Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
She’d gotten a whole package, actually. The shuttle ticket was linked with accommodations at an all-female resort located between the beautiful purple Paradisian seas and the snow-capped mountains of Paradise Prime. It sounded like the perfect place to forget both her failed marriage and her ex-assistant—who she still thought about a lot more than she wanted to.
“This way,” the Paradisian flight attendant said to her. She was bipedal and humanoid and if it wasn’t for the third eye in the middle of her forehead and her shiny gold skin, she might have looked human.
“Oh, thank you.” Kara followed her through the docking tunnel into the shuttle itself. They went through the first class section which was incredibly plush. Everything was decorated in dove gray with pearl accents and the seats looked big enough for two people. There were wide, glowing holographic screens that popped up when you pressed a button and from the glimpse she got, Kara saw there were plenty of choices for in-flight entertainment. Nice.
Of course, she couldn’t have afforded the first-class tickets even if she hadn’t booked last minute. The Kindred paid really well, but she wasn’t a millionaire. But as they passed through a curtained doorway, she saw the second class section was nice too. The seats were a little smaller and there were more of them, but there was still plenty of legroom and smaller glowing screens to watch a movie or a show on. Kara wondered what kind of shows the Paradisians had—she was interested to learn about their culture.
The flight attendant kept on moving to the back of the shuttle and they passed through another curtained doorway into the third class accommodations. These were much more crowded and the seats were considerably smaller. Kara wondered uneasily which seat was hers and if the seatbelt harness would fit over her ample hips.
But the flight attendant kept on walking, not stopping until she reached yet another curtained doorway.
“Your seat is through here, Miss,” she said to Kara. “You’re in 521 B.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Kara nodded and went through the dove-gray curtain since the attendant was gesturing for her to do so.
To her surprise, the fourth-class accommodations looked like first class all over again with large, cushy seats and plenty of legroom. But there was something strange about these seats—some of them appeared to be occupied by two people at once.
Kara passed a large alien male who had blue skin and a forked beard. There was a pink-skinned woman who didn’t look like the same species as him perched on his knees. A little further on she saw a Paradisian male with shiny gold skin with a woman who looked like she might be his wife sitting between his legs. What was going on here? Had the shuttle service sold some of these seats twice?
With growing apprehension, Kara made her way down the aisle. At last, she came to the very last row—521. There, sitting in the seat closest to the aisle was a tall, lumpy alien who looked like he was made from oozing, olive green oatmeal. He wasn’t wearing any clothing except a kind of bright pink Speedo that barely contained his bumpy privates.
Sitting beside him in the window seat was a big male wearing a black long-sleeved shirt. Kara couldn’t see his face because he was looking out of the shuttle window and there was some kind of semi-transparent divider between the seats which was already raised.
“Er…” Kara looked up at the numbers above the seats. They read “521 A and B” and “522 A and B” but there were only two seats.
Hoping there was some mistake, she looked at the seats on the other side of the aisle. But they were labeled as “523 A and B” and “524 A and B” and both were occupied.
A horrible suspicion began growing in her mind. Was she supposed to sit on Mr. Oatmeal alien’s lap? Surely not…
“Hey, sweet thing—are you lost?” It was Mr. Oatmeal, speaking in a thick, burbling voice.
“Oh, uh…” Kara looked down at him uncertainly. “I’m supposed to be in 521 B, but I’m not sure where it is.”
“It’s right here, sugar.” Mr. Oatmeal patted his lap invitingly. But when he lifted his hands from his bare legs, long strings of sticky greenish mucus stretched like snot between them.
Kara had to fight not to gag.
“What—you mean I’m supposed to…to sit on your lap?” she asked faintly, still hoping there was a mistake.
“Of course you are! You know, I booked this seat hoping I’d have a sweet little seatmate like you, but you’re even prettier than I imagined,” Mr. Oatmeal burbled. “Sit right down and make yourself comfortable, darlin’.”
Somehow the Translation Bacteria in her system was making the oatmeal alien sound like a Texas oil baron but it wasn’t funny. He was looking her up and down in such a lascivious way that Kara felt like the plain black, stretchy dress she’d chosen to travel in was see-through! And the lump in his pink speedo was growing alarmingly. Ugh!