Alien Romance: Interview with an Alien (Football Paranormal Invasion Abduction Alpha Sci-fi Romance) (Fantasy First New Adult Contact Science Fiction Mystery Sports Alien Short Stories) by Robin Cavanaugh Page A
Authors: Robin Cavanaugh
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People’s Navy. That’s a bloody North Korean frigate.”
“You’re crazy,” Erica laughed. “Korea is like thousands of miles away. Why would they have a boat way out here?”
“Four thousand miles to be precise,” he said working his phone. “And a Soviet frigate is not a boat.”
“I still say you’re crazy.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Fred sang. “What matters is that they are there, and we are out-gunned.”
“And it’s coming right at us,” Erica sang back.
“Well,” Scott said. “You’re supposed to be witches. Can’t you just send them away like you did Mia?”
“Mia,” Fred replied. “Is all of a hundred and twenty pounds. That boat’s a little bit bigger.”
“It’s a ship,” Erica corrected.
“Well do something!”
“I suggest that we run,” Erica said. “I can make this baby fly.”
“Wait,” Fred said. “We’re so close. You guys run. I’m going to search the island.”
“How you gonna get there?” Scott asked. The two witches looked at him. “Oh, right. But can this little thing outrun a combat ship?”
“Watch me, darling,” Erica said taking the wheel.
“I’d rather not,” he replied. “I’d rather go with Fred.”
“Oh no . . .” Fred protested.
She argued. He was adamant. She gave in. She took his hand and led him to the aft deck. Erica turned in a huff, set the ship due west and gunned it. Fred and Scott almost lost their footing. Fred wrapped her arms around him. When they got their balance, Scott was amazed at the yacht’s speed.
He was also amazed that the witch was holding him so close and so tight. And holding her back he was more amazed by the feel of her body. That frock-coat had hidden her well. Beneath she felt so very slender and yet very firm. Her breasts were much more than he would have imagined and the small of her back told of a wasp waist. Her hair smelled of flowers and her warmth crept through her clothes and seeped onto his skin.
And then he realized that it wasn’t her warmth he was feeling. The two of them were suddenly encased in a pink translucent membrane. The darkness beyond seemed so far away.
“Okay,” she said. “Hold me tight. This is going to be weird.”
Weird was not the word.
He suddenly felt the deck fall slowly away from his feet as they rose. Through the pink haze he saw a full moon glowing brightly above, its reflection dappling on the dark water below. Then the water began to glide quickly beneath them and the yacht was out of sight. The leading face of their strange bubble began to glow yellowy-orange while behind them thin blue-white vapor trailed. Then the moon glow disappeared and he saw land rushing beneath them. They slowed. The colors surrounding their cocoon faded, and the pink bubble melted away. He found his feet on dry ground. The cool of the pre-dawn air enveloped him, but the warmth of her body remained. And for a moment so did she.
He was softer than she had imagined. Fred had first seen him in nothing but cut-off shorts and a baseball cap, and he looked sculpted; as if his body was the handiwork of years of personal trainers. But now, holding him in the cool tropical night, she felt him to be more than just a managed and manicure thing. He was real and he was human and he was alive. She could feel his heart pounding and she leaned in to hear more.
And then she found herself.
“Well then,” she said pulling away and fixing her coat. “We’re here.”
“Did we, um, did we fly?”
“No, actually,” she said. “We stayed still. The earth rotated beneath us. You see, the real trick to that is – oh never mind. We have a pomegranate to find.”
Mataso is a small, undeveloped volcanic island, sparsely populated but not deserted. They had landed midway up the eastern leeward side of the mountain. The forest was thick, but not dense, and the opal led Fred down the slope toward the white sand beaches. The jungle came alive with bird-calls as the sun rose, and while they often
“You’re crazy,” Erica laughed. “Korea is like thousands of miles away. Why would they have a boat way out here?”
“Four thousand miles to be precise,” he said working his phone. “And a Soviet frigate is not a boat.”
“I still say you’re crazy.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Fred sang. “What matters is that they are there, and we are out-gunned.”
“And it’s coming right at us,” Erica sang back.
“Well,” Scott said. “You’re supposed to be witches. Can’t you just send them away like you did Mia?”
“Mia,” Fred replied. “Is all of a hundred and twenty pounds. That boat’s a little bit bigger.”
“It’s a ship,” Erica corrected.
“Well do something!”
“I suggest that we run,” Erica said. “I can make this baby fly.”
“Wait,” Fred said. “We’re so close. You guys run. I’m going to search the island.”
“How you gonna get there?” Scott asked. The two witches looked at him. “Oh, right. But can this little thing outrun a combat ship?”
“Watch me, darling,” Erica said taking the wheel.
“I’d rather not,” he replied. “I’d rather go with Fred.”
“Oh no . . .” Fred protested.
She argued. He was adamant. She gave in. She took his hand and led him to the aft deck. Erica turned in a huff, set the ship due west and gunned it. Fred and Scott almost lost their footing. Fred wrapped her arms around him. When they got their balance, Scott was amazed at the yacht’s speed.
He was also amazed that the witch was holding him so close and so tight. And holding her back he was more amazed by the feel of her body. That frock-coat had hidden her well. Beneath she felt so very slender and yet very firm. Her breasts were much more than he would have imagined and the small of her back told of a wasp waist. Her hair smelled of flowers and her warmth crept through her clothes and seeped onto his skin.
And then he realized that it wasn’t her warmth he was feeling. The two of them were suddenly encased in a pink translucent membrane. The darkness beyond seemed so far away.
“Okay,” she said. “Hold me tight. This is going to be weird.”
Weird was not the word.
He suddenly felt the deck fall slowly away from his feet as they rose. Through the pink haze he saw a full moon glowing brightly above, its reflection dappling on the dark water below. Then the water began to glide quickly beneath them and the yacht was out of sight. The leading face of their strange bubble began to glow yellowy-orange while behind them thin blue-white vapor trailed. Then the moon glow disappeared and he saw land rushing beneath them. They slowed. The colors surrounding their cocoon faded, and the pink bubble melted away. He found his feet on dry ground. The cool of the pre-dawn air enveloped him, but the warmth of her body remained. And for a moment so did she.
He was softer than she had imagined. Fred had first seen him in nothing but cut-off shorts and a baseball cap, and he looked sculpted; as if his body was the handiwork of years of personal trainers. But now, holding him in the cool tropical night, she felt him to be more than just a managed and manicure thing. He was real and he was human and he was alive. She could feel his heart pounding and she leaned in to hear more.
And then she found herself.
“Well then,” she said pulling away and fixing her coat. “We’re here.”
“Did we, um, did we fly?”
“No, actually,” she said. “We stayed still. The earth rotated beneath us. You see, the real trick to that is – oh never mind. We have a pomegranate to find.”
Mataso is a small, undeveloped volcanic island, sparsely populated but not deserted. They had landed midway up the eastern leeward side of the mountain. The forest was thick, but not dense, and the opal led Fred down the slope toward the white sand beaches. The jungle came alive with bird-calls as the sun rose, and while they often
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