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I could not keep myself from smiling if I wanted to, which I don’t.
“You like?”
“Oh wow, this is incredible,” she effuses. “Delicious.”
Then she pays the ultimate compliment by not taking time to talk any longer. I focus on my own soup. I am less satisfied with it. The meat is slightly over seared and I think it needs a touch more of the black kirah. That will fill out the flavor profile in a better way. Or it won’t. I’m still working to perfect this recipe. Even so, it pleases me that she is enjoying it.
Meals are something that are meant to be shared. I know that food is sustenance, of course, and eating alone is fine for fueling the body. We all must keep it going, but then you might as well eat the most boring, simple of fare. A meal, prepared with care and thought, that is something to be experienced. Or it was, in simpler times.
We finish our food and I rise, taking the dishes away. She offers to help but there is not much to do and my kitchen is not very large. She retakes her seat at the table and watches me work in silence.
Once I have cleaned and put everything away I turn and lean against the counter crossing my arms over my chest. She and I stare at each other for a long moment while I figure out what to say. This is my time of rest, but I did not expect a guest. Especially not an alien female. I realize that I know nothing of these humans. It is common knowledge that Mazabuta has taken one as his mate, but that doesn’t mean I understand anything of them.
“Do you sleep?” I ask.
“Sleep? Yes, of course,” she says, shaking her head.
“Good,” I say, nodding.Great. Where do I put her? The right thing to do is offer her my bed. Of course.“Come.”
I push off the counter and go to the stairs. She rises from her seat and follows. Upstairs is my bedroom. I have but one bed which for me is rather small but will be large on her frame. As I reach the top I realize that I left my clothes tossed around. Embarrassed I rush ahead and gather them up. When I turn around she is at the top of the stairs smiling.
“I am sorry,” I say, hanging my head with my arms loaded by my dirty laundry.
“It’s fine,” she says shaking her head.
Her energy, for the first time since she entered my house, feels at ease. There is a simple joy on her face that is calming and it exudes from her. Still, I am embarrassed and feel awkward holding a bundle of my discarded clothing and unsure what to say or do. I frown and look over at the bed.
“For you,” I say, nodding towards it.
She looks around the room and the ease in her energy is gone. The look on her face I can only interpret as anticipation or fear.
“You?” she asks, looking from the bed to me.
“Me?” I ask, not understanding then it hits me. She thinks I am planning to sleep with her. I would not impose myself in such a way. “No. I will sleep downstairs.”
I nod at the floor. Staring at them to avoid meeting her eyes I grit my teeth. The clothes in my hands feel as if they are increasing in weight. Something has to be done with these things.
“Oh, are you sure?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say.
I walk towards the stairs, which is towards her. I have to do something with these clothes. This mess that I left. Guests are not something I entertain, especially in my bedroom. Normally I am the only one that sees the mess up here and now that she has seen it I cannot stand to be in this room with her any longer.
She moves to the side as I walk past. My arm brushes against her and there is a spark between us that causes her to gasp and me to pause. I look at my arm where it touches hers if only for this brief instant in time. She is also looking at this point of contact that seems somehow more intimate than it has any right to be.
“Sorry,” she murmurs.
“No, I am sorry,” I say and take a step away then go down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs I’m still holding my dirty laundry. Staring at it I try to decide what to do with it. It is too late to go and clean it but I have no place to keep it. I look around my home. I don’t want it lying out where it can offend my guest, what do I do?
Lacking a better solution I go into the kitchen and stash the clothing inside a cabinet alongside my cooking pans. It’s not elegant but at least it is out of sight. That handled I listen to the soft creaking sound as she moves around the upstairs.
Is she undressing? Is she naked?
No! What am I thinking? Primal, primitive, dishonorable thoughts surge through my head but I push them down. I am assigned to protect her. I could never… unless she… no. My arm is still warm where our bodies touched, but that changes nothing. This is nothing but lust and lust is not something I will give myself over to.
Growling I go to my couch and throw myself down. Sleep eludes me for the longest time because the alien female dances unbidden but not unwanted through my thoughts. Eventually, darkness claims me at last.
