The tiny mouth opened and emitted burbling laughter.
“Hark at her! She thinks it’s me she’s meant to kiss!” the pastry saleswoman exclaimed. “No, no, dearie,” she went on, her eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. “I meant you must kiss your man!”
“You want to watch me kiss Vic? That’s how you want me to pay for the pastry?” Torri was confused—were the Gemmites voyeurs or something?
“Helps fill the energy meter, now doesn’t it?” The woman reached under the board where the pastries were displayed and pulled out a metal contraption about two feet tall and a foot wide. To Terri, it looked a little like an old-fashioned outdoor thermometer you hung up on the side of the house to see how cold or hot it was. There was a red line running vertically from top to bottom and it was hovering about halfway up the “energy meter” as the Gemmite woman had called it.
“The Gemmites draw both energy and sustenance from emotions,” Vic explained. “Especially strong emotions engendered by physical acts. Some prefer emotions from violent or painful acts and some prefer the emotions caused by sensual or sexual acts.”
“So…you can pay with either sex or violence?” Torri asked, arching her eyebrows in surprise.
Vic nodded. “Exactly.”
“Some likes the violence—it makes more energy, but it tastes salty and bitter. Romance is sweet and me, I like the sweet stuff, dearie,” the Gemmite woman put in, grinning at Torri. “Can’t you tell by what I sell?” She nodded down at the delectable-looking pastries.
“So…different acts engender different emotions with different flavors?” Torri asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
“Exactly. Don’t people have energy meters on your planet?” The pastry saleswoman looked surprised.
“Er, no. We get all our energy from food,” Torri explained.
“What, all of it? That’s very inefficient, that is!” The tiny, stretched face in front of Torri’s frowned. “Do you know how much food I’d have to eat to keep going if I couldn’t draw energy from feelings? Why, I’d spend all my day eating and never have time to bake my pastries!” the Gemmite woman exclaimed.
“Um…” Torri wasn’t sure what to say to this but the stretchy pinkish-gray face pushed into hers again.
“So do you want to pay for the pastry or not, dearie? Just one kiss—five yorns—that’s all I ask. But you’ve got to mean it.” The Gemmite woman unhooked a kind of funnel attached to a long tube from the side of her “energy meter” and pointed it at Torri enquiringly.
Torri looked at Vic, who shrugged and smiled at her.
“I’ll be happy to help you pay for the pastry if you want it,” he murmured.
Torri had never been much for public displays of affection, but she wasn’t going to pass up the chance to kiss the big Kindred again. Since they had left the house that morning, they hadn’t touched each other much, and she found she was as hungry for him as she was for the luscious-looking pastry.
“Come here, then,” she murmured. Standing on tiptoes to reach him, she put her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.
Vic leaned down eagerly and when their lips met, Torri swore she could feel sparks of pleasure rushing between them. It was almost like they were generating some kind of, well, energy between them, she thought, as she pressed closer to the big Kindred’s broad chest and gave herself completely to the hot kiss.
“Mmm…” Vic growled softly, running his big, warm hands up and down her back and shoulders as he deepened the kiss. Torri moaned and parted her lips for his tongue, wanting more of him—always more…
“That’s good then, dearie! You’ve paid for it and then some,” a voice said in her ear.
Torri broke the kiss and turned to see the Gemmite woman’s face right beside her own—which was rather disconcerting since she was still wrapped in Vic’s arms.
“Um…okay,” she said rather breathlessly. “Er…thanks for letting me know.”
“Let’s see how it tastes—I always love the flavor of alien romance,” the Gemmite woman said. Her stretchy face withdrew back to her head and she lifted the funnel-like attachment of the meter to her lips and sucked experimentally.
The red line on the meter—which had risen from half full to three-quarters full, apparently because of the kiss Torri had shared with Vic—dropped as the Gemmite woman sucked.
She pulled the funnel away from her mouth and smacked her lips approvingly.
“Delicious and very nourishing! Why, I feel I could bake all night now. That’s quality emotion, that is!” she declared, smiling at Torri.
“Er, thank you,” Torri said. It felt odd that someone was rating her kisses with Vic like they were some kind of fine wine, but at least the woman was happy.
“Take your pick, dearie,” the Gemmite woman said, sweeping one large hand with sausage-like fingers over the board filled with pastries. “Have any one you like—you’ve more than paid for it.”
Torri chose the one she’d had her eye on—with the many tiny balls arranged in concentric circles and the little pot of jam in the middle. It was on a piece of thin, crinkly blue paper and she had to hold it with both hands, it was so big.
“Here—you’ll never be able to eat it that way,” Vic said practically. “Why don’t you let me hold it for you?”
Torri carefully transferred the thin blue paper with the massive pastry on it into his large hands. Then she pulled off one of the puffy pastry balls and popped it in her mouth.
“Mmmm,” she moaned with pleasure, as the pastry melted on her tongue. “It’s like a Krispy Kreme donut but even better!”
“Try one with the burra-burra jam,” the Gemmite woman said proudly. “That’s my own recipe, that is. I make it fresh every day.”
Torri picked off another ball and dipped it into the reddish purple jam. The flavor was sweet and tangy at the same time. It tasted like the wild black-raspberry preserves her Nana used to make, she thought, with a hint of some exotic spice thrown in to make it even better.
“Delicious!” she told the pastry seller.
“Why, I’m glad you like it, dearie.” The Gemmite woman beamed at her. “Now you go on and enjoy the rest of the market. It’ll be closing soon, you know, so if you want to buy any more sweeties or trinkets, you’d best be on your way.”
“Thank you,” Torri said, smiling at her. She took another pastry ball and dipped it in the jam before lifting it to Vic’s mouth. “Here—try this.”
He opened his mouth obligingly and chewed with pleasure.
“Delicious,” he murmured as they walked away from the pastry stall. “But I still think I like your grandmother’s cinnamon apples better.”
“Nana’s apples can’t be beat,” Torri agreed. “But this pastry is pretty close.”
They wandered down the rows of stalls, eating the pastry and chatting in the chilly air. Dusk began to fall and while some of the merchants packed up and left, others simply draped the tops of their booths with glimmering nets of lights that sparkled like tiny stars in the darkness.