“That is the best damned thing I’ve ever seen,” Candy announced. “You don’t have to guess at what flatters your figure, even without trying it on. I think it somehow measures us.”
“Indeed it does, young Earther. A voice spoke our language with a heavy but sensuous accent in its lilting tone. If decadent sex had a voice, it would have been hers.
We turned to the speaker. She was a Plasian, tall and willowy and standing almost as tall as a Kalquorian. Her hair – or mane, because Plasian hair is similar to fur – was glittering silver. It had to have been dyed since most Plasians have olive hair. Her bronze skin was flawless and encased in a see-through bodysuit. Silver glitter matching her hair was strategically placed so I only saw a hint of her nipples and the cleft of her sex. A hint was more than enough. My jaw almost hit the floor for the twentieth time that day.
“Oh...hi,” Candy said uncertainly. “Do you own this shop?”
“I do. My name is Lisill.” The Plasian blinked alabaster lashes over her black marbled eyes. Her smile was amused. “I’ve never met Earther females before. What are your names?”
Katrina took over, introducing us in turn. Lisill nodded to each of us.
“On your way to Kalquor? Lucky girls. We Plasians adore Kalquorian men. They are delicious brutes.” A golden tongue peeked out to wet her grinning lips.
“That they are,” the three of us chorused at once. We broke up with laughter.
Lisill chuckled. “No Earther men on your transport? I enjoy those when they come to Xniktix and aren’t too repressed to play.”
“Just elderly and mentally challenged men who will be treated on Kalquor,” I said.
“Too bad. Do you like my dresses?”
“They’re stunning.” Candy gazed at the blue number in front of her. “They’re a bit fancy for the dance club though. That’s what we were shopping for.”
Lisill nodded. “Yes, these are formal occasion gowns. The fabric is loom woven and sewn by Joshadans, whom I employ. The designs are mine, however. These would be more suited for your clanning ceremonies.”
Her tone became silky liquid as she spoke her own language. Candy suddenly wore the gown she was staring at.
Well, not quite. Candy still stood next to me, wearing her cute ruffled dress and being adorable. A holographic image of Candy filled the gown in the vid, however. We gasped to spot her there, seductive and sleek...far from cute. The opaque panels hit the right spots to keep her somewhat modest, similar to Lisill’s gown, but with more coverage. Candy was sexy without being wanton. I thought my friend would pass out from shock.
“Jesus, Mohammed, and Moses,” I whispered. “You are amazing in that.”
Candy’s hands covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide as they could be. Then she waved at the image, as if to shoo it off. “No, I can’t afford that. Take it away before I cry from despair.”
Lisill smiled indulgently. “The clan that claims you might be able to. I will give you my contact information, as well as the catalog number of this dress. You may order it when you’ve chosen your mates.”
“Should I?” Candy squeaked to me and Katrina.
“Why not?” our eldest encouraged. “It’s perfect for you.”
While Lisill recorded Candy’s measurements and they went over the options for the gown, Katrina and I ‘tried on’ various pieces in the same manner Candy had. Katrina nearly laughed herself silly over a concoction that consisted more of scarlet-colored feathers than fabric. She resembled a fantastic bird ready to take flight.
“Be serious,” I chided her. “These dresses are amazing. You’ll find your perfect look if you’ll stop playing around.”
Katrina snorted. “I’m not in the lottery, remember? I’m not joining a clan.”
“Why not? You’re a hot gal with plenty to offer deserving men.” My breath caught to see myself in a black and green gown with a high collar and lace train. I made note to mention it to Lisill as a future possibility.
“Do you think so? I don’t know. I’m having too much fun playing the field.” Katrina’s tone had gone musing, however. Maybe hedonistic lust has its limits too. Empty sex without love, while thrilling for a bit, must lose its luster in time.
It was then that I noticed the little guy staring at me from a distance down the concourse.
When I say the fellow was ‘little’, I mean teeny. He couldn’t have been taller than halfway up my thigh. I might have missed him entirely if not for the intensity of his stare. If staring carried physical weight, I would have been flat on the floor from it.
He was an alien I couldn’t identify. He was humanoid in that he stood up on two legs. He had four arms that ended in hands with long fingers. It was hard to see him clearly at such a distance since he was so small, but his fingers ended in suckers...like suction cups on the tentacles of an octopus.
His head and face were nearly human. A butt-ugly human, but human nonetheless. Despite his size, his head was almost the circumference of mine. He had a shock of crimson-colored hair, sticking out in crazy spikes, as if he hadn’t brushed it for a week. His features were all overlarge: Black eyes with no whites, a prominent shnoz of a nose, and fat, blubbery lips. His skin was ruddy, akin to a guy who’s been drinking too much lately.
His body was squat, his shoulders wide. They would have to be to hold up that big head, I suppose. He wore a coat of shining green material, the cut reminding me of a formal waistcoat. It reached almost to the floor. The shirt beneath it was blinding white, and his pants were black. I spied a tail curling around the ankles of his black boots. Yeah, an honest-to-goodness tail, the same hectic reddish color of the rest of his skin.
Maybe it was the height, but he made me think of a leprechaun gone terribly wrong.
He grinned at me when he saw I’d noticed him. That smile did nothing to improve his appearance. His blocky white teeth were freaking tombstones in his wide leer. Then he vanished.
When I say he vanished, I don’t mean he turned and walked off. I mean he disappeared. One second he was there, the next he wasn’t. Poof! Gone, in a blink.
A shiver went down my spine, as if ice water had been dashed down my back. I don’t claim to be psychic or have ESP, but I know that creepy alien was bad news. He wore evil the way I wear clothes.
“What are you staring at, Shalia?” Candy asked. She had finished talking shop with Lisill. She and Katrina peered in the same direction I had been staring.
“I saw the strangest guy.” I was about to go on about how freaky it had been, but other than that awful smile, I had only a bad feeling to share.
I turned to Lisill and described the alien to her. She acted confused.
“I have never encountered any such a person in all my three hundred years at this location.”
“Maybe it’s a rare species that doesn’t get out often,” Katrina opined.
Lisill looked doubtful. “All sentients end up on this station at some point. I’ve seen them all. Did he threaten you, my dear?”
I shook my head. “No, he was just scary.” I waved it off, embarrassed to have fussed over what was nothing. “It’s not important. Can I ask you about the green gown?”
I wish I could say that was the end of the matter. Maybe it was. Maybe I’m paranoid.
We returned to shopping, wandering on to discover what other goodies we could find. If there was a product that could be sold, we saw it...and just on that level. After four hours, we figured out we were not going to get to the other shopping levels on that trip. We were flagging when we realized we needed to find our dancing togs or we wouldn’t have any energy to actually dance.
We backtracked to a shop that catered to the dance club crowd. We’d spied potential outfits in there, along with shoes to match.
Within minutes we were measured and sized. A Darotkin impressed us with her ability to run three computers and three clothing machines at once. It must be awesome to have twelve limbs, each possessing their own brains...though I don’t want to turn into a
cross between an albino amoeba and a squid. I’m sure they’re pretty enough to each other.
While our clothes were being stitched, we picked out shoe styles and colors. I loved a design that featured gold, copper, and silver colored straps, but the heels appeared a bit high for a dancing marathon. The Darotkin assured me they would be the most comfortable shoes I had ever worn. I was doubtful. The heels were easily four inches high, but they were so pretty and matched my dress so perfectly that I couldn’t resist. More measuring ensued.
Candy’s dress had the least amount of material, so it was done first. She put it on, and we oohed and aahed over her, which she totally deserved. She had chosen blue fabric, which brought out her eyes. The top was a midriff-baring halter, but it hid all hints of cleavage. The skirt was a flouncy, ruffled hanky that ended well above her knees. It was flirty and sexy, but somehow Candy managed to seem demure. When she put on the high-heeled ankle booties she’d picked out, her legs stretched a mile. She was gorgeous. I envy that girl.
My dress was next. It appeared naughtier than it was. The fabric matched my skin tone, with gold lace over it. I looked naked under the lace, but from the high neck to above the knee, I was covered. It was clingy too, hugging every curve I had. It was a dress that teased a lot but delivered not an inch as far as intimate flesh.
I still earned wolf whistles from my friends. Katrina fanned herself. “Whew, girl! If Oses or Betra catch sight of you, they’ll get so excited that you won’t be able to walk for a week!”
“Is it too much? Do I need to change?” I fretted.
“Don’t you dare,” Candy admonished me. “You’re amazing.”
I put on my shoes and gingerly stood. I was in heels, but the Darotkin hadn’t been kidding about the comfort. I could have been walking on a cloud. I’ve never worn a softer, better cushioned shoe. My slippers don’t feel that good.
Katrina had chosen a pantsuit, too self-conscious about her years to go for the flirtier styles. She was still sexier than women half her age. The sparkling silver blouse draped beautifully. Between that and the snug pewter gray pants, the outfit showed her trim frame to advantage. She had opted for flat shoes that matched her shimmery top. It’s no wonder Katrina rarely wants for male companionship, including that of guys younger than me.
We were posing for each other and enjoying ourselves when I spied a flash of shiny green out of the corner of my eye. It was the same green of that small alien’s coat. I turned. No freaky red-haired alien with an evil smile. Yet my heart galloped like a panicked horse.
I told myself I was being a paranoid idiot. We paid for our clothes and hit the transport to go up to the dance club. I commed Betra on the way to let him know where we were.
We stepped out on the wrong levels twice before finding the entertainment tier. I laughed at our dumb tourist escapade with Candy and Katrina, but I kept an eye out for the alien I was now dubbing the Little Creep.
I didn’t relax until we were inside the dance club and surrounded by the writhing bodies of our fellow partiers. As we suspected, dancing Earthers were quite the sensation. Our reputation as a repressed species had preceded us. The others gaped in surprise when we not only walked into the club but started shaking our stuff as well.
Whether we danced well or not, we were a hit. Even if we’d clumped with the grace of Clydesdales, the novelty of dancing Earthers would have endeared us to the crowd. The club’s vid transmitters stayed locked on the three of us. Aliens of every stripe vied to partner us, getting their friends to vid record the event. I guess no one would accept stories of dancing with Earther women without some sort of evidence.
I thought I saw a tiny redhaired figure in my peripheral vision a couple of times. No matter how fast I checked, the Little Creep wasn’t there. I want to believe it was my imagination, but my gut says he was following me. I know, it makes no sense. Logic insists I have to be wrong about that. It’s logic that is wrong, however. He was there, and he was watching me.
I decided to have fun anyhow. What was he could he do with so many people surrounding me? I wasn’t leaving the club alone either. I would go to the transport in the company of friends once we’d danced until we couldn’t dance anymore. I was confident Little Creep couldn’t bother me, and I wasn’t wasting my well-earned night out being bothered over him.
The only aliens in attendance who didn’t dance with us were the Kalquorians (and Little Creep). There were quite a few of our shipmates hanging around, but they only watched and flirted with us and other dancers. I saw Betra too. Every time I glanced at him, he was grinning and applauding me. It’s a shame he wouldn’t come out on the floor. I wanted to grind against him in the worst way, but I got my chance later.
When even our comfy dance shoes couldn’t mask how bad our feet hurt, we went to the transport. Betra escorted us to the ship, and then he escorted me to my quarters. It turned out Candy and Katrina were right about the effect my new dress would have on him. Dancing isn’t the only reason I’m exhausted and sore this morning.
Speaking of soreness, I’m off to visit Dr. Tep now, or Katrina’s prediction of not walking for a week will come true too.
February 9
Another night of dancing. We gals are addicted to the activity. I guess we’d better get in all of it that we can, since Kalquorians don’t dance. I plan to lodge a complaint against the empire, ha-ha. Dance lessons for everybody, especially the Nobeks. Hey, maybe they’ll build us a dance club at the complex if we whine enough.
More of our fellow Earther women showed up at the club after they heard how much fun we’d had. We’ve started a fad. If the whole contingent doesn’t go to the club tonight, even just to watch, I’ll be shocked.
Little Creep was nowhere in sight, thank goodness. It figures; I reported him to Oses yesterday. Of course the freak would make a liar out of me by not continuing to stalk. That’s okay. I hope I never come across him again.
When I described him to Oses, my Nobek pal frowned. “It reminds me of a rarely encountered species known as the Ofetuch.”
“Rare?” I asked. “As in Kalquorian-extinction rare?”
“Not quite. I say ‘rare’ because the Ofetuch are hardly ever glimpsed. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about their race.” Oses frowned.
“I guess they’re not much of a threat then.”
“Not to us, at least not as a species. To be honest I thought they were a legend, the kind of tale you scare young, naughty Nobeks with.”
I stared at him. “Seriously? He’s the Kalquorian version of the bogey man?”
“I’m not familiar with the story of the bogey man. However, the Ofetuchans can supposedly make themselves invisible and snatch people away. Some stories even say the Ofetuchans take children and swallow their souls.” Oses snorted. “As I said, the kind of story you tell to make bad boys behave.”
I arched a brow at him. “Don’t you dare tell my child any such tales.”
He chuckled. “Of course not.”
The ridiculousness of the story made me wish I hadn’t mentioned Little Creep. “It was probably my imagination that had me seeing him out of the corner of my eye. I was nervous about dancing and maybe running into Bi’isils, Tragooms, or Earthers. With that kind of stress, the mind might play tricks.”
“Perhaps. Still, I’d be remiss in not checking into it. I’ll file a report and find out what I can about the Ofetuchans. I’ll check on witnesses for such a creature fitting the description you gave me.”
I stroked his face. “I didn’t mean to give you extra work. Are you visiting the station with me?”
“As soon as possible, but not as soon as I’d hoped. We’re recharging the ship’s blaster banks, and regulations demand I supervise that. One of our power storage units has a short, which keeps draining the energy. I have to supervise that repair.”
“That’s what you get for being so important,” I teased. He scowled.
It’s nice to know that our date being delayed time after time has him
miffed. I enjoy being important to the big guy. Meanwhile, there’s dancing to keep me occupied until Oses comes out to play.
February 10
There was no dancing last night, but I had plenty of entertainment on shore leave, thanks to Betra.
Candy, Katrina, and I showed up at the club last night to find it packed. I don’t mean just busy; it was stuffed full of people. We almost couldn’t move.
Betra had accompanied us to the club with the intent of keeping an eye on me. Oses had forwarded him my incident report with the Little Creep. I’m thinking more and more that I was imagining things, but Betra decided it was best to keep tabs on me while I visit the station.
There was no Little Creep last night, but there were plenty of other aliens in the club, along with a lot of Earther women from the Pussy ‘Porter, curious as to what the fuss was about. A few were on the dance floor, awkwardly trying out moves under the delighted guidance of other patrons.
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