Darzul felt a peculiar excitement as he watched Rena. The other man turned, with casual grace, to face Mendoza as the Latino shrugged out of his short Charro-style jacket and fumbled to release the fasteners on the wide sash stretched over his bulging midsection. When he finally undid them, a roll of fat spilled over the waist of his trousers and a button popped off his frilled shirt.
Names here still confused Darzul at times. They did not reveal a person’s current gender as they would at home. There, so long as he stayed male, he’d be called Darzul. If he were to become female his name—or in that case, hers—would be Darluzin. He thought that here on earth, most names ending in an “a” or a syllable like -ette, -ita or -elle were considered feminine. Maybe Rena had a male version of the sa
