Page 18 of Clonely You

“Mmm. I’ll hold off on that for another day or two, I think.” She glances over at me as she begins to scoop butter out of the new barrel and into my bowl. “I don’t want them to think I’m using you.”

My heart freezes in my chest. “You promised to use me.”

Michaela straightens, a sheen of sweat on her face that makes her look shiny and even more beautiful. “Not like that, Aithar. I meant using you for the contacts with the bounty hunter. I wantthem to think we’re the real deal for a while. It’s not fair to you otherwise.”

Again, she puts me ahead of herself. I’m humbled at her generous nature. “You are the kindest, most understanding?—”

“I’m still using you for sex.”

“—generous, incredible, alluring, sensual?—”

She puts a finger on my lips to silence me. “Let’s finish up with the butter before we go down that path, all right?”

“Very well,” I reply against her finger and give it a tiny kiss. Just because I can.

For the next hour, Michaela scoops butter out of the barrels and pours the remaining fluid—the buttermilk—into a cold vat. She rinses out the churns, then rinses the butter and salts it before slapping piles of it into rectangular molds and putting the molds into a refrigerated storage chamber. By the time we’re done, I have a great appreciation for all the work she goes through to make butter. She is sweaty and tired, and her stomach growls loud enough for me to hear as we head toward her house. As I mostly followed her around and carried things, I am not as sweaty and fatigued as she is.

We head inside and she glances at the lavatory and her kitchen. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.” She lifts her tunic from under her overalls and sniffs it. “And I reek. This is not an auspicious start to our date.”

“It’s my fault. I came over too early and made you rush.” I don’t apologize, because I wanted to be with her more than anything. I hurried to get here and I’d probably do it again, just because I can be near her. “Would you like to shower while I make food?”

The look she gives me is sheer surprise. “You’d make dinner?”

“I can make noodles with veg, if you don’t mind eating something plain.”

She grabs the front of my tunic and pulls me down for a kiss of gratitude. “You are amazing and I would love that.”

I’m stunned by the quick smack of her lips against mine and give her a dazed smile as she heads off to the lavatory. To her, that kiss was nothing. To me, it was a delight and made this entire day worth the waiting. I practically float to the kitchen and dig through her pantry, looking for the standard noodles that every ship’s mess has. A quick check of her refrigerator shows a variety of fresh mushrooms and some greens, and I chop them up while the noodles soak.

Michaela emerges from the shower in a cloud of soap and humidity. She wears a purple bonnet of some kind over her curls to prevent them from getting wet and has an equally purple bath-sheet wrapped around her body…and nothing else. She pads over to my side, practically naked, and leans against my shoulder. “Smells amazing.”

“Yes, you do,” I blurt out.

She giggles. “Not me, you clown. The food.”

“I would rather taste you than noodles,” I continue eagerly. “Is that bad?”

With a pat on my arm, Michaela just smiles. “Patience, my sweet Aithar. Patience. You’ll get your turn soon enough. How about you serve up food while I get dressed?”

“Of course.” I watch her as she saunters to her bedroom, unable to look away. I am entranced by the sway of her hips, the rolling gait of her body as she moves. Has any female ever walked with such grace? Such sheer sensuality? How is it that she makes walking across the room sexy? My mouth goes dry.

Patience. Patience.

I serve up two bowls and set them on her table, along with fresh cups of tea, and I sit and wait. I admit to myself that I’m nervous. After we eat, what will she do with me? I’ve never been used for sex before. How does one proceed? How do I let herknow if I have boundaries? Do I evenhaveboundaries? I doubt I do, but I suspect she might and I need to know them.

When Michaela returns from her room, she wears a simple, comfortable gown and no shoes. I’m dying to examine her charming bare feet, but I suspect that might be unwelcome. Her thick, curly hair is pulled up and clipped away from her neck, and she looks relaxed and soft as she joins me at the table. She lifts a cup of tea and smells it, her eyes closing with appreciation. “You made all this? It looks great.”

I want to please you. I want you to smile at me. I want you to exclaim over my food and fall madly in love with me and I will happily make you noodles every day of my existence.I think all these things and say none of them. “Enjoy.”

We eat and as we eat, I watch her. She does not use sticks but the human “fork” for her utensil and twirls it in the noodles before lifting a skein of it to her mouth. I eat, too, but I do not notice the taste of it. My focus is entirely on Michaela. We talk, of course. We talk about butter, and the flavors she is going to try when she gets supplies. She asks me about the cantina and what I plan to do. She asks me about the ship and about Lady Ruth and Lord Straik and how they came to be married. She asks more questions than she answers, but I am happy to let her control the conversation. Once we are both done with our food, I take the bowls and head to the kitchen to clean them.

Michaela trails after me, surprised. “You didn’t leave a mess in the kitchen.”

“Should I have? I thought it would be rude.” I’d cleaned the kitchen as I worked, and now I wonder if I have made a misstep of some kind. “Is it a human custom to leave a mess behind after cooking? I do not mean to insult. Ruthie said that some humans belch to show their appreciation for food, but I did not do that either. Should I belch for my own food? It seems presumptuous.” I’m growing worried that I’ve affrontedher when that is the last thing I want. No wonder no one wishes to date me. I am offending them.

Michaela puts a hand on my chest. “Whoa there, calm down, Aithar.” She smiles up at me, and my anxiety melts away. “You don’t need to burp, and you don’t need to apologize. I was just surprised that you were cleaning up after yourself. I didn’t expect it, but it’s nice to see.”

Why would she not expect it? “I am your guest. That means I do not impose.”

---