Page 4 of Whisked Away By the Alien

The Coalition occupied this planet for twenty years, destroying more than their infrastructure. They deprived the females of their rights even to the basic necessities such as education and the ability to defend themselves. The males do not respect their females or recognize them as the gifts they are. Some do, but most do not.

My people have an embassy on Earth in a city called Los Angeles. Zyan’s leaders see something more to these humans, something I have yet to experience. Perhaps this is why Commander Kesk assigned me to New York City.

“I am Stenikov. You may call me Sten.”

“My mom’s right. Your name sounds Russian, but I’m guessing you’re not from Russia.”

“I’m from Zyan, but I’m stationed in New York as part of GI7.”

“GI7?”

“Galactic Intelligence, Sector 7. The primary mission of Galactic Intelligence is to ensure the Coalition and Grud never rise to power again. Sector 7 protects witnesses vital to the fight against the Coalition. We coordinate with Earth Intelligence when we identify humans as potential witnesses or targets or we need to hide a non-human witness on Earth.”

“That’s very interesting, fascinating even, but it doesn’t explain why you’re here, in my parents’ brownstone. My dad’s an engineer over at Fahrven Technologies and my mom tutors women who are learning to read and write.”

I’m interested in hearing more about the family who lives here, but my thoughts fixate on Golda. There is a vibrancy to her that shines as much as her beautiful brown eyes. She wears a baggy sweater that hides her figure, and I cannot say she moves with grace, but the swell of her breasts beneath that bulky garment, her utterly divine scent, and her sweet nature call to me. My pleasure cock already strains against my pants. A tough, unforgiving fabric humans call jeans. I prefer the loose pants zyanthan warriors wear, but Commander Kesk emphasized more than once the importance of blending in with humans when possible.

“I was told to come here to aid your family with whatever they need for the week. My commander says I need to understand humans and their culture better. And you, Golda, what is your profession?”

She tucks a strand of silky brown hair behind her ear, the red of her cheeks deepening. “I do office work in the warehouse district for Jenkins Imports. I want to be a social worker, but the government doesn’t hire many social workers. The higher-ups don’t consider it a priority job. I must say, your English is really good, Sten.”

My name rolls from her lips with heart. Everything she says is with optimism and confidence. She’s so different from other humans.

“Would you prefer I switch to Common, Zyanthan, Tunzen, Keentan, Banth—”

She holds up her hand, stopping me. “You’ve had quite an education. And here I thought I was one of the lucky ones.”

“In what way?”

“I read and write English and Common. Most women my age can’t read or write either. I’d already learned to write and read before the invasion. After that, I had my parents and Bubbe to teach me math, science… anything they knew, even though it was illegal.”

“Who is Bubbe?” I imagine a well-built male with his arms around this female’s waist, and I don’t like the image. Not at all.

She taps her finger against her lips. Red, lush lips that I find myself memorizing the contour and color. She chooses her words carefully. “Some would say Bubbe’s the scourge of the neighborhood, and—”

Golda rushes forward and removes a small wooden box from the counter beside the sink, which is filled with soapy water and several dirty dishes. “Sorry, I noticed someone left this out. If it gets knocked into the water, Bubbe will kill whoever left it out.”

I instantly take a disliking to this Bubbe. Golda moves the box to another counter, away from the water.

“You are a risk taker,” I surmise from what she’s told me of her life so far.

“Hardly! But I do like when things are neat and organized. That makes me good at my job. The bookkeeping and inventory part. Enough about me. My mom said you’re going to help out around here.”

As this tiny female runs her eyes over me, I realize it might be some time before my pleasure cock relaxes. Focusing on my tasks here would be best for all.

“I will do whatever is required of me.”

The way she scrutinizes me, with her eyes squarely locked on my face, throws me back to my entrance interview for warrior training. The warriors there had many questions as well, namely how a male who came from a family of all females would fare under the strict rules and regimen at the training center in Izoran on Zyan. They’d seen my lack of a father as a detriment, since most fathers teach their sons the basic skills of a warrior before they enter the training center.

“Can you cook?” Golda asks with an intense stare. She reminds me of my weapons instructor who had an uncanny way of knowing when a person lied. Not that I have any reason to lie to this female.

“I’ve caught and skinned many kuvaks during my teens and twenties. I’ve been told the way I cook their meat over an open fire surpasses that of other warriors.”

She folds her arms under those lovely breasts and shakes her head. “Not a cook then.”

I don’t usually tolerate anyone implying I’m a liar, but she doesn’t have any malice in her expression or her heart.

“My commander said I need to understand humans better. This is why he assigned me to work for Mrs. Gertie-She’s-A-Lovely-Though-Somewhat-Crazy-Woman Birnbaum.”

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