Taken

What happens when TerraMates runs out of applicants?

There's never a shortage of wealthy alien bachelors looking for the thrill of mating with a human. They want our women.

But despite the promise of riches, sometimes the pool of available brides runs dry.

How does TerraMates find more girls, and where do they go? When Lyzette gets taken off the street, she finds out.

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Lyzette tottered down the street in her high heels. She was late and trying to hurry, but it was a losing battle in her four-inch spikes and short red skirt. The tight blouse that showed off her ample cleavage didn't impede her walking although it made breathing difficult. Every time she inhaled, she felt constrained.

She darted as quickly as she could across the busy street, taking her life in her hands as she jaywalked across four lanes of traffic. On the other side of the road, she nearly toppled over. A thoughtful man in a black suit saved her. He reached out to steady her as she stepped up onto the sidewalk. She gave him a genuine smile. He gave her an odd leer that made her feel uncomfortable. Men ogled Lyzette all the time, and she didn't think much of it.

The cars buzzed past her. Lyzette longed to have enough credits to take a car, instead of having to walk and ride the subway. She'd have enough someday. She watched as a good looking couple got in one, programmed it, and turned to talk to each other as the car sped away to their destination.

Perhaps she could have chosen more practical clothes, but it was too late to think of that now. She felt she would have more power if she wore high heels and clothes that made her look good, but it never worked for her. She hadn't ever been able to get life to go her way, even when she tried her hardest. Maybe today would be different.

She continued walking towards the skyscraper, thinking about her problems getting a job. They started from high school. The only reason she had a diploma was because her uncle had bullied the principal. Her first two jobs ended with her getting fired. Her best friend had said she wasn't a good fit for the companies. Her best friend was a kind person. Lyzette knew better.

They told her she wasn't smart enough. She wasn't skilled enough. There were plenty of girls that were prettier. One thing that
was
good enough was her body. Men always liked her curvy hips and full bosom — they liked getting their hands on them. But she hadn't given away her most precious jewel yet. She was saving that for her husband. She had messed around with guys a lot, but she had never let them go all the way.

Lyzette had always thought she would be able to land a husband when she was younger. She wasn't sure anymore. The guys she dated all wanted one thing from her, and when she wouldn't give it to them, they drifted away.

It was enough to drive a girl insane.

But she had decided she wasn't going to go crazy trying to figure out how to get married. She was going to get a career. That's why she was dressed up. She was going to a job interview for an administrative assistant position.

Lyzette excelled at typing, and she could answer the phone. She would do a fantastic job, and she would focus on that and forget about men.

An hour later, she was perched on a couch in the president's office, keeping her knees together as her mother had taught her and sitting up nice and straight. She had been answering questions for about five minutes when Mr. Loder came over and sat next to her on the couch. He was sitting a little too close, and she felt uncomfortable. She was afraid to say anything because he might be her future boss.

"Lyzette, do you want to be my assistant?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, nodding her head decisively, trying to look like a career woman.

"What would you be willing to do to get that kind of good paying job?" he asked again, putting his hand on her leg and sliding it up. It nearly went under her short red skirt. Lyzette froze.

"I would work long hours. I would be willing to do hard jobs," she stuttered, trying to ignore as his hand crept higher and nearly brushed her panties.

"How hard?" he said, taking her hand and putting it on his crotch.

She swallowed and stood up abruptly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Loder, I think you've got me mixed up with some other sort of girl," she said, as firmly as she could manage. Her stomach was tied in knots. "I want a job as a assistant. Typing and answering phones."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I must have been mistaken. Have you seen the lovely view out the window?"

Lyzette felt taken aback and relieved at the sudden topic change. She would admire the view for hours if it meant Mr. Loder would keep his wandering hands off of her and his mind on her interview.

She walked over to the window and looked down on the city. If she weren't near-sighted, she would be able to see her house from here. She needed glasses, but she never wore them. Her mother said they made her look bookish and that she would never be a success if she appeared to be a nerd.

Her mother defined success as landing a man.

"It looks beautiful," she said.

"Something is certainly beautiful," Mr. Loder said. He stepped behind her, breathing into her ear and slipping his hands around her. He cupped her large breasts.

Lyzette spun around. It was a difficult feat in her tippy shoes.

"Mr. Loder, I think I had better go," she said, trying not to let her tears fall.

Mr. Loder frowned.

"Yes, you had better go before I have you thrown out. You come in here, dressed like that and expect me to think that you want a job as an assistant? Women who look like you don't have respectable jobs, Lyzette. And if you're going to display your wares so openly, don't be surprised if a man might want to sample them."

He was angry, and Lyzette felt afraid. She left as quickly as she could. As she rode the elevator down the twenty-seven floors to ground level, she felt her hopes drop down into her fabulous shoes.

She wandered back out onto the sidewalk. She noticed that the man in the black suit was still hanging around on the street. He smiled at her again, like he knew something she didn't.

Maybe he wanted to feel her up like Mr. Loder. She took a shallow breath and darted past him, avoiding his eyes.

Had she done something wrong? Her mother had always told her to dress up when she wanted to leave a good impression on someone. That was all she had been doing. These were her nicest clothes. And she had wanted to impress Mr. Loder so that he would give her the job.

Now she had ruined it. He hadn't taken her seriously. He had implied that she was a whore and that she would drop her panties for anyone because she showed a bit of cleavage and leg.

She wasn't like that, and she wanted people to take her seriously.

As she stepped out into the street again and made her way down to the subway to go home, Lyzette realized she would never get a good job as an assistant. She would have to go back to bartending because that was all she could do. At least there her cleavage got her good tips, and she could slap anyone who tried to feel her up.

But somehow, she knew that bartending wasn't enough. It would never be enough to satisfy her and make her feel like a success.

Her job wasn't enough.

Her life wasn't enough.

And neither was she.

Lyzette rode the subway in silence, staring at the dirty floor that was covered in gum wrappers, a flyer, the cap discarded from a bottle of juice, and the mud of thousands of shoes. When she got to her stop, she climbed the stairs with difficulty, wishing she could take off her ridiculous heels and be comfortable again. But she still had a twenty minute walk to get to her neighborhood.

She teetered along, trying not to get the spikes of her heels caught in any of the cracks in the sidewalk. She heard something behind her.

It made her nervous when she realized that someone was following her.

When she looked back and saw that it was the man in the black suit, she felt real fear.

Why was he trailing behind her? She walked faster, the clicking of her shoes echoing in the empty street. There weren't any shops or houses along this stretch. There was nowhere to duck into where there would be people who might help her. She kept on going and tried not to glance backwards. He didn't seem to be looking at her, but it was quite a coincidence that he went to her exact stop and then walked in the same direction that she was going in.

He must be a criminal that thought she was an easy target. And she knew now that he was right. She could have brought a sensible pair of shoes to walk in. She didn't have to wear the high heels all the way there — she could have put them on before she had gone into the interview. But no, she had to be stylish. Now she was paying the price.

She walked faster.

Lyzette reached her neighborhood and headed for home. She shuffled past the dingy houses and yards littered with trash, paying them no heed as she tried to reach her front door before the man caught up to her. When she got to the edge of her yard, she ran up the walk, not caring that she might break one of her heels off. She zipped up the stairs and threw open the door, slamming it behind her and locking it immediately.

"Lyz? Lyzzie? Is that you? Why are you slamming the door?" Her mother walked out of the kitchen. She wore a pantsuit in turquoise and make-up so thick it looked like a mask. Lyzette didn't pay her any attention as she crept to the living room window and peeked out around the faded drapes. "Lyzette. What is going on?"

"Shhh," she said, watching as the man in the black suit stopped and appeared to examine their neighbor's house. Then he looked into their living room window as if he could see where she was hiding.

He smiled. He looked like he knew a private secret. Lyzette felt a little sick to her stomach.

"A man was following me home, Mama," she said, stepping back away from the window. "Should we call the cops?"

"Call the police?" her mother said, frowning. "What are you thinking? It's probably that overactive imagination of yours again, Lyzette. Anyone can see that he's a neighbor out for a stroll."

"Out for a stroll, Mama? Who can afford a suit like that and lives in our neighborhood?" she asked, looking at her mother like she was crazy. "And no one strolls around here. They might get shot!"

"Well, that's true. But he's probably visiting someone. You always think too highly of yourself, Lyzette," she said, scornfully. "And you're doing it again. He wasn't after you."

She stared at her mother. Had she been followed home a deranged shadowy figure? Her mother thought she imagined it. It figured.

Not knowing what to do, Lyzette followed her routine. She pulled off her shoes and set them carefully in the closet, even though she wanted to throw them. She knew by now that would bring down her mother's wrath, and that was the last thing she needed. She placed the shoes side my side in the front closet and went into her room to change.

With precision, she pulled off her blouse and hung it neatly on the hanger. Then she unzipped her skirt and hung that correctly, too. She changed into comfortable cotton underwear and pulled on her favorite gray sweats and a T-shirt that said "I'm with Beautiful."

Her mother thought it was funny.

Then, as she always did when she needed comforting, she dropped on her bed and reached under the mattress, pulling out her sketch pad and pencil. Lyzette gave a happy little sigh and began to draw.

She quickly roughed in a jungle scene and added a woman that looked a bit like herself. She smiled, and her face got a thoughtful look as she turned the paper and made dark vivid strokes. After a minute, she held the pad away so she could see it better. She allowed herself a moment of satisfaction as she looked at the realistic scene of herself in a jungle, about to be eaten by a dangerous tiger.

Then her face fell as she thought about the man in the black suit. Would he come back? Was he waiting out there for her, right now? Closing her curtains made her feel better momentarily.

When she glanced at the drawing again, she felt a sense of foreboding, like she was a helpless female in a dangerous jungle with a tiger crouching and waiting to attack.