by Juno Wells
"Stay here." She grabbed up her keys and debit card. She took her mobile phone too. Just in case. Last night and the terrible feeling of vulnerability would not be erased from her memory anytime soon. Funny how she now harboured the man who'd engendered those feelings in her home. "I'll be right back."
Josie took the stairs to the ground floor, hurrying along the hallway to the main entrance. She paused at the laundry room doors. An idea sprung into existence.
Could she?
She couldn't.
Would she?
She wouldn't.
No-one would see…
The brightness of the fluorescent lights beamed against the chrome machines and black, tiled countertops. A lone dryer ran its course, loose change and the zippers of clothing knocking and scratching within its metal casing. Advancing toward the dryer sections, Josie scanned the room, her heart beating just a little bit faster with the fear and thrill of being caught. The first dryer she opened contained underwear, the second one bath towels and bed sheets. She struck jackpot on the third when she discovered football shirts, boxers, and two pairs of jeans. They looked like they would fit Torgan, if a bit snugly. They would have to do for now. Whispering an apology and a promise of returning the clothes, Josie grabbed two of the shirts and one of the jeans and scampered out of the laundry room.
On her way back up to her apartment, her mobile phone rang. She shuffled the clothes to one hand to answer the call, the smell of detergent and fabric softener overpowering.
"Hello?"
"Joselyn? Oh thank goodness, you're alive!"
Josie frowned. "Mom, why wouldn't I be?"
"You never responded to my email, dear, so I assumed the worst." Josie's frowned deepened at the dramatic waver in her mother's voice. "You live in the city where all the young women are raped and killed. You could be next!"
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you but I'm still alive and kicking." The sound of her voice echoing against the stairway's walls prompted Josie to keep climbing the stairs.
"Don't joke about things like that, Joselyn. Your father and I are concerned. The city is so dangerous! Did you hear what happened to your Uncle Philbert?"
"Yeah, mom, you told me about it in the email. He got hepatitis."
"After he visited the city," she added in persistent tones. Josie opened her mouth, ready to argue that anyone could contract hepatitis from anywhere but she desisted. Her mother had a penchant for dramatics and arguments. She loved having the last say and if she didn't, she'd find a way to guilt the person about it.
The conversation progressed to Josie's oldest brother's achievements in his medical career, and her sister's success in her veterinarian studies. Josie kept her participation to an occasional, "Hmmhm" and "Yeah" and "That's great!" while she waited for the inevitable shaming for 'ruining her life' by dropping out of law school and starting her own cleaning business. She didn't have to wait long. It came the moment she entered her apartment.
"…and she's doing so well. Just like you when you were at school."
"Hmmhm." She dumped the clothes in the living room chair, amused by the sight of Torgan rubbing Sir Glauber's stomach. How had that happened? Just a few hours ago Sir Glauber considered Torgan an enemy.
"You had great potential, Joselyn," her mother continued. "Yet you squandered it for menial labour."
"Yeah."
Torgan looked up at her when she spoke and Sir Glauber twisted himself to bite his fingers.
"Not nice, Sir," Josie scolded but Sir Glauber padded away to her bedroom with a haughty, unrepentant swish of his tail.
Torgan chuckled. "He is a fighter."
"Who's that?"
Shit. So preoccupied with ignoring her mother's words, she'd forgotten she was still on the line.
"Nobody, mom, just…err…the TV."
"That's not true. You have a man your apartment!" Her mother's tone turned gleeful and inquisitive. "Is he your new boyfriend, sweetie?"
"Mom—"
"Thanksgiving's coming up. Bring him with you so your father and I can meet him. What does he do?"
"Mom, I…I have to go," Josie pulled the phone away from her ear but she could still hear her mother chattering. "Love you!" she shouted and ended the call.
Settling the phone on the coffee table, she exhaled and got to her feet. Torgan eyed her mobile phone curiously then his gaze shifted to the pile of clothes she'd dumped in the chair.
She pointed at the clothes. "Put those on while I make us something to eat."
Chapter Three
She thought about notifying a government authority. Someone equipped with handling an extraordinary being like Torgan. But what would they do to him? Enough science fiction TV shows convinced her only horrific scientific studies awaited his body if she ousted him. She told herself she shouldn't care about his fate. Torgan was a stranger. He was an alien. Whatever happened to him after she alerted the authorities was none of her business. She would be doing her planet a service. Who knew Torgan's intentions for Earth? Perhaps he played a scout for an alien race planning an Earth invasion? Why had he come here? Why had he sought her?
"Why did you come to Earth," Josie asked him the next day. Leaning against the apartment balcony's rails, they watched the cars and people below in the darkening evening light. He remained quiet for some time. Then he stood straight, moving closer. Josie's breathing and heart rate quickened at his proximity. He had the face and body of a man who featured regularly in her explicit fantasies. Her brain said he was alien. Her body said he was a man.
"What is a life without purpose, human?"
She licked her bottom lip. "Hollow?"
"Useless." Low and smooth, his voice carried a sensuality in contrast to his words. "Unfit for existence."
"That's harsh."
"Yes, but it is true. More so for a being like me. I and many of my kind once served as agents for another's purpose. They imprisoned me when I no longer valued their abhorrent ideals, and slaughtered the rest of my kind when they formed a reprisal."
Josie raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. "That's horrible."
"Time innumerable passed until I acquired freedom from stasis. I awoke to nothingness. My kind and our rulers who used us to conquer and destroy planets were gone." His stare held a captivating intensity, a mixture of deep pain and anger from which Josie could not look away. "I came to Earth, human, because when my rulers tasked me to destroy it, I condemned myself to prison and my brothers and sisters to death instead. I came to Earth to find purpose in the consequence of my sacrifice."
"Why do they stare at me? Are they aware that I am not hu—"
"Shh!" Josie flapped her hand. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Don't say you're not a human out loud."
Torgan creased his forehead in confusion. "Why?"
"Just don't." Josie shook her head. "People will think you're crazy. Besides, they're staring because you decided to look like one of the most popular men in the world."
The train took a turn, jostling her body against his. Many of the passengers stared wide-eyed at Torgan. A few tried to be more inconspicuous, the rest took pictures with their mobile phone cameras. Josie knew taking him out in the open was a bad idea but she'd definitely not anticipated this.
Ostensibly unwilling to withhold himself any longer, a heavy-set man wearing a tight t-shirt with 'STAR POWER!' emblazoned on the front approached them. He clutched a pen and notebook in his hands, his eyes shiny with unsuppressed glee.
"Mr. Flint!" he said, clinging to a pole with one hand while he shoved the notebook and pen in Torgan's face with the other. "Please give me your autograph."
"No," said Josie, pushing the notebook away. "Go away."
Star Power glared at her. "Shut up, you nosy bitch. I'm not talking to you."
"Screw you, asshole," she said with venom. "He's not Ryan Flint. You're harassing us. Don't make me call for help." She pointed at the train's emergency button.
Star Power departed with a pa
rting slur and the scrutiny level decreased somewhat for the duration of the ride. Out of the subway and on the street, people continued to stare. When a few brave souls wandered over to beg for an autograph or proclaim how much they enjoyed the fight scene in Secret Agent Killer or ask why Torgan left his smoking hot Russian model girlfriend for a plain-Jane soap opera actress with a failing career, Josie shouted, "He's not Ryan Flint!" and hustled Torgan away from their sycophantic, inquisitive smiles.
I couldn't leave him alone, she thought as she scrubbed her client's bathtub. This was half of the reason. The other half: she liked having him around. She spent most of her life alone, at home or at work. Sometimes she hung out with her friend Angela, though their meet-ups were becoming infrequent. Whereas Josie dropped out of school, Angela had stayed the course and worked as a paralegal. Although they still remained good friends, Josie sensed their drastically different lives put a strain on their friendship.
Torgan's presence relaxed her. A ridiculous thought, perhaps. He was an alien warrior, once tasked to destroy Earth. He had telekinesis, could shape-shift, and could learn an entire language just from touch. Who knew what other otherworldly skills he maintained? His presence should be the least relaxing thing in her life. She supposed if he didn't have a handsome face, her feelings would be different. When he was in his true, silver form, she had screamed her head off and ran away. Josie grimaced. Was she so superficial?
"Are you unwell?"
Startled, Josie's body shook. "Oh…err…no. I'm fine." She turned on the bathtub's faucet to clear away the suds from the cleaning solution. "Wait…you're finished with the windows?"
"Yes."
"Wow that was fast." Josie smiled. Having an alien as an assistant was definitely a benefit. "Let me clean this up and I'll show you how to do the porches."
Outside on the front porch, Josie showed Torgan how to use a broom to sweep the dust off the aged, wooden flooring and the steps. Amusement filled her that she was teaching an alien—a highly intelligent one to boot—how to do something as simple as sweeping a floor.
"Here," she handed him a damp rag and gestured at the dusty chairs, "give those a wipe too."
Torgan nodded and Josie went inside the house to start work on the kitchen and living room. As she vacuumed the carpets, she felt relieved the Hasbraff's house was a small, two-bedroom place. The owners were a childless couple who paid her well each visit. The job usually took her two or so hours to complete, but with Torgan's help they'd be done in no time.
As she contemplated taking Torgan to more of her jobs, the accumulation of people gawking outside caught her attention. Dammit! She had forgotten Torgan's effect on others. With the face of a famous movie star, he drew attention like a light-source drew moths.
Shutting off the vacuum, she flew outside to chase them away when the sight of the broom sweeping on its own stopped her short. The assorted flower pots levitated so the broom could sweep away their spilt soil, and the rag swished around the chairs as though moved by an invisible hand. Amidst this defiance of Earth's laws of gravity and physics stood Torgan, eying the novelty cannon in the Hasbraff's garden with interest.
"Torgan, stop!" she said in frantic tones. She ran to him, turning his attention away from the cannon to the gawking neighbourhood. She dropped her voice lower, though the panicked note still remained. "You can't let them see what you can do."
"Why?" he asked. The broom, pots and rag returned to their inanimate state.
She placed her hand against his chest. "Because humans fear what they don't know."
His hand covered hers, his voice soft. "Do you fear me?"
"No," Josie said, her heart pounding faster. "Not anymore.
The weather took a wintry turn in the evening. Underdressed for the sudden drop in temperature, Josie hurried along with Torgan back to the apartment. To her surprise, Josie discovered inside her apartment felt a lot colder than outside on the street. The heater was not working.
Josie scowled. She should have left this crappy apartment building a long time ago. But the rent was cheap and its location ideal to get to her jobs quickly. This was not the first time the heater had stopped working and Josie felt foolish she'd not gotten a space heater by now.
Dressed in her thickest hoodie and sweatpants, she yanked her comforter off the bed to share it with Torgan on the couch. Evening rolled into night and her eyes drooped with sleepiness. Deciding it was time for bed, Josie got to her feet. Then realization came to her: where was Torgan going to sleep?
On the night since he'd first appeared in her apartment, she'd lent him a spare sheet and pillow so he could sleep on the couch. His tall frame and her short couch weren't a great match, but he never complained. Tonight, however, was extraordinarily cold and Josie doubted the thin sheet would keep him comfortable.
The logical part of her brain supplied the answer immediately: she would have to share her comforter with him. And her bed, too. Josie's face warmed at the thought. She couldn't do that! She couldn't let a strange alien man into her bed. What if…what if he tried something?
You'll like it.
Josie shook her head in the hopes of physically dislodging the thought. He would not harm her or take advantage of her, and there would be no 'liking' of anything because nothing was going to happen.
Torgan looked at her. "What?"
"Do you…err…do you wanna sleep with me?" Her face grew hot. "I mean…not like that. I meant as in…sleep in the same bed as me." She paused to take a breath and subdue her embarrassment. Torgan gave her a look of confused amusement which soothed Josie's nerves. Right. He was an alien. He may know the language but that didn't mean he knew the idioms. "It's cold out here and I've only got one comforter."
"Yes," Torgan nodded, rising to his feet. "We can keep warm together."
Josie felt a weird yet pleasant flip in her tummy at his words. His silver eyes watched her with interest…and maybe something a bit more than Josie cared to admit. She eyed his thick forearms and broad shoulders. She envisioned his strong arms holding her against him in the prelude to the true kind of warming up her body wanted from him.
This was a bad idea, she thought as she swallowed and headed to her bedroom. Perched on her pillow, Sir Glauber followed their entrance with half-closed eyes. He jumped off with an annoyed flick of his tail when she readjusted the sheets.
Lights off, Josie climbed into bed where Torgan already laid. Most nights, she wore just a shirt and her panties to bed. Tonight, she kept on her hoodie and sweat pants. Her body hummed with awareness of the man lying a mere few inches beside her. She turned on her side, her back facing him. He shifted. She could feel the warmth from his body getting closer.
Josie held her breath, waiting for him to touch her, praying for him to touch her. How easy it would be to touch him. To turn over and let her hands explore his hard flesh. Then let his hands do the same to hers. Then his mouth. She wanted to taste him and feel him and have him. Heavy and demanding, arousal settled between her legs.
This was a bad idea, she thought again. And she thought it some more, over and over until finally she dozed off to sleep.
Chapter Four
"What the hell is this?"
Slapping a magazine down on the table, Angela jabbed at the cover. On it was a picture of Josie and Torgan in front of a crowd. Whereas Torgan's face looked handsome and amused, Josie's mouth was partially opened, her teeth bared, her eyes wider than normal. FLINT AND THE FREAK read the headline.
"Oh my god, no." Josie plopped into her seat and grabbed up the magazine. When the waiter came by enquiring whether she'd like a drink she ignored him. "What the hell is this?"
"That's what I'm asking you," said Angela. "I can't believe you've been hiding something like this from me. When were you going to tell me you're fucking Ryan Flint?"
Josie dropped the magazine on the table, her tone indignant. "I'm not fucking Ryan Flint." She pointed at Torgan in the picture. "He's not Ryan Flint. You don't know how often I've b
een saying that."
"Oh, yeah?" said Angela. "Then why does he look exactly like him?"
"That's because he's an—" alien who shape-shifted into Ryan Flint by touching a magazine. Josie cleared her throat. That was close. In any case, if she'd said it out loud Angela wouldn't believe her. Even now, Angela's sharp blue eyes regarded with her scepticism. "Angela, seriously, he's not Ryan Flint. He's just a guy I met who looks a lot like him." Josie laughed nervously. "I was pretty amazed myself when I first saw him."
"Where did you meet him?"
"I...err…outside." Averting her gaze, Josie hailed the waiter and asked for a glass of water.
"Doy. Outside where?"
"At a convenience store."
"Huh, that's new. So what's his name? What does he do? How long have you been seeing this guy?"
"Angela, would you please take off the lawyer hat and let's just talk?" Josie picked up her menu. "I'm so hungry right now. I walked here."
Angela laughed. "Sorry. I guess I'm just…I mean, it's been a while since you've mentioned a man in your life. Greg fucked you up when it came to men so I can't help the shock you've finally got a new one."
"Greg was an asshole." Josie fiddled with the edge of her menu, keeping the unpleasant memories at bay. "Anyway, he's not, y'know, mine. We're friends. Just friends."
"With benefits?"
"No!" Josie ignored the quiet thrill at the thought. "Just friends."
"You've got to be joking." They placed their order when the waiter returned to their table. When the waiter disappeared with their choices, Angela picked up the magazine and stared at the cover with an obvious hunger in her eyes. "How can you just be friends with a man like that? He is climbable, Josie. Climbable." Then she laughed. "Oh god. This picture is not doing you any favours, babe. Look at your face. And your hair!"
Josie groaned. "I look like a Chihuahua."
