ROMANCE: MY ALIEN KING: Scifi Alien Invasion Abduction Contemporary Romance (Paranormal Fantasy BBW Alien Contact Anthologies & Collections Book 1) by Cynthia Dixon
Authors: Cynthia Dixon
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to wear much for work, as he worked only in the thong anyway—sexy, but not sexual.
He crossed the room to the window port, outside of which his little skimmer was docked. He could have bought a sportier model, but this little topless saucer suited his needs and did not deplete his earnings. Sliding open the window, he stepped out into the skimmer and seated himself at the controls as the window slid shut behind him. He slipped the little craft free of his dock and peeled out into the air over the streets of Nirvana, already imagining running his hands over the body of a girl not yet twenty Earth years, who already had the body of an elder Sarmian. Tavos did not blame these Earth people for their practice of making over their bodies. Not artificially bred for battle like his own people, they were often prone to the bulging and sagging of age while they were still young. No doubt his client was eagerly looking forward to being relieved of all that.
_______________
Stacey stood out on the terrace of her suite, still in the black body suit, smiling broadly in greeting, when Tavos's skimmer came gliding in. Hovering near the terrace dock, he smiled back at her, sizing her up (for want of a better expression). She was not too large. She was not gross, but he could see well enough that the surgeon's skills were called for. Stacey watched him dock his skimmer and climb out, looking him up and down all the while. He was even hotter-looking than his holograms, sublime muscles squeezed into sublime limbs and torso. It made her sorry that she had ruled out hiring him for more than a massage. She made a mental note that this was exactly what she wanted in bed after recovering from the procedure. Perhaps he would consent to a date outside of work in a few days’ time. She could only hope so.
He climbed out onto the terrace and offered her his hand in the traditional human greeting. "Hello, Stacey," he said, smiling. "I am Rovan. I am pleased to meet you." This time, on the job, he remembered his pseudonym.
She shook his hand gladly, feeling strength in the way he pumped his arm up and down and imagining how he might pump something else. He was her first Sarmian acquaintance. How perfect would it be if he were truly her "first"? How wonderful would it be to lie for the first time with not only a perfect boy, but a member of the race who were the star-lost cousins of humankind? "And I'm very happy to meet you, Rovan."
"Shall we begin?" he asked. "Shall I set up in your suite or out here on the terrace?"
"Oh, I think out here would be perfect," she replied, tingling all over.
"Very well. I'll be only a moment." Tavos turned quickly back to his skimmer, removing his folding table and some sheets, towels, and pillows from the hatch and his supply bag from the passenger's side of the compartment. In the bag lay his bottles of oil and his heating disk—as well as the pulse pistol that he had bought when he first arrived on Mars, against any possible emergency that might arise or need for a quick getaway. For this work, he would take out everything but the pistol.
Straight away Tavos had the table unfolded and set up, with a sheet draped over it and a pillow in place, and a towel neatly folded on the sheet, ready for business. "Let us make ourselves comfortable," he said, "and I'll heat the oil."
The breath shuddering inside her, Stacey asked, almost bashfully, "Can I watch you get undressed first?"
With an accommodating grin, Tavos said, "Of course." And with exactly the right combination of efficiency and implied seduction—which would go no further than an
He crossed the room to the window port, outside of which his little skimmer was docked. He could have bought a sportier model, but this little topless saucer suited his needs and did not deplete his earnings. Sliding open the window, he stepped out into the skimmer and seated himself at the controls as the window slid shut behind him. He slipped the little craft free of his dock and peeled out into the air over the streets of Nirvana, already imagining running his hands over the body of a girl not yet twenty Earth years, who already had the body of an elder Sarmian. Tavos did not blame these Earth people for their practice of making over their bodies. Not artificially bred for battle like his own people, they were often prone to the bulging and sagging of age while they were still young. No doubt his client was eagerly looking forward to being relieved of all that.
_______________
Stacey stood out on the terrace of her suite, still in the black body suit, smiling broadly in greeting, when Tavos's skimmer came gliding in. Hovering near the terrace dock, he smiled back at her, sizing her up (for want of a better expression). She was not too large. She was not gross, but he could see well enough that the surgeon's skills were called for. Stacey watched him dock his skimmer and climb out, looking him up and down all the while. He was even hotter-looking than his holograms, sublime muscles squeezed into sublime limbs and torso. It made her sorry that she had ruled out hiring him for more than a massage. She made a mental note that this was exactly what she wanted in bed after recovering from the procedure. Perhaps he would consent to a date outside of work in a few days’ time. She could only hope so.
He climbed out onto the terrace and offered her his hand in the traditional human greeting. "Hello, Stacey," he said, smiling. "I am Rovan. I am pleased to meet you." This time, on the job, he remembered his pseudonym.
She shook his hand gladly, feeling strength in the way he pumped his arm up and down and imagining how he might pump something else. He was her first Sarmian acquaintance. How perfect would it be if he were truly her "first"? How wonderful would it be to lie for the first time with not only a perfect boy, but a member of the race who were the star-lost cousins of humankind? "And I'm very happy to meet you, Rovan."
"Shall we begin?" he asked. "Shall I set up in your suite or out here on the terrace?"
"Oh, I think out here would be perfect," she replied, tingling all over.
"Very well. I'll be only a moment." Tavos turned quickly back to his skimmer, removing his folding table and some sheets, towels, and pillows from the hatch and his supply bag from the passenger's side of the compartment. In the bag lay his bottles of oil and his heating disk—as well as the pulse pistol that he had bought when he first arrived on Mars, against any possible emergency that might arise or need for a quick getaway. For this work, he would take out everything but the pistol.
Straight away Tavos had the table unfolded and set up, with a sheet draped over it and a pillow in place, and a towel neatly folded on the sheet, ready for business. "Let us make ourselves comfortable," he said, "and I'll heat the oil."
The breath shuddering inside her, Stacey asked, almost bashfully, "Can I watch you get undressed first?"
With an accommodating grin, Tavos said, "Of course." And with exactly the right combination of efficiency and implied seduction—which would go no further than an
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