We were inside a person.
Marek wasn't a computer. He wasn't a ship. He was a giant leviathan, carrying us inside of him like little pets. It was so cool! I couldn't believe they didn't tell us any of that! I had so many questions! How did that even work? Were we uncomfortable? Did he like having us here? How did his species develop? How did he create the atmosphere and pressure to keep us all alive? Question after question ran through my mind, but I didn't letthem out. Instead of nervous anxiety, I felt rampant excitement. I wasn't in a mechanical ship that could break down.
I was being held.
"Yes, I want to see them!" I said, completely unable to contain my excitement. I cleared my throat, trying to calm my tone down. "I mean, if that is alright with you."
"It's perfectly fine by me," he said. "But in the context of my culture, it's a bit like taking off my shirt."
"So you just offered to flash me?" I grinned.
I loved that I said that. I never would have said something like that, normal guy. This wasn't a normal guy, though. This was a giant space creature that was carrying me around and taking the time to chat with me, and who had already gently corrected me when I misunderstood something. He'd already come across as kind and careful. In working with me to work out the details of the tool, he had shown that he was thoughtful and focused, that he was creative, engaged, and interested in supporting me in my artistic journey.
He was a good person, and my interest in him had grown with his kindness and with the fact that I didn't have to see him face-to-face.
I could imagine him to be whatever I wanted.
"I had to look up the context of that word," he said finally, his tone still warm. "More like flashing my ankle? If you want to see more than that, you're going to have to get to know me better."
"Promises, promises," I said, my excitement bubbling over into downright flirtiness.
A warm laugh echoed through the room, and a shiver of delight ran through my skin. Then the wall behind me moved. I swiveled in my seat in time to see the fake window slide to the side, revealing a solid wall of glowing white cords of various sizes. They layered on top of each other like woven fibers, but they were missing the rhythm and sense of traditional weaving.Some were as small as my pinky, others were as thick as my wrist. They rippled, almost like a liquid, and then settled as the screen fully slid out of sight.
I reached out and touched them, stroking my fingers over the surface like I would any new fabric.
They were soft and slippery, like a model, a synthetic fabric made from beech trees. They felt warm, comfortable, almost like skin. I felt along the edge where two of the strands connected, and where I touched, they parted slightly. I angled my fingers into the gap, and it gave way. I sank my whole hand in, feeling the softness as I sank into it. The fabric was so responsive, and when I flexed my hand, it responded with a firm pressure, almost as if it was touching me back.
Because it was touching me back.
It wasn't fabric; this was an alien.
I froze, not wanting to yank my hand back suddenly in case that would hurt him. Sudden movements weren't a good idea in a situation like this. Not that I'd been in any situation like this ever.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I should have asked if you were comfortable with me touching you like this."
"I am very comfortable," he said, the words coming out in a rush, like he was afraid I would stop. His next words reinforced the idea, coming out with an edge of roughness to them. "You can touch me as much as you like."
I moved my fingers, wiggling them where they were encased in the white strands, and the neurofilaments responded, shifting as my fingers shifted, caressing my palm. It felt good. Really good.
Too good.
Heat blossomed in between my legs as my body flushed, the excitement of the new transmuting through the act of touch into something far more heated than I'd been expecting. The way hewas massaging my palm, twirling around my fingers... It was like he was enjoying touching me, caressing my skin.
I bit my lip and stilled my hand.
There was no way.
This heat was in my head.
I was like an ant compared to him, a flea on his back. There was absolutely no way he was touching me like this because he was interested in me in that way. It didn't make any sense.
He was just being friendly.
I was the weird one for getting turned on by this.
"I have a confession I need to make," Marek said.
"A confession?" I asked, letting out a small laugh as I tried to cover my sudden nervousness. "Already? We just met. Don't tell me that we just got to third base? I thought we were only holding hands. We haven't even had dinner together yet!"
