Not of This World

by Tracy St. John

  Jeannie checked the temperature again. She sighed. Much better. Warm but not boiling. She stepped into the cubicle and moaned with delight as water sluiced over her, the small jets massaging her itching skin just right.

  Kren pointed out a small spigot she’d missed before. He tapped it, and pinkish fluid oozed onto his palm. He rubbed it on Jeannie’s hair and then on her shoulder.

  “All-in-one cleanser? Perfect. I don’t suppose that mane of yours requires conditioner,” she chattered, knowing he couldn’t understand the first word she said. The substance he’d put on her foamed nicely and smelled good, if a bit woodsy. Maybe that was why Kren smelled of the outdoors.

  She set to work scrubbing her scalp, smiling at Kren. “Okay, I’ve got this. You can go do what it is Risnarish people do. Drink a Risnarish beer or read your holographic newspaper. Surf the manimal-net on your computer.”

  Kren cocked his head to one side, as if trying to understand her. Then his gaze traveled over her wet body.

  His frank curiosity made her self-conscious all over again. Okay, she was a naked woman and he was a guy...sort of. Even though he lacked the usual boy parts, it was hard to be nonchalant when he kept staring at her breasts.

  He dragged his gaze upward to her face. Kren cradled his arms in front of his chest, miming carrying something. A baby? He rocked his arms from side to side and then pointed at her chest. “Fina?” he said.

  “Do I have a baby?” Jeannie shook her head. She waved a hand dismissively. “No, no baby. And not liable to have any. I’m not the mothering kind.”

  She babbled too much, as usual, but Kren seemed to get the gist of her meaning. He nodded and then eyed her breasts again in wonderment.

  That was bad enough, but then his gaze moved down to Jeannie’s cleft. At least his expression wasn’t so much ogling as inquisitive. He glanced up at her face again.

  When his hand moved toward Jeannie, as if he would touch her sex, she stepped away and turned her back.

  She tensed, waiting to find out if Kren would push the issue, and didn’t dare look at him for fear he’d take it as an invitation. When he didn’t touch her, Jeannie began to relax. Thank goodness Kren could read a gal’s body language.

  Jeannie concentrated on the warm spray gently pummeling her body. After so long on the run, it felt like heaven. Her tense muscles began to unknot. She squirted gel into her palm and scrubbed.

  Fed. Warm. Getting clean. Things were getting better. After she got some sleep, Jeannie could start thinking about finding her way home.

  She moved awkwardly, trying to wash her back. Damn, she was sore from sleeping on the ground. Shouldn’t she have gotten used to hard living by now? Her muscles were stiff as a board.

  When a pair of strong hands took on the job, she jumped with a little squeal and turned. Kren stood there, streaming wet from the shower with foaming gel loaded up on his hands.

  He made a noise and gestured toward her with his palms full of soap. The striped alien motioned at her sex and shook his head. He nudged at her to turn around.

  Kren apparently wanted to help Jeannie wash where she found it difficult to reach. She eyed him, unsure of what to do. Common sense said to make Tiger Boy keep his paws to himself. Letting him touch her was begging for trouble if he had any ideas of interspecies relations.

  He’d made it clear he’d keep away from her naughty bits, though. For whatever reason, it seemed important to him that he assist her. He tended to act as if she was a stray kitten or puppy he needed to help. Was that all it was?

  Jeannie wasn’t sure of much, but one thing comforted her: Kren hadn’t shown her any hint of sexual aggression. Hell, he hadn’t shown her any male equipment to be aggressive with.

  Watching him over her shoulder, Jeannie turned her back. Looking as blameless as an alien schoolboy, his starburst eyes wide with innocence, Kren rubbed between her shoulder blades.

  Jeannie wanted to remain on alert. But with the way Kren’s palms rubbed over tired muscles and his fingers massaged the knots in her shoulders, it was impossible to stay tense. It was certainly a far cry from being strapped on a table and forced to endure painful experimentation. The lack of threat and continued kindness calmed her fears. Little by little, Jeannie let herself succumb to the expert kneading.

  She didn’t know when her head dipped so that her chin rested on her chest. Jeannie wasn’t aware when her eyelids sank down, closing off the bright white surroundings. She didn’t realize that she dozed in a twilight consciousness, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. All she knew was the gentle warm pulse of water raining down on her, the strong yet caring hands that worked to cleanse and relax her shoulders, arms, back, and thighs. Of palms brushing over her stomach, moving over her ribcage, cupping her breasts to make heat build low in her belly...

  Jeannie snapped to awareness, jerking from Kren. He started, moving away half a step, his eyes going wide. He made a questioning sound.

  “Hey! Watch it, Mister Touchy-Feely,” Jeannie said, covering her breasts with her hands, ignoring how they tingled from his touch. “Those are off-limits.”

  He stared at her, his expression confused and a little irritated. Kren threw his hands out wide, as if to say, what’s your problem?

  Jeannie wondered how he could not understand about touching a woman’s chest when the sanctity of her pussy hadn’t been in question. Hadn’t he ever had to deal with boobies before? Didn’t the women of Risnar nurse their children? Did the men of this planet go around grabbing ta-tas as whim dictated?

  Fine. The man wanted to touch stuff. Jeannie decided two could play at that game. Or at least she could try since Kren had no stuff to speak of. Still, she might be able to get her point across.

  When on Risnar, do as the Risnarish do, Jeannie decided.

  * * *

  Kren’s mood hedged into irritability. The Hyoo-man confused him as nothing else ever had.

  First of all, she signaled readiness to mate. Her sex was blatant, but he’d accepted that she might be a creature which couldn’t help that exposure. Like some animals of Risnar, her pussy was there, always on display. It wasn’t a problem that she didn’t want him to relieve any urges that their seeming physical compatibility might have brought to the fore.

  Fine. He could respect that, even though her softness unexpectedly called to him. Kren would not push the issue no matter how many similarities Jeannie had to Risnarish women in season.

  But to not let him look at her? She had to know he’d be curious. She was an unknown entity, something he, as a law enforcement officer, should investigate thoroughly. Not only that, Jeannie displayed a modesty about her sex Kren hadn’t come across. Or was it fear? Why would she be afraid when he’d indicated he wouldn’t do anything to harm her? She couldn’t detect the throb in his loins, the ache that responded naturally to seeing a woman with her gender exposed. So she had no way of knowing he found her attractive now that he suspected her of sentience. Besides, no man of Risnar would dream of taking an unwilling female no matter how he desired her. They weren’t soulless, savage animals, after all.

  Kren had contented himself with helping Jeannie wash. He enjoyed giving the beasts of his small homestead care and comfort. It was the same with his alien houseguest. Well, sort of. After all, she showed all the signs of being a higher being, so he couldn’t keep thinking of her in terms of a lesser creature.

  Either way, she needed shelter. She needed protection. She needed reassurance. He’d been happy to grant it. Being able to touch the softness of her skin had been a nice benefit of attending to her wellbeing. It made him ache all the more as a man, but he could cope with that. As long as Jeannie was calm, he was content.

  But then she’d gone tense and unhappy when he’d touched her breasts. Her displeasure stymied him. Why was it such a big deal?

  Kren had seen plenty of babes feeding from their mothers and nurses
. Though he’d been strangely enthralled with touching the Hyoo-man’s mounds, they were strictly utilitarian body parts on Risnarish women. Jeannie had indicated she had no babies to feed, so Kren reasoned she was like the Dhun, a race from a nearby planet. They, too, kept their teats whether they nursed or not. It was no more a big deal to touch their chests than a friendly rubbing of shoulders, arms, or backs.

  Since the Hyoo-man’s breasts were so obvious and objects of sustenance rather than sexuality, Kren was at a loss why Jeannie reacted as if he’d done something wrong. Yet her attitude displayed she believed he had.

  It worried him anew that she might be a lab-made Monsudan creation. The presence of a sexual organ and the obvious milk-producing parts that would allow her to feed her young... Were the buggy bastards now intent on breeding slaves and research animals?

  Looking into Jeannie’s eyes, seeing the way they sparked with determination, eased Kren’s concerns. The Monsuda and their drones did not have eyes filled with such force of being. This woman did not possess eyes that stared at him as if from a blank void. They brimmed with Spirit. She was an equal. As such, she was as free to disapprove of his touch to her chest as she was to join intimately with him if she so desired. Or not.

  Kren tried not to dwell on the fact that Jeannie did not appear to feel as fascinated with him as he was with her. That hurt a little. He would have liked to think she found him interesting, at least. That curiosity might have given her a moment’s pause. As different as the Dhun and Risnar’s other neighbors the Thalls and Hiseans were, Kren and every other Risnarish man he knew had enjoyed those unique encounters as well.

  Jeannie didn’t feel that way. She’d made that clear. He hated for the appeal of a unique encounter to be one-sided, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  Kren couldn’t help but glance at her triangle of light-colored hair which did little to hide her cleft. The moment he did so, Jeannie covered it with her hand. Her glare told him yet again that his natural wonderment was not welcome.

  He sighed and trained his gaze at her face. “Fine, Hyoo-man. I won’t look. I won’t touch. There’s no reason to be angry with me.”

  Jeannie’s sharp stare didn’t relent. One arm continued to cover the middle of her breasts while her hand kept her sex shielded.

  Kren didn’t want her to distrust him. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, where the faucet disks rained warm water down on them. Keeping his gaze averted he said, “You are so odd. You’d better learn how to act before I take you to Mekay and the rest of the elders. If they order—hey!”

  Small hands gripped his thighs and shoved to get them apart. Kren jerked backward and gasped to see Jeannie bent down, her face inches from his groin. She stared with narrowed eyes at that area, her concentration grim. She rolled her eyes upward to look him in the face.

  For a moment Kren thought she offered something that made his loins tremble. There was a pulse of movement from his crotch. As better sense prevailed, Kren realized what was happening. He was glad Jeannie hadn’t spotted the slight bulge of masculine interest trying to form.

  Kren exploded with laughter. She’d gotten her point across.

  He took a couple of steps back as Jeannie straightened, mirth replacing her earlier indignation. Kren held up his hands in a placating gesture, still chuckling at his stupidity.

  “Okay, you’re returning the favor of being touched and stared at as if you’re some dumb animal. I’m sorry I treated you like that. You’re intelligent and aware. I won’t forget it again.”

  Jeannie relaxed, even to the point of no longer hiding herself from him. Kren was sure to keep his gaze at her eye level as she planted her hands on her hips.

  With a gesture, he invited her to scrutinize him. He owed her that, given what he’d put her through. “Nothing to see right now though, is there? Sorry. In contrast to you, I keep my stuff put away until it’s ready for use.”

  She cocked a brow at him. Kren wished he could talk to her so she’d understand he hadn’t been acting like a jerk on purpose.

  “I guess being studied so closely is uncomfortable. I deserved that. Go ahead, inspect me if it will put us on even footing again.”

  Jeannie must have gotten the gist of his tone and gesticulations, because she walked around him, looking him over. Kren wondered what she thought of his physique. She had no sensual interest in him, but was he different enough to be ugly to her? Maybe she didn’t find him attractive at all. Maybe he repulsed her.

  Being intently regarded made Kren self-conscious. No wonder Jeannie had been angry at him for staring. It was damned awkward. She went behind him, still inspecting his body.

  To cover his growing unease, Kren started talking again. “So how do I find out if you’re sentient and not a clever creation performing tricks you were taught? Then how do we convince the elders? I mean—”

  He broke off with a yell and sprang away when Jeannie’s hands closed over the twin globes of his ass and pushed them apart. Kren whirled to confront her, spluttering. She stood there regarding him with a calm but pointed expression.

  Kren gave her the same insulted look she’d offered him. Jeannie smiled. He ordered the shower off and started past her to the stall door.

  “Okay, I get it already.”

  As he stalked by, Jeannie patted his ass. Enough was enough.

  The flesh at the base of his spine extended into a long, striped tail. He wrapped the end around the offending hand, arresting it in mid-pat and holding it away from his body. Kren smirked as Jeannie’s mouth dropped open in shock, her eyes wide as she stared at the appendage holding her captive.

  He barked a laugh. “You weren’t expecting that, were you? You keep your parts to yourself and I’ll keep my parts to myself. That’s our deal from now on.”

  It was a lousy bargain. He wanted to touch a hell of a lot more than he had.

  Without waiting for evidence of whether or not she understood, Kren released his hold on her. He left the stall and pulled a towel from a nearby shelf. He tossed it to her.

  Jeannie caught the large red square of cloth neatly even though her blue-sky gaze never left his tail until Kren drew it in, making it disappear into the base of his spine.

  Chapter Four

  Jeannie rubbed the fluffy material over her body to dry. Her mind swirled over the latest surprise the Risnarish man had given her.

  Okay, so she’d surmised he might be able to grow his man parts at will. It had never occurred to her he might produce other appendages. Like a tail.

  Why am I so shocked? I watched him sprout extra fingers and thumbs, including on his feet. Why shouldn’t he grow a tail if he wants?

  Could he make himself extra arms? Legs? Other stuff? Multiple other stuff?

  Jeannie frowned as her nipples hardened. She redirected her thoughts to how uncomfortable it had been for Kren to examine her as if she were a curious animal specimen. That had been downright humiliating, as well as similar to what the Grays had done to her. How much worse would it be if he looked at her like a human male looked at a woman?

  Sex with an alien? No way she’d want that, not even if he had a talented tail. Especially if he had a tail.

  She wrapped the towel around herself. It hung below her knees. She relaxed to finally have some kind of covering over her body. She wanted some actual clothes, though, especially with Kren looking at her. Maybe the Risnarish, with their retractable body parts, didn’t need apparel, but Jeannie did. She’d had enough of her stint as a nudist.

  She tried to remember what Kren had said earlier to make the holographic drawing pad appear. The first part had sounded similar to a clucking chicken. The second part she couldn’t exactly remember. She tried anyway.

  “Bock nose,” Jeannie said, trying to slur her voice as the Risnarish did. As she’d expected, nothing happened.

  Kren looked at her quizzically. Sh
e made drawing motions in the air and he chuckled.

  “Boknoz?” he questioned.

  The floating screen appeared between them. Jeannie smiled at her pathetic attempt to speak his language. He pantomimed a pushing motion at the apparition, and it slid through the air toward her. When it was about a foot away, Jeannie put up her hand, instinctively warding it off though it would slide right through her.

  It stopped and she was delighted to discover she had some control over it. Now she’d be able to call it up and move it where she wanted at will.

  Jeannie thought for a moment. How did she explain clothing to a man who required none? After considering, she drew one of her crude stick figures.

  Kren had finished drying himself and watched with interest. Jeannie pointed to the figure and said, “Jeannie,” then pointed to herself to be sure he got the message. He nodded.

  She drew an approximation of a dress on the figure, shading it with her fingertip so that it covered the stick body. Hoping it would make some sense to her companion, she rubbed her hand over the soft towel encasing her body.

  She told Kren, “Clothes. Or at least material to fabricate clothes.” She pointed again at the stick figure’s dress. “I can’t keep running around naked, especially outside. It’s cold out there at night.”

  Kren came close to puzzle over the drawing. He glanced from it to her. He pointed to the towel—careful not to touch her, she noted—and repeated, “Clothes.”

  Jeannie shook her head. She pointed to the towel. “Towel.” She pointed to the drawing. “Clothes.” She rubbed her hands over her bare arms, hoping he would get it. He stared at her, still confused.

  Jeannie sighed and gazed at the screen again. Then she scanned the room. She needed a tool that would draw fine lines.

  There was something made of metal on one of the shelves. It resembled a hair pick, with the handle coming to a point. Maybe she’d be able to draw with it.

  Jeannie picked it up and approached the screen again. She was pleased when her first few strokes rendered not-so-clumsy lines on the drawing surface. She quickly sketched a representation of herself wearing a sheath dress, her favorite garment. It wasn’t up to her usual talent for drawing a clothing design, but it was better than the stick figures by far.