Page 3 of Solan

A general murmur of agreement went around the room.

Vegas smiled at the Galaxar. “Thank you, Tolak. I’ll see you all back here at the same time tomorrow.” She pulled the door open and stepped out. Vegas gestured for Heather to wait for a moment as she listened in to the Galaxars’ conversation. She always liked to know what the aliens really thought of My Single Alien. Not that she was nosy. It was all about gathering informal feedback to help improve the service they offered.

“I can’t wait to plow myself a garden in one of these human females.” It was the pushy Galaxar from the front row. “Although, I’m sure she will break when I mount her.”

“They won’t if you handle them properly.” Tolak had moved closer to the door.

“I know how to handle my females. It’s their folds that interest me. What do you think they hide down there?”

“You won’t get to find out if you don’t treat your mate properly.”

“I thought these lessons would be more practical. I want to get my hands on the real thing. All these 3-D models do is give me an enormous hard-on. I’ve nowhere to put it.”

“Try sticking it up your own tail-end.”

“I know where I’ll stick it if you keep sucking up to Miss Munro. She won’t be interested in you.”

“I’m not sucking up to her. We must respect her. She will give us all mates.”

“You’ve already succumbed to their weak human emotional ways. You’re getting it all wrong. They just need a good hard fuck, and they’ll be happy. You saw the way she reacted when I talked about how big we were. Her panties were almost on the floor.”

Vegas raised her eyes to the ceiling and frowned at Heather. “Let’s leave them to it.”

Heather hurried along beside Vegas as she traversed the outer corridor of the station. “Don’t take it personally. No matter the alien, boys will be boys.”

“For once, it would be nice if all they were interested in wasn’t what we looked like with no clothes on.”

“Evolution can only take us so far. These aliens have the technology to create a stable wormhole, but they still think with their ding-a-lings most of the time.”

Heather was right. Aliens came from thousands of different galaxies, having traveled millions of space miles to get to this place, but they were basically all interested in the same thing: getting a woman’s legs open.

Vegas increased her stride. “It’s a Colonel and his officers arriving this afternoon, isn’t it?” She’d read through so many transport log manifestos that each one blurred into a single blob of names and aliens.

“That’s right. Six Galaxars in total.” Heather ducked as a station security drone shot too close to her head.

The space station, known as Prodigy, or Procreation Central to some, was a stop off point for aliens who traveled through the Glory Hole and needed to re-fuel or rest. It was also the headquarters for My Single Alien. The location was perfect, and business was booming.

Heather was almost running to keep up with Vegas. Whereas Vegas stood a lofty five foot ten, Heather was just over five foot tall, with short legs and curves. Although they couldn’t look any more different, Vegas was as close to her as any sister.

“Do you want to do anything specific for the welcome party this time?”

Vegas shook her head. “We’ll do the same as always. Welcome them. Give them a tour. Set them up in their accommodation then complete the inductions before introducing them to their mates.”

“It’s a Galaxar colonel. Aren’t they more like royalty?”

“Royalty my butt,” Vegas said. “These guys will be the same as the others. It’s just that they’re better at wielding a laser or a blade.”

Galaxars were galaxy defenders. They were employed by dozens of planets to protect them from attack from outlaw aliens. They had a military-style hierarchy, with generals seen as near gods.

Vegas glanced out at the star-studded blackness of space through a fused silica window. She never let herself think about it too long, but she was a hell of a long way from Earth. This place had been an experiment. A place of last resort, not just for humans, but for the many aliens who utilized their resources. And the only resource humans had that aliens wanted was fertile women and lots of them.

“I’ve seen a new Galaxar greeting that’s popular,” Heather said. She was always eager to please when working with aliens. As well as a first class matchmaker, she’d been a blogger on Earth, specializing in human social interaction. “They bow with their fists over their chests. Then they do a fist bump.”

“A fist bump? Isn’t that an Earth thing?”

“It’s also a Galaxar thing,” Heather said. “Although I’m worried my hand might break if I ever make contact with a Galaxar’s fist.” She clenched her tiny fingers together several times.

That was one problem with Galaxars. They punched first and asked questions later. It often led to fights in the Enchanted Captain, the station’s bar. When Galaxars fought, you got out of the way fast. They’d smash through anything, human bones included.