The Girlfriend From Another Planet

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By the time I reached spaceport security I’d taken to smiling idiotically in all directions so as to give the cameras the impression I was innocent. According to my screenwork, I was headed to Saturn to conduct “research” for the science corporation where I worked. In actuality, I’d registered with an underground, interplanetary dating service. Along with getting arrested, I worried the alien creature from Saturn with whom I’d been retina-messaging all week — her name was Z)(Z — was actually a he, or worse, a kidnapper looking to sell my body parts to some illegal market.
    Sex with a female from this particular region on Saturn allegedly bordered on the implausible. In the last message, Z)(Z had explained that on her planet group sex was common. While she’d never done it with one mate, the prospect of it excited her greatly. I’d never had sex with a group, I’d messaged her. It’s not that great, she messaged back. What I hadn’t told her is that since my marriage of twelve years ended, I couldn’t stop obsessing about my soon-to-be-ex wife; and that I was hoping an alien might free me from this affliction. I was removing my Molar PC, no longer worried about getting caught when the security guy’s wand beeped near my buttocks. “Oh that,” I laughed, “it’s my iPod.”


     “I’m afraid we’re going to have to scan your pants, sir.”
    “Look, I realize you’re just doing your job, but I if I don’t make this ship, my . . . my boss will kill me.”
    A younger security guard walked over and said, “That the new iPod Hemorrhoid?”
    “How is it?”
    “Great,” I said, my heart rattling, “I mean, a little weird at first, but once you get used to the vibration it’s . . . cool.”
    “Cool?” the older guard said, “what’re you — some kind of Democrat?”
    “Nah,” I laughed, annoyed, “my nephew says that word a lot. It’s back in fashion, I think.” Re-inserting my Molar PC, I was tempted to tell him my grandfather had been one of the last Democrats who had died during the revolution. I kept quiet and hurried for the gate, anxious to leave this godforsaken planet.

Once I settled into my seat on the ship, thoughts of my wife resurfaced. I called her. When she answered, I thought, “Hey.”
     “Oh,” she thought back, her tone somewhat muted, “hi.”
     “You with him?” I thought.
    “Why are you torturing yourself like this?”
    “Why are you answering then, huh?”
    A high-pitched ring triggered in my head.
    “Sir!” thought the steward, “the Pilotor has alerted us that we are about to launch. You are violating PAA code.”
    “Sweetie!” I thought. She was gone.
    “And sir?”
    “Don’t call me sweetie.”
    Prick. I pressed the call button and another steward rushed over to my seat. “Excuse me,” I said, “can I have the medicine dispenser . . . I mean, like, right now?”
    Seconds later, she dropped a dispenser on my lap. It was much smaller than most spacelines but whatever, I typed: “escape” and watched little Pf spin around until it said, “Try again. Sorry.” I typed: “pining after wife . . . horny sad lonely thirsty worried

I reached over and touched her thigh; it was the size of a tree, the skin slippery.

forehead sweat.” The little Pf spun around on the screen and then a purple pill slid into the tray. The purple kind always made me ill. I swallowed it, anyway . . . and awoke to the Pilotor speaking in my head: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Saturn.”
    The spaceport looked like any other spaceport, really. We were escorted by your basic robot through a hallway whose walls seemed to emanate an astonishingly comforting light. We were led to another craft whose seats came equipped with medicine dispensers. I immediately typed “escape.” This time, the familiar pink pill slid into the tray and I ate it. Seconds later, I was a velvet blanket lying alone in sun-drenched field, just happy to be alive.

Z)(Z was approximately sixteen feet tall, with eyes the size of grapefruits, and skin covered in pastel spots that, although I couldn’t be sure, may have changed shapes every so often. Instead of feet, her arms and legs came to an elegant point I found erotic. We rode in her little craft in silence. Frankly, I felt like a child in the gigantic seat. When we exited the tunnel from the spaceport, I almost fainted at the beauty of the sky. It was a lemon color infused with red veins that flashed intermittently. I began to weep uncontrollably.
    “It’s the air pressure,” she said, peering down at me with her gargantuan eyes.
    I nodded, convinced my sadness had managed to trump the air pressure. It suddenly dawned on me we were moving along water.
    “My brother,” she said, “works for the government, and often flies to your planet. It can be exhausting.”
    The structures we passed were infinitely high and supported by translucent beams that reflected the red veins of light.
    “To be perfectly honest,” I said, trying to sound inoffensive, “I guess I never considered the height factor a — “
    “Yes,” I laughed. “by the way, your translator mechanism is excellent.”
    “I sense you’re feeling emasculated by my height.”
    “I don’t know . . . I think I could be into it.” I reached over and touched her thigh; it was the size of a tree, the skin slippery.
    “I sense you miss someone from the past.”
    “Jesus, you sense a lot.”
    “Mostly, you worry she doesn’t miss you.”
    I nodded, wondering why we were the only craft on the water. Maybe she was kidnapping me!
    “Still,” she went on, “with all this confusion in your head, you still want to sleep with me.”
    I laughed.
    “It’s okay. I’d like to sleep with you as well.”
    “Great,” I said, worrying I’d be one or two yards shorter than what she was used to. “Your kind are very direct. I like that.”
    She pulled over to one of the beams whose top rose into the sky. After a distinctive click, we rocketed into the air so rapidly that my head began to expand.







    “There’s not much time,” she said.
    “You mean, I could get arrested?”
    “It’s illegal here to have sex with just one being.”
    “It’s illegal where I’m from to have sex without being married to one being. But everyone does it. My best friend recently got eight years for fingering with intent to coital. He’ll be out in three with good behavior, but still . . .”
    Her grapefruit eyes looked at me with tremendous compassion. I had so many questions, but like any encounter with a foreigner, I didn’t want the situation the turn into a discussion panel.
    “Lie on the bed,” she said. "There isn’t much time.”
    “Where are we?” I asked, beginning to fear the worst again.
    “The house of my family.”
    The bed was the size of some people’s front yards. “I kind of thought we’d go for a walk or something, you know, get to know each other?”
    She instructed me to lie down, at which point she stood over me. Suddenly, my whole body got sucked up inside her. I held my

Again, I got sucked inside.

breath, but I was too compartmentalized to touch myself. Then my entire body stiffened, and I became so numb with pleasure I began to lose consciousness.
    “Quiet,” I heard her say from outside.
    I awoke from a nap of some sort, somewhat delirious. Another creature, only slightly shorter and with less spots, stood beside Z)(Z. “This is my mother,” she said.
    I waved casually.
    “She’d like to spend some time with you on the bed.”
    “She what?”
    The mother’s eyes blinked slowly. “She comes from a different planet, where one-on-one sex with the daughter’s mate was common. Unfortunately, her kind were decimated by a long war.”
    “That is unfortunate,” I said, picturing my wife’s mother.
    “Don’t worry,” Z)(Z said, “I’ll be right here.”
    I felt an overwhelming sense of peace in the room.
    The mother now stood over me, lowering her body onto my head. “Should I?” I said, “hold — ” Again, I got sucked inside, except this time it smelled a little more musky. As my body grew stiff, something crept up my ass, it felt like a leaf or something. It tickled, and I welcomed the pleasure . . . until it bit me. “Ow!” I screamed. My legs began to tremble, and I worried I might die. I called my wife. Luckily, she picked up. “Hi,” I thought.
    “Where are you?” she thought, “you sound like you’re in a tunnel.”
    “I just want you to know I’ll always love you.”
    “I know, sweetie but. . . maybe it’s time you’ve moved on.”
    “Don’t — ” The connection failed.
    I slipped out of the mother and onto the bed. I grew sleepy again, from thoughts of my wife or this experience I wasn’t sure. Were they drugging me? I instantly regretted having called my wife. Still, I tried not to be mad at myself for trying. “I think I want to stay here!” I blurted.

"You can eat something," she said, "and meet my father."

    The mother said something in a sound I found utterly soothing. “My mother senses you are drowning in a past love. She’d like to offer you what you would call a ‘mineral’ to rid yourself of this affliction.”
    “No!” I whined, “I’ll manage to get through it on my own. I’m tired of fucking pills!”
    “Good choice,” Z)(Z said, “because the mineral was death. But our kind usually transcends to another planet after we die. What place would you transcend to?”
    I lay there, too tired to answer.
    “You must be hungry,” Z)(Z said.
    “Yes. So long as I stay away from your mother’s ‘minerals.'”
    “Come with us,” she said, ignoring my joke, “you can eat something, and meet my father.”
    “Uh,” I said, “on second thought —”
    “Don’t worry,” she said, “he won’t touch you like that.”
    It took some strength, but I stood up. They’d begun to converse casually in that strange language. I enjoyed being in their company, I decided. Though I was deathly tired, I suddenly found myself running across the gigantic bed to reach them, trying not to stumble atop the soft cushioning.



©2006 Tom Lombardi and
Tom Lombardi’s fiction is forthcoming in McSweeney’s Quarterly, and has appeared in Fence,, and Opium. His website is