“Wait,” Eitel said. “Take me back to the Merinides. I’ve got three more paintings to sell.”
“There are plenty of taxi drivers in this city,” said David.
When he was gone, Eitel peered into his mint tea for a while and wondered if David meant to make trouble for him. Then he stopped thinking about David and thought about that glimpse of a green sun and a golden landscape that Agila had given him. His hands felt cold, his fingers were quivering a little. He became aware that he wanted more than anything else to see those things again. Could any Centauran make it happen for him, he wondered, or was that only Agila’s little trick? What about other aliens? He imagined himself prowling the nightclub, hustling for action, pressing himself up against this slithery thing or that one, desperately trying to re-enact that weird orgasmic moment that had carried him to the stars. A new perversion, he thought. One that even David found disgusting.
He wondered what it was like to go to bed with a Vegan or an Arcturan or a Steropid. God in heaven! Could he do it? Yes, he told himself, thinking of green suns and the unforgettable fragrance of that alien air. Yes. Yes. Of course he could. Of course.
There was a sudden strange sweetness in his mouth. He realized that he had taken a deep gulp of the mint tea without paying attention to what he was doing. Eitel smiled. It hadn’t made him sick, had it? Had it? He took another swig. Then, in a slow determined way, he finished off all the rest of it, and scattered some coins on the counter, and went outside to look for a cab.