Day 9 – Aliens

His father had warned him that this club was frequented by aliens. "Filthy abominations doing their best to look harmless." Rendon Howe hadn't become chairman of Earth Belongs to Humanity for his tolerant views. "Just you wait. Soon enough, they'll give up this pretence of peaceful cohabitation and try to take our planet from us. It's only a matter of time."

Rendon would have thrown a fit if he'd seen his eldest son dancing with a beautiful alien girl. If it even is a girl. But it – no, she - was beautiful, without any doubt. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since she'd joined him on the dance floor.

Just then, she flashed a smile at him, and he realized with a start that what he'd taken to be reddish hair were, in fact, hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny tentacles that kept rearranging themselves on her head in time to the music. He let his gaze wander lower, trying to assess which of the strange textures covering her lithe body were clothes and which were skin. It was hard to say. All of it was a swirling mix of bright orange and green hues, arranged in strangely hypnotic patterns. Her face looked mostly human, though her eyes were a little too large, her chin a little too pointy. Nathaniel swallowed. He wasn't sure whether he found her strangeness repulsive or arousing. Probably both.

His father wouldn't have hesitated. His hatred for everything extraterrestrial was legendary. Ever since the first aliens had made contact with humanity, about twenty years ago, he'd devoted all his energies to driving them off the planet again. No matter how polite they seemed, no matter how well they tried to fit in, Rendon Howe detested them all. Even the fact that most of them looked rather similar to humans was a red flag to him. In his eyes, they were mutated perversions of humanity, errors of God or nature, to be expurgated at all cost.

Nathaniel had grown up surrounded by an all-human staff, carefully shielded from any alien influence. He could name a few of the more common races of aliens but, as he looked around, he realized that lots more existed. Most of them looked considerably more exotic than the girl he was dancing with, with strangely formed skulls or oddly angled extremities.

He'd automatically returned her smile, flattered by her attention, and now she was moving closer to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, tilting her head back so he could admire her long, graceful neck. He was tempted to kiss it, to find out what she'd taste like; how that shimmering skin would feel under his lips. But he hesitated, recalling the stories his father had told him: of deadly contact poisons coating their scales; of invisible radiation that could alter his genetic material forever; of brainwaves that could kill and subvocal harmonies able to melt his bones. Were those all lies, designed to keep him away from this unearthly beauty? Or was there a grain of truth in his father's tales?

Something soft brushed teasingly against his cheek and he frowned. Both her hands were still firmly around his neck, so what—

He nearly froze in place when he saw the long tail twist up behind her back, its tufted end tilted at a rakish angle. All right. That was… different. But still kind of hot.

The dance ended and she turned to walk over to the bar, throwing him an inviting glance over her shoulder. Without thinking, he followed her but, as they sat down, two large, strong arms settled around her tiny frame from behind.

"Carver!" Her face lit up again in a bright smile and she greeted the man behind her with a kiss on the cheek.

If you could call him a man. Nathaniel dimly remembered having seen his kind before, in some of the vids his father would compile to show the dangers of alien infiltration. They'd been nicknamed "wardens" because, whenever a human mob would form, they tended to gather around other aliens, protecting them with their bulk. They tended to be tall and muscular with strange geometric patterns covering their bare arms and shoulders; the twisted horns on their heads and the bony ridges on their forehead giving them a fierce appearance. This one was no exception.

The look he gave Nathaniel was wary, and he addressed himself exclusively to the girl. "You look lovely tonight, Meg."

"Thank you!" The tentacles on her head danced merrily. "It's been a fun night so far." She winked at Nathaniel. "I've found a new dancing partner."

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "Meg. Is that your name?"

She made a curious little sound, flaring her nostrils. "Not really. But you probably wouldn't be able to pronounce it, so Meg will do. This is Carver. What's your name, stranger?"

"Nate." He hesitated briefly, but the name Howe wouldn't be welcome. "Just Nate."

"Hello, Nate." She leaned back into Carver's embrace, wiggling a little until she was comfortable. "Nice to meet you."

He nodded, still tongue-tied, afraid he'd give away who he was. To keep himself busy, he eyed the menu, relieved when he found a section devoted to human beverages. He figured he really couldn't go wrong with a glass of scotch. Meg had ordered a tall glass filled with a bluish liquid, while Carver was downing a jug of what looked suspiciously like root beer.

Nathaniel was still deliberating whether or not he should order a second whisky when Carver whispered something in Meg's ear and she looked up at him with a curious expression. "You want to leave already?"

Carver nodded, without saying a word. His hand was slowly trailing up and down her back. Nathaniel noticed her shudder when Carver touched a particular spot on her spine. Suddenly, his head was filled with strangely enticing images, explicit enough to make his cheeks heat up. He'd never considered sex with an alien before, but the way she was writhing on the chair, her eyes half-closed with pleasure, sent hot sparks of want down to his crotch. God, his father would kill him if he-

He got up from his chair, preparing to leave, but she stopped him by placing a tiny, six-fingered hand on his wrist. "Want to join us?"

"Join you?" Nathaniel realized he was gaping when he heard Carver's amused snort. "But-"

There was that smile again, warm and full of promise. "Come on. We can… dance some more."

Nathaniel swallowed again. His father would definitely kill him. But, when they left, he followed them, unable to stop himself.