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The Alien King and I
I was kidnapped by an alien on my thirtieth birthday. And not just any alien, he told me he was the king of his people from a faraway planet: Naxia of Alpha Centauri B, the nearest star system to our sun. So he had said.
“I am Fairoh du Urugna, Lord of Stinani, Vanou, Edora, Adilor, and Iatil, Protector of the Free Lands, Quadrant Three of Naxia,” he announced in his deep, baritone voice.
“But I can call you Steve, right?” Because, really?
Of course I didn’t believe him. I was expecting a male stripper. It was my birthday, after all, and my BFF Carrie had arranged a special party for me hitting the big three-zero. All the single girls in my office and my close female friends had been invited. Carrie and I had promised them the party would be a blast—a wild night in Vegas would look like a Sunday sermon at the Vatican.
“Nay, woman,” he rebuked me, straight-faced. “You may address me as Lord Fai, for you have been granted the privilege as my chosen mate.”
“Right.” Strippers these days seemed to be very committed to their role.
One thing I didn’t understand, though, was how he’d managed to get me into the room in the first place? The girls and I had begun partying and I had consumed a considerable amount of alcohol when I’d opened the door to the, much awaited, highlight of our party. We were all excited and giggled “ooh” and “aah” when we saw him.
He was better looking than what I had anticipated and not in attire I would have expected. For a stripper, he had dressed too much. The hunk was over seven feet tall, clad in shiny metal armor like a warrior from the video game HALO that my nephew is so fond of playing. The only thing missing from his ensemble was the self-sustaining helmet and a big-assed laser rifle.
“Pray, tell me, are you Lindsey Cunningham?” His voice was deep, seductive.
“Why, of course, sexy,” I had answered. “What can I do you for? Missionary? Cowgirl? Reverse cowgirl? I’m a lady of many talents.” The girls behind me were jeering and catcalling like raunchy bitches in heat.
He had only smirked and touched my forehead with his metal-gloved hand and seconds later, I found myself standing in the middle of the room that looked like a set from a bad, low-budget Sci-Fi flick.
How the hell had he done that? What kind of Houdini tricks had he used on me? I don’t think even Chris Angel would have been that good, let alone some run-of-the-mill stripper. I asked him and that was when he told me he was an alien. He had come to get me because I was his chosen mate and would carry his royal heirs.
I needed another martini. Several, maybe.
I didn’t realize I had voiced my thoughts out loud.
Steve, or rather Lord Fai, narrowed his eyes and gave me a reproachful look. “You are obviously inebriated.” He spewed it with such distaste, I found it hilarious. I thought male strippers preferred their clients drunk off their asses. Males are males and no man I know didn’t care for loose women.
Apparently, Lord Fai didn’t.
He strode to the adjoining room and vanished from my sight. Feeling more curious than a fickle cat, I followed him. The moment I stepped in, I was welcomed by the sight of an upscale, stainless steel professional chef’s kitchen.
Yeah, alien my ass. I swore I spotted a Kitchen Aid mixer.
If they wanted to make it believable, why didn’t they make the set thoroughly consistent?
Besides, his lordship Fai spoke perfect English. Only, his accent was unrecognizable. But I knew some guys who pulled this kind of stunt just to get into women’s panties. They drawled in some exotic accent, like French or German, when in reality, they were from Jersey.
So, I thought, the unexplainable time lapse, like one second I was standing in the hallway of my apartment and the next I was here, was nothing but the result of too much alcohol on an empty stomach. I had heard stories that when alcohol hit too hard it could cause someone’s brain to go funky as if they were on an acid trip. Maybe I had fainted. Or maybe this was Carrie’s joke. She laced my drink and I had passed out and this hunk-o-steel swiped me to this place to be entertained. Well, har-de-har-har, happy birthday to me. I wouldn’t mind a little joke. Lord “Steve” Fai here was one delicious bite of temptation no woman could resist. Hallelujah.
Fai opened a drawer and extracted a silvery, tall can. He opened another drawer and took out a glass. His movement was deft as I ogled him opening the silver can and pouring the contents into the glass.
“Here, drink it. I want you sober while consummating our bond.”
I snickered. “Do I have to pay you extra for the consummation service or does it come with the whole package?”
His eyes narrowed, the silvery-blue irises blazing “I do not understand your question, woman.”
“Sure.” I looked around. “Where do you keep the anal probe by the way?”
His puzzled look was very adorable. Man, he was good at faking the whole “alien” thing.
“Drink.” Fai thrust the glass into my hand. “When you are done, come to the bedchamber and disrobe. We shall go forth with the consummation.”
“Wait, aren’t you going to dance and strip first?”
“Why on Elerian’s moon would I dance and strip?”
I blinked. “Are you a stripper, or actually an escort?” I heard some strippers only strictly entertained, but some were willing to go beyond the grey line. Now, I had no idea what kind of adult entertainer I was dealing with.
“I am Fairoh du Urugna, Lord of Stinani, Vanou, Edora-”
“Fedora, fishing bait, yeah, yeah. Your titles are longer than Titles-R-Us.”
“As my mate, I expect you to show some manner of respect since I will be your lord husband as soon as our relationship is consummated.”
“Aww, you’re mad. Does this mean we’re going to have some, growly angry sex?” I had to admit, the idea appealed to me.
Fai, apparently, had had enough of my smart mouth. He grabbed me around the waist and flung me across his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes. My field of vision did a bungee jump before my face hit his metallic armored back. The glass in my hand slipped and fell with a loud crash, shattering on the kitchen floor into thousands of crystal pieces.
“Hey!” I protested. ?
?Put me down, asshole. I’m going to be sick if you carry me like this.”
Fai ignored me. He strode to the other room like a soldier marching home from a victorious battle, carrying me as if I was his plunder. I told him to stop. My protests fell on deaf ears. He only stopped after we entered a room that was plastered with tiny tiles from floor to ceiling. The tiles looked like gemstones that had been cut square and polished until they gleamed. They glowed red, blue, amber, emerald and many more shades I couldn’t identify.
He put me back on my feet and I staggered. “Dude,” I warned him. “Don’t do that again. You made me dizzy.”
Fai only sniffed haughtily. Before I could do anything other than steady my balance, Fai dragged me to stand under a large, round silver disk that hung from the ceiling. A heartbeat later, the disk sprayed water like a downpour. I gasped wide-eyed and shuddered. The water was fucking cold.
I lurched aside like a cat avoiding its archenemy, but Fai yanked me back under the shower. No matter how hard I struggled to escape the embrace of the shower of ice, Fai managed to get me back under it effortlessly. He was stronger than I expected.
“Fine!” I yelled. “But this isn’t sexy at all. I want my money back.”
“But it does get you sober, does it not?”
He had a point. The nice buzz that I’d gotten from the alcohol had evaporated as soon as the forty-degree water hit my head. I shivered like a wet dog and was more miserable than a cat trapped in a tin can. Fai took off his metal gloves and flung them on the floor. They clanked with loud noise. He stripped me from my soaked clothes. Actually, he ripped them apart. My new outfit I’d bought at Macy’s just last night.
