Page 20 of My Alien Jewel
“Mmm,” is the only answer I manage to mumble out.
Z’Ree’s smile is nervous as she offers the bowl to me. Mechanically, I bring the spoon to my mouth, not really paying any attention to it. At least not until a burst of flavor explodes in my mouth.
“Oh, wow,” I groan, closing my eyes to savor the taste. It’s like the most sinful combination of dark chocolate and beef steak, all dipped in the best bourbon. It should be disgusting just by the description alone but it’s delicious. Even the consistency doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would, because it easily melts on my tongue.
With monumental self-restraint, I return the bowl to Z’Ree without finishing all of the polvoren. “You win,” I admit. “You’re right. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.” When she tries to push the bowl back in my direction, I shake my head in refusal. “I brought it for you.”
She pouts, then raises a finger, telling me to wait. After sorting through the collection of oddly shaped utensils I’d brought along with the food, she returns with a strange round spoon that has spikes on the edges. It looks more like a torture device than an eating utensil.
“What in the world is that?” I ask, eyeing the instrument warily.
Z’Ree’s brows shoot up as she smothers a giggle. Right, my question probably sounds stupid to her. Every alien toddler all over the galaxy must know how to use the spiked spoon and here I am, a grown man looking at it wide eyed.
“It’s a pronged spoon,”she types, showing it to me.“You don’t have those on your human planet? How do you scoop up your food?”
I snort. “We have spoons and we have forks. I think the Americans even invented something called a spork, that’s a hybrid between the two. But this thing looks deadly. How do you put it into your mouth?”
She chuckles again. I love that she’s laughing at me. The sound is music to my ears and I want to keep hearing it every day.
Instead of typing out the answer, she digs the utensil into the polvoren bowl, scoops some up, and holds it in front of my mouth. I hesitate. Not because she’s holding a sharp object to my face, but because I’m not sure I’ll survive her feeding me without spontaneously ejaculating.
Taking in her expectant smile, I open my mouth. I don’t care if she stabs the pronged spoon into my throat leaving me choking on my own blood. I’d die a happy man knowing that my death made her smile and brought life back into those beautiful eyes of hers.
Ok, now I’m just being ridiculous.
I needn’t have worried anyway. The spikes disappear the moment the spoon comes near my mouth and instead of blood, I’m left with the delicious taste of the polvoren. There’s a twinkle of mischief in Z’Ree’s eyes as she observes my reaction to the retracting spikes. She could have told me the spikes would disappear when near someone’s mouth but the little minx chose not to, preferring to feast on my anxiety.
I love it.
She places the spoon in my hand before grabbing the one she was using before. Holding the bowl up between us, she takes a spoonful, then gestures for me to do the same. Looks like we’re sharing.
“So, is this your favorite food?” I ask as we eat, trying not to stare at her but watching all the same. I feel like she’s doing the same, watching my mouth move and, did she just gulp when my tongue darted out to lick away the sticky residue from my lips? It was just a flash, probably nothing. I chalk it down to wishful thinking.
Z’Ree tips one shoulder up in a shrug, then types,“I like it, but I was rarely allowed to eat it. I don’t think I have a favorite food. There was one meal I remember eating back when I lived at home, but that’s not available anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I understand the hidden meaning behind her words. Not only does she not have a family or friends from before she was taken, but her home world is probably gone, too, either invaded by some group who won’t allow her to return, or destroyed.
“So, why does this thing have spikes?” I ask, waving the spoon. “What’s wrong with the normal, non-spiked version?”
“This one is used to eat living food,”she replies, chuckling at how pale I must look as the blood drains from my face. Did she really just say “living food”? Yuck.“Some races like their meals fresh,”Z’Ree continues.“Small animals, insects, maggots… The prongs spear the creatures, killing them, and then the spoon drops them right into their mouth.”
I can’t help cringing at her explanation. “Okay, that’s just disgusting.” I suddenly realize that she might actuallyenjoyeating food that way and I’ve probably just insulted her. “I mean…dammit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult anyone. This shouldn’t be such a huge cultural shock for me. Some people onEarth like to eat bugs and worms too. I apologize if I’ve offended you.”
“You didn’t. I like my food dead long before it’s on my plate, not dying as I chew on it. But you have a Krestilian in your crew. Do you not see him eat?”
“D’Aakh? I did, but I don’t remember seeing him eat live bugs or worms. He always eats ‘normal’ food like the rest of us. So, have you been watching the crew?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
Z’Ree avoids my look, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen. Her fingers hover above the keyboard for a long time before she types,“I have. Are you angry?”
Rolling my eyes I tease, “Do I look angry, Miss Pronged Spoon?”
Giggling, she shakes her head.
“Good, because I’m not angry. Looking angry when I’m not would be a major people deterrent in my position. I like to think I look approachable. Oh, and devilishly handsome, of course,” I quip, hoping to make her giggle again.
She’s biting on that lip again instead, typing something I can’t see. At that moment, the lights switch back to normal and I hear a loud clicking as the hatch door unlocks.
Z’Ree tenses up, her eyes darting between me and the hatch. I can see she’s about to run. Hopefully not because she’s afraid of me but because she needs to sort out her thoughts on her own.