AN: This is for my love bug, Lulu M. Happy birthday, baby! I hope it involves lots of drunken debauchery and that next year we'll be able to celebrate our old maidenhoods together.
Mucho besos to the always fantastic solar eclipses and smexy4smarties for their eleventh hour mad beta skillz.
Of course there's a soundtrack to this madness:
E.T. - Katy Perry (http:/www (.) youtube (.) com (/) watch?v (=) t5Sd5c4o9UM0)
Alien Sex Fiend – Garbage (http:/www (.) youtube (.) com (/) watch?v (=) REQoawvUWFw)
My Body's a Zombie for You - Dead Man's Bones (http:/www (.) youtube (.) com (/) watch?v (=) to7PxdyEdDw0
I awake with a start. I bolt upright, and my eyes jerk open. It's still dark outside, and hazy images of my dreams float in and out of my consciousness, like clouds moving across the sky. I recall brief snatches of my mind's interior landscape. There was a dog? And some guy with green eyes? And. . . and. . . zombies? What the fuck? No more midnight snacks of ramen. I really mean it this time.
I shake my head slightly, as if that will knock out the bizarre remnants of my REM sleep. I look around my room, trying to remember why I woke up. There was definitely a reason. As my eyes rake over the darkened corners, it comes to me. I felt like I was being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my eyes dart to the window. It's open.
I never leave my window open. The daughter of a cop, I've heard too many horror stories from Dad about "home invasions" and other unsavory deeds that occur when one is foolish enough to want some fresh air. After living with him during my formative teen years, I'm very careful about my personal safety, almost to the point of obsession—just like dear old Charlie intended. Trying not to panic, I call out, "Who's there?"
My heart beats a tattoo against my ribs, and I have trouble catching my breath. I will myself to calm down, knowing that panicking won't help what could possibly be a bad situation. I briefly close my eyes and inhale deeply.
Moving slowly, so as not to startle the serial killer that's obviously in my room, I pull my bedcovers aside, and slide my legs to the edge of the bed. I'm glad that I put on pajamas earlier. Half the time, I'm barely conscious enough to pull off my bra before collapsing on my bed. Being naked right now would make me feel even more vulnerable, and while I know that a thin layer of cotton offers no real protection, I'm thankful for it nonetheless.
I reach into my bedside table and grab the canister of pepper spray that Charlie always thoughtfully gives me for every possible gifting occasion. Armed now, I stand up. At this level, I can see some odd lights moving across the sky. I walk to the window to get a better look. They're not stars—at least not like any stars I've ever seen before. For one thing, they're this odd greenish-blue color and for another, they seem to be flashing in some sort of pattern. I blink and they're gone.
Damnit. Do I need to swear off watching late night episodes of The X-Files too?
Half-convinced that I'm still sleeping, I decide to go back to bed. I shut my window with force, making a loud bang, causing me to jump back like a frightened rabbit. Okay, universe. I get it. No more slasher flicks either. I've now removed most of my night owl activities from my busy schedule, but I'm still not feeling better.
Clutching the spray in one hand, I go back to bed. I curl up, leaving the murderer less options for stabbing locales by making myself smaller. I hope I'll be a pretty corpse.
A few minutes pass, and after nothing jumps out of the shadows to attack me, I slowly begin to unfurl myself into a more comfortable position. My heart slows and I feel myself drifting off to sleep, when another light flashes. It's so bright that I can see the network of veins underneath my eyelids.
Without thinking, and with the fury of the rudely awakened, I rip my sheets off and stalk over to the window. The weird lights are back—obviously—and the sash is open again.
The canister falls out of my hand. There's a motherfucking UFO hovering outside of my bedroom.
It's clear that I must still be sleeping and having another bizarre dream. I give myself a hard pinch, just to be certain.
Is it possible to feel pain when you're dreaming? I look down at my arm. How about bruising? I watch the blood underneath my skin blossom into a small rose. Maybe I can still go back to bed. When I wake up, it will be morning, and my window will be closed, and this bruise won't be there, and everything will be how it ought to be.
Then the buzzing begins.
It's not loud, like a motor, more like a mosquito flying around my head. I'm still staring at the window, trying to ignore the sound coming from the aircraft, when my body starts to vibrate in tandem with it. This can't be real. It must be shock. I don't know what would have caused it, but it's the only logical explanation for what's happening. I move to lie down on my bed, when I realize that I can't move my legs.
My heart resumes knocking against my chest and my breath starts coming in short quick bursts, and I'm just conscious enough to realize that I'm about to pass out. I see the floor moving towards my face. I stop just short of face-planting and my body feels suspended as if I've turned into a life-sized puppet. Then everything goes black.
When I come to, I'm back in my bed. I have no memory of getting myself here. The mysterious aircraft is still outside, and when I sit up, it starts blinking again.
"Are you real?" I call out.
The lights flash on and off so quickly it makes my head hurt.
"Blink once for yes, twice for no."
One of the lights moves closer. It hovers right outside of my window.
"Would you like . . . to come in?"
I've clearly lost my mind. What the hell am I thinking, trying to communicate with an alien life form?
"Come in, then."
I watch as the light floats closer to me then stops at the foot of my bed. I thought that it would be blindingly bright, but instead it's softly glowing green, like the color of my mother's jade jewelry.
This is by far the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me.
"So, come here often?"
I couldn't help it. I try to alleviate awkwardness with stupid jokes.
"Not from around here, are you?"
I swear to god, it's like an illness. Also, they obviously haven't taught sarcasm in E.T. school. They might want to rethink that, whoever they are.
"Do you have a name?"
I wonder what it's like not having a name. How would you communicate? Maybe they don't?
"Can I give you one?" I ask, shyly. How human of me to insist on my planet's traditions. I hope I haven't offended him . . . her . . . it.
What to name . . . him? I've decided it's a him. Only a boy would be foolish enough to sneak into my bedroom this late at night.
I glance around the room, looking for inspiration. My eyes land on the book on the bedside table, Sense and Sensibility. I had been reading it for the umpteenth time right before I drifted off to sleep.
"Do you like the name Edward?"
The light goes crazy.
"Is that a yes?"
Suddenly, my bed starts to hum. I'm jolted, at first, but remember the ship vibrating earlier.
"Are you doing that, Edward?"
He slowly lights up. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear he was being shy.
"What does it mean?"
Damnit, I forget we can only do yes-or-no questions. I rephrase.
"Does it mean something?"
Edward seems really excited, for a blinking green light. Granted he's the only one I've ever met, so I could be wrong, but we seem to have some sort of connection. I think I can understand him, even without the benefit of a multi-syllable communication pathway.
"Does it mean that you're happy?"
The humming increases until my bed is pulsating like I'm in a Vegas motel and I just fed it a few quarters.
At first, it was strange, but now it's a little too . . . comfortable if you get my drift. All of my parts are vibrating, all of them. It's making me a bit breathless, to be honest. I'm not certain this is something I want to experience with a whatever-Edward-is that I've just met.
"Hey, Edward?" My voice sounds throaty from the unexpected stimulation.
"Can you hold off on that a bit?"
It stops. Unfortunately, I'm feeling a bit at odds. That curl of anticipation is still throbbing low in my belly from Edward's magic buzz, and now I'm wishing that I hadn't asked him to stop. I know it's been a while—a really, really long while—but am I really so hard up for any action that I'm eager to get some from a non-corporal alien entity from outer space?
I think about it for a minute.
Good god. I really am that desperate. I broke up with my ex, Jake, months ago. He was a good guy, but we never quite fit together. For him, everything was hunky dory, of course, but much like an over-excitable puppy, he never quite understood the importance of gentle finesse. And, now, here I am getting turned on by a blinking green light, which tonight is the epitome of skill.
Note to self: Find a date and/or vibrator ASAP.
I've been getting lost in my thoughts, and my new friend taps my shoulder, or—since he doesn't possess any appendages that I can see—gives me the sensation of him trying to get my attention.
My head turns toward him. That's a game changer. Can he make any part feel like it's being touched?
"Edward, can you do that again?"
"Can you do that anywhere?"
I point to my knee. Then almost immediately afterward, I feel like someone is brushing their fingertips across my skin. It tickles and I laugh. My giggle excites Edward and he starts humming again.
Oh, lord. The humming.
It's causing me to slowly lose my mind. It's been far too long since anyone—anything?—has made me feel this way. I'm afraid that I'm getting too excited, and start to question myself. What the hell am I doing?
But then I let go. I've always overthought things. When I was a child, my mother called me her "middle-aged daughter." I'm going to act my age for once and be reckless. I'm tired of feeling like a forty-year-old in a twenty-five-year-old's body.
Whatever happens, happens. If I have sex with a light I named Edward, so be it. If I get eaten by the sand monster from Star Wars that obviously lives in his spaceship—well, that would suck—but I'm willing to accept that as an option too. When else will I get the opportunity to have an intergalactic lover? Carpe diem, and all that, you know?
Now that I've decided to stop thinking so much, I'm laying back and enjoying these new sensations, my vibrating bed, the slight tickle moving across my knee.
"Can you go higher up my leg?"
I feel a brushing across my thighs. It's a good thing I'm lying down because my legs are turning to jelly just from this small touch.
"That feels good."
"Can you kiss me?"
I touch my lips. "Can you touch me here?"
Yeah, he can. That coil in my belly is pulling tighter. I pull off my pajamas hastily, in order to get the full experience.
"Here?" I touch my neck. A series of small nips run from my ear, down my neck, across my collar bones and to the other side. It's not fair that I've never been so turned on in my life and the reason for it is a creature from outer space. Are there really no men on Earth that can satisfy me? Am I doomed to be sexually frustrated forever? That's a sobering thought.
I remind myself to not overthink this.
Put your mind back in the game, Swan.
"Here?" I cup my breast and lift it toward him. The sensation rolls around my flesh, circling my nipple in smaller and smaller rotations until every part feels like it's being stroked, except the portion that aches for it the most. I groan.
I pull at my own nipple, desperate for any touch. My hand falls back as I arch off the bed. Then both of my breasts are being fondled by unseen forces. I cry out before I feel a mouth on mine. The sensation of being kissed and touched by the unknown is more erotic than I would have thought. I feel my lady parts becoming gelly.
My whole body is throbbing, and my excitement is ramping Edward up too. The entire bed is shaking, and at the edge of my consciousness, I can hear it rattling against the walls.
"Here?" I whisper and ghost my fingers over my clit. My hands are shaking; I can barely hold myself still.
His touch is right there, and on my nipples and on my mouth, and without me saying so, he's somehow found my spot as well and he's pressing against it in exactly the right way. I'm trembling on the bed, moving as if I'm no longer in control, my hips thrust against the air, my head shakes back and forth. I feel it building until I can't hold back.
I press my hand against my mouth to keep myself from crying out.
Each muscle is tensing, until all at once they release in a firestorm of sensations. I can see stars, no lie. My whole body feels like I'm floating. Once I open my eyes, I realize that I am actually floating. Huh. I always thought that was just an expression.
Edward is blinking like crazy, but he's stopped vibrating. I don't think I could handle any more feeling at the moment.
I feel my body slowly relax while also being gently lowered into my bed. I'm so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.
"Was it good for you?" I mumble tiredly.
I don't expect an answer.
Maybe I wasn't the only one who enjoyed that.
"Will I ever see you again?"
I fall asleep before I get a response.
The sun is beating into my room, and the light shining into my eyes wakes me up. I stretch groggily, feeling like something happened the night before, but I can't quite remember. My body feels loose, like it does after a good ride in the hay. But I didn't . . . did I?
I shake off the leftovers of sleep and look for the pajamas I swore I went to sleep in last night.
Coffee, I need coffee.
I walk down the stairs, feeling a bit sore. I guess I overdid it on my jog yesterday. I remind myself to take it easy today.
I go to the kitchen to pour myself a cup.
"Hey, kiddo." My dad greets me.
"You sleep okay last night?"
"There was a crazy storm. Lots of lightning and thunder. I'm surprised it didn't wake you up. The whole house was shaking."
And then it all comes flashing back.