Her Alien Abductor: Galactic Concubine, Part 1 (Alien Erotica)
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Her Alien Abductor: Galactic Concubine, Part 1
Ava Lore
Copyright 2012 Ava Lore
PubIt! Edition
PubIt! Edition, License Notes
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Her Alien Abductor:
Galactic Concubine
by Ava Lore
Part One
Levvi Morse hadn't even noticed the male Kurazi in the audience until he reached up and slid his fingers into the thin strap of her g-string.
...Of course, you didn't, did you? Even in her seedy undertown titty bar full of tired strippers and wage slave joes who were always a hundred percent human, a Kurazi could move unnoticed. That's what they were known for—blending in, even though their alien features would give them away the moment anyone noticed something peculiar enough to give them a second glance. It was some kind of latent mind control, designed to keep prey species docile, or so the official reports said. That they didn't specify which species were prey species—only dumb native cattle, or a more sinister definition—fueled the mystery surrounding them.
Almost no one had ever seen one, though, and certainly no aliens ever came into Cosmo's Cosmic Show and Bar.
Maybe that was why she was the only one who noticed him. Everyone else was fixated on her. Scrabbling human fingers, some sweaty, some calloused, stuffed satiny bills against her skin, and one copped a feel of her ass, but she didn't even have the presence of mind to give the wandering hand a good stomp with her stilettos. She was too busy being shocked by the odd feeling of alien skin against her own.
She didn't know it was a Kurazi. She just knew it was an alien. She'd never touched an alien before, which was why she really noticed it. The bass of the music thundered in her chest, almost drowning out the hoots and catcalls around her, and the flashing lights had left her all but blinded, but she still turned and tried to see her queer alien client.
He wasn't hard to spot, once she knew what she was looking for. Calm and serene, he stood in the middle of the crowd, his hand still brushing against her hip. He looked just like every other Kurazi, even though she'd only seen them on television, in artist's renderings and grainy security camera footage.
He was humanoid—that is, human shaped. However his face was so pale as to be almost white, and his huge dark eyes, black from lid to lid, remained expressionless. Bony ridges decorated his cheekbones, brows, nose and high forehead, but his lips—the most human thing about him—were soft and full and quirked in a weird half-smile, as though he were sharing a secret with her. His dark clothes left his face an eerie apparition floating in the gloom of the club, and his fingers oozed cold.
Levvi kept her seductive expression plastered across her face. She may be dancing to pay her insurmountable debt to the lenders with only enough left over for a few packs of freeze dried noodles and a share of a shoebox in undertown, but she was a professional, god damn it. An alien shouldn't freak her out. Even a Kurazi. He certainly couldn't do anything to her in the middle of all these people.
Could he?
Running on autopilot, she tilted her head, letting her long, natural red hair slide over her shoulder, and pursed her lips before giving her ass a waggle. The blue-collar workadays clustered around her end of the stage howled and reeled, but the Kurazi just smirked.
Cold fingertips slid over her hip, under the thin string she wore, down and around, gliding against the crack of her ass and edging toward the scrap of fabric that barely covered her cunt. Shivers rippled across her skin, and Levvi froze, conflicted.
Out of line, she thought, but it was an automatic thought, pure business that had nothing to do with the sudden fear and illicit, unwelcome pleasure his touch inspired. She should press the alarm beacon hidden behind her ear and call the bouncer. But...would Dunc even see him before he disappeared into the crowd? Would she even have a chance to lift her hand before the Kurazi did whatever sinister thing he wanted to do?
His fingertips ghosted under the edge of the fabric, barely brushing against the soft outer folds of her pussy. Her breath caught.
What did he want to do?
The question seared across her mind and she hesitated for a crucial second. Then the spotlight passed over her, burning away her sight, and when it moved away, he was gone.
Levvi kept her smile on her face as she knelt at the edge of the stage, burying her arms in her hair and exposing her breasts. The throng around her surged and subsided, pelting her with crumpled dollar bills and catcalls, but inside she felt as though the Kurazi's cold fingers had closed around her heart.
*
Levvi raced off the stage, her heart pounding. The fat stack of one dollar bills slipped and slid in her hand, and twice she almost dropped them. She didn't feel calm until she was in the dressing room, sitting on the grotty orange couch in the corner, one of Cos's only grudging admissions that his dancers were human beings instead of androids. The other girls flitted and fluttered, primping, gossiping, swapping costumes, and complaining. She barely heard them.
An alien had touched her. And not just any alien. A Kurazi.
She didn't know much about the Kurazi. No one did. They were rare, hardly ever seen off their homeworld and Kuraz was heavily guarded against unwanted guests, which, as far as Levvi knew, was everyone. They didn't even participate in the galactic council. Rumors about them were rampant. How they were gods. How they could read minds. How they could hypnotize you.
How they stole people away and erased the memories of their friends and family, so no one even noticed they were gone until someone wondered idly who owned a piece of clothing left on the floor, or stared at a photograph a little too long.
Levvi swallowed. He'd slid his fingers under her g-string before he'd felt her up. Had he given her something? Extra money? Five dollars? Ten? Twenty? A note? Quickly she thumbed through the stack of bills.
She looked three times and found nothing.
Her shoulders slumped. Of course he wouldn't. That had been her chance for something exciting to happen in this shitty place and she'd let it slip by.
Biting her lip, Levvi started to count her tips, but she kept losing count, until she finally gave up and settled for letting the money shift through her fingers. A soothing gesture. A few more nights and she'd have a roof over her head for another month...
“Hey. Hey, Levvi!”
Levvi started and turned to see her friend Radine sitting on the couch next to her, staring. She hadn't even noticed she was there. Guiltily, she shook herself and gave Rad a tired smile. “Sorry. Thinking of something. What's up?”
Rad sighed, clearly annoyed. “I said, you need to get Chax to walk you home tonight.”
Levvi lifted her brows. “What? Why? I thought we got off at the same time.” She and Rad usually walked home together since they both lived on the same shitty block in undertown.
“I knew you weren't listening to me and I've been talking to you for like five minutes!” She blew a chuff of air to flush out her irritation, then leaned in, clearly excited. “There's this guy who wants me to dance for him in private. He's offering me a lot of money, and wanted me to do it tonight. He's not even playing it cool or anything.”
She forced herself to smile. “I hope he's rich as hell,” she said, and that, at least, was the truth. If Rad got out of here, maybe she could give Levvi a helping hand up.
“Me, too,” Rad said, standing up and throwing her bag over her shoulder. She gave her flawless make up a cursory check in the mirror.
“You got a beacon on you?”
“Duh. Never go anywhere without it. Fucking thing costs me like half a night's tips to keep it connected every month.”
Levvi nodded. “Good luck,” she said.
Rad gave a bounce and a grin, then headed out the door.
With a sigh, Levvi hauled herself out of the couch and changed clothes before taking her beacon from behind her ear and adjusting it to the general frequency. Replacing it, she gathered her necessaries and made her way around backstage to find Chax, who ran the lights and music and because he was always hoping to score, he was always willing to walk someone home.
Well, almost always. Levvi found him slumped over his sound station, fast asleep with a bottle of pills and a bottle of booze next to him. The program for the night was running smoothly without his help, as it always did. He was good at getting it set up perfectly so he could drink and hit on the waitresses all night instead of work. Only this time he looked too wasted to do anything except sleep it off. Levvi gave him an experimental poke, but he barely even moved.
She sighed and fiddled with her beacon. She hated walking home alone, but she knew the other girls did it all the time. She was probably just being paranoid. And even if she could wake Chax up, she wasn't sure she wanted to deal with his inexpert groping and come-on lines delivered with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. And anyway, undertown wasn't the worst place to walk alone at night. There were plenty of junkies and homeless people to keep her company.
Levvi left Chax to his stupor, waved goodbye to her coworkers, and headed out the door.
The chill of undertown hit her across the face and she shivered, pulling her ratty coat tightly around her shoulders. There was a slight breeze from the huge air compressors that delivered the pumped air underground, but mostly the night air was stale, thick with the acrid stink of sweat and booze and vomit and backed up sewers. The lights were off to simulate the natural rhythms of the earth above—the planet that was now only available to the rich who could afford to cool dwellings with windows and grow their own food in special greenhouses—but the neon lights of the businesses built into the earth lit the narrow laneway well enough. There were no cars any longer—Levvi had only seen them in history books and old vids—but there were still crowds of people, even this late at night. No one wanted to go home to the two-room shitholes they shared with three other families, or, in her case, the one-room shithole she shared with five other roommates. The noise, bouncing off the concrete ceilings and walls, was almost as deafening as the music in the club. A headache bloomed behind her right eye, and she popped a pill from the secret compartment in the necklace she wore, letting it dissolve under her tongue to get it into her bloodstream quicker.
I should have grabbed that alien's hand and begged him to take me out of here, Levvi thought. Who cared what happened next? At least she wouldn't be here any more and there was no way she'd make it out by herself. The colonies didn't need strippers, and she wasn't quite a prostitute yet. Sure, she'd done stuff for money—you did what you had to—but it wasn't her day job. Or night job. Haha.
Levvi trudged along. A group of drunken businessmen, clearly slumming it in this part of undertown, staggered past her, singing a song in a language she recognized as Falese, probably the most fashionable and artistic alien culture. She'd done a number of dances to Falesian chart toppers, but damned if she could understand it. She didn't have the kind of money required for a translation implant. A homeless man with straggling hair and the sunken, sallow look of an Indigo Dust addict caromed off her shoulder. Automatically she checked to make sure he hadn't stolen anything, but all her cards and papers were in place when she patted the inside pocket of her jacket. He was probably too strung out to even notice he'd bumped into her.
More people passed. A woman snagged her sleeve and propositioned her, for a fee. Two drunk men, too loaded to be any threat, tried to persuade her to step into the flophouse behind them. A crier tried to hustle her into a club that was even seedier than Cosmo's, if that were possible, and a kid only a few years younger than her asked if she had any sea salt—the drug, not the flavorful mineral—and spat on her when she shook her head.
Levvi sighed as she stared at the dark glob of mucus on her sleeve. Briefly she considered trying to rub it off with her other sleeve, but that would require letting go of the hand she held, and she didn't want to do that. She was fond of holding hands. It made her feel safe.
Holding hands.
Holding hands.
The roar of undertown seemed to recede. Cold crept up her arm. She felt a presence walking beside her. Rough skin rubbed against her palm.
He was next to her. Right next to her. Her hand nestled comfortably in his.
Levvi lifted her chin, her nerves suddenly singing, questions racing across her mind. What was he doing here? Why was he following her? What did he want? And when the hell had he grabbed her hand, and how the hell didn't she notice it?
She didn't dare glance next to her. She didn't want to show she was afraid. She didn't want to show she was excited.
What if the rumors are true? she thought, and her breath came short and shallow.
“I'm glad you aren't like the others,” said a voice near her ear. It seemed to echo, scraping and and slithering over her brain, and then the hand let go of hers, gliding up her back, snaking over her shoulder and sliding over her mouth, rough and cool, and she suddenly felt very calm. Happy, even.
Why shouldn't he have his hand on her lips? She liked it. They felt nice. The smell of his skin drifted past her nose, and she caught strange scents, cold and sharp that she couldn't put a name to. Dreamily, Levvi thought that this must have been what snow smelled like. She'd never seen snow. Snow didn't happen now, and even if it did she couldn't afford the trip to the surface to see it. Inhaling, she tried to catch the scent again, and again it filled her head, sending it spinning. The world tilted and reeled. She was glad she had an arm around her, supporting her.
A pale face floated at the corner of her vision. She let herself be guided along, gently tugged this way and that, until they rounded the corner of a cross street she had never been down before. But why shouldn't she follow him? She wanted to.
Didn't she?
A tiny part of her rebelled, and she stiffened as they ducked into a darkened doorway. The crowds were thinner here, and she could hear his chuckle over the echoes. There was a queer quality to his voice, a kind of grating shadow underneath the smother overtones. It reverberated in her skin, down to her bones.
Cool fingers, smooth, but interrupted with small ridges, scraped over her lips as he removed his hand from her mouth and pressed her into the corner of the doorway. Her head cleared a bit.
He loomed. His face had fallen into shadow, but the bony ridges of his skull stood out against the light, and he may have been alien, but his body was a little too humanoid for comfort. A broad chest blocked any escape routes she might have taken, The metal shutters of the closed shop bit into her shoulder through the thin fabric of her jacket, and it clanged with her movements as she tried to shy away. Her brain didn't s
eem to be working right.
Levvi struggled to think through the strange fog in her head. “What's...what's going on?” she managed to say at last.
He laughed again and moved in.
Get away, the only clear-thinking part of her said. Get away, get away, get away—
She tried to step back. She truly did. But there was nowhere for her to run. Only the hard, cold concrete and the metal of the shutters covering the door met her back. Then his body was pressed against hers and the cold smell filled her head again. This time, however, it wasn't so overpowering. The happy, peaceful feeling did not return.
Memories of what others had said about the Kurazi raced across her mind. They trick you, mesmerize you. They lure other species like prey, into their lairs, where they devour their flesh and crunch their bones. Panic kicked in. By instinct her hand shot up, reaching for the beacon she had hidden behind her ear, but it never made it.
Fast as the speed of light, the Kurazi caught her wrist and squeezed. Pain—not much, but enough to hold her still—circled her arm. Frantically, she yanked at her hand, struggling against his grip, but it was like a vise. She opened her mouth to scream, but as she drew breath his other hand clamped down over her lips again.
One hard thigh snaked between her legs, lifting her up until she was propped against the wall, her toes dangling above the ground. Muscles, strangely arranged, rubbed against her pussy, and she could feel every quiver and twitch through the thin cotton of her panties. Levvi squirmed, and in spite of herself a small jolt of pleasure bloomed where their bodies met. The fine fabric of his pants grazed the tender insides of her thighs and her back arched, pushing her pussy down against his leg even harder. Her mouth went dry.
She was trapped, like a butterfly pinned to a piece of cork. Her breath came hard and fast, burning in her throat, and her breasts rose and fell in time. With each inhalation, they brushed against the Kurazi's hard chest. She felt him chuckle, and it vibrated through her. His lips moved, though the rush of blood in her ears nearly drowned out his words.