Page 32 of Wanted By the Alien Warden

The question flamed through me. The idea that she might want the curl of my tail around her. A part of my body wrapping around hers…

“No, thank you!”

“That’s fine,” I said quickly. Too quickly. Like maybe it wasn’t really fine but it would be humiliatingly pathetic to admit it. “It’s more efficient this way, anyway.” I hoisted the strip of hide, brought one end to her shoulder, then laid it along her arm to her wrist, making mental note of the length.

“Aren’t you going to write these numbers down.”

“No. I’ll remember them.”

“All of them? Do Zabrians have really good memories?”

“I do not know if our memories are any better than a human’s,” I admitted, moving to her other side so I could repeat the process on her right arm. “But I have no trouble remembering the things that are important.”

That seemed to satisfy her for the moment.

Until I put the strip of hide against her right arm.

“Do you really need to measure both my arms? You just did the other one,” she pointed out. “Unless you’ve already forgotten the measurement,” she added archly, “because you didn’twrite it down.”

“Nonsense,” I scoffed. “Your left arm is eighteen Zabrian microspans. I am merely measuring the right one to ensure that they match.”

“Of course they match!”

“Well, I’ll know that once I measure it, won’t I?”

She sighed and relaxed her arm, which she’d started to pull away from me.

“It is a good thing I measured,” I told her when I was finished. “Because that arm is a quarter microspan longer than the other.”

“No it isn’t!” she gasped, snatching her right arm away and cradling it protectively against her full chest. “You just measured it wrong.”

“I assure you, I did not.”

“Well… Then I’m sure it’s perfectly normal. I’m sure lots of humans have one arm longer than the other…”

“Is it?” I asked, moving behind her so I could continue measuring. “I did not come across that bit of information in the book you wrote yet.”

“Yes, well. Look for it in the second edition.”

“I will.”

I looped the measuring tape around her front.

“I am going to measure your…” I had a feeling she would not like it if I said “hindquarters” again. “Hips.”

“Fine.”

I tightened the strip of hide, trying not to stare at the delectable curves of her from back here. Once I had the measurement, I drew the strip up to her chest.

“Oh!” she cried as the strip went taut around that soft, fleshy part of her.

“Sorry,” I breathed. By the empire, she smelled so nice. “Too tight?”

“No,” she squeaked. But the quality of her reply did not convince me.

“Are your lungs… in there?” I asked, quickly noting the measurement and letting the strip of hide fall. “In your… in those parts?”

She made a choking, coughing sound that only seemed to confirm that I’d just compressed her lungs somehow.

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