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“Thank you Denishar. I believe she will do so. I have been much impressed with her feisty personality.”
“As have I. Have a happy and enjoyable dalliance my friend.”
With our business concluded, we come out of our trance. I finish my drink of nari then stand. “Go in peace, Denishar.”
“Go in peace, Kirimor.”
???
I emerge into the mid-morning sunshine and head to my drone. I glance at the time dial on my communicator. There are still nine beats until noon, time enough to stop by the body art shop and update the ink on my skin. If I am to win over the stubborn Earth female, then I must look my best.
As I make my way to the shop, I focus my thoughts on her, rather than on the concerning news I have just learned from Denishar. I do not want to think how many of the energy scans I have conducted in all my holy trances these past decades have been incorrect, though it is something I am going to have to examine in due course. Tapping on my communicator, I send a quick message to Sholinar, asking him to be available to me for a meeting after the lunch repast. I want to run this new information past him and see what he thinks.
For now, my thoughts are on Melinda. I must engineer another encounter with her and try to convince her to change her mind. Kiristen has been full of talk about how he wants to invite Troy over to our home for a meal with us. I am hesitant. I do not like strangers in my home, but Kiristen has been strangely insistent that this time, he has met The One. Could it be true? If so, then perhaps it would be right and proper to have Troy come over one day, and with him, Melinda? Or perhaps not. As Denishar has rightly pointed out, her kind do not usually share sexual partners. It may not be a good idea for her to see my drashas and be reminded that I fuck other women.
I need to get her all to myself, somewhere we will not be interrupted. My cabin, up in the mountains above our home, could be just such a place. It is where I stay when I visit the uplands, the part of my lands where I grow crops and breed animals. My groundskeeper Jenisor, and his two assistants, care for them on a daily basis, but I like to check in on their progress every now and then. I also sometimes visit the cabin when I want to get some peace and quiet on my own, away from my large, extended family. I do not do it often, for I love them and for the most part enjoy their company, but sometimes, my sanity requires that I get a break, and that is when I go to the cabin, where I can read at leisure, think up new inventions or play my favorite songs on my lanjo. Yes, the cabin is the perfect place to woo my delightful Human and trap her in my web—for only so long as she entertains me, and then I shall let her go.
I send another message, this time to Dresolor, my cook, asking him to stock up on food in the cabin and ensure it is ready for occupation. Now, the question is, how do I get her there? I decide the best way is for Kiristen to extend an invitation to the Humans. Once she gets to my home, I will manage to spirit her away up to the cabin. I smile impishly, greatly pleased at my machinations, as I land in the drone park outside the shopping arcade.
I hop out and speed away to my destination. I am a regular at this body art shop. I have known Dorinor, the artist, for many sun rotations, and I trust only him with the art on my body. “Greetings, Dorinor,” I say, entering the shop. He is busy inking a female, drawing an interesting new pattern across her breasts. Hmm, I wonder how such a design would look on my Earth female. My mind skips to the possibilities, and I feel myself harden under my loin cloth.
Dorinor looks up with a smile. “Greetings, sicortar. I shall not be long. Please make yourself comfortable and help yourself to somenari.”
The female’s eyes, which had been shut, pop open. “Sicortar,” she simpers. “What an honor to meet you.”
I nod, putting on my most forbidding expression. I am in no mood for flirtatious females. I have enough on my plate with my drashas and the difficult, alluring woman from Earth. I help myself to somenariand sit on a cushion, with my communicator out indicating I am busy and not inclined for conversation.
Dorinor, may Taya rain blessings on him, understands and engages the female in conversation, keeping her attention focused away from me. In no time, he has finished the job and sends her on her way. He approaches with a smile, “Apologies for keeping you waiting, sicortar.”
“No apologies needed, Dorinor.”
“What are you thinking in terms of for your new inking?”
“I greatly liked what you did on my arms last time, so something in a similar vein. However, I would like a different design across my chest. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Take a look at these recent drawings. They are in keeping with the current fashion of concentric and interconnected circles—symbols of our love for our planet—surrounded by a wave of leafy looking swirls—which symbolize the bountiful nature around us. What do you think?”
I browse through the different designs, then point to the one I want. “This one I think, Dorinor.”
“Good choice, sicortar. Please come through to my private workshop and we may begin.”
I follow him down a corridor to the room in question, away from prying eyes. I lie on the reclining chair and quickly, he sanitizes my skin. Once that is done, he begins to paint me with the ink, all the while regaling me with the most recent gossip. Another reason why I like to visit Dorinor is the valuable information he has about what is going on in the city. I listen to the latest stories of love affairs, ruptures, new businesses and of course, the obligatory gossip about the aliens currently residing on our planet.
“It is said that one of the Earth females has made quite an impression on you, sicortar. Is that true?”
“Possibly. I enjoyed playing with her at the banquet. I may indulge in a little more play in due course. It will give her much to write about to her superiors on Earth.”
Dorinor chuckles. “I am certain they have never come across a race like ours before. I hear they are fascinated with our tails.”
“It works both ways. The golden color of her skin fascinates me, and her eyes are such a vibrant shade of brown. It is not something I am used to seeing.”
“Indeed. I have seen photos in the news, and I agree, they are an attractive race. I was particularly struck by the other female, and the very pale cream of her skin. It would be such a perfect canvas for my body art.”
I laugh. “Perhaps I can send her your way one day.”
“I would greatly appreciate it.”
Dorinor finishes the pattern on my arms and begins to ink my chest. In the pause while he adjusts his stance, I ask him, “Dorinor, have you come across any Krovatians that talk of living a more luxurious lifestyle and how our eco-conscious ethos is too restricting?”
