get this thing on. I don't know if—"
It didn't take him forty-five. It took him one and a half—with his hands shaking.
"What about your own flajec?" she demanded as she stood before him nude, as human as the day she was born. "Are you going to take that off? Because I think you really should."
Wordlessly, still wearing all his clothes, he grabbed her ass, spreading the plump cheeks apart to drag her up his body so her naked legs were forced to wrap around his hips and her arms to cling to his shoulders.
She was about to protest that it felt weird to be held like this until it occurred to her that standing shoeless in a public bathroom wasn't much better. She realized then that his entire body was trembling, sending vibrations through her own body that hit all the way to her spine.
"So, Vector, I guess you won't believe this, but this isn't normal for me," she mumbled against his chest.
The low, guttural noise that came from him was not any word she knew, more of a rumbling groan.
"Uh, maybe I should just..."
One finger unceremoniously pushed into her sex.
"Tell me if I hurt you," he ordered, adding another finger. "I can't just stop, but the sooner you tell me..."
"It doesn't hurt," she choked. Heat exploded in her cheeks. No, if anything, whatever he was doing with his fingers in there felt too good.
"Where's your...ah, there it is." His thumb had found her clit, and Larissa almost fell backward as her arms let go of his neck. He caught her with a lightning movement.
"Stay!" he hissed fiercely. "Don't let go. Focus. Remember, you idiot, I'm not human. Every time I've had a human woman it's gone bad. Their bodies are so damn different. So pay attention. I want updates."
"Wh—what? What do you mean, updates?" He had to be insane. There was no way she could tell him what his touch was doing to her. It was all she could do to cling to his neck and shoulders and hope she didn't melt into a puddle while she squirmed against his diabolical fingers. If this was what he did when he didn't know human female anatomy all that well, she could only imagine what he did to women of his own race....
More of those dark animal noises emitted from his throat, and she suddenly became aware of a hard thing stabbing against her abdomen. His member, she guessed. If her instincts were right, that thing was far, far bigger than she'd ever expect a human man's cock to be, and her sex tightened instinctively around his fingers in fear. Now that could hurt her.
But she didn't have time to think about that. The band of his arm was suddenly squeezing her midsection, and she could not get the air out to tell him. Instinctively she let go with her arms. When he grabbed for her, she sucked in a breath and grabbed her chance.
"Too hard," she gasped. "I can't breathe—when you hold me that hard—round the middle. That's where my air is."
He stilled. "Right," he said hoarsely. Then he swung around and she found herself perched on the bathroom sink.
The next few minutes were insane. Water seeped through her clothes and she kept falling back into the basin and bumping her elbows. But she hardly noticed; this was all about those long fingers slathering her flesh with her own juices and pumping her until she was mindless. It was about that rock-hard body thrusting against her, searing hot even through his clothes, and most of all it was about his voice, sounding out the anguished lust of some otherworldly beast.
She came with a small scream. Right when a knock came at the bathroom door.
"You okay in there? Hello? Anyone in there?" More knocks. The door rattled.
The shock was awful, but it wasn't shock making Larissa's body jerk. "Vector! Did—you—lock it?" Unfortunately, between one thing and another, she didn't really hear anything he said until the delicious spasms had stopped.
"Why didn't you stop your orgasm, woman?" His voice, his body—everything about him had transformed. He sounded utterly sane and fully in control. "We've got to get out of here. This can't reach the news. You want this on visplays all over the city before morning? No? Good. You got suddenly sick. You have a stomach bug. I'm helping you. Got the story?"
Wildly, she looked at him, none of his words making any sense. She focused on the—to her—most important part. "Stop my orgasm?"
As for him, damn him, his lust seemed to have truly gone as though he'd simply stripped it off like a flajec. How?
"I can't stop it when it happens," she argued. "Don't tell me Resstessians have some kind of super orgasmic control. That's crazy. You couldn't stop it. You said, yourself—"
"But all Resstessian women can—never mind. Get dressed, and let me do the talking. You're coming home with me."
***
She felt like she was in the middle of a dream. But this was all too real.
It seemed that dating Vector involved one major embarrassment after another. What was disturbing was that somehow that didn't matter right now.
She was in his unit. It wasn't quite the hole in the wall she'd expected, but it certainly wasn't fancy. A typical one-room unit in a typical sectioned housing tower. Regular furniture. A surprising lack of personal items.
She was on his bed, because...well, he'd put here there. He'd pretty much swept her in his arms and airskayted her to his place, then stripped off her clothes and laid her on the bed.
No offering of drinks. No small talk. Just standing there breathing hard and hovering over her, studying her head-to-toe with that endless, unwavering stare that didn't give her time to think twice about this—if she'd even thought about it the first time. As for that look...she was under no illusions that he didn't know what he was doing. He was deliberately controlling her. She swallowed and said, "Will you please look away or tone it down or something? I can't look anywhere else when you do that thing with your eyes."
He blinked. "Right. I forget."
She gla
nced down to where she expected his cock to be. He was still dressed in human clothes, masked by flajec skin. But there it was, that bulge, unmistakable, and...impossible. Way, way too much bulge. There was no way on Jax-9 this would work.
What were these Resstessians? She was beginning to see why he'd been so reluctant to meet a human woman. Before things went much further, she had to know more. She blurted out the thought uppermost in her mind. "Vector, can Resstessian women really control their orgasms?"
He answered tersely. "They have complete control over their sex organs. It's for making the eggs they lay."
"Making—you mean making babies? Oh," as he shook his head. "Then..." She stopped. If she went on with this, she would get scared off the idea of sex with an alien.
But some things she had to know. Risk-taking she might be, but not reckless with a death wish.
"Are you cold or warm-blooded?" she demanded.
He hesitated. "Warm." Then added, "Mostly."
"Herbivorous? Or carnivorous?"
"You saw me eat meat."
"Do you have claws?"
"You don't need to know that."
Her eyes widened. "Yes, I do."
He was stony.
"Okay, how many eggs do Resstessian females lay?"
He scowled. "They're women, not 'females.' About a dozen at a time. And yes, they all hatch. Do you have to know all this now?"
"Where do they...I mean, how do they..."
"You're not going to get pregnant when I fuck you, if that's what you're asking," he said crudely.
"I don't know what I'm asking. It's just that I haven't even seen you in your real skin. I mean scales. I mean—I don't know anything about Resstessians—there's hardly any information about them—you—anywhere."
"You want to know what I am? You really want to know?" He was abruptly leaning over her, his breath warm on her face, his eyes fierce. "You want to know what life was like on Resstessa? How the sun's dying and our skins had to evolve with almost no ultraviolet, how no photosynthesis means our guts can't digest plants? How we make our air through the sweat and blood of slave labor powering machines that ultimately make the problem worse? You want to know how one man takes twenty wives and how almost none of their brood survives, anyway, because we aren't the big predators on the planet? Does that make you happy?"