Page 66 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

Lord, but I want to make him feel incredible. My body aches, just from this much. If I could, I’d rub against him helplessly, trying to cover myself in his scent. I don’t know why that idea gets me so flushed, but I want to smell of cinnamon and cardamom and saffron, just as he does. It would be a tiny secret between us, proof that we’ve gotten close and writhed together until our senses sparked with satisfaction.

He said his people mate for pleasure, so they must experience something like a climax. I want to know how that looks for him. I need to hear him lose his composure and beg me for—

Anything. Everything.

“Exquisite,” he whispers. “But it’s growing difficult to contain myself.”

It feels a little soon to wade into these waters, as much as I’m tempted. But sex muddles everything, and I don’t want to rush things or make it weird between us. I also don’t want to be a notch on an alien belt. Is that even a thing? I know Captain Kirk sure bagged as many alien bedmates as he could.

I pull my hand back, a little surprised that such delicate contact could get him this excited. That’s flattering, however.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to push.”

“I have lived in hiding. Physical contact feels especially poignant now.”

I get that, maybe more than he realizes. During the pandemic, I went months without seeing anyone in person, which meant safety but also isolation. I taught all my classes online, and we didn’t gather in public spaces. I didn’t even hug my own mother for half a year. Necessary precautions, but lonely ones as well.

Time to give him some space.

I wander back over to the bed and plug in my phone. It occurs to me to wonder how he got human tech in the first place and how he’s managed to survive within our infrastructure. If he rented an Airbnb, he must have accounts and IDs, right?

I have so many questions.

“Can I ask you a few things?”

“Certainly. I have no secrets from you any longer. And it’s quite a relief.”

The colors on his patterns have lightened, closer to lilac than violet. I find that fascinating. But it’s also extremely helpful.

If we decide to take the next step, I’ll have no doubts if Seeker is in the mood.

24

Seeker

Jen is perceptive.

When she withdraws, I suspect she’s realized that I’m ambivalent about deepening our relationship to include physical intimacy. My people do not engage in such contact lightly or casually. Though I told her that we do indulge in sexual contact for pleasurable reasons, I didn’t tell her that we imprint for life.

I shouldn’t make such a decision impetuously. If I allow myself to imprint on Jen, that would entail accepting that I’ll never leave this planet—that I’ll live and die here with her. Never see my family again. Never communicate with anyone from my former life. That is not a choice I should make on impulse with arousal confounding my senses.

“I was wondering how you’ve gotten by,” she says. “It can’t be easy to work.”

Oh. Logistical inquiries.

These are easy queries to address. “Your databases are not difficult to infiltrate. I created an identity for myself, using my own name. Tamzir Jaarn. Then I had the system generate appropriate documents and mailed them to my location.”

“It can’t be a real picture of you.”

“No. I carry a document that says I’ve had plastic surgery in case I’m questioned. But I haven’t tested it at airports. I have only used bus stations, where they do more cursory checks.” Sometimes, they don’t even ask for ID.

“The tech doesn’t work on cameras, does it?” Jen asks.

It’s an astute assessment. “No, it causes a malfunction instead of recording my actual appearance. That’s the way I pass unnoticed.”

“Someone who tracks patterns in disruption might wonder about that,” she says.

“Are there people who study such things?” Considering the chaos on 97-B, it seems to me they should have more pressing concerns.