This work offers a fresh focus on erotic writing for women with strong erotic content.
The Big Bang by Lynn Lake
'What'd you want this time?' Joe groused, cantilevering his fingers under his hardhat and popping it off, freeing up his brains. He was standing in a spaceship miles above the Earth's surface, glaring at a glowing orange sphere hovering eyelevel in front of him. An alien life form of pure energy, he grudgingly assumed.
'I'm over here,' came the reply, in perfect, if squeaky, English.
Joe looked down, way down, at a green, two-inch long centipede-like creature on the metallic floor of the spacecraft.
The creature arched its head, waved ten or twelve arms or legs in universal greeting. 'That's our light and heating unit,' it explained, pointing still more appendages at the orange sphere. 'My name's Kazar.'
Joe looked back up at the glowing ball, like he preferred it. 'This is the sixth time I've been abducted,' he complained, 'and I'm starting to get pissed off.'
The first three times had been interesting, fun even, the cold probing offset by the warm and fuzzy half-hour of fame: guest appearances on the television shows Unexplained Unknowns and PSI: Oregon, guest-of-honour spots at science fiction conventions and NASA fundraisers, a ghost-written bestseller-in-the-Nevada-Area 51 entitled ET Loves Me.
But the celebrity had faded like the prospects of an ALF reunion movie anytime soon, after the fourth abduction. And by the fifth, the 'kook' label had been firmly affixed. He lost his long-suffering girlfriend and his plum job at her father's sawmill, moved into an abandoned Airstream trailer on the edge of an acid lake in the middle of a clear-cut nowhere, only his hand and a satellite dish to keep him company, chainsawing and trimming and hauling logs, freelance, for a living.
He was the guy who cried 'Watch the skies!' once too often, Chicken Little in a spacesuit, and now no one was listening—except the tiny green centipede with the Mickey Mouse voice.
'This will be the final time,' Kazar assured him. 'For this,' it gestured expansively with almost all its limbs, 'is the mother ship.'
'And what were all the other spaceships—kiddie cars?' Joe grumbled.
Kazar grinned, then scuttled over to an inch-high instrument panel and peered out of a BB-sized porthole, pressing a button to correct the trajectory of the flying saucer. One of its limbs inadvertently triggered the hyperlight drive which sent it splatted against the porthole. The sudden speed sent Joe flying.
Kazar shut down the drive and apologized, as Joe climbed angrily to his feet. 'The others were merely...exploratory vessels,' it said, continuing their discussion. 'Equipped to search for the man who will serve our peoples' purposes—serve the place purposes of peoples in all...uh, serve the purposes of all places and...'
Joe snorted, ran a rugged hand through his shaggy, blonde hair.
'And you are that man, Joe,' Kazar said, 'and this ship contains the most precious of all cargoes.'
Joe defiantly spat a line of black tobacco at the floor, splashing little Kazar in the wash. 'I'm not doin' nuthin' for you guys! I've had it! I'm all sampled and studied...out! You guys can go crawl back into your black hole and pull it in after...'
|Title:||Sex & Submission||Publisher:||Summersdale Publishers Ltd|
|Edition:||Ebook , PDF|
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