In town, I head toward a restaurant. I’ve been going to a different one each day, trying out something different at each. I love the variety here. This planet really does have more to offer than Kuria does, but then again, the Earthlings didn’t have to rebuild everything from the ground up, like the Novans did on Kuria. They had nothing at all to start with. I think I heard that the planet once had people living on it originally, but the Grots got to them too. Everything was gone, though—the people, their buildings, everything. It’s as if the Grots wiped the entire planet completely clean. In a way, that’s a blessing because it meant we didn’t have to clean up the destroyed buildings, but what exactly happened there? What had the Grots done? Considering there weren’t any survivors, no one will ever know.
More than a few women glance at me as I near the restaurant I have in mind. I nod to them, but honestly, I don’t talk to them much. Men are the ones who hire me. They’ll have me do house projects in their homes. They’ll have me pay a “friend” a visit and give a threat. They’ll even ask me to do things that are even more underhanded than that. As a true mercenary, I take on assignments of questionable morality, but there have been a few that I’ve declined.
One man wanted a business partner killed in what would look like an accident.
The only woman to approach me asked me to see if her husband was cheating on her. I considered it until I spied the gun hidden in her purse. I’ve no doubts that she’ll kill the bastard if he is cheating. Fuck, she might kill him just because she suspects him, but I don’t want to get involved with that.
Not all of them are so… colorful. Like I said, I’ve done some house projects. I have to learn on the fly how to do them, but so far, no one has complained about my work.
When I reach the door, I go to grab the handle. At the same time, a woman does.
She stares up at me. Her eyes are heavily made up with thick eyeliner, and she has incredibly full lips. Her hair is as black as her eye makeup, and her skin is perfect.
“If you move, I’ll open the door for us since you don’t seem like you’re going to,” she says dryly.
I laugh. “I might not have been raised on Earth, but I do have an Earthling for a mother, and she taught me manners even if I sometimes forget them.”
“You’re distracted?”
“Not quite.” I rake my eyes up and down her sultry frame. She’s wearing tight pants that hug every curve, and her shirt is tight too. Perfectly beautiful.
Perfectly fuckable.
I’ve seen other women who are just as beautiful around, but they all seem to be a bit… much. They throw themselves at me, and I’ve considered taking one or two for a tumble, but the lack of a place has held me back. I’ve been crashing at client’s houses or staying out in a nearby park, sleeping on a bench. Unideal, yes, and not suitable for bringing a woman to, but I’ll have either a vehicle or a house soon enough. Just a few more jobs. Or maybe just one job that’s perfect.
As perfect as she is.
I hold the door open for her and wait a moment so I can watch her ass. Her hips sway as she approaches the hostess’ table.
The hostess eyes us. “Two?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I cut in before the woman can say different.
She eyes me, only half of her lips curling into a smile. It’s a look that drives me wild. She knows I’m playing a game, and she’s playing it right back.
There's no reason why I have to come to Earth only for business, right? All of my friends who came over here before I did have managed to find themselves a woman. I'm not even looking for something permanent right now. Just a bit of fun.
The hostess beams, grabs two menus, and ushers us to a room that has hardly anyone in it. We’re guided to a table in the corner, and I hold out the woman’s chair for her.
She sits, and I let my fingers brush her shoulders before I slip into my chair.
“Who are you?” she asks.
“A Kurian named Tox.”
“The blue skin gave you away as a Kurian,” she says dryly.
“Novans are blue too.”
“Yes, but a darker blue, right? And older as well.”
“Have you met any Novans?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Does that matter?”
“I’m just making conversation.”
“Or are you trying to see if I prefer something?”
"Like what?" I can't help watching her mouth. She sometimes flicks out her tongue to lick her lips, and I want that. I want to lick her lips, to bite her bottom one. To draw blood, maybe.
The woman just lifts her eyebrows and gives me a pert little grin that has my cock twitching.
Fuck.
“Who are you?” I counter, turning this back around.
“Sophia.”
“Got a last name, Sophia?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“No.”
“I heard that Novans don’t have last names, but you Kurians don’t take on your mom’s surnames?”
I shake my head. “No. I would still like to know yours.”
“Would you?” She grins. “Fine. Sophia Clyde.”
I hold out my hand, and we shake. Her skin is smooth, so very smooth, and I rub my thumb along the back of her hand, holding it much longer than is necessary.
A waitress approaches, and we order drinks. I’ve been a lot less adventurous with the drinks, getting water more times than not mostly because I don’t want to drink another taste when I want to enjoy every flavor of the strange dishes I’m indulging.
So I order water, but Sophia orders Scotch on the rocks.
“Make it a double,” she calls
