Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
“No,” I say, eating another huge bite of pancake. I’ve worked up quite an appetite, it seems. I’m weirdly not tired, either. You’d think I’d be sleepy after last night’s marathon pound-session but I feel pretty wired. “I’m not telling you to fuck off, by the way. I’m just trying to set expectations.”
The look on his face is cautious. He nods, taking a sip of tea. When I eat the last bite of pancake, he discreetly pushes his plate over to me. “I am listening.”
I eat his pancake, too. Because you don’t let something that delicious go to waste. “The guy I initially hired was supposed to be a one and done sort of thing. No attachments, no nothing.”
“I remember. You hired him to service you.”
That last bite of pancake sticks to the roof of my mouth and I grimace. Did he have to use the word “service”? I wash it down with tea, then clear my throat. “I wanted it that way because a baby is a commitment. I’m fully aware that a guy might be fine with sex but not necessarily a baby. And after a few years of being a slave, I didn’t want to have strings attached to another person, if that makes sense.”
“You do not wish strings attached to me, then,” he says slowly. “Strings are…relationships?”
“Yes. No. Kinda?” I wince, because I’m flailing at explaining this. “What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t come to you last night because I wanted you here this morning. If you would have patted me on the back and said ‘Thanks for the fun’ and I never saw you again, I’d be okay with that. Does that make sense? But I do like you. And I had a good time last night. And I like that you’re here this morning. I’m just not sure how to wrap my head around it all.”
He relaxes, his smile returning. “So you are happy with a sex partner and a friend but I should not assume it to be more? And you do not wish for your child to have a father because he would put expectations upon you and you do not wish that?”
I blink, because he’s summed it up rather nicely. “Actually, yes. That’s it exactly.”
“I understand. I did not come here to force my life upon you, Naomi.” He gives me another one of those smiles that look like they’d be awkward and shy if he wasn’t a seven-foot-tall horned alien with huge, veined biceps that could crush a skull. “I came here because I did not want last night to end. And I am here making a fool of myself because I like you and I wish to see more of you. If we take things beyond last night, I will let you decide how all things go.”
“I…think I can do that.” It feels strange to have him agree so easily. Shouldn’t he be fighting to be the dad of my possible child? But maybe aliens do all things in a different way. It shouldn’t be this easy, right? Relationships should be hard. Not that what we have is a relationship. I guess we’re…fuck buddies? Breeding buddies?
Breeding buddies, I decide. That sounds about right. “So…what now?”
Ainar’s tail starts to thump against the chair again and he looks delighted. “I would like to know everything about you, Naomi Flannigan, including how you came to acquire your musical name. Were you born in the land of Flannigan?”
I bite back a laugh. “No, Flannigan is a family name.”
“Ah, a house name.” Ainar nods. “An important house?”
Important? “I honestly have no idea. Back on Earth, it’s just a last name. Makes it easier to classify you and to separate you out from all the other Naomis that might be floating around.”
“Then your people do not base your importance upon which house you come from?” He seems surprised by this.
“I mean, maybe some do? I think a few countries still have monarchies with old families. But where I come from, your importance is based on your wealth and education more than anything.” I shrug. “Not that it matters now, because I’m here. Here, I’m just another colonist.”
Ainar nods thoughtfully. He stares down at his mug. “My family name is vo’Lon. It is not a good one.”
I can tell it bothers him. I’m a little concerned because he’d said his family name wasn’t great, but I didn’t think about what that actually entailed. What if it means he comes from a long line of serial killers and violent murderers? “Not good in what way?”
“We are refuse collectors. It is the only job allowed to my family line. That…or entering the military. Which is why I am here.”
Oh. I relax at that. “That’s a hard job and maybe not fun, but there’s nothing wrong with it. Someone’s got to do it. Job security, right?”