First, we are shown into a store that appears to only contain women’s underclothes. I saw Fiona’s underwear the other night, but these are… something else entirely, made of red and black lace, and covering very little.
“What is the point?” asks Shathar, lifting one of the pairs of lacy underwear from a display. “These would not protect your private parts.”
I must agree.
“The point is to be sexy!” says Amara. “Seductive. You know. To build anticipation.”
I would very much like to see Fiona in something like this, though I don’t think I need to foster any more anticipation. I have so much anticipation it feels like my balls are going to explode.
Amara and Fiona chat eagerly as they search through the “bras.”
“What size are you?” Amara asks, picking up a pink lacy bra that I certainly wouldn’t mind removing from Fiona.
“Thirty-four, B-cup.”
“These are measured in cups?” I ask. “Why?”
She taps her chin. “Hm, not sure. It’s how you measure bras, I guess.”
Roth’kar crosses one set of arms. “Perhaps for the milk.”
“The milk?” asks Shathar.
Roth’kar nods knowingly. “Human breasts carry the milk they use to nurse their young.”
“So breasts are measured in cups because of how much milk they carry?” I ask, tapping my chin. “That makes sense.”
While the three of us nod in agreement at the sensibility of this theory, a saleswoman adjusting clothes on a life-size human doll stares at us with her mouth open. Amara and Fiona burst into laughter as they move on to the next rack.
I get to know Roth’kar fairly well during this endeavor. He knows many things about Earth, though he has only been here for a few months more.
“You’ll learn quickly,” he says. “Most importantly, the trees are much prettier when they have leaves on them.”
I hope I get to stay long enough to see the leaves on the trees.
Once the women have found what they were after, we check out and go on to the next store. But all I can think about are the items that Fiona chose, and what they might look like on her. I wonder if she purchased them thinking about me, how I licked her until she reached her finish.
Or perhaps Shathar. I don’t know what the two of them have done. Maybe she is thinking of him as she buys them.
I shake away my uncertainty. I have the nalopo, and I can rely on that to see me through.
Both Shathar and I pick out colorful, interesting sweatshirts for the Christmas party, but Roth’kar abstains. His wife has made one for him by hand, he tells us proudly. It’s his first Christmas, as well, and he has planned a gift for Amara.
“A gift?” I ask, horrified. “Is that a tradition?”
Roth’kar gawks at us. “Yes. You are supposed to give gifts to each other on Christmas.”
“Fiona didn’t mention that!” groans Shathar. “She told us everything else!”
“It’s not too late.” I stand up straight. “We are here where there are many stores. Surely we can buy something.”
Roth’kar shoos us off. “I will keep Amara and Fiona occupied.”
Shathar and I nod, then take off together.
“What sort of store?” I wonder aloud as we walk among the throng of humans, many of whom stop and stare at us. “What sort of gift?”
“I am getting my own gift,” says Shathar. “One that speaks to my relationship with Fiona.”
