Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
He continued to assure me about his phone, explaining this mysterious piece of equipment. He also gave me an update on the state of technology on his planet, including AI capabilities, which were so primitive, it seemed unlikely for society to have evolved to the point I’d initially feared. Once I was satisfied it was unlikely he was in harm’s way, I made his comfort my priority. I showed him into another room, demonstrating how to use the reorienter, which he operated to shift the main room of my ship into something he was more comfortable with—a living area with a big plush sofa, love seat, and fireplace. A wall-length window overlooked a simulation of a lake, adding to the cozy atmosphere I could tell had at once made a difference in Twink’s vitals.
After he drank some more water, he settled on the sofa, taking a breath. “Okay, this is a lot to absorb.” He looked around at the furniture he’d made manifest and bobbed up and down on the sofa, as though waiting for it to give under him.
“The atoms stabilize after it picks up the image from your mind.”
His forehead creased, but then he shrugged. “Well, if I’m losing my mind, nice to know it’s in a comfortable setting.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, not for the first time since my blunder. It was the best I could think to say, and I didn’t know what I could do to make up for what I’d done.
“Sorry for what? Attacking me with tentacles in an alley? Oh, no. That’s like the third time that’s happened to me this week.”
“You were attacked this week?” I asked, my anxiety increasing, but I didn’t sense concern from him. Maybe amusement. “A joke?”
“Yeah, big guy. Sorry, it’s not the best situation for jokes, but it’s what I do when I get nervous.” He continued searching the room before he said, “So…I’m not saying that I buy any of this alien stuff. I mean, I believe aliens exist, and maybe I’ve watched one too many UFO documentaries—can’t really be Roger’s friend without getting into that stuff—so I should say I don’t necessarily believe that you’re an alien. But it would explain a lot.”
“For instance?”
“The first night in the bar, you didn’t really speak.”
“I hadn’t learned your language,” I explained. “My translator system had to reboot, which it didn’t do until later that night.”
“Which is why you could talk to me in the morning,” he observed. “And then there was that weird noise you made when I scared you.”
“What you describe as a scream is how I naturally speak.”
“Right. And then you kept calling me Twink.”
“Is that not your name here?”
He rolled his head back, laughing, which was refreshing, much better than the terror he was gripped with when he’d first woken up in the Kaylog.
“My name’s Charlie. Twink just means like a small, lean queer guy.”
“Oh…” It was frustrating to realize how much I’d misinterpreted, but mostly, I was disappointed because I enjoyed saying the name. But it also generated another question: “Is my name not Daddy?”
“Daddy’s…I don’t know, sometimes just like a hot older guy. But there’s also this thing, like someone’s the Daddy, who takes charge and is in control and protective…very dominant. And then you have Daddy’s boy, who is the submissive one who likes being taken care of and being treated well by Daddy, if that makes sense.”
This sent a rush up my spine. “Oh, I like that.” I was probably looking at him too intensely, but his pupils flared.
“Yeah, I do too…” He seemed surprised he’d said that, maybe because of the circumstances. “Speaking of which, I’m guessing a lot of the times I thought you were joking, you were really misunderstanding things?”
“That’s correct. I’m a Furker.”
“’Scuse me?”
“Ah, my species, we’re used to creating placeholder names for words that you may not have an equivalent for in your language. In this case, you definitely won’t have a name for my species. I would say it in my native tongue…”
His eyes widened. “If it’s gonna be worse than that first thing you did, then no, thank you.”
“It would be much worse. And judging by your physical reaction to it, I wonder if the highest note might hurt you, so it isn’t something I’d attempt.”
“Appreciated.” He was quiet. It must’ve been a lot, absorbing the information I’d shared with him, so I gave him a moment.
“So,” he eventually said, “when you grabbed me outside…those appendages…were those tentacles?”
“Yes.” I sensed his stress at my acknowledgment. “Does something about my natural form upset you?”
“It’s strange, that’s for sure.”
A queasy sensation rose up in my chest. I didn’t like the thought that he might not find me attractive.
“I don’t have to use them around you. I was only restraining you earlier because I feared you might get away and warn Chelsea, which now I understand was not the case.”