Alien in the Family

went to our side of the floor. It was pretty much a mirror image of Chuckie’s suite, including the full wall mirror I’d missed before.
    “See the big mirror?” Martini asked as he came up behind me. “We don’t take our top off in front of the big mirror unless Jeff is the only other person in the room.” He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck.
    “Mmmmm, okay.” He switched to nibbling my neck, which doubled as my main erogenous zone. “Whatever you want.”
    “Thought you were going to argue.” His tongue was tracing a pattern.
    “Uhhh . . . oh, God, Jeff . . . ohhh . . .” So much for arguing. Maybe later.
    He spun me around and kissed me, and I melted against him. I was ready to go for it, but he pulled away after a few minutes. “I have to make sure the room’s safe. And,” he added morosely, “my parents will arrive any time.”
    “Okay.” What good was a suite if we weren’t going to get to have sex on every available surface? But I decided voicing that thought wouldn’t be fair. He’d been as ready to go as I was.
    Martini hypersped through the place and checked for bugs. We all had an alien-detector now, thanks to Chuckie. Nothing found, human or alien. I was shocked, but I figured the foray into Catering had alerted the rogue that we were onto him or her, so she or he was lying low. Or causing havoc elsewhere.
    “So, what’s your plan?” Martini asked me after we’d hung up our clothes in the walk-in closet that was part of the humongous master bedroom. This hotel room was larger than the Lair, let alone the apartment I’d lived in before I’d met Martini. Our meager assortment of clothing looked sad and lonely in the huge closet.
    “I want to go shopping.”
    He laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He pulled out his wallet. “Uh . . . do I have to go?”
    My turn to laugh. “No, not if you don’t want to.” He handed me a wad of cash. “Jeff, I have my own money.”
    “Right, and there’s more of it in your hand. It’s not cheap here from a cost standpoint.” He looked worried. “Do you need more?” He opened his wallet again.
    “I have no idea, but stop throwing money at me.” I wondered how much of this was because Chuckie was right next door and figured a lot of it.
    “Okay, you have the credit cards, right?”
    “Yes, but I don’t think I want to use them here, just in case.” Just in case I’d have to look at the bills a month later and ask myself why I’d bought something I could only wear in one place and spent that much money for it. I’d been here a lot more than once, after all.
    “Well, do if it’s something you really want.”
    “I really want you in something other than a suit.”
    “I thought you liked how I looked in the suit.” He sounded hurt.
    “I do. I like how you look naked, too. I also liked how you looked all of the two times I could get you into jeans.”
    He shrugged. “I don’t feel comfortable in them.”
    “Did you wear suits as kids, too?” I asked with a laugh.
    Martini looked embarrassed. “Yeah, we did. We were at the Embassy a lot . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked miserable. “I’ll wear whatever you want.”
    I hugged him and felt like a total jerk. “Oh, Jeff, I’m sorry. You look great in the suit, you know I think so. It’s not like we’re going to a playground or something.”
    “So, when we have kids, you won’t want me in the suit at the park or anything?” He sounded panicked.
    “Baby, stop. We’ll worry about it when we have to.” I felt like crap for making him feel like crap. This wasn’t exactly going as planned, not that I’d had a plan. I nuzzled his chest. “I think you’re just as handsome when you’re dressed casually. But it doesn’t really matter. It’s not the end of the world. If you didn’t want to wear a tux for our wedding, that would be a problem.”
    “No, I’m fine with a tux. White or black?”
    “I don’t know.” The panic about my lack of a dress, or even the idea of a dress, hit me. “I sort of wanted to decide once I knew what I was wearing.”
    “Well, shop for that here, too.”
    “Huh?”
    “It’s Vegas. Lots of weddings. Lots of shops with dresses. Take the girls and go shopping.”
    A thought occurred. “I don’t want the girls, actually.” I dug out my phone. “James, you guys settled in?”
    “Yeah, girlfriend. Nice digs. I’ll give the C.I.A. this much—they live for the first-class treatment.”
    “I