SKY WOMAN OF GROOM LAKE

by Charlie Peart

  In the last year, the entire alien crew had decided to cover their large, dark, disquieting eyes with sunglasses. It was a conscious effort to alter their appearances, in order to better fit in with their co-workers and make them feel more at ease while being around them.

  In addition to her new shades, Amie had ordered a number of multi-colored wigs and taken to wearing a different hair color and length every day. She had a strawberry-blonde, longhaired wig that Nick particularly liked. He enjoyed watching her fling the long, straight hair back from her face as they worked together on a project. There was another wig that Amie wore that became Nick’s favorite. It was short, jet black, and spiky-haired which, combined with the large sunglasses, gave Amie a very youthful, Gothic look. Nick occasionally experienced an excited, erotic feeling whenever she wore that wig.

  Amie eventually realized that her little “meddling with Nick’s brain” was working. When she sensed that he was beginning to develop a fondness for her, this had led to a normal questioning, from a male perspective, about what her body looked like beneath her clothes and whether it was possible for her to have sex with a human male. Nick didn’t voice this, of course, but it crept into his consciousness occasionally.

  One time, while they were at lunch together in the break room Nick caught himself watching Amie, wearing the black, spiky wig that he liked, and slowly eating a banana. She had a much smaller mouth than the average person, although she tried to disguise this with a strong application of bright lipstick that was drawn beyond the true contours of her thin lips. Whether it was that feature, or just her lack of experience with this fruit, he didn’t know, but he became fascinated as he watched her sucking on a peeled banana, moving it in and then almost out of her mouth, nibbling it slightly, mashing the pulp around in her mouth, swallowing slowly, and then sucking on the fruit once again. Over and over she continued with this slow devouring of the banana, until it was consumed. The sexual imagery that suddenly forced its way into Nick’s mind caused him to stop all of his other thoughts. The pure sexuality that he projected toward her amazed and even startled Amie.

  Amie realized then the power of sexual arousal in the human male. Because she could read his thoughts, she could tell Nick was struggling but was almost helpless to push the erotic thoughts away and replace them with his normal “co-worker” mind set. Finally, as she set the banana peel down on her napkin on the table, the technical aspect of their project returned to Nick’s mind.

  “It’s okay Nick,” she said, “I wonder about human sex also.”

  Nick blushed and was speechless. He felt terribly embarrassed and yet strangely aroused at the same time.

  “We reproduce much as you do, Nick, except our males have much smaller sexual organs. In our world we have crossbred with your race many times, quite successfully. Too bad you and I will not have that chance.”

  Nick was completely dumbfounded and shocked. Yes, he had even thought about that too, but never expected to hear it coming so bluntly from Amie.

  “I don’t know what to say, Amie, I don’t know if I can adequately respond to that. I apologize. It’s hard, when someone can read your thoughts.”

  Amie dropped the subject, but was overcome with an inner joy that her strategy was proving correct. “If only I can move him one step further,” she thought.

  Chapter 7

  On the flight back Saturday morning to Baltimore Washington International and on to his rented condo near Ft. Meade, Maryland, Nick had time to reflect on his work, his strange new reaction to Amie, and the next direction for his life.

  Nick was a widower and, despite the success of his career, a rather unhappy and lonely man. His wife Kate had died of breast cancer five years before. Their two living children, Thomas and Michelle, had long since moved to other places in the country and, as yet, Nick wasn’t a grandfather. He rarely saw them, except for an occasional holiday like Thanksgiving or Christmas. It seemed like both children had excuses for not being able to get together, in the last few years, since their mother’s death.

  Nick thought that perhaps the kids were uncomfortable in his small condo, now that he had sold the home of their childhood. Built in the late 70’s, the five-bedroom, split-level in a subdivision near the University of Maryland in College Park had been his home for 35 years. Then he had lost his wife. Years before that, his Marine son had been killed in Operation Desert Storm. There had also been a daughter, sickly since birth, who had never lived beyond her childhood. His mother had spent her declining last years with them and died in one of the downstairs bedrooms. It had been a large house, full of memories, many of them painful. The loneliness Nick felt in the place had caused him to sell it and downsize to the easy to keep condo.

  Nick had tried the online dating sites and found many of his “dates” humorous, at best. It seemed that most people who used the site, and he admitted maybe he fell into the same category, “stretched” their online resume and used photo’s that were a tad deceiving. However, he vowed to keep trying because, frankly as he said to himself, he needed female company.

  Nick was thinking about all of these things on the flight back, when his thoughts suddenly turned to that embarrassing lunch with Amie where they had the discussion about sex. He admitted to himself that he was really becoming fond of Amie. He seemed to be seeing her in a whole new way. “Too bad she isn’t a human with more attractive human features,” he found himself thinking. Yet, even her face seemed to be altering; maybe the sunglasses were making her seem less alien. Strangely, that mouth which had appeared merely a small gash to him before, when covered by the bright red lipstick, had become remarkably appealing. Nick caught himself actually imagining taking Amie on a date, before he corrected himself for such wild imaginings with the reminder that she would never be allowed to leave the hangar or her pod. Yet he found his thoughts kept wandering in her direction, and he realized they were mainly erotic thoughts.

  Nick then imagined a conversation with his friend Bill, whom he knew from the Apollo mission days.

  “Hey, how’s it going Nick? Meet any nice women lately?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m now dating an alien. We have lots of fun too. We don’t talk. Don’t even have to, she communicates with her mind, Bill!”

  “Hey, that’s nice, Nick. When you get back down to Earth, give me a call, will you?”

  The voice of the pilot, reminding all the passengers they were about to land, had ended his reverie and brought Nick back to reality. He had asked for a week’s vacation, following this last Nevada temporary duty assignment, and his group leader had approved it. His plan was to head home, unpack, unwind for a day, and then take a two-hour flight mid-week down to West Palm Beach, Florida to look for a retirement home somewhere north of West Palm Beach. Not that West Palm wouldn’t be desirable, but the real estate was too expensive for his taste.

  A few of Nick’s colleagues and friends had retired in Florida already. One, a particularly good friend, was living in Port Saint Lucie, a blue collar town north of West Palm with much more reasonably priced homes. A short visit to the Treasure Coast, to see his friend last January, convinced Nick that this area would be a good place to look for a modest retirement home. Nick was hoping to find a place close to or on the water, as he had always imagined himself in retirement with a boat.

  On Wednesday, he arrived as planned in West Palm Beach, rented a car and drove north to the home of his friends, Doug and Terri, who lived in Port Saint Lucie. Nick stayed with them overnight before planning to meet the next day with a local realtor to begin his search. He had known Doug and Terri Peyton since they were neighbors together in the College Park subdivision. The Peytons had become close friends to him and Kate. Doug and Terri had a large, three-bedroom home on an ocean access canal. During previous visits, they had many good times together on Doug’s 25-foot boat, a walk around with twin, 150 horsepower Suzuki engines, as they cruised the St. Lucie River and snorkeled at Bathtub Beach Reef near Port St. Lucie Inlet.

  On
Thursday, Nick met with Rich, another of Doug’s friends, who sold real estate. They went on a grueling jaunt to look at a large number of homes. Since Nick made it clear that he hoped to buy a home with ocean access, the search was narrowed down quite a bit. Growing up in New Hampshire, he had learned as a youth to sail and use a powerboat on a nearby lake. These experiences offered fond boating memories for Nick, strong enough that he wanted to relive them, if he could, in his “golden years”.

  The first two places were very reasonably priced “canal homes” in Port Saint Lucie. Although the homes were built within the last ten years and offered ocean access, their canals needed dredging and wouldn’t work for a deep draft boat, plus Nick realized it would take over an hour to get to the ocean. Eventually, Rich drove Nick south to Palm City. They first visited a couple of homes in Rustic Hills, a picturesque section of the town, reached by crossing a covered bridge connecting the cozy homes on either side of winding canals. Unfortunately, the canals proved too shallow for the bigger size boat that Nick hoped to purchase one day. Afterwards, the realtor took Nick to several deep-water canal homes in an area called Light House Point. Nick immediately developed a fondness for an older house, only ten houses down from the inlet to Sea Gate Harbor, built in the early 70’s, and needing a small amount of TLC. It was a two-bedroom ranch, light green stucco, with a small backyard pool, plus the deep-water boat dock in his backyard that he was looking for. The canal was home to a number of large boats and the Atlantic Ocean was only twenty-five minutes away. He made an offer that day and, after some minor negotiations, Nick’s offer was accepted.

  The house was full of character, and Nick felt it would be a good place to start a new life. Although it had a washer and drier, it was replete with an ancient outdoors clothesline reminiscent of the kind his mother had once used in New Hampshire. The kitchen had been remodeled and now offered a nice casual dining bar facing the large living area, stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. Taking down some old flowered wallpaper in the bedrooms, repainting a few walls, plus some day doing a bathroom remodel, would be about all the renovating that Nick would need to do, he felt.

  A few months later, Nick went back, on the day of his closing, and walked around the property and his new neighborhood to get a better feel for the area. He hoped to possibly meet his neighbor, whom he noticed owned a 36-foot boat, complete with a motorized dingy on the back. It was charmingly named “Rock ‘n Reel”. As Nick stood on his dock, “Rock ‘n Reel’s” apparent owner walked out the rear entrance of his home and strode across his small backyard toward Nick.

  “You the new owner?” he asked in a loud voice, as he approached Nick.

  “As a matter of fact, I am. My name’s Nick Rossi.” Nick outstretched his hand and offered a wide smile.

  “I’m Dom, pleased to meet you,” and Dom shook Nick’s hand. “My wife, Marie, is back in the house, otherwise she’d like to meet you, too. She wasn’t sure if you had bought the house or were just snooping around.”

  “No, I just bought it and looking forward to moving in when I retire later this year.”

  “Well, come on in and meet Marie. We like to get to know our neighbors. I think you’ll like it here. There are lots of older people, like us and yourself. Actually, we’re kind of a tight knit group here.” Dom turned and walked back towards his home, assuming Nick would follow. When Nick did not, Dom waved his arm at him in a friendly manner to come along.

  Dom introduced Nick to his wife, and the three of them seemed to hit it off right away. Although, due to the nature of his work, Nick did not normally open up to people immediately, he found himself feeling very at ease with these folks. Nick ascribed this to the fact that they were both in their mid-sixties, had moved here from the Northeast, and were both of obvious Italian heritage. Dom offered him a beer, which he accepted, and Marie told him he had to stay and have lunch with them. “Nothing fancy, Nick, but we hope you’ll stay and tell us more about yourself.”

  For a “nothing fancy” lunch, Marie worked feverishly in the kitchen. She prepared proscuitto, and provolone with a homemade pesto sauce on ciabatta bread, followed by a final pressing with their panini machine. Meanwhile, Dom and Nick walked down to look at Dom’s boat.

  Dom brought Nick aboard and gave him a tour of the 36-foot Tiara. Nick wasn’t that familiar with this class of boat, thinking it would be too much for him in both size and expense. But he could see that it was a very impressive vessel that could easily handle rough water. Although it was a sport fishermen type of boat, built in 1992, the interior was plush with a salon, galley, full head and stateroom. Nick was impressed. He figured, however, that when it came time to purchase his own boat, he would try to find something more in the 30-foot range.

  “Do you do a lot of fishing, Dom?” he asked as they relaxed with some Miller Lites on the doublewide helm seat.

  “Nah, not so much anymore. We like to cruise now. Marie and I take it down the Intercoastal every year, and we went twice to Key West. That kind of thing. Been to the Bahamas a few times with it, too. Sometimes we just cruise out the inlet at dusk until we get into 300 feet of water, shut the engines off, drink some wine, and look for UFO’s.”

  Nick was surprised to hear Dom say that. “Ever see any?” Nick asked.

  “Absolutely! I’m not kidding. Ask Marie, she’ll tell you the same thing, too.”

  Impulsively, a conversation held a month before with Amie surfaced in Nick’s mind. It had happened one afternoon, shortly before it was time to finish work for the day, and Amie had appeared very quiet, her energy low. When he asked her if she was feeling well, she had responded that, at times, she and her crewmembers felt very depressed in their captivity. He had then asked Amie if she knew if a rescue ship had ever been sent looking for them.

  “Your own people know this is possible. Look at all the UFO sightings reported each year. I believe some may be Seekers looking for us.”

  “So you have hope that you could be rescued by your race?”

  “Nick, our people will never stop looking for us, you must know that. We are like one race, one mind, all going together in one direction. When a crew doesn’t come back, other Seekers are sent to look for them.”

  “And that is why you are never allowed outside. They might see you and come for you?”

  “Yes. Area 51 is, in a way, our specially designed prison. Apparently your government does not want us to ever return to our home.”

  “I guess I never really thought of it that way before. I mean it always seemed to me like you were volunteers, happy to help us. Not inmates of a prison.”

  “Unfortunately, we have always thought of ourselves as prisoners. Your people have thwarted our ability to use our energy fields to try to make some sort of contact. That is why they keep us living in our special housing pods. And the desert of Nevada is not the best place for us to be, anyway. It is not a special high-energy area. So what can we do? We might as well cooperate and accept our fate. At least your people are then kind to us.”

  “If you could somehow leave, is there any way for you to contact your Seeker ships?”

  “I am letting you in on a secret knowledge that we have. Your people do not know this. Yes, there is a special way for us to contact them. To beam them in with our energy field, so that they will know where we are.”

  It took a minute for that knowledge to sink into Nick’s brain. “Could you explain a little more how that works?”

  Amie had then hesitated, reluctant to say more.

  “How would you be able to contact them, Amie?”

  “I do not know if I can trust you enough to tell you.” The security guard, sent to escort Amie through the underground tunnel to her residence at the end of every workday, had entered the hangar and was heading their way. Upon seeing his approach, Amie’s energy thought-speak immediately shut down.

  Amie’s final remark had left Nick feeling confused and somewhat upset. Obviously, this was knowledge that she did not wish to share
with him. But he was disturbed that she felt she could not trust him. He tossed and turned in his bed that night, vowing to get Amie to reveal to him her “secret”.

  Suddenly, the sight of Dom taking another beer from the boat’s small refrigerator, and waving it in his face interrupted Nick’s wandering thoughts. Dom smiled at him in a jovial way, “Hey, buddy. Are you with me here? You seemed to go off in a

  daze there for a few minutes.”

  “Yeah, Dom, I’m sorry,” and Nick laughed back at his newfound friend. “I didn’t get much sleep last night with the plane ride down here and all. It was a rough, late-night flight and then sleeping at my friend’s house in an unfamiliar bed. I think, later this afternoon, I’ll just need a long nap.”

  “Well, Marie’s waving at us to come for lunch, so we better get up there. You’re gonna love her food. She’s a great cook. You’ll think it was your Italian grandmother cooking for you.”

  When Nick returned to Nevada several weeks later, he had a packet of pictures which he had developed to show his colleagues the new retirement home he had purchased during his short trip to Florida. Approaching Amie, Nick reached into his jumpsuit pocket to produce his packet of photos and hand them to her to peruse. When he did, an odd sensation overcame him. Her hand had brushed his slightly, and he felt a pleasurable tingle rush along his spine. He immediately felt drawn to her and he moved in close beside her, compelled to explain each photo in detail, as his arms almost encircled her while he enthusiastically pointed at this or that feature of the home displayed in the snapshots.

  When Amie returned the photos to Nick, she uncharacteristically clasped his hands and beamed to him that they were marvelous pictures, and she was ecstatic that he had found such a wonderful place to enjoy in his retirement years. But Nick barely registered what her thoughts were saying to him because the most powerful, orgasmic feeling had just jolted his mind. The touch of her extremely warm hands had caused him to feel a rush of sexual feeling pulsating throughout his body, the likes of which he had not experienced in many years. He was astonished and stood immobilized, enjoying the sensation for several minutes, while Amie stood in front of him with that weird, small smile forming on her thin, little mouth.