His idioms are somewhat confusing to me. “Are we still discussing sex?”
“Yeah. Unless it’s too personal a topic. Then, like I said, tell me to fuck off.”
I know that humans and other species can and do have recreational sexual encounters. Pfahrn tend not to, unless they have a standing contract with someone for that purpose. Although I do know of at least two Pfahrn working on the space station who have adopted looser sexual boundaries.
Mainly because they propositioned me.
I turned them down. Not that I was not attracted to them, but I am not yet ready to look at my life in such a fashion as to be seeking temporary physical solace.
“I would not be comfortable engaging in recreational sex with someone I did not have an existing friendship with first,” I reply.
I have never been with a human. Before today, while I had considered the possibility of a non-Pfahrn partner, I never had considered being with a human. Not in a serious way. The thought of having a non-Pfahrn partner was a mental exercise, not a practical one.
Until now.
I will not deny something about this particular human intrigues me.
“Ah,” Davies says. I would be willing to bet that is still disappointment on his expression. “Too bad.”
“But we can continue as friends, for now.”
Davies nods. “Of course. I never have enough friends.”
Once our meals arrive, we settle in to eat. Meanwhile, we have a lively conversation. He asks me about life on Pfahrn, and our culture, while I ask him about his experiences traveling around the universe. In human years, he is thirty-three, a few years younger than my age of forty years. But he has already had an enviable life in many ways.
One thing I do not envy, however, is how he was orphaned at a relatively young age. I think of my own parents and siblings. Despite how it can sometimes feel smothering when I am living with them, I would not wish to lose them or give them up.
Which is why I am still here.
My first impression of Davies is solidified and reinforced by the time our meal draws to a natural close. He is intelligent, quick-witted, and humorous. Something about him intrigues me in a way I do not usually feel about humans.
I also find I am not yet ready to say good-night to him. It is still early.
He still has the stylus tucked behind his ear, and now takes it in his hand and walks it through his fingers. That is mesmerizing, and he has done it several times during our talk tonight. I suspect it is what humans call a nervous tic, much the way other species plays with their hair or their tail.
“Would you mind showing me that observational hub path you were telling me about earlier?” he asks after we have paid for our meals.
“I would be agreeable to that.” It is a relief to not have to reach for an excuse to continue our evening, or have to admit it outright and risk being turned down.
I cannot remember the last time I had such an enjoyable social occasion. Usually, once I am on the space station, the last thing I wish to do is engage in meaningless social interactions. I save that for when I am on Pfahrn and with my family.
Conversation with Davies, however, seems to have recharged me emotionally. He does not drain my mental energy.
If anything, I feel invigorated talking with him. Another unusual point about the unusual human.
As I lead the way to the public lift, Davies easily keeps up, walking next to me and happily chatting.
I glance down at him as we make our way past other people strolling through the common space. As all humans are, he is shorter than me, but not unusually so, for a human.
Is it wrong of me to imagine what sex with this human might feel like?
Sometimes, I wish I had engaged in a contract with someone for regular recreational sexual contact. Unfortunately, my duties on the space station mean I am not available for spontaneous sex the way I was when I was coming into maturity and still living on the planet.
The lift ride to the observation level is short. I make a quick calculation and lead us toward the section that will look down upon Pfahrn, not out into space.
He can see space anytime.
There is an unusual welling of pride within me as we approach one of the large observation alcoves and he gets his first truly unimpeded direct view of my home world.
