by Jay Hughes
"Are you planning to kill me?"
I sat back. I hadn't considered it. "Should I?" She also understood slang, which made her even more interesting.
"I can't tell you anything. You aren't to be trusted yet. Maybe, in due course."
Klinger had found Cheeliol's lap by now and since he didn't mind licking her nose, I wondered if she minded if I licked it. The more I looked at her, the more compelling she became. Her olive-green skin melted in the afternoon shadows. I could barely make out the lines of her coal-black lips and dark eyes. Her hair seemed to flow against her shoulders.
And in a gray jumpsuit, she looked like ... a ... person from another world.
"What's the name of your planet?"
She sat forward. "Standard Eight."
"Aha! I've been there. Filled up once and bought a bag of chips. That's a strange name for a planet. Most of them have an X in them. You know, Planet Span-deX."
Cheeliol petted Klinger and didn't seem annoyed at his licking. When he dropped the sloppy old rubber rat in her lap, she grumbled a little. Klinger's rubber rat is a nice addition to anyone's day. "We have twenty-three planets in our solar system that are habitable, which we call standard planets. Ours just happens to be number eight. Of course, we use another term in our language."
Of course. "It's in another galaxy, I presume."
She shook her head. "Do you realize how big this galaxy is?"
I hadn't considered it lately. "Every answer I get brings on fifty more questions."
"There will be time for that. You mentioned food."
I had. "This might create problems. I cook for one, mostly out of a can ... and I eat out a lot. I'm not sure Coffee Creek is ready for a green woman."
By now, I wasn't sure this was anything more than an elaborate Halloween experiment, except that it was July. We headed for the kitchen. This, I had to see.
I remembered the one basic lesson about visiting other places: Don't drink the water. That put me into a predicament and it occurred to me that anything Cheeliol consumed might poison her, make her sick or ... kill her.
Welcome to Earth, hungry one.
"You probably shouldn't eat this stuff," I said as I fumbled around in the freezer for something a bit more appealing than my usual fare of Tombstone pizza. Who was I kidding? Get back to Earth, Jay.
She sneaked a peek over my shoulder and backed away when the cold air hit her. "Is that dangerous?"
"Only if you're a mushroom."
"What's a mushroom?"
"Dead wood. We eat them a lot on steaks and such."
"Why do you eat it after it's dead?"
"Mushrooms don't like to be taken alive."
She sat down at the kitchen table, plopped up her elbows, buried her chin in her hands and sighed. "I should have brought something."
I sat down next to her and stroked her long square jaw, up around her jet-black lips and soft skin. She was beautiful. Her features were human-like, but a bit more distinct. Her nose was pointed a little, and her eyes seemed deeper, colder, compelling. I wanted to open her mouth and look at her teeth.
She caught on and opened up. "I bite, just like your dog does."
I'm no dentist, but she seemed to be shy a few molars. It was as though she had a long ring of sharp teeth. One on top, of course, and another on the bottom.
She wasn't that weird. These teeth had to be fakes.
"I'm even afraid to give you a cup of coffee," I said. "If you are from another planet, you could die."
"What do you mean, if? Why would I lie about that?"
"Ah, Cheeliol, we don't get too many people from outer space. How the hell did you find Coffee Creek, anyhow?"
"Is that where coffee comes from?"
She stumped me on that one. "I'm not even in a position to experiment with this. We'd better go back to your ship and get you some of your own food. Maybe we can have it analyzed someplace, see if we have something on Earth you can eat."
She held up a hand. "You can't come with me."
I got up and looked out the window. "It'll be dark in an hour or so. You should wait till then. I don't think anybody saw you come in, except maybe old Maud. But she hasn't called the police yet, so my hunch is you're safe."
"Safe from what?"
I turned and gave her another good look. She looked strong enough to handle herself and I had no idea what kind of defenses she had in her possession. "Just safe ... from anything. Go get your food and whatever else you need for the night, come back here and you can shack up with Klinger and me." I had no idea why I had invited a perfect stranger to spend the night with me. A perfect, green stranger with a body from heaven.
"Shack up? That one, I don't know."
"It means, spend the night."
"Where do I sleep?"
I scratched my chin. Handle this one, Jay. "Another step forward in my study of intergalactic affairs. I have learned you do indeed sleep. We have beds."
"Your bed?"
"If you want. Klinger can sleep on the floor. He won't like it, but that's the breaks."
"Fine," she said, and got up. "I'll be back in an hour."
"You aren't gonna wait for darkness?"
She shook her head. "People will see me eventually. I didn't come here to hide. There's no danger."
Somehow, I believed her. In any event, I couldn't stop her and didn't intend to try. I watched her disappear around the garage toward the alley. She turned right and ... the moment had vanished.
My head began to spin. I was going to sleep with a green woman.
Dear Mom: Summer has been interesting. I've met a lot of nice people, including one from Standard Eight. It's the gas station around the corner from the house. She seems to like Klinger and she wants to have sex with me. Your son, Jay.
I went back indoors to escape the afternoon heat and decided, what the hell ... to take Klinger for a walk down the alley, just in case.
I didn't really believe Cheeliol was from another planet. I wasn't sure if olive-green women with black lips actually lived on Earth, but they don't just drop in from the sky, ask to use the bathroom and carry on as though it were just another afternoon in a strange town.
I didn't expect to see her again and Klinger didn't seem to grasp the notion of following a scent. He got as far as the Barkers' hydrangea bushes, flopped down in the shade and made it clear he wanted to go home.
She did have strange teeth, though.
CHAPTER THREE
"I like ... hic ... beer," she said with her head buried in her chest.
"You're gonna like it even better come morning," I said, wheeling into the driveway with a drunken Jill at my side and the prospect of another day of forms and documents ahead of me.
I quit my job about four months ago. Now, the government pays me to take care of Jill, as part of a scientific research grant I've received because, well ... Jill told the government to give it to me.
The government does almost anything Jill wants. The think tanks and labs and researchers of the world just can't get enough her. The only problem is that I don't get enough of her. But the hundred grand I get for watching out for the world's so-far only known space visitor is a decent tradeoff for one or two nights a week with her.
I say so-far-only-space-visitor because she insists more of them exist. I'm having problems believing that because, in the six months Jill has been my friend, lover and bread-winner, I haven't seen any evidence she has company.
Males, she says they are. Useless drones.
I guess men are men all over the Milky Way.
These guys only screw twice a year, on demand, and don't seem to be very good at it, according to Jill.
That gives me an additional advantage, even though I don't call myself a stud of porn-star status. Inasmuch as Jill says my lovemaking is all part of her own research, I make it a point to expand her horizons as much as possible.
But not tonight. Jill is blasted.
I led her into the house, leaned her up against
the wall and helped her out of her coat.
Klinger, off in the corner asleep, has left us alone. I can have my way with Jill at this moment and she's unaware of it.
But it wouldn't be much fun.
The best part of it is that she can't take aspirin and ... boy, is she gonna have a hangover when the alarm goes off at six.
My guess is she'll call off sick for lab.
The lab freaks do a lot of medical probing on Mondays, plucking out hairs and such, measuring her breathing ... real interesting science. After a few hours of it, Jill goes back to her ship and sends the information back home. Or so she says. The two geek males might be part of that process. When you don't need sex, you don't need to get out much.
On the other hand, they might just sit around and laugh at us Earthlings. Jill insists they don't call us that, but she could be lying. I call her an Eight-ball, so whatever is fair.
I also love her.
I gave Klinger a final dose of the January night, knowing he'd stay close to the house. One trip to Maud's in a day is enough for the little fellow. He nailed the old elm tree, pranced back up the steps and zipped into the house. I wiped the snow off his feet and headed off for bed.
Jill had buried her beer buzz in her pillow.
Snoring away, peaceful and blasted.
I crawled in beside her and stroked her bare back. She felt warm; she always does. Warm and soft. I'm still amazed at how much she looks human with only subtle differences. Body temperature, hair texture, thicker fingernails, yellowish blood, nasty temper when she's in a good mood.
I broke out in a cold sweat realizing she'd never been drunk before. What hell will I face?
***
At six-eighteen, the phone rang. I turned over, noticed Jill hadn't budged from the night before, and called her in "sick."
The silence on the other end was enough to cut glass. "Sick?" came a whining female voice. "We have to send somebody over."
"It won't be necessary. She just has a bit of a headache," I grumbled. I turned and saw her budge. "She might be all right."
"Headache?"
"Beer."
"She shouldn't drink alcohol."
"Fine, you come over and tell her," I said. "I'm leavin' town the minute you arrive."
The tiny chuckle told me what everybody knew. Jill was not a woman to be challenged, questioned or backed into a corner. Since I had no basis for comparison, I presumed it was a personality quirk. For all I know, it's a female trait on Standard Eight.
Ouch.
I could feel Jill's fingers along my arm and when she took the phone from me, I braced myself.
"I want to spend the day with my boyfriend," she whispered into the phone. You don't mind, do you? Good. I'll be in tomorrow."
Then I learned about the anti-hangover.
The symptoms are interesting.
I let her push me back onto the bed.
"How does this work?" she asked. Then she straddled me and sucked the tongue out of my face.
I wasn't sure what she had in mind but I gave in.
"I need an orgasm," she cooed.
"So do I."
Jill's pussy is wetter and deeper than your standard human cunt and she has incredible staying power. With her, it's not wise to give up before she gets off. Beyond that, orgasms are achieved in the conventional way.
Except with Jill, they're monsters. When she gets off, she quivers. And shakes. And moans in that language. Then she bounces me around. I was about to be bounced off the ceiling ... she was going to reach climax sooner than usual this time.
She buried her boobs in my face and let me suck her black nipples ... suck, lick, suck ... I almost swallowed her tits.
And she rode me.
Until she came.
She pulled me to her, squeezed me hard enough to take my breath away and shoved me back onto the bed ... then she bounced me up and down, moaning "ka-vooooooe-na toooooookumka ka-voooooooo ... he-yannaaaaaa."
Something like that.
In Standard Eight, I think it means, "damn, I just lost my cookies and holy fuck, it felt great!"
I tried to breathe.
"Do it again!"
"I can't."
"Again!"
"I have to go oral," I muttered.
"Do it again! Now!"
So, I eased her backward, slid her legs out in front of her, spread them apart and knelt in front of her. I started at her ankles, licking my way up, kissing and nibbling. Order me around, you green slut, and you'll pay for it.
Like hell.
By the time I was at her knees, her hands were on my head, pulling me in toward her wet pussy. I shoved my nose into her coal-black bush and kissed her all over.
And over and over.
Then I put my tongue on it.
It, being the most incredible-tasting pussy on Earth. I haven't had many and I'm not sure this one qualified, but I licked on it anyhow.
Licked.
Licked.
Kissed.
Licked.
She started quivering.
I licked.
She quivered and moaned. "Tre-foooooo-pannnnnnnnna!"
I licked.
She wrapped her long legs around me and put her hands on the back of my head, pulling it toward her, driving my face into her.
I licked.
And nibbled.
Licked.
She quivered. "Tre-fooooooooooo-pannnnnnnnnnna!"
I think it meant for me to get her off again.
By the time I had her at wit's end, she had my head trapped between her long, gorgeous legs. Dry and warm. The only wet thing was her pussy.
I licked.
She came. "Moooooooo-paa!"
Then she lifted me up, shoved me backward and crawled atop me.
And I got the softest kiss in history. "Again!"
If you have to ask...
***
At nine, a row of cars pulled up in front of the house and an estimated two thousand men and women in white coats scurried up the steps.
I went to the door.
"May we see her?" the white-coated man said. He was a gray-haired twerp with a briefcase and the look of urgency that you only see in science fiction movies.
"She's recovering," I said. I wasn't about to let this herd into the house with the sterile things and clipboards and monitoring devices.
"What did you give her?" he asked. "You aren't qualified to treat Jill."
"I gave her my love," I said. "Now, go back to your laboratory and let her have the day off."
"No medicine?"
You asked for it. "I ate her pussy twice."
The twerp turned and looked out over his bevy of underlings, who all turned red-faced as one. He shrugged and turned back to me. "Excuse me?"
"I said, I ate her pussy. Went down on her, licked her vagina, that sort of thing." I wiggled my tongue for emphasis. "She's fine now. Just needed a little fine-tuning."
A smallish woman, about forty with blonde hair and glasses, moved forward. "Would you mind if I came in and took her temperature? You know, as a result of..."
I shrugged. "She's still hot."
"Then you don't mind."
I turned. "Jill, Miss Marple here wants to check your oil."
"Go away," Jill muttered from the other room.
"See," I said, "she's fine. Hey, I have an idea. I can do it to her again and we can take her temperature afterward."
The smallish woman looked up at the head twerp, turned and walked back down the steps into the snow. She motioned for the others to retreat to their cars.
"Mister Hughes," the head twerp said, "we can't take chances like this in the future."
"Huh? It's a simple exercise in oral sex," I said. "We do this a lot, Jill and I, that is."
"I see. I suppose she should have told us."
I looked at the guy as if he had just come here from another planet. Wait ... no, that's Jill ... anyway, I couldn't believe Jill hadn't told him about our relation
ship. She probably told one of the women. "Somebody has to know about it," I said. "No matter. Just go away. I have a date." I closed the door, leaving the guy standing there, fondling his briefcase.
"I need to see Jill," he said through the door.
"Get your own pussy."
"Is he gone?" Jill said from the bedroom.
"Not yet."
"Well, come in here and do it again!"
Somewhere, in the madness, a savage beast roamed, relentless in his pursuit of prey.
A couch can hide, but it cannot escape. Klinger attacked.
CHAPTER FOUR
Doing it again couldn't compare to doing it the first time. I like to think back to that first day.
Convinced she was an actress, I spent most of the evening in a haze of sorts, wondering whether I ought to call my ex-wife and tell her that I was about to run off with an alien and not to bother me with the scratch in her new Buick.
Cheeliol had seemed puzzled enough at the sights and sounds of my house and her reaction to the freezer had me puzzled.
But, get real. She'd wandered in and asked to use the bathroom. Women from other planets don't do that. I didn't even know they used bathrooms for anything other than to analyze human brain cells.
I guess I was lucky she didn't run off with my stereo when I wasn't looking, let alone the brain cells I professed to have.
I kicked the air conditioner back and let the hum put me to sleep. In the corner, Klinger had given up on his rubber rat. He wasn't even hungry, so I knew it was that special kind of useless July night ... until about four in the morning when the racket out back sent Klinger to the sheets, me to the floor and both of us searching for an armed rubber rat.
I flipped on the porch light and there she stood. The aluminum storm door was at her feet, ripped from its hinges.
"Problems?"
"I don't know how to open one of these."
"You could have knocked." I scratched my balls in front of her, figuring that's what she deserved. In the shadows, I could see a pair of gleaming black eyes. "Since you're here, come on in."
She hopped up the steps. "What does it mean to knock?"
I caught my breath and looked out at the mangled door. If I needed convincing, that was it. Cheeliol was strong enough to rip a storm door off its hinges. My heartbeat was fast enough to power a locomotive. "Try opening it from the doorknob side."
