Granted, in my dreams, Lucy is wearing considerably less and touching below-the-belt parts of me instead of just sitting in an air-sled together. But I'll still take it. On those late nights when I'm feeling lonely, it'll provide ample fuel for my rendezvous with my hand.
I glance over at Lucy as she talks animatedly about her crops. Her skin is a rich golden-brown shade that just begs to be touched. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, teasing at the low neckline of her clothing. She smiles a lot, too, and I love that she's so happy. Many of the humans here on Risda III are traumatized by their experiences, and they tend to cringe back from strangers, or avoid us entirely. They don't trust aliens, don't trust the law, and while it's understandable, it also makes for a frustrating time. Lucy seems as if she's the type that finds pleasure in any situation, and I appreciate that. I also appreciate how she talks and talks and doesn't expect me to say anything. I've never been much for talking—but I do like to listen.
I especially like to listen when it's Lucy. She's just…so pretty. I'd never seen a human before landing on Risda III, and most of them are fragile-looking creatures that seem as if they could be broken if touched the wrong way. Lucy is all rounded curves, though, and something tells me that despite her small stature, she'd not break as easily as the others.
That shameful thought fuels many of my self-pleasuring sessions, I confess.
"What do you think?" Lucy asks, glancing over at me. She blinks her big, dark eyes in my direction and leans over, giving me another ample view of her breasts.
I try to recall what she was talking about, but all I can think of is her glorious cleavage, and how soft she looks. How soft all of her looks. Are they sensitive, those breasts? I wonder. All human females have them, but Lucy's are more prominent than most. "Of?"
"My perimeters?" She gestures at her farm as we approach, smiling. "Does it look safe to you?"
"It's impossible to tell from up here. I'll do a scan for DNA traces when we get below."
"Will that work?" Lucy tilts her head, regarding me.
"It should. It's the breast way to find out if you've had interlopers." I spot her small house and steer it down toward the clearing in front of her door. It's not until I turn the air-sled off that I realize I said “breast” and not “best.” Kef me. My ears grow hot and I resist the urge to rub them. I swallow hard, unable to look over at her. "I'll get started."
Before she can say anything, I get out of the air-sled and pull out my equipment, doing my best to seem busy.
Lucy doesn't comment on my slip-up, though. She watches me for a few minutes, sighs, and then heads inside her house as I begin to scan the premises. The nervous sweat on my body fades as she walks away, and I want to kick myself. Why can't I talk to her like a normal male? Why is it I get so very tongue-tied when she shows up? She doesn't hate me. She must not. She bakes for myself and Khex every day, and stops in regularly to talk to us. We've never asked her to do any of it.
I wish I could be certain if it meant more. That she showed up regularly because she wants to talk to me. That she enjoys being around me like I enjoy being around her…but I know that's not true. All of the human-interaction training we received stressed that humans are shy, easily frightened creatures. While this doesn't exactly fit what I know of Lucy, I suspect I am wrong in this matter. She would never look at a mesakkah—one of the alien races that have enslaved her people—as a potential suitor.
Especially not a male like me, who is not particularly handsome, or smart. I'm strong, but I'm also so solidly built that this will not be in my favor. My size will just terrify her even more, and so I must tread carefully.
I pass by the house as I continue to scan the grounds, my handheld reader sending beams out, searching for strands of DNA. I filter out the results, removing any human traces, and watch the screen as it processes the information received. As I do, I glance over at the house. Lucy is inside, in the kitchen, chopping something with a large knife. She looks frustrated, a frown on her pretty face as she works, and mutters something under her breath. She looks up and glances over at me.
She smiles, too, but there is confusion on her face.
Kef me. I remember my training and drop my gaze, not wishing to startle her. "Almost done. I just need to check the barn."