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“Will you make love with me, then?” he asked, in that same, unfathomable, mellow voice of his. “I would like to experience the emotion.”

“Okay, this is getting really weird,” she said, without thinking. “I’d better go.”

He stepped forward. An arm shot out, a firm hand grasped her by her right elbow. “Please do not go,” he said. “Do I displease you? Are my looks not to your liking?”

Angela twisted free of his grasp, stepped back, and prepared to turn to run, but something made her pause.

Despite herself, she couldn’t help answering, “No, your looks are very pleasing to me, but you’re behaving strangely. Have you been drinking? Are you high on something?”

“High?” he repeated this as if he hadn’t the slightest idea of what Angela had meant. Then, “Oh, you are asking if I’m intoxicated in some way?”


“No, I am not. But I am new here. I do not understand your ways. I mean no offense. Have I offended? Is my manner not agreeable to you?”

Oh, brother! Angela thought. I’ve found myself a naked Greek god with the mind of a potato!

But an idea began to stir within her. She had never just had sex for the sake of just having it, without any strings attached. Always before, there had been an emotional entanglement. In this case, there would be absolutely none. The idea intrigued her, tantalized her. She felt a sense of power in this situation, one she hadn’t ever felt before with men.

“I’m not offended,” she said, carefully, “but men don’t usually approach women so blatantly about making love with them. It just isn’t done. There is a polite way of going about it. Where are you from, by the way, that you don’t know this?”

“I’m not of this world.”

Angela blinked. Another moment of stunned silence on her part, and then she said, dragging the word out, “Okaaaaaay… maybe we had better call this a night. It’s late,” she added, by way of a weak explanation. “I really should be getting back to the hotel.”

She turned, swiftly, and started to march off down the beach, intent on putting as much distance as possible between herself and the handsome naked nutcase behind her, before then breaking into a full panicked run all the rest of the way to the safety of the hotel.

“Please,” came a plaintive low cry from behind her, sounding like that of a lost little boy. “I do not know where to go. I have no idea what to do here. I am told I must breed. I am designed for it. It’s all I know. I do not mean to offend or frighten you.”

She stopped, turned around. She felt she was now a safe distance from him…just in case.

“You were designed to breed?” she asked, knowing she must sound uncertain, but not caring, because she truly was. “What do you mean?”

“I am a test. I am to accommodate females’ desires, whatever they might be. My task is to impregnate women.”

“What are you saying—that you’re a robot?”

The man shook his handsome head. “No. I am entirely biological, but created, patterned on one of your species, but with certain modifications.”

Despite herself, Angela’s curiosity was piqued. “Modifications? What modifications?”

The man gave a little shrug. “They altered things to make the act of breeding for women more pleasurable, more desirable. For instance,” he opened his mouth and extended his tongue.

“Oh, my,” Angela heard herself saying, as if it were someone else speaking and not her. His tongue had to be a good six inches long and came to a point.

“And this,” he added, grasping his penis and pulling it up. Instantly, it came erect, as if the mere touch of his hand was all it took. Long, hard, rampant, and gleaming wickedly in the dim light, the shaft stuck out at her like some spear.

Fiction & Literature
30 July
Rose Renee Shelly

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