Alien Survivor: Stranded on Galatea

I plucked the earrings from my ears as I moved across the carpeting, a whisper of silk skirts brushing past Christian as I went.

"Don't let one asshole ruin your whole evening," he said from his spot against the far wall. On earth, he may have been looking out of a window; but here, he was silhouetted by the backlit screens depicting a faux landscape: ocean, at first, then forests, then a city skyline, in constant rotation. "You were a huge success tonight."

"It had been going well," I reluctantly remarked, "hadn't it?"

"Yes. Very well, indeed." He was loosening his bowtie, doffing his jacket. I was plucking the diamond-studded pins from my hair.

"I didn't even get to eat," I said sourly. He grinned.

"I'll fix you something."

"You cook?"

"Christ, no. But I'm pretty sure they have room service." I couldn't help but smile a little as I abandoned my collection of pins on the vanity before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Perhaps I've been naive," I mused. "I should have thought there would be people against this program. I suppose you've always known?" He nodded his head in confirmation. "Well, you've been quite good at keeping them from me."

"The board and I wanted you and your staff to remain focused on the work, not constantly looking over your shoulders." He unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt and sat beside me. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

I gave a slow shake of my head before raking my fingers through my curls to get them out of my face. "I probably would have made the same call, in your shoes," I said. "I'm not angry. I'm just... sad. You should have seen his face, Christian: he hated me. And everything I stand for. Never in my life have I been confronted with such raw animosity."

Christian took my hands in his and gave them a small squeeze of reassurance. "He doesn't hate you, Ara. He doesn't know you. He's a religious nut, and he deserves not a minute more of your consideration." I nodded, I made myself smile. I felt like weeping, or like scrubbing my face again and again. I thought I could still smell the man's saliva on my skin. "And besides," Christian went on, "this should be a night for celebrating."

"I am rather pleased that I didn't sweat through my ball gown or speak any major malapropisms during my speech, so "

But those were not, apparently, the things Christian Ward thought we should celebrate. I hardly noticed when he slid from the bed to get down on bended knee in front of me. But when he revealed a black jewelry box in the palm of his hand, I felt like I'd been shot out of an open airlock.

"Araceli Cross," he began, and if there had been any question about his intentions, his formality gave him away. "Will you marry me?"

The ring glowed as though it was its own source of light. A princess cut diamond glittered against the black velvet of the box he presented it in, a collection of marquise diamonds clustered like petals around the disc of a daisy.

I just sort of stared at it.

"I wanted to do this after dinner, in the observatory. I wanted to tap my spoon against my champagne glass and draw everyone's attention to us so they can see how right we are for one another. Bravo, they would have said, what a smart match." Christian plucked the ring from the box and took my hand, sliding it gently over my knuckles. It was heavy on my hand. "We'll be the power couple of the century, darling," he said, running his hands up my calves, over the slope of my knees, along the trail of my thighs. "Think of what we can do together." "Is this a marriage proposal or are we forming a limited liability corporation?" He thought I was joking, so he chuckled. But he had already hooked his index fingers around the elastic of my panties and was sliding them down, down, from underneath the fabric of my dress. "And I do love you," he said, his voice husky with desire. But it was too late, an afterthought. And I didn't know what to say. I suppose I should have been grateful that so handsome, powerful, and wealthy a man wanted me, of all people. A plump, nerdy redhead.

We had met when I was a research assistant on the GenOriens Stem Cell team, and I spent most of my time growing tracheal tissue in petri dishes. Christian was touring the lab with his mother, and he came over to introduce himself. His dark, unblemished complexion, his easy swagger, his affectation, they all drew me in. But he and I really found one another in bed. Whatever our differences, we could always return to each other there. He was a confident, commanding lover and he had opened me up to the richness of a sexual life, which I had denied myself prior to meeting him. Oh, sure, I'd had a few partners, but he taught my body what it liked. And he made me want more.

"Christian," I murmured, but it would be only the feign of a protest, because his deft hand had found the pith of my desire, and he was curling his fingers in a beckoning gesture that made me wet with my wanting. Pulling away, he reached behind me and unzipped my gown, unclasped my bra, until my clothes were bunched up around my waist and my full, round breasts were bared to him. Leaning forward, he took one of my pert nipples in his mouth, tonguing it playfully until a tiny little moan escaped my lips and my hand went instinctively to the back of his head.

He stood, then, and pulled me to standing so that the dress dropped and puddled at my feet, and I was completely naked. Christian still wore most of his tuxedo, the bow tie loose around his neck. He led me gently by the hand to one side of the bed and pushed me down onto it. "Spread your legs for me," he commanded in low, throaty tones, and I did as he bid me. "Touch yourself,” he said, and I obliged, rubbing at my clitoris with my middle finger as Christian began to undress. He had his dark eyes locked on me as he unbuttoned his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and let his dress pants drop to the floor. I could see the bulge of his erection in the confines of his boxer briefs, but I barely had a chance to ask him to take them off before he'd abandoned them entirely and his engorged member sprang free.

He climbed onto the mattress and slid two fingers inside of me. I gasped at his sudden intrusion, and he grinned, his expression full of hunger. "How I've missed that sweet, pink pussy," he all but growled. I moved my own hand away and he leaned forward, flicking his tongue over my clit until I raised my hips to meet him.

When he finally withdrew his fingers, I sat up on the mattress, shifting until I was standing on my knees atop the plush down comforter. I felt emboldened by his proposal, and I wanted to ride him with my hands pressed against the hard vale of his chest. But he met me with ferocity and wrapped an arm around my waist as his mouth met mine in a demanding kiss. Then, he broke away and used his considerable strength to turn me around and press me forward, until I was on knees and elbows on the mattress in front of him. He put his hand on the back of my head until my cheek rested against the linens, my slick and ready orifice exposed to him.

He did not hesitate to slide his cock between my nether lips and thrust it home, filling me suddenly and completely. I cried out as he gripped my hips, startled by the intensity of his movements. I thought of Lilith, the myth who was the first woman on earth, and how she had fled the garden when Adam would not let her assert any of her own control. She had left for less than this, and she had red hair like mine.

Christian pounded into me, stretching me, filling me, until he finally pulled out and tugged himself to completion. I felt his hot emissions hit my skin and drip down over the curve of my ass before he, exhausted, collapsed beside me.

He was panting, one arm slung over his eyes, as I shifted on the bed beside him. "Go clean yourself up," he breathed, not bothering to look at me. So I crept off the bed and into the bathroom, immediately turning on the shower when I got there. I knew if I took my time, he'd be asleep by the time I returned. And perhaps that was for the best. I didn't seem to have any words for him tonight anyway, least of all a "yes".

Squeaky clean and not the least bit sleepy, I crept past a snoring Christian to snatch my blue and white striped pajamas from the dresser. I tugged them on and headed for the doorway, buttoning the long-sleeved sleep shirt as I slipped out of the bedroom.

And there he was, in the kitchen: Danovan tel' Darian, beautiful Galatean warrior, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Dr. Cross," he said, startled to see me standing there. I smiled what I hoped was a warm smile and padded across the cold tile to the refrigerator. "Please," I said, absently scanning the contents therein, "call me Ara."

"Ara," he murmured, turning the word over in his mouth. "I'm surprised to find you still awake." "It isn't late," I said.

"No, but...er. No."

I blinked owlishly until I realized what he'd meant: the rather athletic lovemaking. He must have heard us. I felt my face color in a deep red blush. "I was hungry," I muttered.

"Here," he said, placing the finishing touches on his sandwich and cutting it diagonally, before sliding the plate down the countertop toward me. "Have this."

"No, you made that for yourself," I said, smiling.

"Please. It's the best Peanut Butter in the universe. I know, I've checked all of them."

"All of them...?"

"All of them. Jif Natural Creamy. With Original Jif being a close second." I beamed broadly up at

him before taking the proffered sandwich and biting into it. It tasted like childhood. "Mm," I hummed, my mouth sticky with the copious amounts of peanut butter. "You're right. This is the best."

"I wouldn't lie." He took my hand then, turning it over the examine the ring that I'd forgotten was there. It glimmered prettily in the kitchen's overhead light.

"I see congratulations are in order."

I wrenched my hand from his and turned to face the counter, absently running my fingertips around the edge of the plain china plate. "Do you," I cleared my throat, "I mean...your people. Do you have a similar tradition? Exchanging rings when you make someone a promise?" Danovan stood beside me, and I realized completely how much larger he was than me. Standing at my full height, I could lean my head now against his elbow. I didn't turn to look at him, but I heard him chuckle quietly as he helped himself to half of the abandoned sandwich.

"Ah, no," he said around bites of peanut butter. "But I've seen the movies. I know how it goes." "How does it go in the movies?"

"A girl gets a ring from the wrong guy in the first act," he said, "but the right guy, when he asks? It's always a spur-of-the-moment thing. That guy never comes prepared."

I gave a slow nod of my head, picking absently at the crush of the sandwich. "You think Christian is the wrong guy?"

"Not at all," he said, finishing off his half of the sandwich, and wiping at his mouth with the back

of his hand. "You guys seem great together."

"We do?"

"Sure. A real team. A real...what's the phrase...?"

"Power couple?"

"Yeah."

I nodded again, feeling ill at ease. I didn't know what to do with myself, and didn't have any of my own real space to do it in. "Well," I said lamely, brushing past the Galatean to head back to the bedroom. Maybe if I just laid down, I'd somehow, miraculously, fall asleep.

"You were really wonderful tonight, Ara," Danovan said, catching me just before I reached the door. I turned around to face him, and found him gazing after me, his head canted gently to one side. "That's all anyone is going to remember. How brilliantly you spoke, how inspiring your message was, and how beautiful you looked."

"Thanks, Van," I said. "Good night."

The bedroom was musky with the smell of sex, and it wasn't like I could just open a window. But I climbed into bed all the same, grateful that the island-sized mattress meant I could toss and turn as I pleased without worrying too much about disturbing the slumbering Christian beside me. I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to sleep, coaxing my resistant mind with the reminder that tomorrow the real work could finally begin.