Nanish tips his head back and adjusts his tie. “These clothes are beyond annoying, but the tie is the worst part.”
“Yes. Try wearing one every night for six weeks. When I find my mate, my greatest relief will be no longer having to put on a suit every night. It’s so constrictive. Sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating.”
I open the door to the stairwell and inhale deeply. Just a short time ago, Tekfan proved to all of us in the control room, once again, that the scent of our mates will be so powerful we’ll know when she’s in the building even before we set eyes on her.
When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I turn to Nanish. “Ready?”
“Ready as I can be.” He squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath.
I open the door, and the two of us step into the main room of the club.
The volume makes me wince, as usual. Sometimes I even wear ear plugs. Before we take two steps into the crowded space, we’re easily spotted by a group of females who flock toward us.
Their desperation is palpable. I don’t get it. I know it’s not difficult for humans to meet someone. They do it all the time. Most of them don’t even care how long it will last, not even if they form a legally binding relationship—marriage. To them, nothing is permanent. They stay together for as long as it’s mutually beneficial and then go their separate ways.
We don’t operate that way on Eleadia. We can’t. Our unions are solid and permanent. They’re fated. Unbreakable.
These females… It’s mindboggling that their main goal is just to set eyes on a few of us. They fill this club every night for that strange opportunity, and we should be grateful because the more of them who come on any given night, the higher our chances are of meeting “the one.”
One scantily clad female boldly steps between the two of us and sets a hand on both our chests at once. I suppose she’s pretty. Blond hair—though I’ve learned over the weeks how to spot hair color that isn’t natural, and hers is not. She has on thick makeup and some sort of floral perfume that assaults my nose.
Based on the look on Nanish’s face, he’s not impressed by the scent either. Yet another custom on Earth I’ll never understand. Are their men really drawn to females because of their hair, makeup, and perfume?
And then there’s the clothes. Scantily dressed by Earth standards. I’ve learned it’s considered flaunting and risqué for a female to go out for the evening wearing as little clothing as this one. Her black skirt is skintight and barely covers her derriere.Her blouse is also black but see-through, leaving very little to the imagination. Her black lace bra is unmistakable and meant to entice.
What none of these females know is that they’re all overdressed by our customs. Our mates do not wear anything above the waist. The only cloth that will touch their bodies if they are chosen will be the soft sumach material that will cover their bottoms to collect waste.
The female giggles as she tosses her hair over her shoulders. She runs her hands up and down both of our chests at the same time. Taking liberties that baffle me. On Eleadia we would never dream of randomly touching people so intimately. But after six weeks, I’m used to being felt up.
Nanish and I stand awkwardly, not returning the contact. Nanish has a raised brow because this is his first experience.
The odd thing is that flirting so flagrantly with men must ordinarily work for these humans. It must get them whatever result they’re hoping for, which I imagine is sex.
Her roaming hands don’t do anything for me. They do nothing for any of us. When we meet our fated mate, everything changes. Our bodies react violently to the right female. The rest are simply warm bodies trying too hard to accomplish something they will never succeed in.
“Mmm,” this particular vixen purrs. “It’s true. Youareas muscular as they say. Is it also true that you never take anyone upstairs for a random night of fun between the sheets?” She’s grinning up at both of us, shifting her eyes back and forth. “What about a threesome?”
My brows lift. She’s so unbelievably bold. It’s mindboggling. I want to peel her palm off my pecs, but I refrain. We have an appearance to uphold, and it means controlling our instinct to dislodge from these random vultures. We don’t want to appearrude. Though I do draw the line when her hands slides down toward my cock.
My dick isn’t hard, and it’s not going to randomly become stiff in this room full of females until my mate shows up.
I gently reach for her wrist and remove it before she manages to touch my cock, struggling not to roll my eyes when she pushes her bottom lip out in a fake pout.
“Party pooper,” she whines.
Nanish has taken a step back, also breaking contact with the overly brazen female.
They aren’t all like this. Most of them are more polite. They come here out of curiosity. Most are shy enough that they simply watch from afar, wide-eyed with dropped jaws, wowed to discover whatever they were told is true.
The majority of the females here tonight are with groups of friends. They drink too much alcohol, dance in tight groups, and whisper among themselves. I assume most dance clubs on Earth have a similar feel. The only difference is that the only men in attendance at Club Zoom are Eleadians, and therefore most of the patrons are staring at us. It’s what they came for.
Two giggling females approach and drag their friend away from us. “Sorry,” one of them says, wincing, “she’s a bit drunk, and really, can you blame her for trying?” They disappear without me having to respond.
Nanish steps closer to me and sighs deeply. “Strange customs.”
“Very.” I inhale deeply. It’s not necessary. When my mate enters this room, I will know without needing to draw in more oxygen than normal, but I still find myself taking frequent deep breaths when I’m in the club. I certainly don’t want to miss her.
My next breath is laced with the usual disappointment, but suddenly the door separating the inside of the club from the reception area opens, and I find myself breathing her in.
