Alien Embrace

by Tracy St. John

  I will take her now. The command in Rajhir’s voice left little room for debate last night. Amelia shivered.

  She took a deep breath. It was done and over with. As long as Earth never found out about her crime, it would be a fantastic, if worrisome memory. The aliens had left her alone, getting back to doing whatever it was Kalquorians did.

  “It’s time for me to go too,” she said to the empty room. Her own work waited.

  In the great hall where last night’s presentation had been held, a breakfast buffet waited for Israla’s overnight guests. Most of those who had slept over consisted of young males. Israla’s enjoyment of youthful men was legendary, and the less experienced the better. Some of the boys looked as shell-shocked as Amelia felt.

  She stayed long enough to eat some fruit before summoning a shuttle to return her to her apartment. Stepping outside left her blinking in the midmorning glare. The unnamed capital city of Plasius was a balmy, tropical paradise, never too hot or cold. Only the glare of the double suns bothered one, blinding the eyes for the six hours they shared the sky. Few ventured out at this time of day.

  The capital city hugged the planet’s one ocean, a narrow oasis bordered on its western side by the vast barren desert that made up the bulk of the planet.

  To the north of the capital was a temperate zone, so lush with growth and wildlife that the Plasians never tried to tame it. They let its fertility run rampant, only cutting back what encroached on the city itself. A river cut through the forest and the middle of the city, emptying itself into the pink-tinged ocean. The source of the river was an immense glacier which never saw the light of the double suns. Like the Plasians themselves, the planet was an object of extremes.

  To the south were the farmlands that provided the people their food. Small villages ran all the way up to the Lisidia mountain range, the subject of the painting that had started all the trouble last night.

  Amelia climbed into the shuttle and typed the location of her residence into the computer. The shuttle took off, whisking her quickly and safely to her temporary home. She didn’t have to worry about piloting; all Plasian shuttles were tied to a central computer that controlled the transportation grid. Unless one programmed a leisurely trip, the computer always selected the quickest route. Amelia had no doubt the Plasians had developed such technology for the sole purpose of allowing their decadent pleasure seeking to continue uninterrupted as they rode to and from rendezvous.

  The trip home was predictably uneventful. The moment Amelia stepped into her quarters she kicked off her heels. She sighed as her feet sank into the plush padding of the floor cover.

  Amelia turned in a circle, taking in the view. Of the apartment itself, just a lavatory, kitchen, and great room made up the whole of her quarters. The only furniture the apartment possessed was a lounger, three chairs, a small dining table, and her easel along with the ever-present waterfall, basin, and a firepit.

  What commanded her attention came from outside the glass walls. A lake, shading from the lilac of the shallows to the plum-purple of the depths, shimmered under the green-blue sky. Mountains draped with cascades of alabaster flowers stretched across the distant horizon like the backbone of an exotic beast.

  The vista never failed to stop Amelia’s breath. She often wondered how she dared to paint it. To try to duplicate it felt like blasphemy. Yet she had embarked upon the project, full of trepidation and hope. How could she not attempt to paint it? Capturing even the smallest fraction of the view’s magnificence would give her life credibility.

  Amelia wandered to the easel. After a dozen false starts, she’d begun what she believed to be her definitive work. If her fingers maintained their ability to wield a paintbrush for the next six weeks, she’d complete it. Just six more weeks.

  She looked from the canvas coated with its first layer of paint to her hands. She held them out in front of her. Slender fingers splayed like the arms of a delicate starfish. No scars, no swollen joints, no physical evidence of damage whatsoever.

  Nothing to show that her days as an artist drew to a close.

  Amelia lowered her hands. She had to get to work, but first she needed to change out of the sheath.

  She traded it for her favorite outfit of gray sweatpants and periwinkle blue tee shirt, both wrinkled from her careless folding. She glimpsed her rumpled image in the mirror and laughed.

  Here I am, all alone and wearing more clothes than when I was in a room full of people! The absurdity struck her as funny. Maybe if the Kalquorians had seen me like this, I’d have come home last night instead of this morning.

  The thought drove the hilarity away. The memory of the three men ravishing her made Amelia shiver.

  She still felt the humiliation of her body’s uninhibited response to their touches, its wanton abandon to their commands. The more helpless they’d made her and the more uncomfortable their demands, the more desire she’d felt.

  The violation of her nether orifice. The insistence she take Breft’s seed into her mouth and swallow it. Despite her determination to leave behind her mother’s teachings and the prudish judgments of a government fallen into mindless zealotry, Amelia viewed such activities as dirty.

  The worst of it was that the more depraved the acts were and the more dominating her lovers, the wilder her body’s responses. As long as real violence wasn’t done to her, Amelia found erotic pleasure in being powerless and made to do unthinkable things. It had been proven once again last night. The Kalquorians had molested her in ways she knew should be repulsive, and her body had thrilled to the assault.

  Amelia had realized years before that she was what criminal psychological texts described as sexually submissive. She might even have masochistic tendencies. The dominance of the Kalquorians the night before had certainly left her in a haze of desire. The ripping of clothes, the demanding mouths and hands, their uncompromising insistence she pleasure their alien flesh…

  Her breath came in gasps and her sex moistened. Just thinking about the clan aroused her.

  “Enough!” she told herself. She marched to her easel, determined to forget the Kalquorians.

  Before she picked up a brush, the vid beeped, warning her of an incoming call. Amelia jumped before she could help herself and looked at the flashing monitor. Her heart picked up speed.

  Nervous, she walked over to the computer station. What if the clan wished to pursue her after all? “Answer,” she whispered.

  The monitor flashed to life, and Amelia restrained a groan. “Hello, Jack,” she said with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

  Jack Frank, the official Earth liaison for off-planet humans, ranked as an unofficial jerk in Amelia’s opinion. The prematurely balding twenty-eight-year-old resembled a toad, especially when he puffed up with his responsibility as the government’s ‘link’ between off-worlders and Earth. Amelia took great delight in bruising his ego by calling him by his first name rather than his title.

  His tone reflected his sense of self-importance. “Amelia, there’s a situation developing there on Plasius. A Kalquorian clan has arrived on the planet. In fact, they’re present in the very city you’re staying in.”

  “I know. I’ve met them.”

  “You—” Her calm words momentarily deflated Jack. He blinked muddy brown eyes at her. As the full import of what she’d said broke over his consciousness, he swelled again. His bloodshot eyes bulged. God, he looks like one of those huge bullfrogs that eat each other, Amelia thought. She suppressed a shudder.

  He nearly shrieked his next sentences. “What did they say? What did you let them do to you? Why haven’t you made a full report?”

  “Calm down, Jack. They did nothing out of context with Plasian norms. They seem quite comfortable with this planet’s customs.” Amelia hoped Plasius’ ‘norms’ remained a big mystery to Liaison Frank. Besides herself, only a handful of government officials had met with Saucin Israla and her advisors. Amelia doubted even the Plasians got amorous at treaty negotiations.

  T
o her relief, Liaison Frank seemed to know nothing of the seductive leanings of the Plasian people. “Did the Kalquorians approach you?”

  “They were guests at a party I attended last night. They seemed eager to clear up misunderstandings between our peoples.”

  He wagged a thick finger at her. “You have to be careful around those creatures. They have questionable intentions. They are, in fact, the most depraved of beings.”

  “I didn’t perceive any threat. In fact, I doubt I’ll ever see them again.” Only the first sentence was a lie.

  “If you do or if they approach you again for any reason, let me know right away. Avoid them as much as possible. You’re not to stay on that planet if you’re in any danger.”

  His words caused Amelia’s heart to double beat. Her eyes strayed to the view outside. Leave Plasius before painting that spectacular scene? She’d slit her wrists first.

  That toad wouldn’t understand. Thugs like him never see – really see – the splendor that’s before them. He’d look at this and see nothing more than big rocks and an oversized puddle. He’s blind to anything that diminishes his own importance.

  Amelia’s voice came out cold and clipped. “I’m quite sure I’ll be fine, but I’ll let you know if they contact me again.” There, she’d damned herself yet again. She’d told another outright lie to Earth government.

  “Do that. Your virtue could be at stake. Frank out.”

  The vid went blank. Amelia stumbled to the lounger and sank into its softness.

  She refused to leave Plasius before she finished her painting. Even if Rajhir’s clan pursued her every second of the day, even if a whole platoon of Kalquorian clans showed up on Plasius to ravish her, her last work of art demanded completion. Her virtue was long gone anyway.

  Despite her determination, she shuddered at the thought of her own people forcing her from Plasius. As ridiculous as it seemed, she feared Earth more than the Kalquorians.

  Mataras do not fear the clans.

  Good for them, whoever they were. Did Mataras fear Earthers? What was a Matara anyway?

  Amelia looked at the vid, then at her easel. She looked at the vid again. She gave up and said, “Call Ambassador Vrill.”

  As she waited for an answer, she picked up a pencil and doodled on a sketch pad. Vrill wasted little time responding.

  “Amelia! How are you this morning?”

  She smiled at her friend’s delight to see her. Vrill often shocked her, but Amelia knew the goodness of the Plasian’s heart. “I’m fine.”

  A glint appeared in Vrill’s eyes. “How were the Kalquorians last night?”

  Amelia felt the guilty blush creep over her face. “What do you mean?”

  A throaty laugh. “I saw how their Nobek rescued you from that mob.” Vrill’s mouth dropped open, and she seemed to forget the clan. “Oh, your painting, Amelia! I wept when I saw it! Many Plasians believe you must be a divinity to have created such beauty. I almost believed it myself. All were eager to touch you, to touch the one who created such glory!”

  Amelia squirmed with embarrassment. “It’s just me, Vrill. Little, ol’ repressed Amelia Ryan? You know better.”

  “But your art…” The Plasian closed her black-marble eyes. “That piece is magnificent. I can still see that mountain as you painted it.” She opened her eyes and smiled. “You are far too modest, my friend. I’m glad you’re all right after our enthusiastic response. You appear to be anyway. You weren’t hurt?”

  “I escaped unscathed.”

  Vrill’s wicked grin reappeared. “If you had been injured, that luscious Imdiko would be attending you right this moment. That would be worth a little pain. Did you enjoy your new friends?”

  Amelia feigned innocence. “They’re not at all what I expected. I found them to be interesting.”

  “Interesting!” The Plasian laughed and shook her head. “You’re insufferable. Put away those silly Earth inhibitions and admit you had the most amazing sex of your life with them.”

  “I never said a word about having sex with them!”

  “Sweet, innocent Amelia Ryan went into a room with a Kalquorian clan last night and didn’t come out until the next morning.” Vrill licked her lips. “Everyone who went to the party saw it, and we know the Kalquorians aren’t men who closet themselves with a woman to simply talk.”

  Horror crept over Amelia. “Everyone knows?”

  “Of course they do. You’re the envy of all the women now, so stop your blushes. We’re all so happy for you, and the consensus is that no one will breathe a word to any other Earthers about your…” she giggled “…indiscretions.”

  “Are you sure? On Earth, women are blamed for having sex even if they’re raped. If my people knew I was alone with the Kalquorians…”

  Amelia couldn’t finish the thought. She thought of Jack Frank, that evil little toad of a man. He’d send the closest military patrol in after her to place her under arrest. Plasius, with its lack of any enforcement entity, would have no way to keep Earth from taking her away.

  Vrill rolled her eyes, an expression she’d learned from Amelia. “Israla has issued orders of protection for any Earther who wants to enjoy pleasure on Plasius. No one is to speak of it to outsiders. I think she went that far specifically for you. She worries about you, you know. And how could you even speak the word ‘rape’? The clan honored you. They are incredible lovers, aren’t they?”

  Amelia dug deep for her pride and found enough of it to look her friend in the face. “Not only did they amaze me, but I amazed myself as well. You’ll have to be content with that because I’m not saying another word about it.”

  Vrill squealed her delight. “I knew it! I’m so happy for you. When will you see them again?”

  “We haven’t set a date,” Amelia replied dryly. She switched the subject to the reason she’d called. “You mentioned they were looking for a Matara. What is that?”

  “You don’t know? The Matara bears the clan’s children. It’s a permanent arrangement like Earther marriage, but Kalquorians never divorce. The Matara is the clan’s beloved, the fourth member of the group when one can be found. They’re in short supply these days. I’ve even heard rumors the Kalquorians might be in real crisis.”

  “Three men to one woman? Permanently?”

  Vrill shivered, her black marbled eyes darkening with desire. “Delicious, isn’t it? Kalquorian women who are fertile only ovulate once a year, and they have more male children than female. Even with the men grouped in threes, there still aren’t enough of their own women to go around anymore. It’s been that way for centuries.”

  At the mention of ovulation, Amelia realized she’d lost track of her own cycle. She calculated, silently berating herself on her stupidity. Why hadn’t she thought of this last night? She tried to imagine herself explaining to Liaison Frank how she’d gotten pregnant by a Kalquorian clan. Knowing how that would end, she visualized begging Israla for sanctuary for her and her unborn child. She relaxed as her hasty adding revealed such conversation unnecessary.

  She asked, “So they’re looking for another compatible species? Have they found any?”

  Vrill smirked. “I don’t know. Have they?”

  “How should I know? I doubt Earthers are, rumors of common ancestry aside. The Kalquorians are more … endowed than Earther men.” Amelia thought of the double penises and crossed her legs.

  “Really! Describe the differences,” the Plasian invited.

  “Vrill!”

  The ambassador rolled her eyes. “Silly girl. It’s a relief to know the Kalquorians will cure your prudishness. Did they teach you anything new last night?”

  Amelia shook her head. “I have to go. I haven’t painted at all today.”

  Sigh. “All right. We’ll meet soon for dinner. I’ll get you drunk and drag every luscious detail from your reluctant mouth.”

  “Goodbye Vrill!” Amelia broke the connection and stared at the sketch she’d made. All three Kalquorians looked up at her fro
m the pad. She’d captured their personalities: Breft’s somehow sexy predatory smile, Flencik’s gentle but intense eyes, and Rajhir’s easy confidence. She licked her lips and wondered how much longer they’d remain on Plasius. Long enough to confirm they’d failed to get her pregnant?

  “You’ll be very disappointed, boys,” she told the drawing. “But that’s not what you were after at all, is it? Just scratching an itch, that’s all you wanted to do.”

  She again imagined being pregnant, but this time she thought of it in different terms. So many times Amelia had dreamed of being a mother, one that loved her child unconditionally. Of having a baby who would grow to love her the same way. Yet she held out no real hope for motherhood. She was too terrified of having anyone discover she was not a virgin. Time and again, Amelia had put distance between herself and the young, unmarried men who had shown an interest in her. No matter how in love a man might be, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t turn her in to the authorities once he realized she had already been with someone.

  Good enough to rape, but not good enough to wed, she thought as she had so many times before. It made her sad to know she might go through life all alone.

  Amelia put the pencil down and stood. She stepped to her easel, putting the clan and dashed hopes to the back of her mind. She looked out the window and drank in the landscape outside. Her paintings were her children, her one outlet of creation. This one would be the most perfect of them all.

  Before she began to paint, a gentle chime announced a visitor at the door.

  Amelia groaned. “Now what?” It was probably the guild master, still pumped up over the night before. Or maybe even Israla, no longer so aloof now that Amelia’s painting had touched her. Whoever her guest, she would send him away. She’d frittered enough time away with trivial matters.

  Her curt greeting died on her lips the moment she swung the door open. Rajhir filled the entrance, a smile lighting his sharp, handsome face. Behind him, Flencik and Breft looked over his shoulders at her, also smiling expectantly. Flencik looked sweet … for a giant. Breft looked voracious.

  Amelia’s mind groped for something to say. In the end she managed a weak “Hello.”