by Selena Kitt
“Except for that.”
“That makes them sexual transmitted creatures.”
“I guess it does.”
I looked over and saw that Bernie’s cock was semi-hard. I wondered if it had to do with chemistry or fond memories. “So did the experience change your sexual chemistry?”
He stroked it gently, cautiously. “Can’t say yet.” Then he looked at me his eyes telling me that whatever was happening with him, he wasn’t quite back to his old self yet. “Isadora, if I needed... “
“The autopilot does a great job,” I told him. After all, Bernie was a friend and a great fuck when he could get it up. His hardon looked delicious. Besides, my body still vibrated with delightful echoes of the gangbang at Little Rock. It was a shame the damn hitchhikers didn’t have an off switch. With my lifestyle I could see keeping a couple around as pets.
THE END
ABOUT GRETA BOWLES
Greta Bowles loves the dirty world she lives in and can’t imagine a part of the universe that should be without smut. Life is funny and so is sex, if you do it right, and so she imagines, and writes about places and creatures with a variety of weird sexual mores and attitudes and then stirs them all together for your pleasure. Bake at room temperature for as long as you can stand it.
MORE BY GRETA
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Chapter One
Marissa
“Look, I just don’t love you anymore. Not the way I used to. Besides, I’ve met someone else.”
Marissa stared at her boyfriend of four years. Ex-boyfriend now by the way this conversation was going tonight.
Shock coursed through her, but she kept it hidden from her face. She searched for the anger, the sense of betrayal at his admission he was interested in another woman but it did not come to bear. All that existed within her was this quiet sense of acceptance. Inevitability. She’d be lying if she said she’d not known this moment was on the horizon. She supposed the shock did not stem from Neil’s words, but that he’d been the one to speak them first.
“OK.”
Neil frowned. “OK? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
Marissa tapped her fingers against her cold beer bottle. “What else am I supposed to say, Neil? You said you don’t love me anymore. I can’t change that.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” He sat up straighter, his brown eyes holding the anger that was non-existent in her chest. Quiet conversation hummed around them in the mildly empty restaurant. It was their go-to eating out spot for the past few years because Neil disliked change. She’d long grown tired of the offered fare at the place. Most of her relationship with Neil had consisted of her compromising to his finicky demands.
But no more. Not after tonight. It was her twenty-fifth birthday and breaking up with her was probably the most generous birthday gift Neil had ever given her. On some level it irked her that she was the one being dumped. Nevertheless, the end result was still the same: freedom from a dead relationship.
Marissa shrugged, fully invested in the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude now. She no longer had to pander to his needs or his easily hurt feelings. Goodbye, good riddance.
“I don’t know what you mean by that.” She took a deep pull on her beer and enjoyed the coolness of the liquid flowing down her throat. “I’m not going to fight for someone who doesn’t want me.”
“Just admit it. You never loved me.” He sneered at her and it disturbed her how his average features had transformed into something ugly and foreign. “You’ve always been a cold-hearted bitch. You’re incapable of love, Marissa. Maybe it’s because your folks died—”
Marissa clenched her fingers around her beer bottle. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”
There it was. There was the anger. Playing the victim she could take from Neil. Reviving the memories of her deceased parents to prove a point, however, was way below the belt. Fury filled her blood and she wanted to hit him with the bottle. What an asshole. Instead of walking away with grace he had to throw punches on his way out of the relationship.
His gaze shifted to where her knuckles had whitened from squeezing the bottle. He must have sensed her violent thoughts because he got to his feet out of her reach.
“We’re over,” he said, glaring at her. “I want you out of my apartment by the end of the week.”
“I’ll be gone a lot earlier than that,” she spat.
He left her there to seethe over his callousness and the fact that he’d not bothered to pay for his beer. In time, her outrage ebbed. After downing a second bottle of alcohol that left her somewhat tipsy, Marissa paid and left the restaurant.
Outside, the cool fall breeze ghosted over her exposed arms and calves. Most of the time, she wore a plain work blouse over plainer slacks, her hair in a loose ponytail. Her work demanded long hours and efficiency during them. Being pretty was often left on the back burner. Today, however, she’d gone for a flattering, teal halter dress and made the time to arrange her dark brown hair into soft curls. Neil never bothered to compliment her lately, but she’d hoped he’d see her efforts tonight. Marissa snorted and shook her head as she slid on her jacket. What a waste of time and energy.
We’re over. Marissa took a big lungful of air then released her frustration and relief on a long exhale. She wished to go home right at that moment, pack her shit and be out by tomorrow but that was not possible. Neil would be there and definitely raring for a fight. What she’d do was gather her essentials tomorrow while he was at work and make arrangements to move the bigger items she could not grab on her own.
She grimaced at the thought of sleeping at work. Still, as an overworked research assistant, it wasn’t an uncommon thing for her. The various researchers she worked for at the university often piled on the workload. Sometimes she’d catch herself drooling over her keyboard at ungodly hours in the morning after staring at her computer for hours.
As Marissa hailed a taxi to take her back to the university, she thought on her overworked lifestyle and how that may have contributed to the degeneration of her relationship with Neil. Still, though, things must have really gotten bad between them if he could admit he was cheating on her and she didn’t even care.
The taxi ride did not take long. In time, the sprawling brick building she called her second home loomed ahead. Darkness shrouded the landscaped walkway toward the entrance and the unease she felt dissipated at the sight of the weeknight security guard, Andrew.
“You realize it’s after ten, right?” He took a final drag on his cigarette before dropping it to the floor and squashing it with his foot. “Go home.”
“I can’t help that I’m addicted to work.” She smiled at him. “I thought you said you’d quit smoking.”
He smiled back. “Bad habits die hard. I’m fifty-two years old and if I haven’t quit by now, I ain’t gonna quit anytime soon.”
“Lazy.”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to his lips. “You’re gonna get me fired if you speak the truth so loud.”
A knowing smile played over Marissa’s lips. “Oh please. Dean Carelli will never let you go.”
Andrew grinned. “Well, she’s the only reason why I’m still here, anyway.”
“Ouch. And here I thought you and I had a good thing going.” She chuckled. “Dumped twice in one night. That’s gotta be a record.”
The mirth in Andrew’s pleasant blue eyes died as a concerned look came over his features.
“You broke up with your boyfriend?”
Marissa nodded. “He broke up with me. And on my birthday at that.”
“Christ. You OK?” He stepped closer, uncertainty written on his face. “What an ass. A blind ass too. If I were twenty years younger there’s no way I’d let a beautiful woman like you go.”
“Andrew, you can charm the skin off a snake.” Marissa chuckled as she moved to the door. Holding the door open for her, Andrew gave her a quick, consolatory pat on the shoulder.
“Happy birthday, kid,” he said. “You’ll be fine. You’re tough. I’ve lived long enough to know that things tend to get real shitty just before they’re about to get real good.”
Nodding, Marissa slipped inside the university and made her way to the faculty lounge.
Chapter Two
Marissa
The taste of coffee did not mix well with the sour after-taste of the beers she’d drank. Nevertheless, Marissa sipped on her steaming cup of java as she sat at her desk. She’d forgotten to shut her computer off, so when she moved the mouse the computer awoke from its slumber.
Various browser pages and her text-editor chock full of hastily typed notes came into view on her monitor. Ah, yes. Research work she was doing for Dr. Victor Hausten on the DNA changes of an off-spring born from an interracial union. This was familiar research work for her as she’d majored in anthropology studies, but why did Dr. Hausten want this? Yet another question to which there was no answer. Just like why she often wondered why he’d sought her out specifically, an anthropology graduate, as his research assistant. His focus was predominantly on astronomy, and at a secondary level, engineering. He was insanely intelligent, insanely intuitive, and just plain old insane. But Marissa preferred to call him ‘quirky’.
He was the main reason Marissa worked so hard. Not only because he gave her lots of work, but because his intellect and his drive was so compelling Marissa had no choice but to emulate. She wanted to be the best at her job because he was the best at his. Even when he walked around the lab bare feet.
She’d not seen him in over three weeks. No warning, no note. He just hadn’t shown up to work one day and all the following days since. At the start, she’d welcomed the reprieve. She’d managed to get some backlog of work done. Now she found her days so free, she had to seek work from the other researchers in the university. She was starting to worry about Dr. Hausten’s absence. Even though it was common for him to pull a disappearing act like this, he’d never been gone for this long.
Rising to her feet, coffee in hand, Marissa decided she’d check on his cactus. He held a strange affection for the spiky plant. He’d even nicknamed it ‘Doris’. Turning on the lights in his lab, Marissa navigated around the room with care. Dr. Hausten had a penchant for strange and sometimes deadly inventions. Even knocking against a table’s edge too hard might cause a catastrophe.
“How you doin’, Doris?” said Marissa as she poured water from a beaker into the plant’s soil. “Looks like you and I are in the same boat. Ditched by our men.”
Satisfied with the amount of water she’d given the cactus, Marissa set the beaker to dry and wandered over to Dr. Hausten’s desk. Still disorderly as ever. Once, in her quest to be an overachiever and gain favor with the scientist, she’d tried to put his desk to rights.
“Oh, none of this is right at all,” he’d said while undoing her entire day’s work in mere seconds. He claimed he had a ‘system’ but as Marissa eyed the chaotic mix spread across the large desk, she shook her head in amusement. She supposed not everyone was like her. Some people worked best in a messy environment. When she thought about it, her dad, a scientist when he was alive, was just like that too.
“Where are you, Dr. Hausten?” she murmured as she sat down in his old leather chair. She absentmindedly read his research notes on the possibilities of powerful beings existing in another galaxy. Dr. Hausten did have a belief in extraterrestrials. She supposed these ideas came with the territory of being an astronomer.
Putting down his notes, she smiled when she encountered her birthday date with her name beside it written down amid his scribbles. It warmed her he had remembered. Had he planned something for her?
Just as she wondered the question, she spied the pastel-colored pattern of gift-wrapping paper beneath a large stack of paper. Unearthing it, she discovered it was a long rectangular box about the size of a bracelet case. He’d scrawled her name on the paper and there was no ribbon inhibiting her from lifting the lid of the gift box.
A watch made of gleaming silver sat within the cottony insides of the box. Marissa’s eyes widened as the light above her head reflected in the shine of the watch face. It was not like any watch she’d seen before, but it bore some similarities to regular watches. Instead of two hands, there was only one. The lone hand was positioned in one of the three colored sections of the circular face.
It looked like a Simon Says game to Marissa, but made of three colors: black, blue and yellow. The hand pointed midway through the yellow section and when Marissa lifted the watch free from its container, she marveled at how small and light it felt in her hands. It was a gorgeous piece of jewelery and looked expensive too. As she wondered when she’d get the chance to thank Dr. Hausten for such a generous gift, her thumb ghosted over the watch face. A bright purple light bloomed from it, enveloping Marissa.
“What the hell?” Her surprise and horror increased when Dr. Hausten’s lab disappeared into black nothingness. A tightening sensation surrounded her body like if she was being compressed. Then the purple light disappeared and she could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. She was conscious... yet not. How was this possible? She cried out for help but she had no voice.
In the distance she saw a spot of light. It grew nearer and larger, like if the darkness was receding, opening up. In that growing spot of light, she saw a forest but the trees were all blue-green and weirdly shaped. As she got nearer to what she believed was the exit of this nothingness, sensation returned. Her terror came rushing back. She was at the end now and she screamed and she kicked and she flailed as her body was dumped unceremoniously onto the dewy floor.
Chapter Three
Marissa
Marissa sprang to her feet away from the violet grass blanketing the area. Eyes wide and her heart slamming in her chest, turned around wildly in search of understanding. Preferably an exit from this new, strange place. She tripped over a thick, gnarly, upraised tree root and scrambled right back up the instant she hit the ground.
“Oh my god.” She breathed hard and fast, her heart galloping like she’d ran for miles without stopping. “Oh my god. Where am I?”
Nobody answered her question yet she’d managed to gain an audience. Marissa froze with deepening dread as a tentacled, peach-colored creature came into view. It clung onto various branches of the bent tree it inhabited and looked as big as an octopus but far uglier—if it were possible to look uglier than an octopus at that. Revulsion coursed through Marissa when the creature’s lone, large red eye fixated on her. The scream started from deep in her belly then worked its way up her chest, through her throat. It exploded out of her in a hair-raising pitch as she regained mobility, turned around and fled.
The watch was flung from her fingers to parts unknown and Marissa didn’t stop to locate it. As far as she was concerned the watch was the reason for her current dilemma so she didn’t care if it was no longer in her possession. The sounds of the tentacle creature scuttling through the tree branches above filled her with dread. She would never be able to outrun that thing, even if she knew where she was.
The creature made a blood-curdling screech and Marissa’s heart gave way to unmatched heights of terror when something whipped at her. Marissa cried out as stinging pain raced up her arm. Tears fell uninhibited from her eyes. This was it. She was done for. She was on the verge of giving up when strong arms clamped around her waist and hauled her off the path she ran.
“No! Let me go! Let me go!” she screamed, her first instinct to fight her supposed captor. She turned and flailed her hands, slamming her fists against hardened flesh, uncaring of the pain in her left arm. Her captor forced her hands to her sides, then shook her. She grew still as she blinked away her tears to clear her vision, her breath coming in shuddering gasps.
Her captor was a
man with golden-brown skin and startling silver eyes. His long dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail, a few wisps of hair escaped, curving over one eyebrow. His strong jaw was coated in a light dusting of stubble, and his thick arms, broad chest and defined torso was covered in dark, indecipherable markings.
Holy. Shit. For a short moment, Marissa’s fear was washed away by amazement over the handsome stranger who gripped her upper arms. A sudden, pleasant warmth enveloped her and there was this strange sense of acceptance that being in this man’s arms was where she should be for the rest of her days. She opened her mouth to speak, though she didn’t know what to say. But he beat her to it.
“Stay,” he said in a deep and accented voice that inspired obedience. It was the only thing he said before his hands fell away from her body. He reached for the hilt of the sword secured in the scabbard at his hip and ran back out onto the clear path from which he’d rescued her.