Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
“You can have mine,” I offer, holding my basket up to her.
“Absolutely not. You eat one.”
Reluctantly, I do, and I’m surprised at the taste. It’s a bit like a powdered donut from back home, with a hint of a crunchy tang to it. “Oh. That’s pretty good.”
“Sweet?” she asks.
And before I can answer, she leans in and licks my mouth, then smacks her lips. “Yup. Sweet.”
Ten
DORA
Bethiah just licked me. On the lips.
I want to gasp in shock. I want to ask her what it means. I want to lick her back. Instead, all I can do is stare at her in surprise. Is this part of the game we’re playing? Where she’s pretending to be soft for a human? Or is she truly flirting with me? It’s so hard to tell with Bethiah. Every time I think she’s opening up a little, she does something wild and irrational.
But…she did say I was pretty.
I flush with pleasure at the memory. Her tail is still wrapped around my waist, holding me close, and as she eats another one of her leaves, I notice that her gaze is darting around underneath her lashes. She’s surreptitiously watching everyone else around us even as we snack. It’s probably part of the game, then, I decide.
But my part is that I’m supposed to be clingy and trying to convince her to stay, right? So I decide to push a little. I eat another sweet fried leaf, and let the dark sugar crystals brush against my lips. When Bethiah glances my way again, I lean in (it’s a lot of leaning) and plant my mouth against hers. I linger there for a moment, noting how soft her mouth is, and then pull away. “Giving you another taste,” I say softly. “Since you liked the first one.”
Her eyes narrow on me and the tail around my waist tightens a little. But she doesn’t look mad. Her mouth twitches in a hint of a smile, and then she licks a sugar crystal from the corner of her mouth, and I’m fascinated by the sight of her tongue.
For the first time, I’m considering my sexuality. The memories I have from “before” are vague and random, more like trivia that pops up from time to time when I least expect it. My favorite TV show was Friends, the smell of cucumbers reminds me of my granny’s garden, and I can’t remember more than that even if I concentrate. It’s nothing I can rely on. When I “woke up” as a slave, my sexuality wasn’t my own. It didn’t count, because it didn’t matter if I liked male hands or female hands on me. They were hands I didn’t want, so I tried not to think about them at all. No one bought me in that time frame, so I spent my time huddled next to other slaves and fearing the day when it’d eventually happen.
But now that I’m free…I’m thinking about things. Things like how soft Bethiah’s mouth was against mine, and how much I like curling up against her. Do I like women, then? Do I like women exclusively? I ponder this, and my mind flicks open a few old memories, of kisses shared on a beaten-up sofa in front of a TV, kisses from a man with a beard. Hmm. I consider this a bit longer and decide that I don’t care what gender someone is, as long as I like their personality and feel safe with them.
To me, that’s all that matters. That it’s my decision whether or not things move forward and that I have a say in matters. That I’m excited to have those hands touch me, be they male or female.
I don’t know what that’s called and I don’t care. I just know that with Bethiah’s tail curled around me and her smiling down at me, I’m feeling lots of things.
Mostly I’m hoping she’ll brush her lips against mine again. So I eat another sweet leaf, even though I’m not hungry, and then tilt my mouth up in her direction. “Do you want another taste?”
She touches a knuckle under my chin, considering. “No, I don’t think I do. I think you’re trying to seduce me into keeping you, and I’m not going to fall for that.”
My stomach clenches with disappointment. I don’t care if it’s part of the game or not, it still hurts my feelings a little. I lick the sugar crystals off my fingers and set the rest of the food aside, no longer interested. “Did you want to see if we can find a fruit vendor, then?”
Bethiah chuckles. “Oh, sweet little fluffit, it’s never about fruit.”
It’s not? Good gravy, this woman is confusing. “Then can we get a drink of something? I’m thirsty.”
“We can, but we’ll need to be quick about it. I’m being watched.” Her eyes gleam, and I realize she’s excited about this. Her tail is shivering around me with excitement, and her movements are a little more exaggerated. She even tosses her hair.