Not that I’d never read textbooks for my own pleasure, but in the previous weeks’ lessons, we’d mainly been covering stuff that I’d read about for pleasure in high school.

It turned out there was a whole chapter on the Magic of Metaphor… a short chapter, but then it turned out to be a really simple subject.

One of the earliest schools of magic devised by humans, with no input from elves or extraplanar creatures, was that of metaphor. This approach to magic had the advantage of being based in a simple and intuitive approach to interacting with the world, and thus did not require practitioners to grasp a complex underlying philosophy before utilizing it. After the advent of humanosylvan relations and the establishment of the practices of wizardry, the metaphorical model was largely discarded, being viewed as a primitive holdover fraught with meaningless ritual and empty superstition.

At the core, though, these primitive practices did indeed rely on working techniques that are still practiced to this day. One of the first feats of sorcery an enchanter learns is how to identify and enhance the intrinsic properties of a subject creature or object. The use of a metaphorical link allows the same to be done with properties that are not actually intrinsic to the subject but are found within a related subject. This is the reason why many ancient light spheres were made from gold or silver, for example: these metals have no true internal light, but the materials could be likened to the sun or the moon, respectively and their ability to reflect light, if the sorcerer is insistent enough, can become a celestial disk’s ability to generate it. Even the typical round shape came about in a deliberate attempt to recall the circular nature of the sun and the moon.

This approach is so intuitive that modern practitioners tend to incorporate it into their workings without considering that they are engaging in an act of metaphoric linking, but in cultures that had no accord with elves and limited trade, metaphor still forms the basis of their magic.

Among certain nomadic tribes of northpersons, it is customary to give children names which invoke animals associated with desirable physical traits. This is partly superstition, in the hope that they will be blessed directly with those traits, but it also has practical magical use. A man who is named for the fierce tundra wolf, wearing a pelt taken from the same and affecting the manner of such a beast, would make a readier recipient for a spell which imbues the subject with the wolf’s hunting prowess and senses by means of metaphor enhancement. The same is true of a bear’s strength, a deer’s speed, or a falcon’s sight.

Though such enhancement is the most direct means of utilizing metaphor in magic, it is not the only one. Metaphor can be useful for establishing a link to a remote subject for long-distance workings. It can be used to ease the tremendous energy cost of metamorphosis, by establishing a shorter route. Again, we must consider the example of the northpersons and their well-known enthusiastic defensive fighters who are noted for their ability to enter into an ecstatic state of non-specific aggression. It was once theorized that persons living with ursanthropy were recruited for this purpose, as surviving witnesses recounted the sight of combatants actually becoming bears on the field of battle. Modern researchers observing the phenomenon from a distance have determined that all the northpersons in question were in fact invoking aspects of bears, some going so far as to spontaneously metamorphose.

That this feat—difficult enough for trained wizards with a well-formulated spell—can be done spontaneously by members of a magically underdeveloped culture is a powerful testament to the effectiveness of metaphor. The practitioner of this art becomes so much like a bear that it only takes a small mystic ‘push’ for he or she to become one.

I would have really liked to read more examples like that, more specific cases taken from around the world, but the rest of the chapter was all abstract examples and modern applications. I kicked myself extra hard, mentally, for zoning out on Wednesday instead of listening to whatever Goldman had been saying. He probably had more examples.

What was really frustrating in a tantalizing sense was that at the end of the chapter there was a very brief mention of metaphoric traditions in non-human cultures… no mention of any specific ones, or any historical context, or anything. The elves were mentioned only to the extent that they’d influenced humans. It was like they felt the need to include a completely perfunctory bare effort “Oh, and the other races did stuff, too.” thing… as much as the textbook writers had bent over backwards to avoid saying “barbarian”, the book still had its problems.

It kind of reminded me of the way some of the history books I’d had in high school had dealt with non-human development. A grudging tolerance was extended to other human cultures that brushed up against the great empires, but if you weren’t a human… or sometimes elf or dwarf… you didn’t rate.

I made a mental note to do some research on the subject the next time I went to the library. It was almost the weekend, so that wouldn’t be long… of course, that was assuming that everything went okay on Saturday.

It was hard to keep my priorities straight when I had so damned many of them. I’d clearly neglected my schoolwork, and since school was the whole point of, you know, going to school… and since I couldn’t stay there and have what passed for my social life and be near the people I loved if I didn’t keep my grades up and keep my scholarship and assistance, it seemed like that should be a high priority. But grades were just a number and I was really there to learn, so it also seemed like making up the gaps in the official version of things by hitting the library on my own time was an admirable goal. But all of that would be rendered superfluous if I ended up screwing up my life completely, by sending the wrong signals to a mermaid one too many times or messing up my feeding schedule and going on a rampage or being possessed by a pitchfork or getting myself enslaved…

My situation was probably unusual in several ways, but other people had girlfriends and interests and hobbies and conflicts going on, too… and some of them had jobs and extracurricular crap. How the hell did they cope with it?

I remembered my datebook… I could write a tiny note to myself on the entry for Sunday. I’d have to remember to look at it when I went to the library, but maybe I could get in the habit of writing notes in it and looking at it on a regular basis. That would make it a little bit more useful, wouldn’t it?

The first thing would be to find it, of course. I was pretty sure it was somewhere in my room, but I hadn’t exactly been using it.

I felt a weird and nameless dread at going back there, even though I’d been in there to get dressed and get ready for class. It had been standing empty, though. Knowing that someone had likely been in there without my knowledge or awareness… especially considering the likely someone…

I still hadn’t really dealt with that. Not awake. I’d been so insistent, when reporting my dream to Amaranth, that it had been real… I still believed that. But had it actually been him? There was no way I could know, and I didn’t know what it would mean if it was.

A demon visiting me in my sleep. Maybe I had less reason to be afraid of that… at least, to be mortally afraid of it… than most people of human descent, but that didn’t mean it was a good thing.

There were things I would have liked to know about my mother, about my… origin, for lack of a better word… but I really wasn’t sure I wanted to know anything about my father. I certainly didn’t want anything to do with him.

But it was weird to think about… I really didn’t know how to feel about it.

Who did I talk to about that? The three people who probably gave me the best advice… and who I could confide in… were probably Amaranth, Dee, and Two. None of them had a father, with varying degrees of literality. Steff and Ian both had huge issues with their dads, which could make this a sensitive subject… but at the same time it was hard to imagine their issues would give them any particular insight into “how do I deal with it when my demonic father comes into my bedroom and messes with my dreams and my stuff?”

And… the assurances of a demon who’d appeared in a dream before sabotaging my bath stuff to make me go crazy notwithstanding… could I really afford to be distracted by this when my ass was going to be on the line in a day and a half?

It was no wonder I hadn’t had time to think of a costume for Veil… which I suddenly realized I could be working on, since I had nothing more to do at the moment and no more classes until the middle of the afternoon.

What did it say that I could go from angsting over matters of life and death to planning for a party? I didn’t know, but maybe that was the only way to live a life like mine and still, you know, live a life. I couldn’t do anything about Saturday night before Saturday night. I couldn’t do anything about my demon father. In the meantime, I would be seeing Ian there, and Steff afterwards. How could I give that up just because I had a bunch of assorted pointed weapons hanging over my head?

Two came into the lounge then, carrying some pots, and it jarred me out of my thoughts because she didn’t say hello to me… she just walked past the table and turned on the sink.

“Hi, Two,” I said.

“Oh, hi, Mack,” she said. “I would have said hi, but I thought you were meditating or thinking about sex, so I did not would like to interrupt you.”

“Heh,” I said. “I guess I was kind of lost in thought.”

“I get lost in my thoughts, too,” she said. “But not so much lately, since I have more ways to go.”

“I was actually thinking about my costume for tonight,” I said, and Two unexpectedly beamed.

“You’re going to be so pretty,” she said.

“Maybe… hopefully, I guess,” I said. “But I have to decide what to wear.”

“Why don’t you wear your costume for the other costume party?” she asked.

“What other costume party?”

“The one you are going to tomorrow.”

“Two, I’m not going to a costume party tomorrow,” I said.

“Yes, you are,” she said.

“Two, I’m not,” I said.

“You’re mistaken,” she said. “Amaranth said you needed a costume for a party that you and her are going to on Saturday that I am not invited to and I helped her make it.”

“Oh!” I said, realizing that Amaranth had been circumspect about the circumstances when enlisting Two’s help in getting me properly attired for the club’s dress code. “Two, that’s not exactly… well, I guess it is kind of a dress-up thing. Okay. Yeah. But I don’t want to wear that costume to a regular costume party.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re different sorts of parties,” I said. “I don’t think what I’m going to be wearing would be very appropriate for a school function.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it. And if Amaranth is there then it wouldn’t be indecent.”

“Well, it’s not… in any event, it’s really important that I have a nice costume for Saturday and so I don’t want to mess it up,” I said.

“Oh,” Two said, nodding knowingly. “That makes sense.”

“So I need to come up with something… something cheap and easy, obviously. I mean, I guess I could run into town and see if there’s anything still available, but I don’t really want to spend a lot of money,” I said.

“You could dress up as a nymph,” Two said. “That would be cheap and easy.”

“Yeah, uh, no,” I said. “That gets back into ‘inappropriate’ territory.”

“But if Amaranth is there…”

“I wouldn’t be comfortable with it,” I said.

“You could be a golem,” Two said. “That would only take some makeup or a glamour or even Amaranth’s marker.”

“Amaranth’s marker,” I repeated, thinking about the time she’d written “Nymph’s Toy” across my forehead. I shivered. “There’s an idea.” It had erotic undertones for me, but it also touched on comfort… a golem was not a slave, but a possession. It was also a connection to Two. “If I do that, do you think I should copy your runes? Or would that be weird?”

“I don’t think it would be weird,” Two said. “I think it would be nice.”

“Hey… maybe we could go as each other?” I said. “We could swap clothes… I could dress like you and you could dress like me.”

“Or you could dress like me and I could dress like you should dress,” Two said.

“If you don’t like the idea, you can just say so,” I said. “I can just be a golem who dresses like me. But the point of a costume party is to dress up like something you aren’t.”

“Don’t you think that dressing up like a golem is a tad problematic?” Shiel said, ambling into the lounge with no attempt to hide the fact that she’d been listening to our conversation from the hall.

“Not really,” I said. “It would be tough to do an iron or stone golem, but with a humany golem like Two, it’s just a matter of drawing some runes.”

“I mean, you’re miming the characteristics of an oppressed and exploited class of beings for your own entertainment,” Shiel said. “But then, you’re the one who let dwarves throw chains on her for a frat party, aren’t you? You know that’s not even a dwarven tradition.”

“Yeah, it’s a goblinoid one,” I said. “I know. I got schooled on that recently… by a dwarf, actually.”

“Would this dwarf have sold you that hardware I saw in your boobs earlier?”

“Yeah,” I said. “If it’s any of your business.”

“So clearly he’s not above a little cultural appropriation.”

“She, actually,” I said. I looked pointedly at Shiel’s bare, smooth chest. “And don’t tell me that you’ve got a tradition of nipple piercings.”

“Where do you think the lock motif came from, then?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “From locks, maybe? I didn’t think you were a big fan of the tradition in the first place.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But two wrongs don’t make a right, especially when they’re both being committed in the same direction. Do you know how creepy it is to know that dwarves look at my culture and say ‘they may be horrible monsters with no right to live, but at least they keep their women in line’?”

“I think you’re oversimplifying things a bit,” I said. “Anyway, this has got nothing to do with Veil, which is just harmless fun. I mean, if somebody dresses up in a racial caricature, yes, that’s a problem, but that doesn’t mean the whole idea should be thrown out the window. Why let the assholes ruin everybody else’s fun?”

“Because that’s what it comes down to, letting people… i.e., white, western-descended humans… have their fun,” Shiel said.

“Does the fact that it was Two’s idea make any difference to you?” I asked.

“That’s right, it was,” Two said. She’d turned back to the sink and was washing out her dishes, now that the conversation had more or less left her behind.

“I actually don’t know,” Shiel said.

“Then why are you complaining to me about it?”

“Well, I’m thinking about this stuff!” Shiel said. “I don’t have all the answers, but at least I’m questioning.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got other questions on my mind right now,” I said. “And I’m looking forward to a chance to hang out with my friends and relax and bond and yes, have fun. I get that these issues are all way important to you, and I can understand why, but try to imagine what it would be like if every time you sat down to play with your toy soldiers…”

“I don’t play with toy soldiers,” Shiel said.

“Okay, whatever you want to call it,” I said. “But imagine if every time you went to play your little game…”

“Whatever point you’re trying to make would probably come across more clearly if you didn’t feel the need to diminish my hobby,” Shiel said.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. But imagine if every time you tried to play… what’s it called?”

“Stone soldiers,” she said.

“If every time you tried to play stone soldiers, somebody started arguing with you about the advisability of making a game out of death and war,” I said. “Or the implications of carving humans and dwarves and then acting out ordering them around or killing them.”

“I don’t think that’s quite the same thing,” Shiel said. “But… I don’t think soldier stones are problematic. I mean, yes, my race actually manages to rival humans for chauvinism, although we have less impact because we don’t have power, but the game… the portrayals of other races are just for variety. They’re all balanced against each other, so it’s not like there are rules saying the humans are weak and greedy and the dwarves are stupid and drunk.”

“Okay, but then the point is, not every time that a member of one race portrays another race in some fashion, that’s not always inherently ‘problematic’,” I said. “Right?”

“At the very least it’s fraught with potential problems,” Shiel said.

“Yeah, okay, I agree with that,” I said. “But race-based costumes aren’t even an inherent part of Veil. I mean, traditionally the idea was to do something otherworldly or undead… sometimes races that humans didn’t have a great relationship with got thrown in under the heading of ‘monster’, but that was never the original idea, and in modern times… well, I mean, people dress up as healers or librarians or paladins or pirates. It’s a game. It’s fun, in the same way that pretending to be a general or whatever you’re doing when you’re playing your game is fun.”

“Okay, I guess I can kind of see that,” Shiel said. “Though, really, there’s more intellectual elements in… well, it’s not important. But if some idiot shows up at the dance in orcface, do you really think he’s going to be the least bit cognizant of the historical context you described?”

“No,” I said. “And that would be why he’s the idiot in orcface. I think I can condemn him and still condone the dance, can’t I? I mean, I’ve never been to a Veil Ball, but I don’t think there’s a paper I have to sign at the door that says that by going there, I give my consent and approval to every costume that some drunken fratboy throws together to get high-fives from his buddies.”

“You’re making some interesting potential points,” Shiel said. “But I still don’t feel like I could attend this in good conscience. I mean, even if there isn’t a circular going around advertising the tasteless costumes, you still know they’re going to be there.”

“Yes, but I also know they’re not the point,” I said. “You don’t have to approve of it, and you definitely don’t have to go, but I am… and it’s not that I don’t think about racial issues, because I do. Not the same way you do, so maybe it’s a good thing that we had this conversation, but even after hearing your thoughts and reflecting on it, I still choose to go.”

“Okay,” Shiel said. She sighed. “I guess I can’t argue with that. I mean, I could, but even if I talked you out of going, that wouldn’t stop any of the things I’m objecting to.”

“Well, there’s always next year,” I said.

“That’s true,” Shiel said. “I’m definitely planning on getting more involved in campus politics. Like the student senate… you know, you really shouldn’t have let Suzune have that seat. Though I haven’t ruled out becoming a resident advisor. Do you know if they let frosh hold that position?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I assume it doesn’t come up often since all the positions are filled before we get here.”

“Well, I’m thinking if Kiersta vacates hers,” Shiel said.

“She hasn’t quit yet,” I said.

“Yeah, but I’m wondering if she’ll be left with a choice,” Shiel said. “You know what happened this morning, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “It kind of happened to me.”

“I mean during the search,” she said. “They found contraband in room 419.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, unable to repress a giggle. “The twins got busted.”

“And Twyla,” Shiel said. “That’s the sort of thing an RA is supposed to be on top of, and…”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t Twyla’s, it was theirs,” I said.

“All three of them share the room,” Shiel said. “Anyway, that’s supposed to be Kiersta’s…”

“But it wasn’t hers!” I said. “Why should she get in trouble?”

“Look, I don’t know who was actually buying and drinking the dwarf poison,” Shiel said. “From what I heard… and not that I was eavesdropping but the walls are kind of thin and voices were raised… the human girls said that their roommate drank it, too. Anyway, since it was all so out in the open, I think it’s going to be hard for Kiersta to…”

“How can you be so calm about this?” I asked. “Twyla doesn’t deserve to be lumped in with them.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t actually know Twyla… I didn’t realize she was a friend of yours.”

“She isn’t,” I said. “But fuck, she’s got to suffer enough just being their roommate.”

“Well, maybe she should have done something,” Shiel said.

“I did,” Twyla said from the doorway, giving me a second reminder that sound carried out through the open door. Her eyes were rimmed red. “I told Kiersta about the alcohol, but how much do you think that matters when the RA is their drinking buddy?”

“Did you document it, when you told her?” Shiel asked.

“Yeah, I’m not stupid,” Twyla said. “But with my luck, I’m probably going to get bounced out anyway.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Shiel said. She pointed at me. Interestingly, she used her ring finger… or what would be a ring finger on humans. “They haven’t kicked her out yet, have they?”

Discuss this story.

Then she began.

Once again, she nuzzled her nose and lips along the sides… I felt a tiny tendril of queasiness snaking up through the bottom of my stomach, but I didn’t focus on it… and it was easy to ignore, as things were waking up all over down below. After all the false starts and stops, I felt primed and ready to go off… like one good whack on the rear would have done it.

For all the physical excitement, though, I felt disconnected, emotionally… again, maybe that had something to do with the on-again, off-again, or maybe it was some niggling doubts about her intentions… whatever it was, though, I wasn’t exactly in the best place, mentally, to stop and analyze it.

She pushed her face against me, moaning and murmuring as she drank in my scent. I whimpered. She pressed her mouth in like she was going to kiss me, and her tongue slipped in. It wasn’t a real penetration… just a kind of timid, darting contact… but a jolt ran up my spine all the same.

Her tongue was so wet and rough and cool, but not in an overwhelming way. Feejee’s body was room temperature, but I was so hot, and hotter by comparison.

“You’re so fleshy down here,” she said, and her lips and breath tickled and teased against my soft folds of flesh. She sucked part of my labia in her mouth and tugged on the flap, gnawing lightly with her teeth. I moaned. I didn’t know what to wish for… more tongue, more tenderness… or for her to go wild like Iona had, biting with rending force on my invulnerable flesh.

I got a little of both. She turned her head around, twisting painfully, and bright starbursts went off behind my eyes. Her tongue slid around the trapped bit of skin and flesh. She sucked hard on it. There were so many different sensations stimulating me at that moment that they all ran into together, one giant ball of pain-pressure-pleasure. She let go and her tongue slipped out again, this time running along the edge of my inner lip.

Feejee was making me aware of myself in ways I usually tried to avoid. I could feel my labia swollen and engorged in a way I’d never noticed before. I could feel myself responding to the touch of her tongue. The back of my mind swam in horror at the thought of what we were doing, but it was in danger of drowning in languorous pleasure as Feejee licked and lapped in the shallows of my femininity.

Okay, maybe the metaphor’s a little strained there, but what did you expect, with a mermaid involved?

My hands came up from the floor and crept inward, seemingly of their own volition. I don’t know exactly what I had meant to do… maybe open myself up, help Feejee get in deeper… but as soon as they got close, she snapped and bit down hard on my finger. I gasped and screamed, and pulled my hands back.

Feejee had this, apparently.

The noises she made were appreciative in a way that was both flattering and arousing, and more than a little frightening. Her deep, throaty “mmms” and “aahs” kept her lips buzzing and her cool breath flowing, adding whole new layers of sensation to the experience while reminding me that ultimately she saw me as a meal waiting to happen.

That probably should have driven me out of my mind with terror. With her crouched between my legs, her lips buzzing against the outer folds of pussy and her tongue slipping in between, it almost sent me over the edge.

She braced her hands against my thighs and pushed them farther apart, spreading me open wider. She buried herself against me, and her tongue found my opening and rolled up from it towards the top of my slit. I shrieked as much in shock as pleasure. Dirty…

But… so good.

Whatever Feejee tasted down there, it seemed to urge her on. She licked more, delving deeper… the further she probed, the more the no-dirty-no litany rose up within me. I found myself scooting downward, trying to get her tongue up higher. My clit was throbbing, aching with a need to be touched that was as insistent as an itch. Feejee’s tongue buried in my channel was… oh, it felt good, but… higher would have felt safer.

I closed my eyes and tried to shut out everything else but the pleasure. It wasn’t dirty, it was… it was almost natural, I told myself. I mean, it wasn’t like Feejee’s mouth would never have, in the course of eating… ugh, that wasn’t something I wanted to think about, either. I locked my legs to keep from flailing and kicking again.

Focus on the pleasure, nothing but the pleasure.

Feejee’s tongue moving in and out, her nose rubbing, her satisfied murmurs… it was all building up in pace, matching the build-up within me. My neck arched, my hands grabbing at the rug. I ached for release, but Feejee seemed to be enjoying the journey. Her tongue had gone as deep as she could get it, and now she sucked and slurped. My pussy was dripping wet, if you’ll pardon my elvish, and she seemed determined to wring every last drop from me that she could.

My body writhed beneath her mouth, bucking and grinding against her face. Her attention was so intense, so strong, so much… but it wasn’t enough. I wanted her to fuck me. I was used to being pounded, being taken forcefully. Her tongue wasn’t doing it. I was panting hard, gasping for breath and clawing at the floor, but something was missing.

“Bite me,” I said. “Bite me, Feejee. Eat me now… eat me hard.”

I don’t know if Feejee said something, or if she just growled. Her tongue was still probing deep inside me, but she moved her mouth and I felt her teeth dragging on my sensitive inner folds. Her tongue slid out, dragging against the top of my cavity… oh, fuck, if she’d been doing that all along… and then her teeth latched on to the upper edge of the opening.

I had a moment to wonder what the hell I’d been thinking to ask for that, and then the whole universe exploded. I couldn’t see or think, I was screaming but I couldn’t hear anything except the rush of blood in my ears. I came buckets, as Amaranth would say, pulling the rug around my upper body like a blanket as my arms contracted fetally around my chest. I gushed. The wet explosion in my nether space set Feejee off into a frenzy of biting, her teeth going bestial.

She bit without discrimination or hesitation, without restraint. I rode it, unabashedly reveling in the feeling. Did that make me a pain slut? I didn’t know or care. It got me off. It did the job. It went on and on, though, and then I realized the pain was outstripping the pleasure. Maybe the part of Feejee that remembered I was invulnerable, that I couldn’t be bitten apart and chewed up, was losing out to the part of her that thought yum, because like Iona before, Feejee had latched on and she wasn’t letting go. She was deep in the throes of frenzy… from the way her body was shuddering, I think she must have been climaxing, too.

In a moment of strong clarity, I realized I’d never, ever, ever complain about a mermaid ignoring my clitoris again. Really. In fact, at that moment, I would have been perfectly fine with nobody ever touching it.

Salvation came with another set of pounding thuds, this time at the door.

“Mack? Mack?” Steff yelled through the closed door. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t have any words in me yet… I was still working on air. I lay there, gasping like a… well, like a fish stranded up on the shore. I rolled over, pulling the rug over my head like a blanket. Damn, I was sore… but I felt euphoric.

“Somebody better open this door,” Steff said.

“Tell her you’re okay,” Feejee whispered, yanking the cover off my head.

I tried to wheeze out the words “just a second”, but I still wasn’t quite there yet.

“You know, I can hear you in there, Feejee,” Steff said.

“Tell her it isn’t me,” Feejee whispered, even more quietly.

“Hey, if you’re fucking her I don’t care,” Steff said. “I just… I wasn’t sure those were happy sounds I was hearing.”

“Fine,” I said, pushing the word out. I had meant it to be a sentence, but that’s all I managed. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Feejee put her face in front of mine and mouthed something, probably “tell her it’s not me” or something like that, but my eyes weren’t exactly the most focusy things in the world at the moment. I felt drunk.

“Okay, you guys want your privacy, that’s fine,” Steff said. “But, uh, you seriously might look into some soundproofing if you win the lawsuit lottery or whatever.”

Feejee held her breath, one ear cocked towards the door. If she hoped to hear the sound of Steff walking away, she was probably disappointed… Steff’s half-elven footfalls were pretty hard to hear even when she was skipping.

“Next time you talk to them, you have to say it wasn’t me,” Feejee said finally.

“I’m not lying to Steff,” I said, sitting up and flipping the rug over my legs. I realized it was pointless to cover myself when we were alone together, considering how many times Feejee had incidentally seen me naked and considering what we’d just done, so instead I tried to straighten it out on the floor. “And she was telling the truth: she doesn’t care what anybody does together.”

“Well, I don’t want everyone knowing…”

“Then we shouldn’t be doing this in my room,” I said. “And since I’m not exactly comfortable going off somewhere with you… that’s pretty much the only option.”

“We could go downstairs to Io’s.”

The thought was like ice water down my back. As much as Feejee seemed not to “get it” about people vs. food, she at least seemed to have some sort of moral center about the whole thing, however bizarre her morality was to me. That didn’t excuse anything, but it made me feel a little bit better about her being so close by and among humans. I got the impression Iona was different.

“Feejee… you’re my friend,” I said. “Iona isn’t, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable doing this with her.”

“Oh,” she said. “But we could make a party of it… order a couple of legs from that Mercy’s place, and…”

“I wish I’d never heard of that place, Feejee,” I said.

“Oh, you don’t mean that,” Feejee said. “I saw how you went crazy over a couple handfuls of pulled pork. Just imagine sinking your teeth into a nice, meaty…”

“I don’t want to imagine it!” I said, shutting my eyes and turning away. “People aren’t…”

“Oh, so we’re back to that again, I guess,” Feejee said. I heard a rustling sound and turned around to see that her lower body was scaly again, all the way up her waist. She was frowning.

“Yeah, we are,” I said. I got to my feet, stepping out of the loops of gold chain like I was taking off a skirt. “We never left it. It’s a constant, Feejee… and you’re never going to survive four years among humans if you don’t think about it.”

She didn’t respond, just went to my desk and started putting her jewelry back on.

“Here,” I said, holding out the chain.

“Keep it,” she said, not looking at me. “I told you, it’s a gift.”

“No, I…”

“Can we please go five minutes without arguing about something stupid?” she said, wheeling around to face me. “It’s mine to give, and I’m giving it to you, damn it!”

“Okay, okay,” I said, then held it awkwardly while I figured out what to do with it.

It was such an absurd thing… I’d have to loop it over three or four times to wear it as a necklace. I started to open the desk drawer to stick it inside, then decided the suitcase I kept my personal stuff in would be better. I ducked under the bed, pulled out the case, and put the long, slim chain inside.

It occurred to me that something was missing as I slid the case back under. What was Amaranth doing with my pitchfork again? It would probably be a good idea to get it back from her… on that subject, maybe she’d be a better hiding spot for the gold necklace than under the bed.

Feejee had finished “getting dressed” while I was stowing the necklace. I stood up and turned around to find her staring at me. I imagined she must have been watching me the whole time I was down on my hands and knees. The thought of the mermaid looking at my ass, ogling it not with lust but with actual, literal hunger… well, maybe I’d been hanging out with Steff too much, but it was a little bit of a turn-on.

The knowledge that she’d do it for real in a heartbeat if she thought the circumstances warranted it? The knowledge that she’d eaten others and would likely do so in the future?

Not so much.

“Well, this was fun, Mack,” Feejee said. “A little… weird, in places, but fun.”

“It was… fun,” I agreed. I’d started to say “nice”, but I wasn’t sure that was the applicable word.

“The thing is, I’m not sure I’d be able to do it again… not if it has to be here, and on your terms,” she said. “I… I get that you have rights, kind of, but I feel like I’m giving things up and not getting a lot in return, you know?”

“I know what you mean,” I said. I didn’t agree that this was an accurate assessment of the situation, but I sure knew the feeling.

“It’s like… it’s like you have all these concerns about being eaten, and I have concerns about being seen as a lesbian, and your concerns all trump mine, somehow,” she said.

I could have pointed out that mine were a matter of life and death, but it seemed like she thought hers were, too. If she felt like I was minimizing her objections, pointing out that they weren’t probably wouldn’t be helpful.

“And then you throw in a bunch of bubbly-wubbly philosophy stuff that I don’t like to think about, so… I mean, I’ll see you around the tubs and I’d like to actually hang out more, so I’m not always stuck with the twits next door to you, but… I don’t know if I’m going to want to do this again any time soon.” She shrugged. “Sorry. I just… you make the whole thing more complicated than I think it has to be. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” I said. As hot as the whole thing was, the fact was that hanging out would be more conducive to reinforcing a difference between “people” and “food” than laying my body out like a buffet.

Also, the fact was, despite the pretty ample fucking evidence that I’d been satisfied that was coating my thighs… evidence that Feejee was kind of licking her lips even as she said she wasn’t in a hurry for another go… I was feeling a little empty about the whole thing.

I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it in the heat of the moment, but now that it was over I could feel a serious lack in the scenario. I’d fallen into bed, as it were, with a few people since school had begun, but in each of those cases, there was already something more there. I loved Amaranth and I was comfortable with her. I loved Steff and I was… somewhat turned on by being uncomfortable with her. I had strong feelings for Ian that I wasn’t quite sure how to categorize.

With Feejee… well, she had always struck me as a nice person before I learned more about mermaids, and she’d certainly made a point of reaching out to me, and okay, yes, she was drop-dead gorgeous and she was orally fixated on my body… but I would never dream of waking up next to her.

It was the difference between having sex casually, and casual sex.

“So… um… talk to you later?” Feejee said, tearing her eyes from my passion-slicked thighs and still-swollen parts with a visible effort.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m not doing anything much tonight, so I’ll probably take a bath later.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll probably be in there all evening, actually… Rick’s watching some thing over at the fitness center.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you then, then.”

“Okay,” she said, backing towards the door.

“Okay.”

She stopped and peered out the peephole for several seconds before she yanked the door open, slipped out, and pulled it shut behind her, and then she was gone.

That was it. My first experience getting oral… albeit under extremely unusual circumstances, but then that was pretty normal for me. It hadn’t been an unmitigated disaster. It had given me some things to think about, and maybe try.

It hadn’t been a terrible first time, but I found myself looking forward to trying to improve on it.