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  Sophie looked down at the steaming pile on her plate with a sinking heart. Back on Earth one of her neighbors had a Great Dane and wasn’t very good about cleaning up the little “presents” it left behind. The food in front of her bore an uncanny resemblance to what she saw on the sidewalk every morning when she went out of her townhouse to jog.

  “Mmm, delicious.” Magistrate Licklow had picked up a long, thin utensil shaped rather like a chopstick with a tiny spoon on the end and was digging into his own pile enthusiastically. “Try it, my dear,” he said, nodding at Sophie. “It’s a delicacy here on Tranq Prime—you might even call it our national dish.”

  “Really?” Sophie picked up her own chopstick-spoon and began poking carefully at the steaming brownish mass. “Uh what did you call it? Some kind of pudding?”

  “It’s fleeta pudding.” Lady Whitethorn took a dainty bite. Now that she’d had the last word, she appeared to be willing to speak to Sophie again. “Eat some,” she added. “Unless, of course, your civilized palate is too refined to appreciate such local fare.”

  “I never said that,” Sophie said defensively. “In fact…” She swallowed hard. “It, uh… it looks like something I’ve seen very often on my own home planet.”

  “Oh, you have a delicacy similar to ours?” Magistrate Licklow smiled. “See Lady Whitethorn? Earth must not be such a savage place after all.” He smiled at Sophie. “Go on, my dear. Have some and let us know how it compares to your own local dish.”

  Both of her dining companions were watching her closely and Sophie felt trapped. Oh my God, I’m actually going to have to eat some! Taking a tiny spoonful, she brought it to her lips. She had been hoping it would smell better than it looked but unfortunately, it really didn’t. A thick, rotten aroma rose up to greet her, making her feel like she was going to gag.

  “Go on,” the Magistrate urged again.

  Just get it over with! Taking a deep breath (which she immediately regretted) Sophie popped the spoonful of fleeta pudding in her mouth and swallowed as fast as she could.

  “Well?” Lady Whitethorn arched an eyebrow at her imperiously.

  “D-delicious,” Sophie managed to say. Reaching for her glass, she took a huge gulp of the burning blue woo and prayed not to puke. Fire erupted in her stomach and her eyes watered so much she could hardly see, but at least the nauseating pudding stayed down.

  “And was it very like what you have on your own home planet?” Magistrate Licklow asked, smiling.

  “Exactly like it,” Sophie assured him, wiping her eyes. Then, remembering the protein paste Sylvan had offered her back at the cabin she asked, “Uh, it’s not made of ground up bug larva, is it?”

  “Most certainly not.” Lady Whitethorn took another dainty bite and a sip from her glass, which the server had refilled.

  “Oh good.” Sophie felt relieved. She was sure that if she knew what she’d eaten was bug larva she would have been sick all over the table.

  “Fleeta pudding is made from the mature insects themselves,” Magistrate Licklow added helpfully. “See? If you look closely you can see some of the legs—they add texture.” He poked at his own pudding, exposing a long, hairy chitinous leg. Plucking it out of the brown mass, he popped it into his mouth and crunched it up with obvious enjoyment. “Wonderful!”

  Sophie’s stomach did a slow forward roll. Bugs. I just ate a spoonful of bug guts and there are legs in there too. The horrible, hairy many-jointed leg reminded her of the insects that lived in her native Tampa. Everyone called them palmetto bugs, but really they were just huge roaches that could fly. No matter how clean the house was, they still got in—especially during the rainy season. It was always horrifying to open a closet or push back the shower curtain and suddenly be confronted by one. But what kind of sick person would try making a pudding out of them? Oh my God, I’m going to puke. I can’t help it…

  The only thing that saved her was her tharp. Ever since she had been seated at the table it had been making her itch. While she had tasted the bug pudding it had stopped for some reason. But now it started again, so fiercely that it actually took her mind off her stomach.

  Sophie shifted in her chair. What is wrong with this thing? The worst part was that the itching was centered in some very private and delicate places. Ignorant of the Tranq Prime culture as she was, she was fairly sure it would be rude to scratch those areas in public. Putting her hands in her lap, she balled them into fists. Her tharp sleeves jerked and twitched as she clenched her teeth and told herself, I must not scratch. I must not puke. I must not—

  “Well, well, my dear, I’m sure I find your, ah, offer most tempting. I mean, you’re quite a lovely female for an alien but I am a mated male,” said a low voice in her ear.

  Sophie’s eyes flew open and she saw that Magistrate Licklow was frowning at her.

  “I’m sorry, what?” She looked at him uncertainly as she felt the sleeves of her tharp twitch again.

  “I’m just saying that while I appreciate your offer of, ah, intimate relations, I must politely decline.” He cleared his throat. “So please stop touching me.”

  “But I’m not!” Sophie was appalled. “What would make you think I was doing…doing something like that?”

  “Because you are.” He was beginning to look red in the face—clearly something was happening beneath the table but Sophie had no idea what. Her hands were still fisted in her lap with the long sleeves of her tharp hanging down almost to the ground. They still seemed to be twitching a little but it was hard to tell when she was itching so abominably. Her knees were together and her feet were up on the bottom rung of her chair, so it wasn’t like she was playing footsie with the Magistrate. What was he talking about?

  “I’m not,” she said earnestly. “I promise you. I would never—”

  “Oh, shocking!” Unfortunately Lady Whitethorn had picked up on what was going on—or what the Magistrate thought was going on, anyway—and she was glaring at Sophie.

  “No, really,” Sophie protested. “I don’t know what’s happening but I promise I have nothing to do with it. I’m not touching anybody, see?” She held her hands up high as proof…and the top of her tharp fell down to her naval exposing her bare breasts to the entire table.

  There was a collective gasp and the other people seated at the table—none of which she’d been introduced to—apparently couldn’t decide if they ought to stare or look away. All eyes were fixed on her and for one awful moment Sophie was frozen to the spot.

  Then her paralysis broke and she snatched hastily for the moss green tharp. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she gasped.

  Both Lady Whitethorn and the Magistrate Licklow were still glaring at her. “I suppose it’s a quaint Earth custom to show your dining companions your endowments,” Lady Whitethorn remarked acidly.

  “No, honestly it’s not.” Sophie was still having trouble getting the tharp to stay in place. It kept wanting to slip down and expose her again. “That wasn’t on purpose.” But her words fell on deaf ears.

  “Young lady, it may be considered proper to expose yourself and make sexual advances on your dinner companions on your planet but here on Tranq Prime, it is not.” Still giving her a dirty look, the Magistrate moved his chair very pointedly to the right, putting some space between them.

  “But—” Sophie began helplessly.

  “What’s going on? Is there a problem?” Zeelah suddenly appeared with a worried look on her face.

  “No problem at all, Zeelah,” Lady Whitethorn said coldly. “Your important guest has just been entertaining us by fondling a public official and exposing herself to the entire dinner table. And that was after she doused my favorite tharp in woo.”

  “No I didn’t,” Sophie exclaimed. “I mean, my tharp fell down and I did spill woo on Lady Whitethorn but I didn’t fondle anyone.”

  “You most certainly did!” Magistrate Licklow frowned. “It was terrible, Zeelah—she wouldn’t leave me alone even after I told her I was mated.”

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