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We move forward into the room, and an official, whose name I didn’t catch, comes over to us with a slight smile. “Welcome,” he says. “If you will come this way, you may pay your respects to our four sector leaders who are all here tonight.”
We follow him to a raised platform in a corner of the room that I hadn’t noticed at first, on which sit the four leaders, two males and two females. As we approach, we take it in turns to give the traditional Krovatian greeting, which we have all learned to do. First, we look deeply into the eyes of the person, then place a hand flat in the middle of that person’s chest, above the heart. After a moment, we bow our heads and step back. I’m used to it by now, but the first few times, it felt bizarre to place a hand on a stranger’s naked chest in greeting. It feels far too intimate a gesture, but the more I do it, the more I realize just how powerful this greeting is. It creates more of a connection with the person you are meeting than our limp shake of hands.
The first person I greet is Denishar, the leader of the northern sector, in whose palace we are. He smiles gently as I bow. “Melinda, it is good to see you again. I hope you have enjoyed your first week on our planet and settled in well.”
“I have, thank you. I appreciate all that you have done to make us feel welcome here and the assistance we have been given.” I nod my head towards Troy, resplendent in his shimmery loin cloth and body art. “As you can see, some of us have taken on the Krovatian lifestyle already.”
Denishar peruses Troy from top to bottom and grins appreciatively. “I do see.” His eyes return to me. “I hope next time it will be you, bare of these clothes and beautifully adorned in Krovatian body art.”
“Ah, yes. We shall see. Perhaps.”
He laughs at my confusion. “Please enjoy the evening’s entertainment. We have some fine Krovatian food for your delectation and some Krovatian musicians will be playing songs for us as we eat. I hope this will give you a good introduction to our culture.”
I bow my head again. “I look forward to it, thank you.”
Then, I move on to greet the other sector leaders.
The evening progresses as I meet countless new faces and exchange pleasantries. The Krovatians are polite, welcoming even, but cautious about these visitors to their planet. It’s strange to be the object of everyone’s curiosity. I’m the outsider here, the alien. I’m reminded of a similar occasion just under a year ago when I presided over a formal dinner to welcome the Venorians who were coming to Earth for a six months cultural exchange. Then, the roles had been reversed. I had been the host, basking in the glory of having made first contact with an alien race, and it had been the Venorians who attracted all the curious attention.
A prickle on the back of my neck has me turn around suddenly. Dark, glittering eyes stare back at me. Him. He must have just arrived, as surely I would have noticed him otherwise. There he stands, a few feet from me, a tall distinctive figure in the crowded room. I haven’t stopped thinking about him since that meeting in Denishar’s office when he stared intimidatingly at me the whole time. No, I tell a lie. I haven’t stopped thinking about him since that first day when he did that growly thing then whipped off his loin cloth. The sight of his massive oozing cock is not something I can easily forget. I flush now at the memory, and he smirks, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking about.
I hastily turn my face away and resume my conversation with Krovatia’s Chief Minister of Science, though I’ve lost the train of the discussion. I simply nod and smile, while I burn under the continued heat of the sicortar’s stare. A moment later, I feel the crowds around me part, and I know it’s for him. I don’t turn around. It’s the Chief Minister of Science who breaks off what he is saying and addresses the highest priest of the planet with a pleased smile. “Sicortar, it is an honor,” he says.
“The honor is mine,” responds a deep, resonant voice that makes my insides vibrate. The two approach each other for the traditional Krovatian greeting, placing a hand on each other’s chest, then stepping back with a bow. Then, the sicortar turns to me, the expectation clear. With a pounding heart, I step closer and put out a hand towards the hard, muscled expanse of his chest, my eyes locked with his. Before my palms can make contact with his skin, I’m seared by the touch of his large hand over the center of my chest, the fingers splayed wide. My breath hitches. And then, I’m touching my palm to warm, solid flesh, the skin surprisingly soft. I press my hand there perhaps a moment longer than required, enjoying the feel of his powerful body. Then, I step back and bow.
The sicortar addresses me, the deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. “It is good to see you again, Melinda.”
“Likewise,” I manage to croak. “It’s good to see you, sicortar.”
He brings his arm around a beautiful woman of an uncertain age who is hovering by his side. Her tail spins in circles, betraying her nerves. “This is my drasha, Merostena, and our son Kiristen.”
His drasha? Is that a Krovatian term for a mate? It must be, as he’s bringing her with their son to this formal event.
I notice a young man, with a striking resemblance to his father, standing on the other side of him. He grins and steps forward to greet me. We put a hand to each other’s chests and bow, then he says, “It is a great pleasure to meet you. You are the first alien I have ever seen, and a very attractive one I must say.”
At this, his father snorts. I laugh, glad of the opportunity to break the tense atmosphere. Kiristen gently pushes his mother forward. She smiles shyly and reaches out a hand to greet me. In a soft voice, she says, “It is an honor to meet you,” then quickly steps back into the protective embrace of the sicortar—her husband? Mate? So who were those other two women with him on that first day? His mistresses? One of them was young enough to be of around the same age as his son. Is this a thing on Krovatia, for men to have both a mate and mistresses? If so, what a repellent practice.
The warm glow his presence had cast on me is quickly dispelled. My lips curl in distaste for an infinitesimal moment, before I compose my face into a mask of blank civility. If anything, his smirk grows wider, the bastard. I force my attention to what his son is saying. Something about being willing to act as a guide and show us the sights in the city. I smile at him warmly. Let not the sins of the father befall the shoulders of the son. “That is very kind, thank you. We would greatly appreciate it.”
There’s a gentle touch on my shoulder, and I turn to see Troy and Avery. We had gotten separated over the course of the evening. “Hey,” he says. “How’s it going?”
“Good, thanks. Let me introduce you to the sicortar, his drasha and his son. Everyone, these are my colleagues, Troy Summers and Avery Walker.”
Avery gives a sigh of near adoration and approaches the sicortar to greet him. As she steps back and bows, she tells him, “I am forever in your debt, sicortar. Ever since that day, I’m like a new person—so much happier, as if a huge burden has been lifted off my shoulders. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to express my deepest gratitude.”
He inclines his head graciously. “I was simply doing my duty, but I am glad to see that it has had such a positive effect.”
His son, meanwhile, is stepping back from Troy with a bow. He stares admiringly at my colleague’s naked, decorated chest and blurts, “Oh my, you are beautiful.”
Troy quirks a brow in amusement. “Er, thank you.”
The young man flushes. “I am sorry. Sometimes words come out of my mouth without thought. It is one of my besetting sins.”
Troy’s face softens. “No apology needed. If I’m being honest, I was just thinking the very same about you.”
“Oh.” At this, Kiristen’s tail flutters wildly in the air. I watch it in fascination.
Kiristen clears his throat. “Well, Troy. I was just telling Melinda that it would be my honor to show you around the local sights. In fact, if you would like, I would love to take you out to the water city tomorrow.”
