Page 19 of Aliens Love Curves

These thoughts plague me as I adjust my formal uniform. The shareholders' ball begins in an hour, and I'm already on edge.

A soft rustle from the bathroom catches my attention. She's been in there for over an hour, preparing. The sound of her movement, the faint scent of her perfume seeping under the door – every detail heightens my awareness of her presence.

"Casey?" My voice sounds rougher than intended. "We should leave soon."

"Just a moment," she calls back, and something in her tone makes my pulse quicken and my tail twitch with anticipation.

"Almost ready."

The door opens, and my carefully constructed world tilts on its axis—my world stops turning.

Casey emerges in a dress that makes my breath catch and my tail freeze mid-twitch. The material – some impossible fabric that seems to capture and release light – flows over her curves like liquid starlight. Silver at first glance, it shifts colours with each movement: hints of lavender, whispers of blue, fleeting moments of gold. The bodice hugs her generous curves before flowing into a skirt that moves like captured moonlight. Her hair cascades over one shoulder in subtle waves, exposing the elegant line of her neck and a tantalizing expanse of skin that makes my fingers itch to touch.

"You look..." Words fail me. Beautiful seems inadequate. Stunning feels trite. Every compliment I can think of falls short of the vision before me.

A blush colours her cheeks, the pink spreading down her neck. "Thank you," she says softly, and for a moment, we're back in the gardens, all protocol forgotten— the awkwardness of the past three days melts away.

The scent of her perfume reaches me – something exotic and fresh, like Ovan wildflowers after rain. My tail moves of its own accord, curling toward her before I force it still.

She clears her throat, professional mask sliding back into place, though I notice her pulse fluttering at her throat. "Shall we?"

The journey to the ballroom is a study in torture. In the confined space of the transport glider, Casey's scent surrounds me, and each slight turbulence brings her shoulder or hip brushing against mine. By the time we arrive, my nerves are stretched razor thin.

The grand ballroom takes up an entire floating platform, its crystal walls offering panoramic views of Ova's twilight sky. Antigravity chandeliers cascade like frozen waterfalls of light, their crystals refracting rainbow hues across the gathered crowd. The effect is magical – dozens of alien species in their finest attire—a mix of shareholders, executives, employees, and various alien species from across the sector, moving through patches of prismatic light while soft orchestral music floats through the air.

We've barely crossed the threshold when Harlan materializes beside us, resplendent in formal attire that emphasizes his cerise skin and athletic build. My tail twitches in irritation at his impeccable timing.

"Casey," he purrs, taking her hand and pressing his lips to it. "You're absolutely stunning. That dress... it's as if it was created from starlight itself."

I bristle at his poetic praise, particularly when Casey's cheeks flush with pleasure. My own inarticulate response to her beauty suddenly seems woefully inadequate. My tail lashes once, hard, but I maintain my neutral expression. I'm here as her manager, nothing more.

"Thank you, Harlan," she replies, her voice warm. "The ballroom is magnificent."

"Nothing compared to you, my dear." His hand settles at the small of her back as he begins guiding her through the crowd. "Come, there are some people you simply must meet."

I follow at a professional distance, playing my part as the dutiful manager while watching Harlan's every move. He leads us toward a group of serious-looking men whose expensive suits and confident bearing mark them as shareholders.

"Directors," Harlan announces, "allow me to introduce Casey Peace, our potential champion for the Annual Sky Race. Casey, meet the board of directors."

One of the men – tall, gray-skinned, with calculating eyes – steps forward. "Tell me, Ms. Peace," his voice carrying harmonics that identify him as Centaurian. "I'm most curious about your approach to complex flight patterns. How do you handle inverse gravity wells during high-speed turns?"

I watch Casey straighten, shifting from charming party guest to confident pilot in an instant. She answers without hesitation. "The key is to treat the gravity well as an asset rather than an obstacle," she explains, her eyes lighting up with passion. "By using the gravitational shift to increase momentum while simultaneously adjusting the stabilizers, you can create a slingshot effect. The trick is timing the roll exactly right to maximize acceleration through the curve."

"That's an extremely advanced technique," another shareholder comments, his crystalline features refracting the light. "It's a risky technique few pilots would risk."

"Few pilots have Casey’s instincts," I interject, unable to help myself. I step closer. "I've seen Casey execute manoeuvres flawlessly—manoeuvres that would challenge most experienced riders. Casey's innate ability read a glider is better than any pilot I've worked with. Her instincts and ability help her safely push a glider to its limits is unmatched."

The shareholders murmur appreciatively, but I'm more affected by the look Casey gives me – grateful, warm, and tinged with something that makes my blood heat.

One side of his brow rises enquiringly. “And you are?”

“Casey’s manager.” I open my mouth again to give my name, but I’m already dismissed when the grey-skinned alien turns his back on me to talk to interrogate Casey further.

"Tell us about your experience with prototype crafts," a third shareholder asks. "The SkyDancer X1 is... unique."

Casey launches into a detailed explanation of prototype handling, her hands moving gracefully as she describes control adjustments and response patterns. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I notice several shareholders leaning forward, caught up in her expertise.

"The key to any prototype," she concludes, "is understanding that it's not just about controlling the glider – it's about partnering with it. Learning its quirks, its strengths. The SkyDancer X1 has a personality all its own."