Tryst - A shard of Light on shattered Water


	"I don't know, Chaeitch," I shook my head. "She said 
she cared."
	"How can you be sure?" He raised his mug with both 
hands to sip, then lowered the mug and stared at the middle 
distance, his breath washing over the lip. "So many lies. One 
on top of another. I don't know how you can put stock in 
anything she said."
	"I was with her. I knew her. . ." I trailed off. "I know how 
that sounds, but. . . even when she left. . . she was more than 
just a friend. Even with the lies."
	He hissed slightly.
	I knew he didn't understand. He just wasn't capable of 
it. Just as I wasn't capable of empthising with their 
relationships. But I thought back to those days when she'd 
laughed with me, when she'd touched me and not shied away, 
to those nights when we'd been as close as two souls can get. 
It hadn't been a lie. Surely it hadn't. Surely I'd have been able 
to tell?
	I sipped at my own drink. Warm, spiced wine went 
down easily and left a tart aftertaste. I was actually developing 
a taste for the stuff.
	"She was a very good liar," Chaeitch said. "Probably 
trained for it."
	"We slept together. I mean. . . there would have been 
some sign. Wouldn't there?" I was uncomfortably aware of the 
pleading tone to that question.
	He glanced at me, then away again. "You really want to 
believe it, don't you. I'm afraid I can't give you any easy 
answers."
	 "We talked. Just before she left, we talked."
	He stiffened a bit. I hadn't told anybody about that. I'd 
never said what she told me. "Talked, a? About what?"
	I shrugged. "It was just. . . I. . . She was open. They 
weren't lies. I know they weren't."
	Another soft hiss of breath and he studied his drink. 
Beyond him, the grime across the windowpanes was turning 
salmon pink as the setting sun reddened the sky. "As I said," 
he rumbled, "she was a good liar. She fooled everyone."
	And he was right; about everything. I was searching for 
justification, doing everything I could to bend reality to my 
beliefs. I didn't know what she'd really felt or what she'd really 
believed. The Maithris I'd seen hadn't been the real person: 
it'd been a mask, a persona constructed to take over some 
else's life. What was the person behind that really like? How 
had she really felt? How much had been real?
	It was so difficult to accept that I might never find out. I 
took another slug of wine and felt it burn its way down. So 
many lies.
	"I'm sorry," Chaeitch said. "I'm sure there'll be 
somebody else."
	"Huh, Rris aren't usually that comfortable around me. 
She was. . . exceptional."
	"Well put," he chittered a little. "Still, with that 
reputation she got you, I doubt you'll have trouble with bed 
partners."
	Oh. That. I sighed and slung back another mouthful, 
which had the effect of making a thought click. "Chaeitch?"
	"A?"
	"That. . . reaction she had with me. You've never heard 
of that happening before?"
	"Unique as far as I know," he said then cocked his 
head. "Why do you. . . huhnn. Oh. I see. You think she'd make 
that up as well?"
	"I don't know anymore."
	The industrialist leaned back in his cushion and 
regarded me with more than a trace of amusement. "It'd 
certainly be an odd thing to do. I mean, why that? And sticking 
her claws into you into the bargain, I can't fathom that out."
	"She might've had some reason. But after everything. . 
. I wish I knew."
	He hadn't taken his eyes off me. "The teacher, a? You'd 
like to know what to expect with her."
	I felt the flush crawling up my neck. "I didn't . . . I didn't 
mean that."
	"No, but you were thinking it, a?" He lolled his tongue.
	I looked down into my mug which was getting 
dangerously low and swallowed. "Would she. . . I mean do you 
think we'd have chance. . . could it be like Mai and I?"
	"You want that again?!"
	"You know what I mean."
	"No," he said promptly. "I mean, everyone is different. 
Of course she'll be different from the doctor. But that doesn't 
necessarily mean in a bad sense." He turned the mug around 
and around in his clawed fingers, seemingly watching the light 
playing across pewter. "I've never met her, so I can't really tell 
you more than that."
	"No. Of course not."
	"But, she knows you. She knows what you're like 
beyond that hide and face. That can't hurt."
	That hide and face. . . I looked at my own hand, turning 
it over.
	"Why do you do that?" he asked.
	"Just. . . It still surprises me when I look at myself and I 
find I look so out of place. So wrong." I sighed and let my hand 
fall again. "I'm getting so used to your kind but I know so little 
about you. I mean, what Mai felt during sex with me: was that 
real? Was it just her? If Chihirae hears about that. . . I don't 
even know if it's true!"
	He hesitated. "You know there are females available at 
the Palace. They could help you."
	"I. . ." I started to tell him to forget it. But. . . but dammit, 
it was a rumor running rampant all over the Palace and even I 
didn't know if it was true. Chihirae. . . The sex with Mai had 
been pleasurable, had been fun, and at the time it'd been an 
affirmation of a companionship that'd helped keep me sane. 
But Chihirae, I had no idea if it would ever be possible. . .
	Chaeitch leaned forward. "I'll make inquiries, shall I?" 
he gently offered.
	I shuddered and nodded.

------V------

	I stepped out of the bath into the bite of the night air. 
Water splashed and dripped on tiles; I shivered a little, 
goosebumps pebbling my skin as my breath frosted in the 
twilight. A flickering candle threw a jittering shadow that 
mimicked my movements as I took up a towel from the stack 
and toweled off.
	An. . . unusual day. A day spent trying to change things. 
A day spent doing what I could to set my own agendas that I 
still couldn't be sure would ever be followed through. So much 
depended upon luck; upon the goodwill of others. But I was 
doing something to try and put my fate back into my own 
hands, and that felt so much better than simply being flotsam 
on the tides of others' wills.
	And the day wasn't over yet. I looked at the candle set 
over on the washbench, then at the dark window above it and 
shivered again. Night now. A night that filled me with a hollow 
tension and a trembling that was nothing to do with either that 
sort of fear or cold. I wrapped the towel and headed back to the 
warmth of the hearth.
	A bed of glowing coals by now, the kind of fire with 
more heat than light. I sat huddled in the folds of a warm 
blanket and watched the few flames dancing above the red and 
black. Short-lived tongues writhing and curling and throwing a 
soft twilight that turned the rest of the room to shadow. I 
watched and felt the warmth on my face and it seemed a very 
long time until the scratch sounded at the door.
	A brief fan of light across the floor and ceiling as the 
door opened and closed again. A single figure stood there, just 
a dim shadow against the dark wood of the door. A hesitation 
before a small voice from the dark ventured, "Sir?"
	I swallowed and stood, holding the blanket around my 
shoulders. "Ah. . . hello."
	"His lordship said you might be wanting 
companionship tonight."
	I started to nod, then caught myself and gestured yes.
	A duck of the head, then slow footsteps from out of the 
shadows. Step by step; eyes on the floor, not me. I shivered, 
watching as this Rris approached. Slightly built,  with dark fur 
patched with swathes of black almost invisible in the shadows 
under a simple cloak. I saw her ears tremble, flicker up and 
down, then she stopped and the cloak dropped away.
	I stared, then was unable to stifle the snort of 
astonished laughter.
	She was wearing lingerie.
	Things of white frills and pale lace were pure contrast 
to the darkness of her fur. Lace garters and suspenders and 
straps, small frivolous things on her arms, and a teddy. An 
actually teddy of white velvet and satin around her waist, 
pulling in here and accentuating there, fur tufting out around 
the edges. . . It all looked so absolutely preposterous.
	"Sir?" she cast a glance up and shifted uncertainly. "Do 
you like it?"
	"I'm. . ." I bit my lip, trying not to laugh out loud. "I'm 
not certain. Where on the face of the planet did you get that?"
	She ducked her head, her hands rubbing down her hips 
and thighs: smoothing the fur where the suspenders ruffled it. 
"They gave it to me. They said. . . you liked this, Sir. They said 
this arouses you."
	They did, did they? I swallowed my laughter as the 
humor died and I found myself feeling a little sorry for her. "I'm 
sorry. I do like it. It's just. . . unexpected. You look very 
striking."
	That brought the head up a little. A dark hand stroked 
across silk that accentuated curves and hair no epilady could 
ever tame. She reached a decision then, visibly bolstered her 
courage and started a slow stalk through the night toward me, 
hips swaying, a motion that prey might have the honor of being 
final witness to. I felt muscles I had no control over tense, 
even more when she started growling, a low rumble as she 
stalked into my shadow; eyes flashed like yellow gems. A 
hand raised and claws came out. . .
	I caught it: gently. "No. Not like that."
	Confusion and a flash of alarm. "Sir?"
	"Sometimes. Not tonight." God, what had they told her? 
That night with Mai. . . we'd been watched, I knew that, but what 
sort of ideas had they gleaned from that night; that aggresive 
seduction?
	Whatever it was, she was looking uncertain again. That 
must've been her one move, and now I'd thwarted it she was 
lost. "Sir, I. . . " she trailed off, looking at my hand and her ears 
started to lay back before she caught herself.
	"Just gently," I whispered and moved my other hand to 
touch her face where the fur was as velvet as Mai's had been. 
Her eyes were wide, black with amber circlets. A tiny reflection 
of the fire burned there, flickering as her pupils dilated and 
flitted here, there. Just resting on my face for a split second 
before darting aside again. Her hand moved down to touch the 
fabric of the blanket drapped over my shoulders, then down 
further to where my hand held it closed. A black fingertip 
stroked across my skin, touching lightly, curiously and the 
eyes flickered up to my face again.
	There was something familiar there. Something in the 
features, the expression, the notched ears. . . "I know you," I 
whispered.
	Another flinch in the eyes and the hand wavered. "A," 
she said quietly.
	"Some time ago. You came to my rooms. You tried. . . 
this."
	Again: "A."
	"Hych," I recalled. That was the name that came back to 
me. A night a long time ago when a female'd been in my 
rooms; who'd been petrified of me even as she tried to come 
on to me. And her eyes then had been like her eyes now: 
afraid. "I remember. I remember you weren't exactly here of 
your own free will."
	The hand moved, stroking up my arm. "They said 
you're a good person. After that last time. . . You didn't force 
me. You saw I. . . I. . . " her ears went down.
	"You weren't very enthusiastic," I finished for her.
	"Sir," she sounded small and her hand pulled back. 
Afraid? Afraid of how I'd react? She was a servant, no matter 
what her job. How were their servants treated here? Do what 
they were told and ask no questions? Be anything their 
employee wanted? Never offer an offence or an opinion?
	"It's all right," I said in what I hoped were gentle tones. 
"I understand. I'm not angry."
	She touched my hand again, as though trying to 
accustom herself to the sensation. "Sir. A lot of real people 
wouldn't do that. I mean, not that you're not a person. I mean. . 
." She ducked her head lower, "I'm sorry sir."
	"Don't be," I said and touched her again, just gently 
ruffling the fur of her shoulder. She glanced toward my arm, 
then away again. "If you don't want to do this. . ." I said.
	A slight chitter. "I thought I should be asking you that."
	I moved my hand through fur: coarse on the outside 
and softer toward the fell. A thick winter coat, not human, not 
someone I even knew. "I. . . "I swallowed hard. "I thought I did, 
but I don't know. . .
	"I've been with a Rris woman. I mean one. I mean she 
was the only one I've ever been with. What we did. . . I don't 
know if I was doing the right things or if she was being polite. 
I'm not sure that I know what's right." I caught my runaway 
babble; shut up, swallowed hard, then said. "I suppose I'm a 
little nervous as well."
	She tipped her head slightly, then reached up toward 
my face; freezing when I flinched, then touching gently and 
offered, "Sir, I can show you."
	"My name's Michael," I said, meeting her eyes and this 
time they didn't flick away.
	"Mikah," came the distorted echo and her hand shifted 
down, stroking down my neck and into the folds of the blanket.
	I shivered again and moved my hand, mirroring her 
movements until my fingers were delving into the thicker fur of 
her chest ruff. I scratched lightly, tickling her ribs in those 
places that'd made Mai squirm. She sighed, her eyelids 
drooping as she rumbled gently. Her hands moved, scratched 
lightly and I gasped. "Carefully. Claws. My skin's not as thick 
as yours."
	"Sorry, sir."
	"Michael."
	"Mikah."
	My hands travelled lower, feeling the materials of that 
ridiculous teddy, the fur peeking through the lace. There were 
hooks: in the crotch and down the side. I fumbled with them, 
one after the other until the thing fell away. Standing there in 
dark fur and white garters she chirred softly and leaned 
forward, bowing her head against my chest as her hands went 
lower, between the folds of the blanket and touched against my 
reaction.
	I felt her touch, hesitate, stroke gingerly and hiss softly. 
"I am different," I murmured.
	"A," I heard. "A." A couple of pounding heartbeats 
before she moved again, hands moving up and apart, brushing 
the blanket from my shoulders. I felt the warmth of fire against 
bare skin and suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable: naked before 
the alien. Eyes blinked, evaluated, flickered up to meet mine, 
then down again. "You're. . . aroused? Just by this?"
	"A," I said, the affirmative catching in my throat. "Very."
	She glanced up, down again. Her hand brushed against 
engorged flesh and she chittered: amusement.
	"What?" I asked.
	She ducked her head lower between her shoulders. "I'm 
sorry, sir. I. . . just different," she said and her hand moved. I 
gasped, my abdominal muscles spasming  as an inhuman grip 
closed gently around me.  Another faint chitter from the 
courtesan, then a lower noise as I ran my hands down gentle 
curves.
	Some time of just getting to know each other. A body 
like Mai's but with different likes and dislikes, different 
reactions, different sounds when I stroked here or there or 
licked gently elsewhere. Muscles tensing, sharp teeth nipping 
at my skin, an unfamiliar body shifting under my palms as we 
touched and explored and slowly worked our way down to the 
softness of the rug.
	And she looked uncertain as I laid her back. Fear 
flickered in the eyes again and I retreated to gently stroke the 
fur of her stomach. The eyes blinked and relaxed again, a faint 
chitter as I leaned forward to lick at the dark leathery patch of a 
nipple, to touch, suckling, nibbling gently for a second before 
moving lower, into longer fur, strange folds of flesh, a well of 
alien musk and heat.
	A moment of tension though her body as I gently 
nuzzled and licked. "All right?" I murmured into her heat.
	Just a low noise and two hands laced in my hair and 
pulled me closer while warm thighs clamped around my ears. 
Deep rumbles sounded through the body. I took that as a yes 
and returned to my lapping and nuzzling.
	And later I moved up again, stroking the curves of the 
limp body beneath me, breathing in the scents of warm fur on 
her chest, the warm juncture of her neck where pelt rippled as I 
exhaled and gently rose to look into her face.
	Another flicker of uncertainty as I leaned over her, my 
hands taking hers and pressing them back to the mat, pinning 
any forgetful claws. Then I looked down into a wide eyes and 
gently moved my hips: forward and up and in. Jaws gaped in a 
gasp, black eclipsed amber and once again I was lost in a 
sensation that was so familiar and new and utterly different all 
at once.
	Warmth, movement, blood and hearts moving and 
pounding as I took my time: slowly for a long while, faster, 
slow again. Breath gasped below me, a sensation of muscles 
tightening and fighting against my grip. A movement of life, a 
dance of organics; a union that by design and necessity was 
warm and moist and was shared by life across the world and 
across the worlds. Trembling, arching, muscles pulled hawser-
tight below me as she bucked and a strangled mewling seeped 
into the night air, clawed hands clenching against mine as we 
joined those worlds.
	Seconds frozen beneath me; a rigid arch of trembling 
tendons and locked muscles and bone and fur snarling at 
something I couldn't see while inside she spasmed and 
twitched around me. Then. . . a collapse with a gasp of 
escaping breath and a small, rapid babble I couldn't follow. 
Concerned, I forgot my own needs and stopped moving, left 
her, my  hands leaving hers to gently touch her face. "Hych?"
	"Huhnn?" she murmured, then focused glazed eyes on 
me. "Huhnn. A.  I. . . Sir. . . I. . ." She trailed off, lifted her hands 
in front of her face and looked at them as though they belonged 
to someone else.
	"You all right?" I whispered.
	She jumped. "Sir. . . I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to. . . I 
mean you didn't finish. I'm sorry."
	I almost laughed and bowed my head against her 
cheek. "Don't be. I just found what I was looking for."
	"Yes, sir," she said, still looking confused. Then 
blinked and lolled her head; hands lightly touched my back. 
"Sir?"
	"If I may be so bold: What. . . what was that?"
	I nuzzled her, "I thought that was all over the Palace by 
now."
	"There was talk. They were saying sex with you was 
enjoyable. But that. . ." She trailed off with a quick shake of her 
head, like she was trying to shake it dry, then licked her lips. "I 
never expected anything like that."
	"I'm flattered."
	"Like my whole body sneezed," she rumbled, her eyes 
half-lidded and her hands ran ever so gently down my back. 
"Like nothing else mattered. My sex is still. . . Oh, rot. . . " 
Here eyes closed again and she licked her lips repeatedly. 
"Sir, I don't understand. . . I've never felt that. What was it?"
	"My name?" I prodded.
	"Sir. . . Mikah? What was that? Is it something to do 
with this?" she touched the lacy suspenders."
	I had to control my grin. "You look good, but not that 
good. No, I'm not sure. I was told Rris males . . . ahh. . .  finish 
a lot faster than I do. I just take a bit longer. Perhaps that just 
gives you enough time. . ." I trailed off and had to ask. "You've 
never heard of that before? It's never happened before?"
	"No, sir."
	I sighed and shook my head again. Then a light touch 
on my face made me look down into eyes that smiled back. 
"Sir? Mikah? If you wish, perhaps we could look again?"
	And I was still in the mood. I gently took her hands 
again and she just went completely lax, a rumbling starting 
deep inside. "Perhaps we could," I murmured.
	
------v------