The General part 2

No touching, and absolutely no eye-contact.

The rules repeat in my head, but what screams in the background is that I didn’t hear the full list. I was dismissed by the Headmistress before I got to complete the how to avoid getting mauled by a Master 101 class.

I hope I brought my mop, because I’m so terrified piss will soon drip down my leg.

My eyes tear away from his ice-blue ones, but my breath remains frozen.

“Forgive me. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you.” My fear thickens my accent.

“Stand,” he commands, and his voice is like dozen echoes bouncing in my chest. The deep, gravely voice proves that every part of him was made to smolder.

I stumble to my feet, ready to rocket jump my ass to Earth, if that’s what he asks me to do. My eyes respectfully stay on his hide pants. They’re muddy and made from an animal only a man like him could hunt. His boots are well worn from the dozens of missions he embarked. How far has he traveled, how fast has he run, how much blood has he trudged on, to conquer the title of a General?

“Bend down and take your ankles.”

I take a step backward. That’s how far this male has made me gone down the path of insanity. One step. Soon, I’ll be tumbling down.

He wants me to take my ankles? That’s the mating position!

“I— I—”

His hands come into view. They’re huge, veiny, and red as if still stained from the blood of enemies. They reach for the ties of his breeches, and my legs slam together.

“I’m not an Entertainer!” I blurt.

His hands pause. I don’t think the General ever halts. From the stories I’ve heard, he strolls like a king — poised, calculative, and steadfast. Hesitation is for followers, not for alphas.

“What are you saying, human?”

My eyes burn as my soul tries to leave my body through my sockets.

“I don’t want you to… to ride me.”

I slept with a Zolano male once. It wasn’t fun, and I don’t think it will be any better with the General. I’m sure he’s experienced, but I know how proportions work. If his hands are any indication, his reproductive equipment will tear through my smaller one.

“You are rejecting me.”

He says it as a statement, not a question.

“Uh, yes?”

He actually stumbles. He has been in dozens of battles, but I’m the one that got the closest to taking him down.

“I’m sorry!” I rip through his room to collect my things, and I book it out of there.

He could easily take me down, but he thankfully doesn’t chase me. I guess I wasn’t worth that much struggle.

In my rush, I leave a few things behind, including my dignity. At least my legs remain piss-free.

I can’t believe that just happened. No male has ever approached me. I’m unattractive in the eyes of the Zolanos; so ugly that the Headmistress laughed in my face when she thought I was applying to become an Entertainer. I’ve met my fair share of bullies, and they were all more than happy to enlighten me on how disturbingly alien I was. Even finding jobs is hard. No one wants to trust a freak.

Of all women, why did the General chose me? He’s a leader, and leaders think differently. Was he interested in exploring my human body the same way he has explored much of this world?

I have no one to ask that question to. Not only do I have no friends, but the entertainers would be livid if they found out I was the first female the General showed interest in. I heard them set bets on who would be the first to ride him. Those females are conniving and cruel.

Whatever. I’ll just keep my head low and avoid him. Hiding has never failed me.

After ducking into the kitchens and washing the dishes, I track down my supervisor. It’s evening now. The air is heavier and the girls are giddier. I soon discover it’s because Masters have begun to trickle into camp.

“Tantri, can I have a second?”

I hate speaking with Tantri. He’s an older male, and he’s difficult.

His scowling face turns to me, and I compare it to the General’s. Where the General’s had strong bone structure, a thick black beard, and hair short at the sides and longer on the top, Tantri is bald and his flesh looks like it’s sagging off the bone.

Tantri has ridges, blue eyes, and a chin dimple just like most Zolanos do, but he was probably not as handsome as the General when he was younger.

“What do you want?” he spits— literally, at my feet.

He doesn’t like me. I’m a mystery that smells of danger. The Zolanos are facing enough dangers as is with all the wars that are raging on.

“I wanted to ask if I can be re-assigned.”

I want to be reassigned to any schedule that doesn’t include cleaning the General’s tent.

Tantri’s blue eye twitches, and his palm jerks too. It smacks my cheek with a clap that was probably heard back on Earth.

I don’t yelp like I used to. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

“How dare you complain on the first day? Get back to work, lazy, demonic, scum!”

Entertainers and some Masters walk past me. No one intervenes. They have more important things to do, like prepare for war. There is no time to care for a being that’s not even of their species.

They eat animals, so why should they care about the mistreatment of another? I’m not a Zolano, so that makes me another prey. Another dog getting kicked. Another meaningless soul that can’t contribute anything but neediness.

I dip my head respectfully, and I pick up a basket of laundry. There’s no time to feel indignation. Indignation doesn’t put food in my belly. Work does. I have to suck it up or I’ll lose this job, and I can’t go back to begging on the street.

After finishing the load of laundry, I’m allowed to have dinner. The Zolano like their food cold, so I have to like it cold, too. It doesn’t taste very well, but I’ve been telling myself over the past ten years that one day, it will.

On my way to my tent, I pass by two Masters growling as they pound into entertainers. Embarrassment has me scurrying away.

I enter my tent and scrub myself down with water. I wash my essential areas, and then change into my nightgown. My book awaits me in my bed. I can’t read it well because it’s in the Zolano language, but it’s still my greatest treasure.

The Zolanos haven’t explored the science of psychology yet. This rare book mentions some discoveries. When I was fifteen, I decided psychology was what I would study in college. Of course, that didn’t happen, because I was teleported off Earth in a freak accident and have been on this planet for ten years.

I can’t lie and say that I’m not interested in Masters. They’re part of the reason I took this job. They terrify me, but they’re so odd in nature that I had to see them for myself. I would love to learn what makes them tick.

Why are they so detached? Why can’t they laugh? Why can’t they feel happiness? What do they think of when they’re alone at night? Most importantly, what does sex do to their body that it floods them with so much dopamine and adrenaline that they become unstoppable? Do they even have the same neurotransmitters as humans?

My thoughts swirl until a particular male is painted in my mind. It’s the General, and I’m imagining myself asking these questions as I ride him.

I pull the book over my red, embarrassed face.