you home?” he asked, a hint of concern evident in his eyes.
Though it had to be the most absurd scenario she could imagine, it felt nice to see the concern in his eyes. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had been genuinely concerned about her. A sadness crept across the stranger's face, and she bristled slightly, knowing he had been privy to her silent thoughts.
“Oh no. You will not pity me!” she whispered voraciously.
“I felt no such thing. You fascinate and inspire me, Charlotte. Now, how could I pity that?” he replied, assuaging her indignation instantly.
He offered his hand, and she felt compelled to accept it. And then she raised an eyebrow at him inquisitively.
“No. You were in control of your actions. I was not.”
The honesty in his eyes confirmed his words and Charlotte placed her hand in his tentatively. They walked out into the night and down the few streets to her home. Her stranger didn't speak, and she spent the entire time trying not to think. All the while a new kind of electricity hung in the air between them making Charlotte aware of the sensual way the fabric of her clothes rubbed against her skin as a gentle breeze blew toward them. When they arrived at the house, she found her keys and opened the door.
“Would you like to come in for coffee?” she asked before stepping over the threshold. “Jeez, how cliché is that?”
“That sounds great,” her stranger replied, his voice a little huskier than she remembered.
Charlotte headed straight for the kitchen, flipped on the light, threw a disc in the coffeemaker and readied the mugs before the brew was finished.
“I'm sorry, but I have very little time,” he spoke, breaking the silence.
“Oh, but the coffee will just be a minute,” she replied, a little perplexed given that they'd walked in the door just three minutes prior.
“That's not what I mean. The affinity that I spoke of. It is strong, and I am sure. But I have been away so long that I cannot afford to stay away from home much longer,” he explained.
“But you're an alien. You're a species from a different world. How can you possibly have been destined to choose me? It just isn't possible.” Charlotte couldn't remember ever having spent so much time confused.
“I am not so different from you, Charlotte. Though our homes our worlds apart, our species are connected more than you know,” he said softly. She looked up at him curiously, waiting for him to continue.
“We are the purest form of your species, untouched by evolution and environment. On my planet, the environment is what adapts, not its inhabitants; it warms and cools, rises and falls, grows and rests, all in adaptation to our needs. On earth, it is you—humans—who have adapted, evolving to your environment over the millennia. You have lost your ability to read, to communicate, to see more than what your eyes can show you. You age faster and your bodies are weaker, but you and I are inherently the same.”
“Oh.” It seemed to Charlotte she was spending an awful lot of time speechless, too.
“Then let me show you instead,” her stranger said huskily, leaning toward her slowly, meeting her gaze while wrapping an arm around her waist.
He bent down to press his lips against hers, gently at first, but after a moment, Charlotte's lips began to respond and he plied at them with his tongue, eager to gain entrance into the warmth of her mouth.
Then she was pressed back against the wall, her stranger's eyes meeting hers while her arms moved above her head of their own volition. His eyes remained locked on hers, searching for any signs of resistance in hers, but he found none. His hands came out and fidgeted with the top button of her blouse, then the next and the next, until her blouse spread open revealing her lacy white bra beneath. He reached for the clasp in the front and the bra fell away as her breasts sprung free. He admired the view before him, and then returned his eyes to hers.