“How about a Draxdan for this female?” Heather Roberts raised her tablet to show her best friend and boss, Vegas Munro, the latest match she’d discovered.

“What’s her temperament like? Draxdans hate drama.” Vegas tapped her finger on the desk.

They sat in the front office of My Single Alien, the premier and only licensed agency to match human females with horny aliens.

Heather twisted a blonde curl around one finger. “She’s stable. She’s got no violations, and there’s nothing on record about bad relationships. I’ve checked all the social media sites. She’s bad-mouthed no one. No bitchy comments. No evil jokes about burning her ex-boyfriend’s clothes in the yard.”

“She sounds like a saint. Her match will be pleased she’s not a bunny boiler.” Vegas grinned.  “It looks good. Nice job.”

Heather smiled. She loved making matches at My Single Alien. It had taken her a few months to get used to the fact she now did her job on a space station a thousand miles from Earth, but once she’d done that, it was a breeze. Aliens and humans made surprisingly good matches, and Heather could detect a potential life pair as soon as she saw them together.

“That’s eight matches so far, two Galaxars, one Draxdan, two Retars, a Rolan, and two Lillips.”

“Only three more to go, and we’ll have hit our target for today,” Vegas checked her wrist comm, “which is good. I need to leave soon.”

“Have you got a hot date tonight?” Heather waggled her eyebrows. Heather knew every date Vegas had was hot these days, since she’d paired up with the gorgeous Solan. He was a scorching hot, muscled Galaxar, with a serious case of being head over heels in love with Vegas. It was too cute.

“Just the usual.” Vegas studied her own tablet.

“Which is? Come on, you have to give me something. I live my love life vicariously through you and your yummy alien.”

“You can always find yourself a yummy alien.”

Vegas never kissed and told, but Heather knew their love life was on fire. Sometimes, Vegas had three cushions on her chair and winced every time she sat down. Galaxars were known to be well-built in every area of their anatomy. She wasn’t being a pervert in knowing this. She had to study alien appendages as part of her job. It was all a part of providing top-quality service to any alien in need of their expertize.

“Not without risking Diadora’s wrath.” Heather was terrified of their boss, Diadora Hardwick. “I still can’t believe she’s letting you see Solan.”

Vegas shrugged. “We came to an... arrangement. I don’t flaunt Solan too much, and she pretends she knows nothing about it.”

Heather flicked to the new aliens on their list to match with a human. “I could match Diadora with an alien. That woman does not have enough steamy sex in her life. If she got some action under the sheets, I’m sure she’d be nicer to everyone.”

“It might take more than a romp in the sack with a cute alien to thaw her out.”

“I’ll make a few discreet inquiries. I could leave some details of available aliens on her desk.”

“And be her next target when she wants to test how strong her cyborg arm is?” Vegas shook her head. “You’re braver than I am.”

“A hot alien, that’s all she needs to make her life better.”

“Speaking of hot aliens, how’s yours?”

Heather lifted her tablet to hide her face. “I don’t know who you mean. I’m single.”

“Of course you are.” Vegas pushed Heather’s tablet down until she saw her eyes. “I must be imagining the seven-foot gorgeous alien with horns lurking around the office?”

“You must be. We would notice if there was someone like that in here.”

“Okay. He’s not literally in the office. But Loka doesn’t need to walk past here a dozen times a day.”

“He might. His lab is at the end of the corridor. The poor alien needs to take a comfort break now and again.”

“How do you know that?”

“That he needs a comfort break? He’s an alien, not Superman. Actually, does Superman need to go to the toilet? How does he manage in those tights and pants over the top outfit?” Heather switched over to her web browser, meaning to post the question in her favorite superhero fandom group.

Vegas tutted. “You know I’m not talking about that. Have you been to Loka’s lab?”

Heather buried her flaming cheeks in her hands. “It’s a guess.” She hadn’t strolled along the corridor one lunchtime to see just where Loka went. Nope, she hadn’t been down that way a few times simply to stretch her legs. There’d be no point. It’s not like she wanted to bump into him. What would she say? Nice horns? Can you give me tips on claw care? No, Loka was not of interest to her one tiny bit. It was a simple friendship.

“If I find one more piece of coal outside the office door, I’ll have to assume the two of you are engaged.”

“The coal is nothing.” Heather shut down the files on her tablet. Her query about Superman’s toilet habits would have to wait.

“More friendship coal?”

“Exactly. We’ve developed a bond since he saved my life.” Heather’s insides grew warm as she recalled how Loka had rescued her during an intense battle between Vegas’s partner and a troop of angry Galaxars.

“You mean since he helped you off the floor after the fighting had ended and there was no real danger?”

“There was some danger. More guards could have arrived. Or I could have fainted and fallen to the ground. He was being a gentleman. Well, a gentle alien. Since then, we’ve come to an understanding.”

Vegas laughed. “You have an alien fuck buddy?”

“No!” Heather leaned over and thumped Vegas’s arm. “We’re not doing anything like that. He’s shy.”

“You haven’t even been on a date?”

“No. Well, we had a drink in the café at the same time. We were at separate tables. I caught his eye a couple of times, but I don’t think he wanted to sit with me.”

Vegas groaned. “You two are impossible. You need to get it sorted out and fast. He’s into you. Picars don’t leave bits of coal lying around for anyone to pick up. You know it’s a signal they’re interested in mating. As are the scratches on your door.”

“I told you they weren’t Loka.” Heather had been shocked and flattered when she’d discovered three long scrapes on her quarter’s door. Picars scratched grooves like that to mark their territory. “Besides, he’s not here to find a mate. He’s not in our database.”

“Which is the great thing. It means you can get your hands on him. We can’t go after the aliens registered with My Single Alien. Those who aren’t registered are fair game. Just because he hasn’t registered with us doesn’t mean he’s not looking for a mate.”

“What else can it mean?” Heather jabbed a finger on her tablet. “He won’t want me.”

“He’s interested in you. Stop messing around and ask the alien out. He’s gorgeous. Get past the horns and bellowing, and he’s just about perfection.”

“I’m too busy.” Heather’s gaze went to the picture she had pinned to the wall of the office. It was the dream she’d been working for since she’d joined My Single Alien over a year ago.

Now she knew there were thousands of habitable planets out there, waiting for her just beyond the nearby wormhole, or Glory Hole as most people called it, she longed to explore. That’s what she was waiting for, the freedom to own her own piece of space heaven and see just how incredible the stars were.

“You’re too busy to grab a coffee with a horny alien, who is clearly into you?”

“If he’s the one, he’ll wait for me.”

“For how long? He’s been dropping hints for over a month. Coal. Scratches. He can’t be any more obvious. If you’re not interested in him, you need to let him know so he can move on, find himself a female who’ll appreciate his unique charms.”

“I am interested.” Heather looked down at her hands. “It’s bad timing. Maybe in a couple of years. Or maybe we can be friends for now. I take it slowly with guys.”

“Picars like to take it slowly as well. Their courtship rituals take two months. That gives you plenty of time to get to know each other and figure out if he’s the alien for you.”

“What if he isn’t? I will lead him on, and it will mean nothing other than I’m left with a pile of coal and a repair bill for my door.”

“You could have a lot of fun figuring out if it’s nothing.” Vegas tapped her finger on the tablet. “Now, we need to make more matches. If we miss another target this week, Hardwick will have us working overtime with no pay.”

“She can’t do that.”

“She can’t, but she will. She has the Council of Representatives breathing down her neck. They want more alien matches. They want more alien babies to make sure we keep all races happy, so we pathetic humans don’t get embroiled in the war on the other side of the Glory Hole.”

A little of Heather’s happiness faded. Humans were lucky. Lucky to be primitive and terrible at space travel. They’d avoided all intergalactic conflicts because they didn’t know how to fly spacecraft. They also had the huge bonus that human women were a fertile match with almost every alien race they’d encountered since the stabilization of the galaxy’s wormhole.

There was one thing all warring aliens desperately needed: fertile, available females to breed with. Earth had about four billion going spare. They were primitive but popular.

“If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s making excellent matches.” Heather pulled up the next lot of files. She scratched her chin as she read through the matches. They used a quantum level analytical algorithm process to ensure each alien was suitably matched with a human female. It was combined with a range of genetic and hormonal tests to determine genetic compatibility. The process hadn’t always been so sophisticated, especially not when they’d first started My Single Alien.

Thanks to a few alien technologies, combined with her own natural abilities in spotting a good match, they’d had a ninety-five percent success rate in the last quarter. If Heather got any better at this, she’d have to award herself a gold star and maybe a few days off with a steamy e-book and a box of chocolates.

Nell Saunders, another matchmaker at My Single Alien, stomped into the office. She was smart, funny, and usually cheerful, although maybe not today.

Heather placed her tablet down. “What’s up?”

The look on Nell’s petite, pale face suggested her latest intake of aliens had not gone well. Her hair was pulled off her face in a messy ponytail, and her dark brown eyes looked tired. “If I have to explain to another alien what all our different holes are used for, I might have to stun myself with a laser. Why are they so obsessed with whether their appendages will fit into our holes? We know our own holes. If they stick it in one we don’t want them to, they will know all about it.”

“Because they’re all horny male aliens,” Vegas said. “You can give them horns or tentacles, but if they have something vaguely resembling a cock swinging between their legs, it will dictate their thoughts eighty percent of the time. The rest of the time, they operate in neutral, but the cock can take over at a moment’s notice.”

“There must be one alien race where the males don’t think with their reproductive organs.” Nell slumped into a seat and covered her eyes with her hands. “One of them suggested my ear lobe would be a good place to place his tentacle. My ear lobe! It’s a tiny hole. Why go wriggling about in there looking to plant your alien sperm?”

Heather laughed. “What did you do?”

“I smacked his tentacle so hard it went numb.” Nell dropped her hands into her lap. “Vegas, just a heads up, he said he was going to complain about the assault.”

“I’ll be sure to put that in our Ear Violation file. You won’t hear about it from me.”

“Hilarious. I warned him that his unwanted tenticular investigations broke the rules of My Single Alien. If he wanted to meet his matched female, he needed to be on his best behavior. After that, his tentacles disappeared inside his clothing, and my ears stopped being violated.”

Nell worked as hard as anyone at My Single Alien. She had an uncannily empathic way of figuring out if an alien and human were a good match. Anyone would think she was alien, she was so good. But she’d arrived on the same space ship as Heather and Vegas, all terrified about living on a space station and meeting all the weird and wonderful aliens who shot through the Glory Hole at regular intervals, intent on probing female holes and having offspring.

“Threaten to take away their fertile human and they’re putty in our hands.” Vegas’s brow furrowed as she stared at her tablet. “This match is odd. I’d never have paired this alien with this human.”

Heather glanced at her tablet. “I was thinking the same with the match I was looking at. It matched an older Lillip with a high-strung young female. I can’t see that working.”

“This one’s got a Yeknod with a woman pushing forty. I know they like their females no older than mid-twenties.”

“Ageists,” Nell muttered.

Vegas grinned at her. “It’s not that. It’s got to do with their genetic material not pairing with humans over a certain age. The tech geeks know all about it. They would never adjust the algorithms to create this kind of match.”

Nell stretched her arms over her head. “Are you working much longer? I need a drink to unwind after my close encounter of the tentacle kind.”

“Yes. We’ve got more aliens to match. These ones are useless.” Heather scanned the next match, shaking her head as she did so. “Maybe there’s a glitch in the system. These are the worst pairings I’ve seen since we started. Do you remember when that poor girl, Vicky, was paired with the enormous Plincar? He chased her around for a week, hunting her like she was something he wanted to eat.”

“Didn’t he eventually do just that?” Vegas arched an eyebrow. “She wasn’t complaining after she realized how long his tongue was.”

Nell chuckled. “That’s one good thing about that race. They’re scary predators until you get them turned on, then they’ll do all sorts of incredible things to you. I wouldn’t mind trying one out for myself.”

“We haven’t had a decent Plincar on the books for months,” Vegas said. “They’re too busy hunting prey to get us pregnant. Do you want me to put your name down for the next one who comes in?”

“Not a chance.” Nell shook her head. “Despite the long tongues and hot bodies, they’re too much like hard work. And I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night for fear I’d wake up dead!”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

Nell laughed. “You know what I mean. I’d have to sleep with one eye open in case my lover turned hunter.”

“Who would be your ideal mate?” Heather asked.

“Someone who’s great at back rubs and loves romantic movies. And who likes to cook and eat cake.”

“You’re describing a woman,” Vegas said.

“I’m so not.” Nell poked her tongue out. “He’s also got to carry me over his shoulder when I’ve had one too many in the Enchanted Captain.”

“The perfect alien,” Vegas said. “They don’t exist. Just like the saps we left behind on Earth, they all have their annoying habits.”

“Isn’t Solan your perfect alien?” Nell grinned and winked at Heather.

“He’s been known to throw me over his shoulder a few times.” Vegas grinned. “Since you’re here, you can help us figure out these next matches. Nobody goes home until we hit today’s targets. Since Solan is working off the station this week, I have no excuse to sneak off early.”

“You’re as bad a slave driver as Diadora.” Heather read the next file and frowned. “This is too weird. There’s no way in a black hole minute that a Rolon should be around a woman this fertile. He’d lose his mind.” Rolons were renowned for their inability to control themselves when they were within spitting distance of a fertile human. It was something to do with the scent the woman gave off. It sent the Rolon stir crazy. They would fight anyone they could get their hands on and had been known to trash entire rooms when they were in a lust rage.

The door to the office slid open. A station bot scurried in. They came in different designs—from cute mouse-sized to waist height. This one looked like a metallic spider, with its eight legs and shiny bulbous body.

It had taken Heather a while to get used to them and not shudder when they scuttled in. She’d cured herself of that particular phobia by adopting one as a pet. Even so, this model always looked like it was about to jump on you and rip your face off with its metal limbs.

She peered at the bot. In fact, this one really did look like it was about to jump on her.

It stopped two feet from her desk; its front legs lifted in the air as if scenting her location.

“What’s up with this bot?” Heather inched her seat back.

“Relay your information,” Vegas said to the bot.

The bot shifted from side to side.

“Maybe it’s on the fritz. The little ones get confused.” Nell stood and walked over to the bot. “Bot, what is your purpose here?”

The bot scuttled back. Its legs curled under its body, and it launched itself at Heather.

She screamed and batted the bot away, feeling its metallic legs dig into her skin. “Get it off me.”

Vegas leaped from her seat and grabbed the bot. It scuttled across the desk out of reach before flinging itself toward Heather again.

Jumping from her seat, Heather raced around the desk, staying away from the metallic grasp of the bot. It was small, no bigger than the palm of her hand, but there was no way she would let it get its evil little legs attached to her.

“What have you done to upset this bot?” Nell asked, standing on her seat, keeping well out of the fight.

“Nothing! Bots don’t hold grudges. I take care of my bots. I have a pet one. You’ve met Ernie.” Heather continued to jog around the desk as the bot scuttled after her.

“Maybe that’s why this one isn’t happy,” Vegas said. “It doesn’t like you keeping one of them as a pet, something you know you shouldn’t do.”

“Ernie is my buddy. He likes living with me. He’s even got his own bed.” In her spare time, Heather tinkered with electronic things. It was a hobby she’d had since childhood. She’d discovered Ernie malfunctioning in the corridor six months ago. She fixed him, and he’d been her pet ever since.

“Maybe this one isn’t angry,” Nell said. “It also wants to be your pet. It realizes it’s onto a good thing and wants you to adopt it. Ernie has been spreading the word about his cushy life in your room.”

“There’s no way I’m having this crazy bot anywhere near my room.” Heather dodged out of the bot’s way. “I’d wake up in the middle of the night and find it strangling me.”

“What do you do with Ernie?” Vegas asked.

Heather sped up. The bot matched her pace. “What do you mean?”

“How do you protect yourself from Ernie in case he goes wrong?”

“He won’t go wrong. He sleeps at the end of my bed sometimes.”

Vegas laughed. “That’s normal?”

“He’s fine. I never worry about Ernie. This one though, it needs to go for a check-up. He’s seriously misbehaving.” Heather grabbed her tablet off the desk and swung it at the bot.

The door slid open again. Diadora Hardwick stood there. Her cold gaze slid to each of them in turn before settling on the rampaging bot.

“This isn’t our fault,” Vegas said.

“I’ve heard those words come out of your mouth before.” Diadora stepped into the room. “What’s going on? Have you finished your work?”

“We were about to.” Heather swung her tablet at the bot again as it tried to grab her ankle. “We were interrupted by this malfunctioning bot.”

Diadora watched the bot edge Heather into a corner. She reached out with her cybernetic arm, grabbed the bot by one leg, and crushed it.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Heather watched the dead bot slam to the ground, its tiny metallic parts scattering across the floor.

“Your work was being hampered.” Diadora kicked the dead bot to one side. “Now you can get on. I’ve just come off a difficult call with the Council of Representatives. They talked at me for almost an hour.”

“Let me guess,” Vegas said, “they want even more matches?”

“Something you’re not delivering.”

“We’ve almost hit our quota for today,” Heather said. She swallowed as Diadora’s gaze settled on her and her top lip pulled back. The woman had a way of making her feel incompetent without saying a word.

“When you have hit your quota, I expect to see the files.” Diadora looked around the office. “Less messing around and more work.” She turned on her heel and left the room.

Nell let out a sigh as she climbed off her chair. “I’m not sure what I’m more scared of, that nipping bot or Diadora’s evil glare.”

“Diadora’s evil glare,” Heather and Vegas said at the same time.

“You’re right. It’s freakily scary,” Nell said.

Heather stared down at the crushed bot. “I’d better take this poor little guy to tech. They might want to have a look and see why he malfunctioned.” The bot had tried to jump her, but she still felt bad its electronic life had been snuffed out by Diadora.

“He isn’t the only thing malfunctioning around here,” Vegas said. “I used the food replicator to get a chocolate cupcake last night. It gave me something that looked like green sludge.”

“Maybe you’d had your sugar quota for the day,” Nell said. “These annoying wrist devices always like to pull you up if you overindulge in the sweet stuff. I get told off every single day.”

“I swear that was my first cupcake.”

“Did you taste it?” Heather asked. “Sometimes, the stuff that looks the most revolting is the tastiest.”

“It went straight into the garbage. Even if I’d closed my eyes, I couldn’t envisage that being a cupcake.”

“I’ll grab us some dinner,” Nell said. “We can work and eat and get the final matches done. Do you want anything in particular?”

“So long as it’s not green and mushy, I don’t mind,” Vegas said.

“Same here,” Heather said.

Nell grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

As the door slid open and Nell walked out, Heather spotted Loka outside. She glanced at Vegas, but her nose was already buried in her tablet, looking at the matching files and muttering to herself.

Cautiously, Heather raised a hand.

Loka took a step back before looking each way along the corridor.

Heather realized her cheeks were glowing. They did that every time she spotted Loka. He was gorgeous in his own unique alien way. With dark skin and enormous muscles, she barely noticed the curling horns that jutted from his forehead or the claws that shot out from his fingers in place of nails.

She licked her lips. She would like to get to know him better. Heather liked her guys on the shy side. Cocky arrogance never did it for her. Usually, the aliens that came with big muscles considered themselves better than anyone else. She always admired a good physique, but if they opened their mouths and started bragging about their latest fight or what superb warriors they were, it left her cold.

Heather got a sense Loka wasn’t like that. He was quiet and considerate. He had a brain inside that horned head of his. He had to; he was involved in the most fascinating space mapping project the Milky Way had ever undergone.

She stepped closer to the door. She wasn’t surprised to see a small piece of coal sitting outside. Ever since their first encounter, she’d been discovering these pieces of coal.

Although Heather had denied it, Vegas was right. Picars offered coal to females they were interested in. But if Loka was that interested in her, why hadn’t he made a move?

Heather kept her gaze on Loka as she picked up the coal. As was expected of the female who received a gift of coal from a Picar, she sniffed it and then nodded, as if satisfied by this odd gift.

She saw him smile and returned it automatically.

Heather took another step out into the corridor.

Loka backed away.

“Thanks.” Heather cleared her throat. “The coal gifts are lovely.”

“Heather,” Vegas called, “there’s no escaping this. I need you to take a look at these strange matches. I must be missing something.”

Heather looked over her shoulder. “I’ll just be a minute.” When she turned back to Loka, he had gone. He was fast for a big alien.

With a sigh, Heather returned to the office. She sat back at her desk. Her fingers traced over the picture of her dream home stuck on the wall. She was flattered Loka was interested, but now was a terrible time find the alien love of her life.

My Single Alien was growing. Heather was saving hard for her own piece of space paradise and harboring an ambition to set up a matchmaking outpost in deep space. Gorgeous alien or not, it wasn’t the right time for them.

“Take a look at this.” Vegas handed her a tablet. “This match has to be a mistake.”

Shaking thoughts of Loka out of her mind, Heather opened the file and began to read. Focus on work. Focus on her dream. Nothing else mattered.