Thursday, May 8, 2014
February 8, part 2
When I say the fellow was ‘little’, I mean little. He couldn’t have been taller than halfway up my thigh. I might have missed him entirely if not for the intensity of his stare. If looking at someone carried physical weight, I would have been flat on the floor from it.
He was an alien, and one I couldn’t identify. He was humanoid, in that he stood upright on two legs. He had four arms that ended in hands with long fingers. It was hard to see him clearly at such a distance since he was so small, but I thought his fingers ended in suckers ... like suction cups or the things you see on the arms of an octopus.
His head and face were nearly human. A butt-ugly human, but human nonetheless. Despite his size, I thought his head must be almost as big as mine. He had a shock of crimson-colored hair, sticking out in crazy spikes, like he hadn’t brushed it for a week. His features were all overlarge: Big black eyes with no whites, a prominent shnoz of a nose, and fat, blubbery lips. His skin was ruddy, like a guy who’s been drinking too much lately.
His body was squat, his shoulders wide. They would have to be to hold up that big head, I suppose. He wore a coat of shining green material, kind of like a formal waistcoat. It reached almost to the floor. The shirt beneath it was blinding white, and his pants were black. My eyes widened to see a tail curling around the ankle of one of his black boots. Yeah, an honest-to-goodness tail, the same hectic reddish color of the rest of his skin.
Maybe it was the height, but he looked to me like a leprechaun gone terribly wrong.
He grinned at me when he saw I’d noticed him. That smile did little to improve his looks. His big, blocky white teeth looked like freaking tombstones in his wide leer. Then he vanished.
When I say he vanished, I don’t mean he turned around and walked off. I mean he disappeared. One second he was there, the next he wasn’t. Poof! Gone, just like that.
A shiver went down my spine. It was like ice water coursed through me. I don’t claim to be psychic or have ESP or anything like that, but I just know that creepy little alien was bad news. He wore evil like I wear clothes.
“What are you looking at, Shalia?” Candy asked. She had finished talking shop with Lisill. She and Katrina peered in the same direction I had been staring.
“I just saw the strangest little guy,” I said. I was about to go on about how freaky it had been, but other than that awful smile, I had nothing more than a bad feeling to share.
So I turned to Lisill and described the alien to her. She looked confused.
“I have never seen any such a person in all my 300 years at this location. I would remember one like you described.”
“Maybe it’s a rare species that doesn’t get out often,” Katrina opined.
Lisill looked doubtful. “All sentients end up on this station at some point. I’ve seen them all,” she said. “Did he threaten you, my dear?”
I shook my head. “No, he was just ... scary.” I waved it off, embarrassed to have made such a fuss over what was apparently nothing. “It’s not important. Can I ask you about the green gown?”
I wish I could say that was the end of the matter. Maybe it was. Maybe I’m just paranoid.
We got back to shopping, wandering on to see what other goodies we could find. If there was a product that could be sold, we saw it ... and just on the one level. After four hours, we figured out we were not going to get to the other shopping levels on that trip. We were flagging when we realized we needed to find our dancing togs or we wouldn’t have any energy to actually dance.
We backtracked to one shop that catered to the club dancing crowd. All three of us had spied potential outfits in there, along with shoes to match.
Within minutes we were measured and sized. A Darotkin impressed us with her ability to run three computers and three clothing machines at once. It must be awesome to have twelve limbs each possessing their own brains ... though I don’t want to look like a cross between an albino amoeba and a squid. I’m sure they look pretty enough to each other.
While our clothes were being made, we picked out shoe styles and colors. I loved a design that featured gold, copper, and silver colored straps, but the heels looked a bit high for a dancing marathon. The Darotkin assured me they would be the most comfortable shoes I had ever worn. I was doubtful ... the heels were easily four inches high ... but they were so pretty and matched my dress so perfectly that I couldn’t resist. More measuring ensued.
Candy’s dress had the least amount of material, so it was done first. She put it on, and we oohed and aahed over her, which she totally deserved. She had chosen blue material, which brought out her eyes. The top was a midriff-baring halter, but it hid all hints of cleavage. The skirt was a flouncy, ruffled thing that ended well above her knees. It was flirty and sexy, but somehow Candy still managed to look demure. When she put on the high-heeled ankle booties she’d picked out, her legs looked a mile long. She was gorgeous. I envy that girl.
My dress was next. Mine looked naughtier than it actually was. The fabric matched my skin tone, with gold lace over it. It essentially looked like I was naked under the lace, but from the high neck to just above the knee, I was covered. It was clingy too, hugging every curve I had. It was a dress that teased a lot but delivered nothing as far as intimate flesh.
I still got wide eyes from my friends. Katrina fanned herself. “Whew, girl! If Oses or Betra see you, they’ll get so excited, you won’t be able to walk for a week!”
“Is it too much? Do I need to change back?” I fretted.
“Don’t you dare,” Candy admonished me. “You look amazing.”
I put on my shoes and gingerly stood. I was in heels, but the Darotkin hadn’t been kidding about the comfort. It was like walking on a cloud. I’ve never worn a softer, better cushioned shoe. My slippers don’t feel that good.
Katrina had chosen a pantsuit, too self-conscious about her age to go for the flirtier styles. She still managed to look sexier than women half her age. The sparkling silver blouse draped beautifully. Between that and the snug pewter gray pants, the outfit showed her trim frame to advantage. She had opted for flat shoes that matched her shimmery top. It’s no wonder Katrina never wants for male companionship, including that of guys younger than me.
We were posing for each other and enjoying ourselves when I spied a flash of shiny green out the corner of my eye. It was the same green of that small alien’s coat. I turned to look, but nothing was there ... nothing green. No freaky little red-haired alien with an evil smile. Yet my heart was suddenly galloping like a panicked horse.
I told myself I was being a paranoid idiot. We paid for our clothes and hit the transport to go up to the dance club. I commed Betra on the way to let him know where we were.
We got out on the wrong levels twice before finding our way to the one we wanted. I laughed at our dumb tourist escapade with Candy and Katrina, but I kept an eye out for the alien I was now dubbing the Little Creep.
I didn’t relax until we were inside the dance club and surrounded by the writhing bodies of our fellow partiers. As we suspected, dancing Earthers were quite the sensation. Our reputation as a repressed species had the others gaping in surprise when we not only walked into the club, but started shaking our stuff as well.
Whether we danced well or not, we were a hit. I think we did pretty well as far as our moves were concerned, but even if we’d clumped around like Clydesdales, the novelty of dancing Earthers would have endeared us to the crowd. The club’s vid transmitters stayed locked on the three of us. Aliens of every stripe vied to partner all three of us, getting their friends to vid record the event. I guess no one would accept stories of dancing with Earther women without some sort of evidence.
I thought I saw a tiny redhaired figure in my peripheral vision a couple of times. No matter how fast I looked though, the Little Creep wasn’t there. I’d like to think it was my imagination, but my gut says he was following me. I know, it makes no sense. Logic says I have to be wrong about that. It’s logic that is wrong, however. He was there, and he was watching me.
I decided to have fun anyway. What was he could he do with so many people surrounding me? I wasn’t leaving the club alone anyway. I would go back to the transport in the company of friends once we’d danced until we couldn’t dance anymore. I was confident Little Creep couldn’t bother me, and I wasn’t wasting my well-earned night out being bothered over him.
I think the only aliens in attendance who didn’t dance with us were the Kalquorians (and Little Creep). There were quite a few of our big, bad shipmates hanging around, but they only watched and flirted with us and other dancers. I saw Betra too. Every time I looked at him, he was grinning and applauding me. It’s a shame he wouldn’t come out on the floor. I wanted to grind against him in the worst way ... but I got my chance later.
Hours later, when even our comfy dance shoes couldn’t mask how bad our feet hurt, we finally went back to the transport. Betra escorted us to the ship, and then he escorted me to my quarters. It turned out Candy and Katrina were right about the effect my new dress would have on him. Dancing isn’t the only reason I’m exhausted and sore this morning.
Speaking of soreness, I’m going to see Dr. Tep now or Katrina’s prediction of not walking for a week will come true too.