COSMIC HEAT

One of these days I just knew I’d meet a few aliens. Some humans thought that we were alone in the vast universe. Some didn’t. I also worked in Roswell New Mexico, we had little statues, and masks and mummified replicas of aliens all over the gift shop. I hadn’t had any close encounters of any kind yet, but in the near future I hoped to meet a few little green, or grey, men. I was a vegan, just out of high school, and took the graveyard shift because no one else wanted it.

I have to admit that it was hard working around all of those greasy burgers and milkshakes all the time but so far, I’d managed to resist their allure. I planned to keep my thin, girlish figure until I was, oh—maybe thirty or so. In other words, old. I knew the hazards of working at a diner, in the middle of nowhere practically, and smack in the middle of prime country for aliens. Forget about No Country For Old Men. I lived and worked at a place that could have had a flashing, neon, and beat-up old sign outside saying “Come On In—We Don’t Bite.” Maybe the aliens would.

Those on The Twilight Zone were cool. Some of the movies and TV shows after that were obviously written by alien haters. You know—the ones where people ran around with atomic bombs and shotguns and blasted every alien in sight. Fuck, I wanted to meet an alien one day, not blow him or her or it or them up. Maybe I’d jump his bones, if it was a he and our equipment matched up. If he had any, that is. Maybe alien sex wasn’t at all like human sex.

What if they didn’t make love and instead made babies in test tubes or something? I guess we can do that too, but having sex with someone was far more exciting. There weren’t many prospects around here, that’s for sure. Head down and trying my best to scrape and wipe off the battered and chipped Formica counter, it was 2am and I was dead tired. One old guy sat in a corner, and that was it. Maybe he was dead because he hadn’t moved in a while.

Our cook was asleep in the kitchen and I could see him in a corner slumped over and snoring. I sighed and was about to go over and shake his shoulder, when the screen door clattered open then clattered shut and I looked up to see who’d gotten lost and wandered in. I thought I was pretty, but when I took my first look at the six foot plus dude who’d walked into our hellhole of a diner, I knew he’d win head over heels in any beauty pageant I’d try out for. He stared at me, literally stared, with the most brilliantly green eyes I’d ever seen. My sex did a reverse inside out and my toes curled. He had spikey black hair and sensuous lips and I already knew he’d be a great kisser.

Oh, what those lips would feel like as he explored my vagina and clit with them. Adding his tongue would make it perfect. I felt dizzy and then hurriedly looked at his ring finger. Thank God! No un-tanned mark where a ring should be, and no worn skin, either. I was a virgin except for some heavy in-the-car breast groping. Maybe he’d want to eat me instead of our crappy food. Maybe he just wanted a few French fries.

Maybe he was asexual. Some business guys had no time for sex because they preferred fucking over the business world rather than fucking real women. Shit, I hoped he wasn’t asexual. I wanted him all to myself. I didn’t want to share him with anyone, including himself. I fanned my cheeks with a menu because he made me flush. I tried to speak, but gibberish came out. He must have been a real gentleman because he didn’t look at me for a moment, but sat down at the counter and studied the menu instead, as well as the tumbleweeds blowing around outside. You know—what’s a desert town without a few potentially murderous tumbleweeds lurking by the windows and doors?

I banged on the kitchen wall and screamed at the cook. “Wake up, Burt, Customer!” I looked at Mr. Gorgeous and what he was wearing and instantly felt like I could run my hand down his sleeve and onto his chest and then slipping my hand under his opened-at-the-neck white shirt, run it over his skin lightly and— He grabbed my arm and my clit jumped to attention. “Later. There will be time for that later.” Keeping hold of my wrist he held the menu in his hand and continued to study it like it was the Gutenberg Bible or something, turning it over and looking at the back and even upside down.