Desire: Ten sizzling, romantic tales for Valentine’s Day!

by Opal Carew

  He made a face. “Your humor knows no bounds, Zoe. Just go to your room and I’ll have Al synthesize you something that’s more in keeping with Majoran fashion.”

  “Wait—you said he can synthesize clothes? The same way you make food in the food-sim?” I asked, frowning.

  Sarden nodded. “Of course.”

  “Well in that case, how come you didn’t give me something else to wear before now?” I demanded. “Why in the world do you have me running around the damn ship in your shirts with no underwear?”

  His eyes suddenly went half-lidded. “Maybe because I like you that way. You look good in my clothes…and nothing else.”

  His voice was a soft growl I swore I could feel right through my entire body, even though we weren’t touching.

  My heart did a little jump and started to pound. I could feel my cheeks getting hot at the way he was looking at me.

  “Big red pervert,” I muttered.

  “Perhaps.” He gave me a lazy grin. “Don’t worry, Zoe—you’ll have some new clothes soon. Just wait in your room and I’ll bring them shortly.”

  “Fine,” I said, turning to leave and hoping my blush wasn’t too evident. “But before you go, try the pizza-flavored crème brulee—you’ll probably like it.”

  Then I left, trying not to feel his eyes on my backside as I walked away.

  Aliens can be so annoying.

  Chapter 14

  Zoe

  “Okay, I am so not going out in public like this.” I surveyed myself in the 3-D mirror-like thing Sarden had called out of the wall somehow, the same way he’d accessed the closet. How did he do that anyway? It seemed to be a series of taps but when I had tried it, nothing happened. Maybe it was just keyed to his fingerprints?

  I didn’t know and at the moment, I didn’t care. I was more concerned with the weird Majoran outfit Sarden had gotten Al to make for me.

  It was see-through.

  I’m not kidding, either or saying that it was really sheer fabric—I’m talking totally transparent. As in, I might as well have been wrapped in Saran Wrap—which actually was kind of what it felt like. The dress—(if it could be called a dress)—really was just one long strip of fabric which was wrapped around me and somehow adhered to itself like it was Velcro. But there was no Velcro scratchiness—the fabric was as soft as silk. In fact, I rather enjoyed the sensation of it against my skin—although I would have enjoyed it a Hell of a lot more if it actually covered anything.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Sarden asked, frowning. “You look gorgeous.”

  “I look naked,” I pointed out.

  “Not true. The modesty patches cover your most private areas.”

  “Barely,” I said.

  In fact, the three black dots he’d given me to paste over my nipples and crotch reminded me of the stick-on stringless bikini I’d seen once while looking for a new bathing suit on the Internet. Almost no coverage! Our most daring suit! Turn heads everywhere you go! screamed the site that was selling it. At the time, I had assumed that only porn stars would want to buy and wear such a thing. I had certainly never imagined putting my own size sixteen ass into one.

  And yet here I was—looking like a plus sized porn star wrapped in cling film. The shoes that went with it didn’t help either—they were platforms with three inch heels, more like stilts than shoes. I totally looked like I should be pole dancing to dirty, sexy music somewhere.

  I sighed and looked at myself again. What is it they say about when life hands you lemons? No wait—a lemon would cover more than this freaking outfit. I wished someone would hand me a good sized lemon right about now. I’d put it to good use, damn it!

  “You can’t seriously expect me to believe that the women of Gallana go around dressed like this,” I said, looking at myself again. The only good thing I could say for the Saran Wrap dress was that it had good support. My boobs had never looked perkier—or more exposed.

  “Actually, you’ll be dressed more conservatively than most. Only virgins wear modesty patches,” he said, pointing to the three black dots again.

  “Well I’m not a virgin,” I said tartly. “But I’m not a freaking exhibitionist either!”

  “I promise you, you’re dressed like every other female on Gallana,” he said patiently. “They believe in showing off their divine beauty.”

  “Because they’re all like some kind of manifestation of the Goddess of Mercy, right?” I said.

  “Well, one of her aspects, anyway. Most of the galaxy worships the one Goddess. She created the Ancient Ones and commanded them to sow the seeds of life throughout the galaxy,” Sarden said, reaching out to adjust the part of the dress that went around my shoulders. “But to the Majorans the Goddess wears many faces. The Virgin, the Whore, the Lover, the Healer, the Comforter…and too many more to name.” He sighed. “It’s a complicated religion but then, Majorans are fucking complicated by nature.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “The whole idea of worshiping a woman pisses you off, doesn’t it? Careful, Sarden—your misogyny is showing.”

  “I’m no Sahjist,” he said, with surprising vehemence. “So don’t insult me. But I believe that males and females are equals—neither one needs to worship the other.”

  “You’d better put a pin in that attitude if you want to get this deal done,” I pointed out. “What am I supposed to do, anyway?”

  “So you’ll go?” he asked, sounding surprised. “You’re done complaining?”

  “Oh, I’m not done complaining—not by a long shot,” I said dryly. “By making me wear this dress, you just gave me a free pass to complain as much as I want. But yes, I guess we’d better go. Just tell me what to do.”

  “Simple—when we get to the mechanic, just treat me the same way you see every other female treating their male. That should do the trick.” Sarden said, though he didn’t sound very happy about it.

  He held out an arm to me and I looked at it, surprised at the courtly gesture. Apparently the male escorting a female on his arm wasn’t just an Earth custom.

  “Well?” he asked. “Are you ready to go?”

  I took a deep breath and smoothed down my transparent dress. My women’s study professor back at USF would either be extremely proud or totally horrified by this outfit. I decided to go with proud—I wasn’t objectifying myself or letting anyone else objectify me, I told myself. I was owning my curves and revealing my inner beauty—projecting positive body image all over the damn place.

  I hoped.

  I took Sarden’s arm and looked up at him.

  “Let’s go get ‘em tiger,” I told him. “Go big or go home.”

  Or in this case, go naked but I was trying really hard not to think about that.

  Sarden

  I couldn’t help feeling both proud and possessive as I squired Zoe into the spaceport proper through the entrance designated only for males accompanied by their females. Or goddesses, if you believed the way the Majorans did. I didn’t but I had to admit, my little Earth female was looking particularly divine in the Majoran garb. Her beautiful curves and lovely freckled skin were fully exposed in the thin, silky dress and her wild, curly auburn hair floated around her shoulders like a burning corona.

  Gods, she was fucking gorgeous. The whole world was more vivid now that she was mine. And she was still mine—at least for a little while longer. I wouldn’t have to give her up to Tazaxx until we reached Giedi Prime. I pushed away the emotions that tried to rise at that thought and concentrated on the business at hand.

  I had left Al back with the ship to get the Scoop ready for repairs. I missed having him at my back but I wanted everything in readiness as soon as I lined up a mechanic. I just hoped the one Doloroso had recommended was good.

  The entrance to the spaceport was a big place—a high dome with duty-free shops and merchants of all kinds lining its wall. It was packed with people from every known species in the galaxy going here and there. Yet even in that busy crowd, Zoe stood out as I had known she wou
ld.

  All around us, I saw the other Majoran females catching glimpses of the little Pure One and talking among themselves, buzzing like a hive of Rigelian bees. Some of them even changed their skin color to match hers on the spot, though none of them managed to copy her charming pattern of her freckles with any kind of accuracy.

  Zoe caught sight of what they were doing and gasped. She looked up at me and jerked her head at a Majoran female with the traditional long, blue hair who had just turned from deep lavender to Zoe’s own creamy pale shade.

  “How did she do that?” she asked, under her breath. “How are any of them doing that?”

  “Majorans are chromatacromes,” I explained. “Able to change their skin color at will. Some can also change hair and eye color but that’s much more challenging.”

  “So they just go all day changing all the time? Like chameleons blending in with their environment?” she wanted to know.

  I barked a short laugh.

  “Hardly. If anything, the Majoran females want to stand out. That’s why they’re copying you—see?” I nodded at a female who must have been especially skilled in the ways of her people. She had managed to copy not only Zoe’s skin color, but also the warm, changeable ruby-auburn of her hair and the blue of her eyes.

  “Hey! That’s creepy,” Zoe protested, moving closer to me uneasily.

  “No, it’s a compliment,” I corrected her. “They recognize your beauty. I knew they would.”

  “Well…thanks, Sarden.” Her skin grew pink and I realized she was blushing, as she did so often when she was embarrassed. It struck me again that she didn’t understand how lovely she was, though it was hard to comprehend how she couldn’t. She was the most stunning female I had ever seen. It amazed me that she couldn’t see her own beauty.

  “Ambergeis for sale here. Buy your goddess that which compliments her beauty,” a voice shouted, almost in my ear.

  “Ooo, what’s that?” Zoe slowed to stare at what the merchant—a swarthy Fenigan with a mustache above his first mouth and a beard below his second—was selling.

  “Ambergeis, lovely goddess,” the Fenigan merchant said, holding out a small silver pot with a yellowish paste inside. “Made from the purified nectar of the ish’tha flower.”

  “What does it do?” Zoe wanted to know.

  “Ah, it is truly wondrous,” the merchant said, both mouths speaking as one. “You put just a tiny dab behind each ear and a dab on your wrists and soon your scent is irresistible.”

  “Is it some kind of perfume, then?” she asked.

  “It enhances your own natural scent,” a new voice answered her.

  It was one of the Majoran females who had copied Zoe’s skin color, though at least her hair was still blue. Behind her was a Majoran male. His skin was a warm, neutral brownish-tan at the moment, though I knew that could change according to mood or whim…not his, of course. Though the female’s skin color would be dictated by what she thought fashionable, the male’s color would be dependant on the mood of his female. At the moment the soft, neutral color was an indication that she must be feeling well.

  “How does the, uh, Ambergeis enhance your scent?” Zoe asked, turning to her.

  “By bringing out your natural musk, my goddess,” the merchant assured her.

  “Your musk?” Zoe wrinkled her pert nose. “Um, sorry but I don’t want to smell musky.”

  “He doesn’t mean it will make your skin smell unpleasant, only that it will intensify the natural scent of your skin,” the Majoran female explained.

  “Yes, for it takes on the scent of your skin and magnifies it.” The merchant nodded. “It can also be put on articles of clothing if you wish. In this way if you have to leave your mate for a time, he is able to keep a little of your scent to comfort him during the loss of his goddess.”

  “Leave my mate? Goddess of Love prevent it!” The Majoran female sounded shocked and her male, who had been silently watching, came forward to comfort her. His skin was as blue as his hair now—the color of sadness, which she was obviously feeling at the idea of the two of them being parted.

  “Come, Leelah,” he murmured softly. “Don’t fret. You know I’ll not leave you.”

  He put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, obviously drawing strength from his embrace. For a moment I wondered what it would be like to have Zoe trust me enough to lean on me that way, to seek me out when she needed to be held and touched—then I pushed the idea away.

  “I did not mean that you would leave him forever,” the Fenigan merchant said smoothly. “Perish the thought! But any absence, no matter how brief, may be traumatic. Think how he must feel when you go to spend time with your friends and he is left without you. The scent of your skin on a scarf or other such object would comfort him greatly.”

  “Sheesh,” Zoe muttered to me. “He’s acting like her guy is some kind of sick puppy who can’t stand to be without her for an hour or two while she has a girl’s night out. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Not at all,” the Majoran female, who had unfortunately overheard, gave Zoe a very cool look. Her skin remained pale and creamy, like Zoe’s, but her mate’s skin suddenly went a deep maroon indicating anger and offense.

  “Oh, uh…” Zoe seemed taken aback. “I…I didn’t mean…”

  “Prether is very attached to me, aren’t you my darling?” she asked, looking up at the tall male beside her.

  “I would rather die than live without you, my goddess,” he rumbled and there was a sincerity in his eyes that told me he truly felt that way.

  “Oh, Prether…” The female entwined her arms around his neck and began to run her hands through his hair. “You’re so sweet.”

  “And you are the star which sheds light into my otherwise dark life,” he murmured, drawing her closer. His skin had turned from maroon to a deep violet now, indicating passion, I guessed.

  They were eye-to-eye, running their hands all over each other and I thought they might start mating right there. However, the Fenigan merchant wasn’t about to let love-making get in the way of his spiel.

  “As you are so attached to your goddess, good Sir,” he said, addressing the male. “I would think you would want her scent with you at all times.”

  The couple ignored him, however. They were far too wrapped up in each other with the male murmuring, “Oh Leelah, my goddess, how I long to worship you,” into his female’s hair as she writhed against his caressing hands.

  “Sheesh, get a room” Zoe muttered, but in a softer voice this time. She turned to the merchant. “So this Ambergeis stuff…it just smells like whoever wears it only more so?”

  “Exactly.” Seeing that he had lost the Majorans completely, he leaned forward eagerly, offering the little silver pot to Zoe. “Try some, my goddess.”

  Shrugging, Zoe leaned forward and reached for the pot with one finger.

  “Oh, no-no-no!” Both the Fenigen’s mouths turned down at once giving him a double frown. “Forgive me but I must give you the trial with a neutral object. The moment you touch the pot with your fingers, it will smell only like you and it will be useless as a sample thereafter. Now, here…” He dug in the folds of his voluminous purple robe and came out with a long green yillo reed. Delicately, he dipped just the tip into the pot of Ambergeis and put a tiny amount on Zoe’s outstretched forefinger.

  “Thanks, I guess.” She pulled her finger back, looking at the little dab of yellow paste as though she didn’t know quite what to do with it.

  “Dab at your pulse points—go on.” The merchant nodded eagerly.

  Zoe looked at me and I nodded.

  “It should be safe,” I told her.

  “Okay.” Shrugging, she dabbed the Ambergeis on one wrist and then rubbed it against the other, rubbing the tiny amount of yellow paste into her skin. Then she looked at the merchant. “Now what?”

  “Now let your male scent you, my goddess.” His purple eyes gleamed. “Let him decide for himself if he likes the change.” />
  “All right.” Zoe looked up at me, her blue eyes filled with mischief. “Would you like to scent your goddess, my darling?” she asked in a breathy imitation of the Majoran female, who by now was lost in the crowd with her male.

  I wasn’t about to play along with her act—not until I had to at the mechanic Count Doloroso had recommended, anyway. But I took her arm and brought her wrist to my nose, inhaling deeply.

  Immediately her rich, feminine smell filled my senses, making me almost dizzy with desire. Her personal aroma had a sweet note deepening into a luscious feminine musk that made me think of the delicious scent of her sex. I’d only been between her legs for a few moments but already I longed to go back, to taste more of her nectar, to hear her moan my name as she pulled my hair and caressed my horns while I tasted her sweet sex…

  “Gods,” I muttered hoarsely and Zoe looked at me, clearly concerned.

  “Does it not smell good? Should I wash it off?”

  “Possibly,” I growled. “But not because it doesn’t smell good.” I couldn’t help remembering the Majoran male telling his female that he longed to worship her. I felt the same way about Zoe—I wanted to drop to my knees and worship her pussy with my tongue.

  No—get hold of yourself. You’ve got business to conduct.

  With an effort of will, I released Zoe’s arm and took a half step back. There. Better.

  All this time the Fenigen merchant had been watching me sharply.

  “It is intoxicating, is it not?” he asked, smiling with both mouths. “There is nothing more bewitching as the scent of the female you love. And remember, once she touches the Ambergeis in the pot, it will take on her scent. Then you can keep it with you for always.”

  I thought of the long days ahead after I made the trade with Tazaxx and Zoe was gone from my life forever. I thought of never seeing her again and a fierce ache started in my heart.

  “How much?” I heard myself asking.

  “A thousand credits,” the merchant said promptly.

  “That…seems like a lot,” Zoe objected. “Unless credits are like pesos or something. But if they’re on par with dollars or pounds or Euros then that’s way too much for a little pot of perfume.” She sniffed her wrist. “It really doesn’t smell like much of anything at all.”