The Alien and The London Escort
Page 7
Chuck spun them around and pushed off from the wall, rolling the chair even faster until they banged into the other wall. They both laughed as they kissed.
“We call this the demolition derby position,” Chuck cracked. Then his expression turned serious.
“I’m just curious, Eleanor: what got into you? What made you come here today and seduce me?”
“What got into me?” she repeated, wondering the same thing, “I don’t know. It’s weird. You live every day just like the last one, and years pass by, and then one day, everything changes. I don’t know why it happened, but I like it.”
An ominous, metallic voice echoed throughout the theater.
“We wish you no harm, Earthlings! We come in peace. Our mission is to ensure peaceful coexistence by joining our two proud races into one species. To accomplish this…we must impregnate your women!”
Chapter Five
Eleanor slipped out of the theater before the movie ended. She and Chuck had had a great session in the projector room, though they had to stop once to cue another reel. Chuck held the door open for her and told her he’d call, and she believed him. She crossed the street feeling elated, not just from their sexual workout, but from the surreptitious nature of their budding relationship. She felt like a spy in one of those movies, having undercover sex.
“Eleanor! Is that you?”
Busted! Eleanor had parked in front of Flora’s Gift Shop, and who should emerge at just that moment, but Pauline? Pauline looked surprised and just a little shocked.
Eleanor smiled weakly, holding the car door handle, “Hi, Pauline. Out shopping?”
“Yes, I needed to buy a couple of birthday cards. What brings you downtown?”
“Oh, I thought I’d take in a movie. I guess you planted the seed when we talked.”
“How was it?” Pauline’s question seemed to be accompanied by a sly smile, but it could have been Eleanor’s imagination.
“It was better than I’d expected. Kind of fun, actually. They filmed it in Lubbock, you know.” Pauline just nodded slowly, as if she understood that Eleanor’s words were conveying a different meaning altogether. “Well, you know how it is: sometimes you just have to get out of the house for a while.”
“I understand completely,” Pauline agreed, still wearing her Cheshire Cat smirk, “Well, I’m glad you had some fun, Eleanor. I was a little worried about you.”
“No need to worry,” Eleanor replied, opening the car door, “A person can’t live on vegetables alone, as they say. Take care.”
Eleanor exhaled once the door was shut. So much for keeping things undercover.
As she drove home, the question Chuck had asked her kept going through her mind: What got into you, Eleanor?
It almost seemed as though that cucumber brought all this on, but how was that possible? Was it a magic cucumber, like something from a Disney fairy tale, bestowing sexual bliss on a lonely princess? Did it have something to do with that meteor shower, sprinkling a cosmic aphrodisiac over her garden? Or was it all just coincidence, a wild urge that had been building inside her for so long and just burst out?
It was dark when she got home. She didn’t turn on the light as she entered the kitchen, curious to see if the green glow would light her way. But there was no glow, and when she held the cucumber, it was cold and hard, nothing that she could imagine wanting to stuff in her vagina.
No, it was back to humans for her, and not a moment too soon. She wasn’t going to rush things with Chuck; she hadn’t changed that much. But it was nice to have options.
She looked out at the garden beds, searching for that pulsing light, but the garden was dark. If indeed the meteors had jizzed on her veggies, perhaps the rain had washed it all away.
Too bad, she thought; I could have made a fortune! *
Excerpt from Aliens and the Hook-Up App: An Erotic Parody!
Takashi flipped his long, acid purple hair, and gazed ruefully into the camera. It levitated in front of him, in front of the blaring lights, blasting advertisements, and in front of roaring engines from the fourteen lanes of hovercraft traffic over Times Square. A red hologram display radiated numerals from the camera: three, two, one.
The light turned blue. Immediately, Takashi’s angular face appeared on a dozen gigantic displays all throughout Times Square, as well as on several hundred billion televisions, computers, and holo-displays across the planet.
“Good evening, World! I’m Takashi Zimmerman, host of State of Inquiry. Tonight, we’re outside of the NYC headquarters of the world’s most powerful and wealthiest corporation.”
A gaggle of girls with pink hose, pink hair, and iridescent pink contact lenses waved enthusiastically at the camera from behind him; pedestrians continued to mill around, pausing only to thrill at the sight of their own faces on televisions.
“In the 2030s or 2040s,” Takashi continued, “The world’s wealthiest corporations were GE, Dis-Wal-Mart-Soft, or Verizon-Pacificorp. Now those mega-conglomerates have been brought to their knees by the Tender Corporation’s monopoly on the world’s most enticing service.”
In unison, the matching girls shouted: “TELEPATHIC SEX!” As if beating the announcer to a punch line.
Takashi turned with a smile, and walked toward one of the girls.
“I’m here with some Tender groupies - a generation of young people who spend more than sixteen hours a day engaged in Telepathic sex via the Tender network. Miss, what’s your name?”
“Vonda!” the girl squealed. She wore a pink headband with a translucent blue lens over one eye; it looked a bit like a monocle, rimmed in pure gold. It was the signature look of the newest model of a Tender Lens: a somato-telepathic link that allowed her to have telepathic sex with anybody else who had one.
“Tender Lens sex is now estimated to account for 85% of human sexual encounters. What do you think about that, Vonda?”
“It’s about time!” Vonda cried. “I love it! I can get it on with some hunky beach bum in California or a smoking hot construction worker in Brazil without ever buying a plane ticket!” A line which sounded as if it were straight from an advertisement.
“And there’s no worries if he has something that catches, if you know what I mean,” interrupted her friend lasciviously.
“What’s your name, miss?” Takashi asked.
“Lucille,” the girl said. She had honey-colored skin and bright sapphire-blue canine teeth.
“Lucille, would you mind telling us about one of your recent encounters on Tender?”
She smiled and said “gladly!”
Lucille then described, in gory detail, her most recent encounter. He was about nineteen, from Sweden.
“We met in twenty seconds via the Tender-Knows-Me Fetish Algorithm, which matches people with their preferred “type” at lightning speed. If you’re a subscriber, that is,” Lucille winked suggestively at the camera. “A lot of people are holding out, thinking that they can continue to find random partners. But that can takes hours of searching profiles to find a mutual interest. Who wants to waste time searching when you can spend that time getting it on?”
Takashi laughed “I know that from experience. I finally caved last week and got the subscription.”
Takashi admitted. “I wouldn’t have imagined they could find my dream boy in less than two minutes--but they did!”
“I bet they did it more than once, too,” Vonda said, jabbing the news anchor in the chest.
Takashi blushed.
“Why don’t you tell us what he looked like, Takashi?” Vonda asked.
The news anchor demurred, and was saved by Lucille
“Yeah, plus I was telling a story,” Lucille interjected. She shifted into center shot and began describing her encounter.
Seconds after finding a tall, red-haired Swedish man with a square jawline and glasses--her 10 out of 10--Lucille and Sven were stripping each other naked in a virtual jungle setting, kissing each others necks in the balmy heat, hearing the calls and songs
of tropical birds as they rubbed naked bodies up and down one another. They found a heart-shaped bed hidden behind a waterfall, pleasured each other one partner at a time, and finally consummated all their fantasies under the pounding, cool stream of water.
“Wow! That sounds unbelievably hot!” Takashi exclaimed. His shared enthusiasm fueled by recent memories. Then, his brow furrowed. He visibly hesitated before asking the question, but then blurted out something that wasn’t in his script. “Just out of curiosity, what was the ending like?”
Lucille’s face wrinkled up with frustration. “Funny that you mention it. The end was sort of--cut off. I wish I could have had just five more minutes.”
“I know!” cried Vonda. “It seems that Tender sex always ends right in the middle of orgasm.”
Takashi frowned, and then touched his earpiece, “Oh--I’m sorry--it seems that we need to break for commercial. When we come back, we’ll have more steamy stories like this from other Tender groupies!”
Four time zones away, in a giant silver dome, a now iconic structure, known as the headquarters of the Tender Corporation, two men in golf attire practiced putting. A perfectly manicured indoor lawn stretched beneath fluorescent lights made to perfectly replicate the bright and warm nature of sunshine. A stream trickled through a Zen garden nearby where a hunched Japanese man dutifully raked the gravel.
“Looks excellent, Moributo-san,” said the golfer. “Take the rest of the day off.”
“Domo, domo,” said the man, bowing. As he shuffled away, he slipped a Tender Lens over one eye and immediately began searching profiles.
The two men casually putting were Doug Walsh and Peter Garcia, the founders of the Tender Corporation. Taking a break, they swung their putters over one shoulder, and dipped two cocktail glasses into a salt-rimmed fountain spurting a perfect serving of slush green Margarita every few seconds. They returned to the green, set down their matching drinks, and just as Doug sunk his golf ball into the hole, a sweaty woman in a neon green pantsuit ran in.
Whispering harshly, as if it was a secret, she said “Mr. Walsh, sales of Tender Lenses have spiked twelve percent in the last two minutes and subscriptions to the Tender-Knows-Me Fetish Algorithm have doubled!”
Mr. Walsh chuckled, unperturbed. He took a sip of the Margarita resting on his hover plate next to him.
“Pete,” Mr. Walsh said, “we’ve got the global public by the balls.”
“How much are stocks selling for, Linda?” Pete asked.
The woman in the neon green blinked to telepathically swipe to the next page on her notepad.
“3,000,750,000 a share, sir.”
“By the BALLS, Pete, we have them by the balls! We tantalize them with the best sex and sexiest partners they can imagine, but never let them really feel that final satisfaction! Every orgasm they have, we hijack and absorb. They keep coming back for more, again and again hoping each time it will be different, thinking they are actually going to come this time...but all their orgasmic energy just gets reclaimed into our psychic storage unit... the ultimate system to reel them in and keep them coming back for more.”
Doug Walsh laughed, “and their orgasms powers the telepathic generator. I didn’t think it would work, Pete, but you were right. It’s a perpetual motion machine. A perfect goldmine. As long as only our shareholders know about our secret as to how we harvest our customer’s orgasmic energy to sustain the very system they use to orgasm, our work is safe and secure. Not only that, but it’s self-sustaining, endless.”
Pete mused, pouring himself another margarita. “Human lust and stupidity are an endless source of money.”
[End of Excerpt] If you enjoyed this portion of Aliens and the Hook-Up App: An Erotic Parody!, you can grab your copy here: http://amzn.to/1BNezwQ
The Sexy Alien Series
If you like this book then you will love the rest of the books in the hilarious Sexy Alien Series. Creative plots…laughs…hot, steamy erotica…what more can you ask for?
Aliens and the Hook-Up App: An Erotic Parody!
The Alien and the London Escort… and Other Short Stories
The Ball Busting Babe… and Other Short Stories
Cowboys and Concubines: An Erotic Old West Tale… and Other Short Stories
The Porn Star and The Spaceship… and Other Short Stories
Connect with A. M. Knightley
Thank you so much for taking the time to enjoy my crafted stories. I hope it bought a smile to your face today.
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A. M. Knightley
About the Author
A. M. Knightley is the best-selling author of various erotic comedies.
In an all too serious world of responsibilities, deadlines and stress, AMK aims to entertain, amuse and get you laughing. And hopefully in the process, perhaps provoke your thinking a little bit, too.
AMK enjoys writing erotica with cool plots, with bits of Sci-Fi, aliens and fantasy tossed in the mix. One of AMK’s favorite mediums is parody.
Writing about those things that are considered taboo and outrageous by the mainstream allows AMK an outlet to convey a depth of thinking and abandonment that many of us are unable to approach in our real lives.
The author is currently happily settled in the wine valleys of California.
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