Free Touched by an Alien by Gini Koch

Martini laughed. “It’s natural. Let’s get you home and changed. You’ll feel better.” With that he moved us right in front of the opening. “It’s going to be tight, but I want us going through together. So, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to have to hold you as we go through.”
    “I suddenly see why you suggested this.” I was going to protest but he picked me up before I had the chance.
    “Arms around my neck, just because I like it.” I did as he asked because it was more comfortable and, truth be told, I was scared about going through the gate. He shifted me a bit, then walked through.
    I was instantly glad he was holding me, because the transference wasn’t like walking through the invisibility shield around the dome. We seemed to be standing still while the world rushed by us, just like in the movies when they speed up the film to show how fast time’s passing. Only it was ten times faster and totally nauseating.
    I buried my face in Martini’s neck. He held me a little tighter, and the nausea subsided. “Almost there,” he said softly. I felt a slight jolt. “It’s okay,” he said in a very low voice. “We’re here. Don’t talk.”
    As I drew my head up, I remembered where he’d said the transference devices were stationed. “I’m in the men’s restroom?” I hissed in his ear.
    “Yes,” he said, still quietly. “Now, hush.”
    He kept me in his arms, and neither one of us spoke. I heard the unmistakable sounds of liquid hitting porcelain, which was both gross and proof we weren’t alone.
    Saguaro International is a busy airport, and it occurred to me that Martini and I could be stuck in this stall for long enough that we’d be late getting to Home Base. He must have thought the same, because he opened the stall door, just a crack. I was impressed that he could hold me with just one arm, but I decided now wasn’t the time to mention it.
    He watched while I listened. The splattering sound stopped, I heard a zipper, then fading footsteps. Martini put me down and opened the stall door more. This wasn’t the most spacious stall in the world, and I was squished. He walked out and I could breathe again, not that I wanted to.
    I heard him walking quickly; then he came back, grabbed me, and we headed toward the exit. As we did so, several men came in, all with rolling suitcases or garment bags. They seemed to spot me at the same time, and all stopped dead in their tracks.
    “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I said to Martini. “My contacts both slipped out during the flight, thank goodness you stopped me before I got all the way in here! Excuse me, sorry, sorry, can’t see a thing anyway!” I said to the men who were gaping at me. I shoved through them and got out.
    Martini came after me. I heard him saying something about ditzy women that was greeted with some chuckles. He shook his head when he was out of the bathroom. “You really can think on your feet.”
    “You know that’s a crime I can be jailed for in this state? Being the wrong sex in the bathroom?”
    “Humans have weird laws. Now, let’s get going.” He took my hand again. “This is probably going to be really unpleasant.”
    Before I could ask him how unpleasant, he started moving and I was going right along with him. It was different from the transference, but not by too much. We moved around the people as if they were frozen. There were a couple of times I was sure we went through walls, but it was just that Martini moved us around obstacles more quickly than I could see them.
    We were out of the airport, racing through the streets and on the freeway, flying past cars I knew were going at least sixty-five as if they, too, were standing still. Then, off at my exit, through the streets of my neighborhood, shortcut-ting through the park, going up the back way, and into my apartment.
    We stopped inside. My stomach was roiling, but it had been more exhilarating than the transference process. “How’d