Banek took a moment to look at himself in the mirror he had positioned just beside the door of his laboratory, making sure that his appearance was as it should be. Before he had arrived on planet Earth, Banek had done extensive research into the best methods of gathering participants for his study. While most of his colleagues on the vessel had spent the voyage absorbing information about the mechanics of human mating—particularly as it applied to female sexuality and reproduction—Banek had been intrigued by the human concept of romance.
It was a concept that didn’t quite exist among Banek’s own people, the Khateen. On Khatanar, mating was a very, very different process. While his people possessed a latent empathy—an ability to read emotions in others with whom they were bonded—courtship and romance were strange phenomena.
As a result, Banek had devoted most of the time on his voyage investigating those particular aspects of human sexuality. While his colleagues had tracked down information about physical means, developing theories for testing, coming up with hypotheses about whether or not orgasm was required for conception, and arguing cases that seemed to indicate that in certain settings, more than two partners seemed to be required, Banek had consumed anything and everything he could get his hands on in regards to understanding this so-called romance.
It seemed to him that this strange mystique was part and parcel of human sexuality, particularly for females. Initial investigations into human male sexuality suggested that it was much more straightforward: males seemed able to inseminate women at will, almost. But in order to convince a human woman to accept, Banek thought, as he read books and watched films that humans had produced on the subject, males had to use gestures and behaviors geared specifically towards communicating their ability as mates. While his colleagues had debated various ways to convince human women to participate in their studies, Banek had—almost from the beginning—decided that the best method to ensure that a woman would agree to work with him would be to romance her.
Once he had come to this conclusion, Banek had spent the rest of his time on the voyage to Earth researching how best to conform to the expectations that human women would have in a romantic partner. He had grown his hair out of the usual close-cropped style that his people adopted when in space, and had reviewed the physical traits of romantic males extensively. Banek knew that the most important thing for him—and for all of the scientists participating in the extraordinary study—was to blend in with the humans. Khateen technology allowed them to keep in touch with the skeleton crew manning the ship, keeping it out of the range of human detection, and in certain ways, they were able to disguise their inhuman skin color and eye color. But Banek wanted more than to simply blend in with the societies of the planet he was on; he wanted to present himself as a potential romantic partner.
There seemed to be one archetype of human romance whose looks Banek could hope to duplicate with a reasonable amount of success; he had seen the human man, named Fabio, on multiple covers of romance books—as well as in other media that humans produced. It seemed that even when the man was past the point of ready reproductive viability, he continued to be a figure of female desire. Because of the greater gravity of Khatanar, Banek and his fellow researchers were larger, more heavily muscled, than the human males; in that sense, it would be easy to mimic the physical traits of the one called Fabio.
Clothing was more difficult for Banek; there were so many varied styles associated with human romance, and he had gathered from his research that some of the romantic media took place in bygone times—different eras of human society. He had taken the human money his superiors had given him and invested in a variety of romantic costumes: Banek had purchased clothing consistent with what he knew to be called a “cowboy,” as well as a “Lord,” with a few pieces that were less easily defined as a type.
As he prepared to leave his laboratory and temporary home, Banek looked over his outfit intently, comparing it against the norms that he had absorbed from books and films. He had left his long, dark hair flowing, though the brush of it against his shoulders was still something that he couldn’t quite get used to. His broad, muscled chest was on display in a loose shirt, the first three buttons open. A pair of tight jeans—and Banek had wondered more than once how any human male could be comfortable in the constricting garment—accentuated his muscled legs, and a pair of boots covered his feet. Banek debated whether or not to include the leather jacket he had purchased; but the planet was much warmer than his own—and it was the season that humans called summer, making it even warmer in the area he had chosen for his base. He decided against it.
In the weeks since Banek had established his base on the planet, he had not found a great deal of success in attracting a subject. Some of his other colleagues had reported back already, finding preliminary success with human women and putting forth some new ideas about female sexuality. Banek had absorbed some of the information that his fellow scientists had come up with, but he was eager to test his own theories. He had met with one of his colleagues the week before; Hanket had managed to find a subject to work with, and the woman had given him a wealth of information—namely that women were capable of climaxing many, many times in the course of a sexual interlude. Hanket had laughed the Khateen way, saying, “It’s very, very gratifying to test how many times she can achieve climax in a single session,” he had told Banek.