The middle-aged male human jumped to his feet and stuck out his hand, as soon as he saw the Nacilbuper walk into the bar. The bright orange alien appeared unsure about the darkness of the venue but made his way past the barstools, only knocking over two in the process.

"Yenmor, you old rascal, welcome to the Dew Drop Inn – the best little dive bar in The Big Easy," the human burst out.

"Mitch, I assume. It is acceptable that we are meeting at this time in this place," answered the alien stiffly.

Mitch grabbed one of the large humanoid's five hands and pumped it twice. "I am delighted as well. Have you lost weight? - because you look amazing."

The 653 pound alien seemed confused, looking himself over as best he could. "No, no – I believe my total mass is unchanged." Then Yenmor began to smile with one of his two mouths. "Oh, I see what you did there – you did that thing – you – you lied."

Mitch laughed a little as if embarrassed. "You caught me red-handed – so to speak – flattering you." The human pulled up a bench upon which the bipedal alien placed his ample buttocks. He then ordered them both a Long Island Iced Tea.

"Was that part of the lesson, Earthling?" asked after sitting down.

"Well, you're paying for my time and expertise, so yes, it's all part of the one-on-one training program that I like to call 'Romancing the Truth: an interstellar approach to procreation.'" Mitch took the time to take a huge gulp from his drink before returning to the job at hand. "Did you bring the gold bars with you?"

"I did indeed, Earthling."

"Please call me Mitch…"

"I did indeed, Mitch." He placed three 16 oz bars of gold on the bar, which was quickly and safely stowed away in a satchel the man had brought with him specifically for that purpose. "Was that name thing part of your seminar as well?"

"You mean the 'Call me Mitch' part? Absolutely! It's important to make the female of your choice feel as if she has known you for years. And making sure she says your name is part of that whole familiarization process." The human took another swallow from his mixed drink.

"But if I have just met a female, then I haven't known her for years, so that would be lying and we don't lie on Nacilbuper."

"Which is why your planet's government licensed one hundred of us Earthmen to teach you guys how to lie – because your species was in danger of extinction because you always tell your females the truth. And no female likes to be told she DOES look heavy in THOSE pants."

The two males sat there in the dimly-lit tavern for a moment, allowing the statement to sink in.

"Your assessment is valid though regrettable, Mitch," the big guy finally relinquished.

"Anyways, flattering a female to get laid is not lying – males just dress up the truth a little, parade the truth around the room, and then see who the truth goes home with." Mitch tapped his empty glass against the alien's and motioned to the bartender for another round.

"I admit that I observed your successful work with my acquaintance, Nayr. I had been persuaded he was completely incapable of ever acquiring a female to mate with…and yet you enabled him to do exactly that."

"I remember Nayr – he was an open and adventurous student of my plan. He began lying to females right away, and now he has a lasting relationship with the female he settled for – all due to his purchasing my expertise for 48 hours."

"I suppose you're right. You're a really nice guy after all, Mitch." The alien used one of his hands to bring a drink to his mouth – and then began to laugh out loud. "You see what I did there? – I lied about you being a nice guy." Mitch slapped him on his back and they seemed to enjoy laughing together. "And that hair cut is really working for you," the alien said, laughing uproariously, using all five of his hands to hit the bar at once.

The human wasn't pleased at this sudden turn of events, but he decided to go with it. "You're getting into the spirit but we'll have to work on the whole rolling on the floor laughing bit. You'll get it, you'll get it!"

The alien had laughed so hard that he excused himself for a moment to use the restroom. As Yenmor stepped out of earshot, Mitch motioned for the bartender come over. The barkeep threw a white towel over his shoulder, leaning in to talk to his favorite customer. "Looks as if you're making progress, Mitch."

"Yeah, but I wonder if it's worth it – especially when my customer dishes me like that. He should be thanking me on his knees for giving him a chance to have a family."

" Hey, you're making big money – right?"

"Yeah, Steve, making money hand over fist. We all are - all one hundred of us."

"Who would have thought U.S. senators would end up teaching aliens how to lie," snickered the bartender.

"Well, the people of Nacilbuper wanted the best liars available – so that's what their paying for - 100 of the most skilled liars on Earth. But eventually, if the gold runs out, I'm not too proud to go back to being a politician," Mitch confessed.

"I'll get you another drink, Senator McDonald. One more Long Island Iced Tea coming up."

Knock, Knock, Knock. Ringgggggggg.

What's the rush? There were two of them, average height, and pale like they stayed indoors all their lives. "Hello may I help you?" I asked as I opened the door.

He asked, "We don't have reservations. Might you have some availability? A suite would be ideal if you have one?"

"Yes, please come in."

"I have one on the main floor and one on the second. Which would you prefer?"

"She said "The main. We have a cat."

"I'll have to charge extra."

"That's okay. How much for two weeks?"

"I can give you a discount. With the pet charge it will be the normal daily charges, add weekends, $2000.00."

I looked out the window and saw a 1930 Model A flatbed. It was electric blue. It was immaculate. "Yours?" I asked.

"Yes, "he said.

"You drove that from?… Oh BTW, I'll need a credit card and your license." All these PITA laws to comply with."

"Rer-ow," said the cat.

"Zip code 93949." He said. The two of them looked at each other. Then she produced the necessary papers.

"A Vandenberg area with this zip code. Are you scientists?"

"Sort of, we're just getting away from it all."

"Welcome to Woodstock and the Twin Fabled B&B. Breakfast is served at 8:30."

"Parking?" he asked.

"In the back."

"Do you mind if we cover the truck. It's a classic."

I looked out the window again. It was a beauty. The cab body was pretty stock. The engine and suspension were modern components. The engine bay was open. They must be motor-heads on top of rocket scientists.

"Chevy or Ford block?" I asked.

The cat said rer-ow again. He was a pretty orange long-hair tabby. "Oh just a hybrid system that… we… sort of invented."

"What's his name?"

"Commander," they replied in unison.

"Cute."

"Cover it, by all means. It's beautiful."

They unloaded the truck. The bags looked heavy. I ran out and assisted them. They were almost weightless.

I watched as they moved the truck. It may have had a V-8 but it was silent and I swear it floated as it rolled.

I knew not to ask. If they wanted to talk, I'm all ears. If not, I'm all ears.

That afternoon I noticed some blacked out Tahoe types, driving up and down Tinker Street. It could be the ex-president or the Sops. They lived across the Hudson.

That night I heard the two of them.

"They'll never find us here. We can purchase a place," he said.

"No," she said. "Renting will be better, less paper work to deal with. We'll fit right in. The locals are old-timers, doped up freaks or artists. The cops don't want to be bothered and that's just what we will do, not bother anyone. Down-load the blocking system!"

"NYC maybe, but here?" he retorted.

The lights dimmed.

Scientists my ass, hackers I thought.

The next day they went for a walk with the cat on a leash.

I took a peek under the tarp. The cockpit was like nothing I'd ever seen. Gauges were in symbols that looked like cuneiform.

"You like what you see?" Boomed the voice.

I almost had a heart attack. "Yes as a matter of fact I do. I don't know where you're from, and I really don't care. But if you're hiding from someone, living right out in front of the police station," as I pointed across the street, "might be the best place, RFI and all that."

She looked at me and then to him. I guessed they were communicating with each other. The cat rubbed up against my leg. I reached down to pet it. He was about to stop me but she grabbed his hand. He had six fingers. So did she.

"Would you prefer to go inside?" I recommended.

The cat rer-owed. They both agreed.

I made a pot of coffee and brought out some pastry. "I heard you talking last night and I guessed you're looking to keep a low cover. Do you care to explain?" This could get me killed I surmised.

She looked at him and then back at me.

Then my mind filled, 'We're on the run from the future. We wanted to live in an easier time period. We stayed past our allotted time. It expired a month ago. We like it here. In Up-Time every thought and action is monitored. We are scientists, that's how we got to go. Normal citizens are never allowed to travel outside a tour controlled visit. You know those Norwegian bus tours you see every now and then? They're from Up-Time.'

I said to both of them. "If you want to stay, I will put you up. I will see what I can do about employment. Things are pretty tight control wise."

He said, "We have the technology to defeat those systems."

"I assume the blacked-out Tahoes were just the normal government types with the ex-president and not your people looking for you."

"When did you see them?" she demanded.

"The same day you arrived. Friends of yours?" I asked. "I assume they have tracking devices, right? How do you know if transponders are not implanted into your bodies?"

"They were. Airmid," that's the first time he mentioned her name, "surgically removed them. There are others like us here and there. Our authorities grab us and send us back when they can locate us. When you see them again please, please let us know."

He never mentioned his name. "So what's your real name?"

"Dagda," he said.

The truck, the baggage, all made sense. Commander was probably a sensor. If he liked me then it was safe. Dagda nodded his head as if he could read my mind.

The next morning when I awoke, the cat was on my bed, the truck was in the back, the keys on my dresser with instructions signed with a lipstick kiss. Commander and I never saw them again.

"Here comes a smart guy…" said the tall salesman, thinner than any other individual the fifty-year-old passer-by had ever seen. He had seemed to jump out of nowhere, and was holding in his hands a triangular-shaped object along a deserted path leading to a village seemingly lost out in the woods near O'Leary, in the far north of Prince Edward Island, Canada.

The almost hairless local man was caught by surprise, remaining silent for a while, apparently unable to speak.

"Come on now man, admire this wonderful combination of art and science. This is a clock made by means of high-tech methods. Just consider its brilliant surface - and now watch this," he mischievously whispered into the human's ear. He then activated a button that made a sound, and something unusual happened. "Do you see that? The special metal used can unequivocally capture the light that is emitted by the far stars in space. You know, there really are so many stars up there, each having its peculiar colour, and the surface of this object simply reflects, one at a time, the light shades of those that are within any particular sector you select, according to your preferences. Here comes the yellow-orange light, then the blue one, followed by the yellowish-white tone of another one, all laying in the region of the Scutum, as it is known hereabouts…"

Since the salesman had started the device, its surface had continued to change by reflecting many star's lights that were now invisible in the sunny sky, given the fact that it was only 2:00 PM.

"Cool…it seems cool…cool…!" the human repeated three times, delighted. The alien vendor smirked, his face a mask of latex in order to disguise the real, insect-like features of the Ktehl, the same as the surface attached to the rest of his body just to resemble a man-like figure, even though very slender. Things were going to be easier than expected…

"Buy it for only a few dollars, sixty will suffice…" the seller whispered again into his right ear. "And this artistic clock comes with the most efficient portable calculator ever made in the world! Just try it and you'll be pleased."

"A calculator? A calculator?" the man said this time, repeating it only twice.

"Yes."

"I like calculators, I like calculators. May I try it?"

"Of course, my friend," said the Ktehl seller, disguised as a human.

The passer-by touched the keypad on the screen on the front side and did some calculations. Then he cried out, "No! It doesn't work, I can't buy it."

The perplexed alien looked at him for a while. "What are you saying? This is super modern technology; certainly the mechanism can't miscalculate anything…"

"But it did, it did… " the one replied, self-assured. "I'm very good at arithmetic…"

At that point the Ktehl was eager to check it for himself. "Just let me see…what calculations have you done?"

"I simply keyed in 15,327 x 5,653, the correct result is 86,643,531.But it gets it wrong, the result on the display is only 86,643,530"

"What? How did you get that answer in your head…?"

"It doesn't function, I can't buy it, I can't buy it…But you can give me this as a present, I like presents, I like presents…"

The Ktehl whispered his psychic suggestion into the passer-by's ear another time, but then the man asked again to test the calculator, and the conclusion was the same. The alien knew the other was right,there was no way to convince him to buy a device with a defective calculator.

Of course, the salesman couldn't have known that the man he was trying to sell that thing to wasn't a common individual, but a person affected by autism, who subconsciously showed incredible skills in mathematics, certainly…

Such a human had proven to be a really tough guy, displaying some superior abilities in calculation —clearly above the general level of skill of the Ktehl themselves — which the alien considered as 'very deep'. If this guy was representative of the general population on Earth, this was going to be a bad market to try to unload such cheapjack goods.

"Give me that as a present, give me that as a present, I like presents…" the man insisted, crying out like he was going into conniptions. "You can't sell it, you can't sell it, the calculator doesn't function…"

The alien looked around cautiously: all that yelling could arouse the unwanted interest of other passers-by…So the Ktehl considered himself defeated in the end and simply gave it —as a gift— to the smart human, who exclaimed: "Thanks, thanks, cool, cool!"

As the alien got back into his small single-seat spacecraft hidden in the woods nearby, he looked bewildered and considered: 'We have our rules…we may be seen as deceivers across the galaxy, but we don't sell anything to anyone who doesn't give us express consent, certainly.Our psychic abilities have greatly helped us so far in achieving our goals, but it seems that they don't function here!'

Those defective devices were going to be a hard- sell on this planet. The Hulh aliens, who sold them to him originally by using their superior mind control in order to overwhelm his psychic defences, just passed-on a scam to him, but that was just part of the game: the most capable seller always wins against the least one…

The Ktehl thought these humans were primitive, living on this world so far away from all the main trade routes in space. The alien had planned to amass some local banknotes by selling such rubbish here, and then immediately converting the money gained into the most valuable currency worldwide at some Currency Exchange station before disappearing…But the Earthlings had proved to be very smart, actually.

'I guess I'd better try elsewhere…' he decided, feeling very dejected, certainly.

I was bad, bad man.

"Jane," I asked, "can you take this report to accounting?"

Her smile made me shake inside, just a little. I didn't think anyone saw.

"Sure, Tom."

When she leaned over my desk to get the file, the view down her low-cut blouse was almost enough to make me forget my own name. Her nearly waist-length red hair fell down from her shoulders and draped for an instant over my hand. I wanted to run my fingers through it. An intoxicating odor of lavender tickled my nose.

"Tom?"

I snapped out of it and looked up into a pair of green pools. "Yes?"

Those eyes rolled at me. "You have to let go of the report."

Dammit. "Sorry. Thinking about… the Smithson deal."

I couldn't help thinking as her hips swayed away from me that I was going to hell. I was going to lose everything. My wife, my kids, my job—and she was just a kid. Sure, she was old enough to be all woman, but still half my age, and naive. Still, how could a man not overlook a few things for a body like that?

Her stride jiggled her chest against the fabric of her shirt as she walked back around the cubicle wall into our part of the office. The sight of those bouncing orbs was the best thing that had happened all day. I had to force myself to look at her eyes. "Boy," she said, "that accounting clerk is bitchy."

No argument there. "Weren't you supposed to work for accounting before you switched to me?"

Jane smiled. "You make me laugh. I don't want to work up there."

We could stay together up the company ladder until I had that private office with a couch… STOP! Stop thinking that!

When I opened my mouth, the words that came out were, "Are you doing anything tonight?"

Jane hooked her arm in mine as we walked in the darkness. I really liked it.

"Why are we in an alley?" she asked.

"We have to meet a Glug. They don't like bright places."

She grinned and bounced just a little. "I've never seen a Glug up close. They're very mysterious. Hardly anyone knows much about them since they showed up six months ago. How do you know them?"

I swallowed hard. "I made a few enquiries." It cost me five thousand dollars just to arrange the meeting through somewhat unsavory contacts. Jimmy in our mailroom had a criminal past and got me in. Glugs had odd tastes, as it were, and even stranger rituals to conduct commerce. That extra money would be missed soon.

A faint odor like cardamom let me know they were near. I stopped.

"We greet you," I announced, "son of the Haaken planet. We come to conduct a business transaction."

The bang of the dumpster opening to the side of us made her jump. A slimy, blue tentacle tasted the air before a seven-foot ball of them bounded from the garbage and landed next to us. In the center of the squirming mass was an all-black eye half a foot across and a slightly-open mouth. Inside the mouth seemed to be a lot of teeth. In one of the tentacles was a half-eaten rat.

She gasped and turned away from it. I could feel her trembling against me, and I put my arm around her. I wanted so badly to put my hand on her rear.

"Do you trust me?" I asked her.

"Yes."

"Turn around," I said. "Since you are a female, their rituals say you must walk over to it. It will touch you. Whatever you do, don't freak out or the deal will be blown."

She looked at me, uncertain, but then swallowed hard, and walked unflinchingly toward "Slimy." A whirl of blue tentacles caught her wrists and lifted her arms up until she was on her tiptoes. It turned her to face me, and then another appendage covered her mouth from behind. Her eyes bugged out, but she kept her cool.

Slimy said, "Ten thousand earth dollars to take this shipment."

It took a long time to save that much. Those tentacles counted it in seconds.

"Contract agreed. She will make a filling meal."

"What!?" I barked. "What do you mean? I thought you just wanted people to take back to your planet, like for sex slaves or something."

Slimy sniggered. "Humans not pretty."

My fingers slid around the flasher in my pocket. One quick blast of that ultra-bright light, the Glug would have skittered away.

Her chest heaved up and down, nearly bursting those buttons, and her eyes were so wide. I knew I could have been her hero, the one that saved her from the aliens. She'd have given it up for me so hard she maybe would have forgotten her own name. That would have been great.

Could I ever look my wife in the eyes again? Or my daughters?

"Sorry, Jane." I won't lose her for you.

Her face was a mask of hate. The tentacle moved from her mouth, and she growled, "Think so?"

Glugs were a lot faster than I thought. Slimy spit something at me and I lost track of it for a moment. Then it had my arms like hers had been.

"Hey!"

So many teeth. "The deal was made."

Jane stood in front of me. She simply stared at me, as if waiting. Finally, she said, "I started in the mailroom. I used to date Jimmy."

Slowly, I got it. "How could you?"

"Glugs say men taste better." She smiled that smile that used to light my day, the smile that used to make me forget the woman I married and all she meant to me. "You leer at me all day long, Tom, and then you try to have me kidnapped. And on top of that, you only pay me minimum wage."

She paused. "A girl's gotta eat… and now so will it."

In a warm summer evenings over Decker Ridge in the Allegheny Mountains, an owl hoots in the distance, crickets sound out, and an occasional bark or howl from a dog echoes around the ridge and fades as it travels farther along the sloops. But tonight three round lights spaced in a triangular pattern ooze over the valleys and hillsides, and when they stop, the lights descend down and vanish in the thick forest. Silence and stealth accompany the lights…

Up on Decker Ridge, a heavily bearded John McAndrew, holding a flashlight, and his sons Eugene and Bo Boy, both clean shaved and dressed casually, wait. John is about to let Eugene and Bo Boy meet his new found customers who pay handsomely.

John turns on and off his flashlight three times shining it upwards towards the lights. The three triangular lights above blink three-times in answer to the flashlight's signal. And within a few moments, a large three-sided object softly floats downwards until it reaches tree-top level in which it hovers, noiselessly. An opening appears beneath the craft, and three humanoids slide down on a flat beam of very dim-blue light. Once on solid ground, they walk over to John, look him in the eyes and say, "That last batch was damned good, as they say on this planet. Damned good, don't you think so Ihactky?" Ihactky, one of the other two aliens, stepped forward and uttered, "Number one, man—-yes, number one in my—-book." Then he looked at the two others who were standing next to John and said, "Who are those two?"

"Why, them's my kin. They help me make the stuff. They don't know nothin' about you guys——just help out. They can be trusted, believe me they can. Just need a little getin' used to with you fellows," John said. "Besides, I gotta have that operation soon, and they'll be the ones running things for awhile.

"Pa, they—look weird," Eugene said. "Boy do they look strange! I thought you said an airplane or helicopter was going to land."

"No, I said my good-paying customers were agon' to fly in tonight. What I left out is that they come from the Moon." John said.

"We don't come from your moon. We come from a star far on the other side of the Galaxy. No use telling you its name because you can't see it from this planet's location, but, really guys, that's not important," Ikusela said, the lead alien.

"What! —-There're from—-they're aliens—-from another planet," Bo Boy said.

Ikusela threw his arms up and said, "We-don't-come-from-one-of-your-planets! We come—-Oh what's the use…,"

Eugene stepped back and almost tripped over a stone, but Bo Boy just stood still, very wide-eyed with his mouth hung open.

"Oh— don't let them scare you! They pay in Gold—- Eugene how you think I got ya that Harley, and you Bo Boy—-how you think I got ya that humvee! Ya two are riding in Moonshine money and these guys are a buying real good!" Pa said.

"But—but—but…," Bo Boy uttered out.

"Now, sons—do they look any stranger than the McMackish clan over in Crow Valley? Hell, at least these guy have matching eyes—maybe rather large eyes but a least they match in color, not like the McMackish clan. One McMackish has a blue and green eye, the tall girl has a brown and red eye, and the little one's eyes seem to change color! And they all have them long arms! Hell, even there dog has one brown eye and one green eye!! Now that's strange!!" Pa said.

Both Bo Boy and Eugene had to nod their heads in agreement with Pa.

The third alien, a little smaller and apparently younger than the other two, turned towards Eugene and Bo Boy. He raised his hands up head high, made them look like some kind of claws and screamed out, "I love humans—I eat two during our star's cycle—-GRRRRRRR!"

This time Eugene tripped over backwards, and Bo Boy backed-up into Ikusela, almost knocking him down. Ikusela turned around and screamed something in a language that bordered on Chinese and Pig-Latin with overtones of French and Italian. John understood the meaning as Ikusela stared at the little alien, who just turned his large eyes and head downward and folded his arm. Ikusela shook his head back and forth as he walked up towards John.

"Pa—did—you…," Eugene started to say.

"Didn't I tell ya these fellows were Okay? He's just a funnin' with ya! Ya do it all the time with ya little brother Luke. Now how do you like it when the tables are turned—heh, heh, heh." John said.

Eugene and Bo Boy and the little alien whose name was Iduska, stared at each other for a moment, then Iduska broke out into some form of laughter. He placed his hand over his mouth and ran after Ikusela.

"I got ya six barrels of the best Moonshine ya can find anywhere," John said.

"It's a deal," Ikusela said.

Eugene and Bo Boy watched as the six barrels were gently raised up into the craft by beams of light. Once all the barrels were loaded, Ikusela handed John a large rather heavy bag upon which John said, "Thank ya much. Tell all your kin folk about me. You tell them—ya hear?"

Eugene and Bo Boy watched the aliens enter their ship. Before they closed the door, Ikusela yelled, "Till we meet again, and waved." Both Eugene and Bo Boy quickly waved back and John just yell, "Ya all have a nice trip now, ya hear?"

Once again three round lights space in a triangular pattern silently start moving, only this time they moved upwards, faster and faster. And soon, they vanished.

I never thought I'd meet an alien. I mean an honest to goodness, extraterrestrial. And I never would've imagined that this alien would come in the form of a smoking hot brunette. I mean, I knew about the aliens - who doesn't? When the Geeks at that place in Europe with the big collider thing created the first superluminal doo-hickies, it was like a big beacon to the universe letting the aliens know we were here. Ten minutes later, the first alien materialised in the control room and politely asked them to turn the volume down. Apparently, our broadcast was like all caps on Twitter. Aliens are all multi-dimensional and whatever. Space ships, ray guns. Forget that. In fact, real disappointing. Aliens look like whatever they want - animals, cars, trees, mostly they manifest as humans.

Anyway, they kind of popped in to say hello, welcome to the multi-verse, here are the rules of etiquette: Rule one - no shouting in the superluminal ether. After that aliens started dropping by quite often, you know, consulting with the big wigs, presidents, captains of industry.

So, I was blown away when I opened the door that morning and found a real, live alien standing there. A smoking hot alien.

"Hello, Mr Carter. My name is Lilith Cambion and I should declare that I am an extraterrestrial. I have come to you today with an exciting, once in a lifetime opportunity."

I said she was smoking hot, right? Let me tell you, she had that sexy librarian thing going on. Dark, luxurious tresses piled up in a complicated do, dark rimmed glasses, real nerdy but so… you know, right? Her figure? Oh, man! Take every Playboy centerfold you've ever seen and just throw them away. She was wearing one of those silky blouse things, nice and tight, buttons straining kind of affair. And a super-narrow, figure hugging skirt to her knees that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I just stood there and gaped.

You're thinking, I should've known it was some kind of con, right? I mean, it was a classic used car opener. But, she was just so freaking sexy, it was hard to even think straight.

She made a polite cough and I realised that I had been staring at her for way too long.

"May I come in?", she asked.

"Sure."

My place was a mess. There were dirty plates with take-out on the coffee table, so old it was making a bid for sentience. I moved a dirty sock from the cleanest spot on the sofa and waved her to sit down. What can I say? Bachelor pad, you know.

"So, Miss Cambion…"

"Please, call me Lil."

"Lil. You said something about an opportunity?"

"Yes, that's right, Adam. May I call you Adam?"

"Sure."

"Well, Adam, I would like to purchase your immortal soul, and in exchange I will give you your hearts desire."

I know it sounds real corny like that, but the way she said it, the look in her eyes, the little seductive half smile she had on her lips. I didn't know whether to laugh or, you know, whatever.

"My what?"

"Look, I understand that humans don't generally believe that they have an immortal soul anymore but, on my plane of existence, it's a commodity of real value and I'm willing to give you anything you ask for in exchange."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"A billion dollars?"

"Do you want a billion dollars?"

"Wait! I'm still thinking about it."

"You're a shrewd negotiator, I can tell, Adam."

She touched my knee when she said that. It sent a shock right through me, like a little spark of joy. She was sitting forward on the sofa. Her knees were pressed together but I could see a little thigh, and her blouse was really Goddamn tight. I started thinking maybe this was some candid camera type thing. You know, some kind of practical joke.

"Say, how do I know you're really an alien?"

"Oh, well. Can a human do this?"

She clicked her fingers and a large wad of papers and a genuine, real-feather, quill pen materialised on the coffee table in front of her.

"This is a standard contract for your immortal soul. Once we settle on the details, I just need you to sign it, in blood, and that's it." She gave me this thousand megawatt smile. It was so bright, it could've made a blind man weep.

"This is getting a little too biblical, here," I said.

"Oh, this isn't the first time we've been to Earth. We used to visit, oh, such a long time ago, before there were trade limitations against dealing with primitive societies. I wouldn't believe all that stuff. It was mostly just bad press, sour grapes."

"Uh-huh."

"So, what's it going to be, Adam. What do you want for your soul?"

"A billion dollars and I want to be famous, like, on TV. And I want a Ferrari and, er…"

"Yes, Adam?"

"You."

Hey, I'm just a man and she was a smoking hot, sexy, librarian, alien woman. Like she said, once in a lifetime opportunity.

"You want this body?" She had such a dirty look on her face, her voice all low and husky. I swear, I nearly passed out from sudden blood loss when it all went, you know, down there.

"Yes," I said.

"Done." She pricked my finger with the sharp tip of the quill. "Just sign on the dotted line."

And that's how I became a smoking hot brunette. You know, a woman. The book deal, movie rights and TV appearances are making me a fortune. The Ferrari's on order. It wasn't the deal I had in mind but it's still, kind of, almost, mostly okay.

Of course, I worry about my immortal soul.

Why do aliens have to be so Goddamned literal?