It was a good thing she liked the taste of his come, because there was a lot of it. Apparently the Kindred produced a lot more seed than human males and he seemed to come forever.
At last, though, Vic finished. Panting, he looked down and stroked a strand of hair out of her face.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his deep voice hoarse with pleasure and gratitude. “That was…beyond anything I have ever imagined.”
“You never imagined getting a blowjob before?” Torri asked, amused. He must be the only guy in the universe that had never had that particular fantasy, she thought. But she loved the fact that she had been his first and that he had enjoyed it so much. She stared up at him, smiling at the contented expression on his face.
Vic loved the way she was looking at him.
“I have thought of tasting a female, but I never imagined a female tasting me,” he admitted. “Your mouth and hands on me feel wonderful.”
“Now you know how I felt last night.” Torri smiled at him, though he thought her expression was a little sad, too. “I just wanted to give you something to remember me by,” she whispered. “You know, since this is our last day together.”
“You didn’t have to give me something to make me remember our time together—I could never forget you.” Vic reached down to cup her cheek. “You’re so beautiful with the morning light bathing you like this,” he murmured. “I’ll keep this memory of you in my heart forever.”
“Oh, Vic…” Suddenly she was in his arms, her face buried in his chest. “I wish we had more time,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to go back to sleep so I never get to see you again.”
“I wish we had more time too. But taking a bride isn’t my function,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “I am a scout—it is my sole purpose for being.”
“I know. I’m just going to miss you so much.” She gave a little sob, then seemed to make an effort to rein in her emotions. “I’m sorry—I don’t want to waste our last day being sad. Are you hungry?”
Vic nodded.
“I could eat,” he admitted, though to be honest, he wasn’t looking forward to more Earth cuisine. It was mostly bland and badly seasoned—though he wouldn’t say that, for fear of hurting Torri’s feelings.
“Good.” She smiled and swiped at her eyes. “Then let’s get up and see if we can find anything for breakfast. Come on.”
Vic returned her smile but his own feelings echoed the sadness in her eyes. For once in his long, long life, he wished he was something other than what he was. He wished he was a real Kindred and not just a scout.
But wishing could not make things so. With a sigh, he followed her to the kitchen.
Thirty-Five
Nana had always kept a well-stocked kitchen and even though she had been gone for months, there was still a lot to work with. The flour in the air-tight canister was still fresh and there was bacon in the freezer and Nana’s own canned cinnamon apples in the pantry.
“Pancakes,” Torri said, nodding to herself as she looked at what she had to work with. “And bacon and coffee—though I’m afraid we’ll have to take it black, unless you like powdered creamer.”
“I’ll be happy to eat whatever you cook,” Vic said politely. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just sit there and look pretty,” Torri said, grinning.
“Look ‘pretty’?” Vic frowned. “How do I do that?”
Torri waved a hand dismissively.
“It’s just an old joke my grandparents used to tell. Grandpa Pete would ask if he could help in the kitchen and sometimes Nana would put him to work. But if there was nothing she wanted him to do, she’d tell him to just sit there and look pretty. Really it means I just want you to sit here and keep me company while I cook,” she explained, when he still looked confused.
“Oh, I can do that.” Vic nodded and looked around the kitchen, which was in the back part of the large A-shaped frame of the house. “This is a very well- designed food prep area,” he remarked. “Though your appliances are different from any I have ever seen.”
“What, you don’t have microwaves and stoves?” Torri asked, as she thawed out the bacon and then started on the pancake batter. She would have to use the powdered eggs Nana had kept in case of emergency, but hopefully it wouldn’t be a problem.
“We have waves—they emit many hundreds of tiny lasers to cook food very rapidly,” Vic explained.
“Sounds really high tech,” Torri remarked. “I hope I get to see it while I’m aboard the, uh, Mother Ship.” She shook her head. “It still sounds so weird to say that. I feel like I’m living in a sci-fi movie!”
“Yes, the Kindred have watched many of your science fiction vids,” Vic said. “Most of them get things completely wrong. But you cannot help that you have primitive science,” he added kindly.
Torri snorted as she started the bacon in one cast iron skillet and got out a round, cast iron griddle for the pancakes. The cinnamon apples were already heating in a pot on the back of the stove.
“Thanks a lot. I’m sure all the leaders of Earth will be happy to hear how backwards we are and that you only want us for our women,” she remarked.
“That’s not true,” Vic said earnestly. “There is much to learn from any species—no matter how technologically advanced they are or are not. We will be happy to do cultural exchanges with your people. We—” He stopped and sniffed the air, his eyes going wide. “What is that amazing smell?”
“That, my friend, is bacon frying.” Torri grinned with satisfaction. “Not bad, huh?”
“Bacon? You mean the limp strips of greasy meat they served at St. Elizabeth’s?” he asked.
“First of all, bacon is not supposed to taste like that,” Torri said firmly. “I don’t know what they did to it there, but they definitely weren’t cooking it right. Bacon should be crisp and delicious—not limp and soggy.”
She transferred the perfectly crisp bacon to a plate with paper towels on it as she spoke and then flipped the pancakes. Breakfast was almost ready.
“There are other good smells too.” Vic lifted his face, inhaling deeply. “Sweet and warm and comforting—what is that?”
“You’re probably smelling my Nana’s cinnamon apple preserves,” Torri told him. “I’m heating some up to serve on top of the pancakes.”
As she spoke, she transferred the fluffy, golden-brown pancakes onto another plate and then poured the cinnamon apples into a serving bowl.
Vic got up to help her bring the plates to the table, sniffing everything with apparent eagerness that made Torri smile. She hadn’t known how to cook before she moved in with Nana, but her grandmother had insisted on teaching her.
“It might sound old-fashioned and foolish but the way to a man’s heart really is through his stomach,” she had told Torri. “And learning to cook is its own reward—you’ll never go hungry or have to live off that fast-food slop they serve everywhere as long as you have a little cooking know-how to call on.”