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Instincts

Santa Claus penetrated the Martian blockade and located Charlie, after searching 7 years. "Here's your Christmas present," Santa said. "Get this block of ice into your underground shelter. It'll defrost in 12 hours. Hurry. Those lousy Martians might locate my sleigh any second and destroy it. Don't know if I can ever return. Merry Christmas."

Charlie, the only human left on Earth, pushed the ice block to his shelter's camouflaged entrance tube. Back in his Doomsday hideout under Australia, he read Santa's greeting card. "Her name's Lala. She's not from this galaxy, but she's female. I taught her English. She's twenty, childishly innocent, but has powerful primitive instincts, including the one you crave most."

When she defrosted, her four hands reached out. Gently pulling her to him, he whispered the same question into each of ten holes surrounding her head. "Yes," she whispered. Taking his hand, she moved it to apertures running down the side of her outermost tentacle.

"Mmm. One for everyday of the week," he said, kissing her first set of lips, then the three sets above.

She quivered.

"That's lesson number one," he said, gazing deeply into the orange eye in the middle of her forehead. "Before we move on to lesson two, do you mind if I call you Eve?"

He thought he heard the most charming, girlish giggle.

Story by:

Michael A. Kechula

m.kechula@att.net

www.BooksForABuck.com

10 September 2013