by L-J Baker
Rye grinned and looked up to see where the camera might be. “Um. If it’s not a good time, I could –”
The gate clunked open.
“Come up,” Flora said.
Rye smiled all the way up ten flights of stairs. She paused on the porch to regain her breath and wipe sweat from her face before knocking.
Flora looked surprised when she opened the door. “Is the elevating carpet not working?”
“Elevating carpet? Oh. I’m so used to the one in our tree being broken that I didn’t think to look for one.”
Rye set her bag down inside the door and kicked off her work boots. Flora wore baggy casual pants and a snug little top that seemed designed to draw Rye’s attention to her chest. After an awkward moment of staring, they exchanged chaste kisses.
“What a great surprise,” Flora said.
“I’m not interrupting?”
“No. I’m all alone and thinking about you.”
Rye grinned like an idiot as she followed Flora through to the living room.
Flora fetched Rye a cold beer. “I couldn’t remember what sort you mentioned that you like. They all look the same to me. The man in the store suggested this brand.”
“Wow. This is great. Thanks.”
Flora smiled as she sipped her glass of wine. “I thought you had night class?”
“The school had a power cut,” Rye said. “So, I thought – Can you smell burning?”
“Branch!” Flora leaped to her feet and dashed into the kitchen.
Rye followed. Smoke hazed the room. Flora stood holding a pot which oozed black smoke.
“I suppose it will have to be Lowood’s takeaway for tea again,” Flora said. “Or my usual table at the Ravenous Acorn.”
Rye took the pot from Flora and ran cold water into it. The charred lump in the bottom hissed.
“What was this?” Rye asked.
“A highly nutritious and appetising meal that any idiot could prepare by simply heating it in water for seven minutes. I suppose that makes me a special kind of idiot.”
Rye smiled and set the incinerated remains aside. “Where do you keep your food?”
“That is the pantry. You don’t have to heat my dinner for me.”
“I have no intention of doing that.” Rye pulled open both doors to reveal a vast walk-in pantry. “Wow. You could lose a whole family back here and still have room for the preserves.”
Barely a tenth of the storage space was occupied. She found some thrush’s eggs that smelled reasonably fresh.
“There’s not much in there,” Flora said. “You probably guessed that I don’t often try to feed myself. For fear of lowering your opinion of me, I’m not only hopeless with food but also extremely careless. If something stays in there long enough to grow legs and crawl out, it’s welcome to its freedom.”
Rye smiled. “Do you like omelettes?”
Flora watched with undisguised amazement as Rye chopped, grated, and whisked. Her surprise deepened when she tasted the result.
“Hmm,” Flora said. “That’s really good. Really, really good. You know, Rye Woods, you constantly take me by surprise. Which not many people do.”
Rye smiled to herself as she wiped down the counter. This was a great kitchen.
“I feel really guilty about having you cook for me and then making you watch me eat,” Flora said. “Won’t you have something?”
“I’ll make dinner for me and Holls when I get home. But anyone who buys me Midnight Beer has a right to ask for more than an omelette. Where do you keep your detergent?”
“Leave that. You are not doing the dishes. Aloe will do them in the morning.”
“Aloe?”
“My housecleaner. I suppose if I had a particle of sense I’d hire a cook as well.”
Rye trailed Flora into the lounge. She should not have been surprised that Flora could afford to pay someone to do her household chores for her.
Flora sat close, with her legs drawn up beneath her. “How long can you stay?”
“I usually get home just after eight. I’m not sure what time the transit carpet will get back, so I’d better not leave it too late.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll take you. When are you going to get a new broom? It must be wildly inconvenient without one.”
Rye shrugged. “Tell me what you wove today.”
Flora smiled and began talking about her day.
At some point, Rye finished her beer and started a second. Smooth, dark, and malty, it was about the best beer she’d ever tasted. Flora had carried her jar of wine into the lounge and was well on the way to finishing it. Flora’s company and the beer softened the Infinity space around Rye in a very pleasant way. Coming here was the smartest idea she’d had in years.
“Oh,” Flora said, “if you’ve come from work, does that mean you have a bangy thing with you?”
“Bangy thing?”
“You know. For hitting things that stop working properly. One of the shelves in my workroom is loose. If I bribed you with another beer, would you save me from having to deal with a tradesman who will call me girlie?”
Rye smiled and went to get her hammer from her work bag.
Flora showed her the offending shelf. Rye immediately saw the problem and fetched a screwdriver. It was the work of half a minute to tighten it.
“There you go,” Rye said. “All fixed. Girlie.”
Flora’s eyes widened in mock outrage. She threw a hank of wool at Rye. Rye threw it back. Flora grabbed two more and hurled them. Rye bent to scoop up as much as she could hold and tossed them.
Flora grabbed a long loom needle and advanced threateningly. “Girlie?”
Rye backed away, laughing, with Flora stalking her. When Rye tripped and landed on her backside, Flora leaped forward to tickle. Rye grabbed for her wrists, all the while laughing. Their wrestling knocked over baskets and spilled more yarns on the floor. Flora began laughing too. Rye rolled her over and pinned her amongst the colourful mess. Flora lay beneath her in glorious disarray. Rye stopped laughing. Flora lost her smile. Rye’s breathing grew faster and shallower. Flora’s eyes darkened.
“Rye,” Flora said. “Should we –”
Rye kissed her. After a moment’s hesitation, Flora responded and slid her arms up around Rye. Their kisses grew harder, more insistent. Rye had never wanted anything as passionately as she wanted Flora. Rye’s lips couldn’t encompass enough of her, and she wanted to feel Flora against her whole body. Flora’s hands clutched at Rye as she writhed and strained beneath her. Her moans bucked Rye’s arousal up and up. Rye’s wing buds jerked on the brink of bursting through her T-shirt. The scent of pine sap swamped every other smell and set the blood roaring through Rye’s veins.
Rye peeled Flora’s top off her and stared at the dryad’s firm breasts before cupping them in her hands and sucking at them with her mouth. Though breasts and nipples were hard against Rye’s tongue, Flora’s pale skin was still satin smooth. Flora’s fingers dug into her hair and shoulder. Rye’s wing buds tried to unfold with her soaring excitement. She didn’t care. She impatiently tugged at Flora’s pants. For a moment, she paused, panting, to savour the sight of the naked dryad lying on a fragmented rainbow. She plunged her face into Flora’s groin.
When Rye worked her lips back up to her throat, Flora tugged Rye’s belt undone. Rye shoved her pants down and lowered herself onto her. They writhed and strained against each other, moaning, and rising to their climaxes. Flora’s every gasp and half-cry stoked Rye’s lust. Their groans came faster. Their bodies rubbed harder. Rye grunted and clutched at Flora as her world crashed with pleasure. Not long afterward, Flora spasmed against her.
Rye sagged. Flora took a shuddering breath and sat up to clutch Rye’s shirt front in both hands.
“Don’t leave me,” Flora said. “I couldn’t handle it a second time. Do you hear me, Rye?”
Rye grunted.
“Are you still with me?” Flora asked.
Rye nodded. As her crisis
passed, she began realising what they’d done. She was naked from the waist down. She could feel a darkness hovering just around her, ready to pounce.
Flora’s fists tightened. “Listen to me. I don’t care what you are. I don’t know what species you are, but I don’t care. Do you hear me?”
“Shit.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. Rye, look at me. Please.”
Rye lifted her head. Flora’s serious concern showed through the flush of her afterglow. Rye frowned and put her hands over Flora’s fists. She looked beyond her. They were in Flora’s workroom. Rye sucked in air as if she hadn’t breathed for an hour.
“Flora,” Rye said.
Flora smiled. “Yes, lover. Branch, you had me frightened.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you remember?”
“Yes.”
Flora leaned close to lightly kiss Rye. She loosened her grip on Rye’s shirt. “What do we do now?”
Rye sat back on her heels. Her wing buds poked uncomfortably inside her shirt. “I… I don’t know.”
“Well, why don’t you put your pants back on? I won’t look.”
Flora turned away to gather her clothes. Rye put a gently restraining hand on her arm.
“It doesn’t matter,” Flora said. “Honestly. What is important is that you don’t feel as though you have to run away from me.”
“You’re wonderful.”
Flora smiled. She softly stroked Rye’s cheek and rose. Some magic passed from her fingertips to infuse the whole of Rye’s body and mind. Flora really was the most incredible person in the whole of Infinity.
“Wait,” Rye said.
Rye yanked her shirt off. Flora watched. Rye wrestled her tight T-shirt up over her head. The release of her cramped wings and chest was like a second orgasm. Returning blood flow tingled in several places.
Flora’s gaze roved Rye’s bare torso with her typically small pair of breasts and the pronounced breastbone and upper body musculature of a winged creature. Flora would not yet be able to see the wing buds on Rye’s back, which were the compact bundles formed by the folded sections of each wing support lying hard against each other.
Slowly, fearfully, Rye strained to unfold her wings. The five sections of each of her wing supports sequentially snapped out straight. Rye’s wing supports jutted up above her shoulders. Flora did not run screaming in horror. Instead, she looked like she’d been turned to stone.
Rye stood. Might as well let Flora see it all. She lifted her wing supports until they projected at the flying angle, which stretched her thin membranes to their full extent from her shoulders, down her back, the back of her legs, and to her ankles.
“Oh, Holy Elm,” Flora said. “You’re a fairy.”
Rye stood her ground as Flora stepped close. Rye began to feel the enormity of what she’d done. This was the first time since her escape from Fairyland that she had revealed her species to anyone. Her wings twitched. She had to exert herself to prevent them from defensively folding. She did fold her arms across her chest.
Flora rested a warm hand on Rye’s arm. “Thank you.”
“You… you don’t want to throw me out?”
“Throw you out? Because you’re an even bigger turn on than I thought? Oh, Elm, I have to touch your wings. May I?”
Rye nodded.
Flora reached out to softly stroke Rye’s wing membrane. “It’s warm. And pliable. So smooth.”
Flora wandered around behind Rye. Rye again had to concentrate not to let her wings snap into a defensive fold hard against her back. Flora’s delicate touches made her shiver.
Flora wore a soft smile when she walked back to Rye’s front. “Amazing. I’d love to see you fly.”
“We don’t. Not really. We glide.”
“Then I’d love to see you glide.”
“I can’t,” Rye said.
“I suppose it would create something of a sensation for you to hurl yourself between trees naked. Although I’d be more than happy to watch.”
Flora slid her arms up Rye’s chest and shoulders until she touched wings. Rye held her close so they touched naked body to naked body without even air separating them. Flora kissed her.
“You… you don’t mind that I’m a fairy?”
“Of course not. You thought I might?”
“I tell people that Holly and I are of mixed bogle and brownie blood. Because most people don’t like fairies. They think we’re all freaks and religious nutters who should be shipped back to Fairyland.”
Admitting that she was not a legal resident, and the questions that would beg, would involve another giant leap of faith Rye wasn’t prepared for. It was scary enough that she’d revealed her species.
“Is that what triggered your bolt after our first time, at the club?” Flora said. “And why you asked if we’d taken our clothes off? Because you thought I’d discovered that you’re a fairy? And you feared that I’d have such an adverse, prejudiced reaction that it would cancel out my attraction and liking for you?”
Rye shrugged. “It’s easier and safer to hide.”
“Well, I’ll certainly keep your secret. Of course I will. It’s obviously so very important to you. But you don’t have to hide from me.”
The next Fifth Day morning, Rye found it hard to concentrate even on so mundane a task as making breakfast. She had a date with Flora at ten o’clock. And sex.
“I’m away, Holls,” Rye called. “Remember that I’ll be late. I’m going to the library after shopping. Okay?”
“Don’t forget the borage juice this time,” Holly called.
“I won’t.”
Rye hurtled down the stairs to the base of the apartment tree and ran toward the market. She raced through her shopping. When she carried her bags to the rendezvous, she found Flora waiting for her. As soon as Rye climbed in and snapped the safety harness on, Flora hit the power. She speeded away. At Flora’s apartment, they began undressing each other before they got out of the carpet.
Later, Rye sighed and eased herself up onto an elbow. They lay tangled together on the floor in the short hall between the garage and the living room. Their discarded clothes formed an untidy trail back to the carpet. Flora stretched lazily and smiled at Rye.
“I suppose it’s too late for me to play hard to get?” Flora said.
“That’s okay. Cheap and easy is fine by me.”
Flora looked deeply offended, but ruined it by sitting up to loop her arms around Rye’s neck and kissing her.
“Hmm. You taste good,” Flora said.
“You feel good. And smell nice. That hint of pine sap. It’s like bonking a building site.”
Flora hit her and rose. She looked gorgeous as she stalked away. She paused halfway across the living room and gave Rye a look that clearly indicated Rye ought to be following her.
They settled on a sofa to feed each other bits of fruit. Rye soon discovered that juice tasted much nicer licked off a dryad’s body. Sex on the sofa left colourful stains on the upholstery.
After a long, hot, steamy shower, they reluctantly dressed.
“I’d better get home,” Rye said. “Holly will be forgetting what I look like.”
“Would I offend you terribly if I said that I hoped your school will have another power cut?”
Rye smiled and pulled Flora close. That she, Rye Woods, could enjoy the privilege of touching so beautiful, so sexy a woman was nothing short of a miracle.
“I don’t have class this Fourth Day,” Rye said.
“Oh, goody. Can you come over?”
Rye frowned. “I want to. More than anything. But I mustn’t leave Holls. The kid sees little enough of me as it is.”
Flora looked disappointed. Rye bent so that their foreheads rested together.
“Do you think they’d invent a whole new day of the week for us?” Rye asked. “One that we can have just to enjoy ourselves in?”
“Fuck Day.”
“I’m betting it would be very popular.”
> Flora slid a couple of fingers into Rye’s waistband and gently tugged. “Until then, Fifth Day mornings will have to be our fuck days. You can make it next week?”
“Even if I have to tie Holly in a chair and run all the way here carrying my grocery bags.”
“We needn’t be quite that drastic.” Flora lost her smile. “This is going to be the longest week of my life.”
“I’ll call.”
“It’s not the same. But please do.”
After a long, lingering, regretful kiss, Flora fetched her purse. Rye retrieved her groceries from the cooler.
Rye asked Flora to stop the carpet at the street corner before her tree.
“You don’t want Holly to know about us?” Flora said.
Rye frowned out of the side window. Flora wouldn’t understand if Rye told her that she didn’t want Holly to know she was gay. Rye did not want to explain about Fairyland and her fear of getting sent back.
“She hasn’t seen me with anyone before,” Rye said. “Um. It’s complicated. I mean, it could get complicated. Do you mind?”
“As long as you’re not ashamed of me.”
“What? No! Of course not. She thinks you’re the top of the trees. But I bet she’d think you were a lot less stylish if she knew you were seeing me.”
Flora laughed. “I wish I’d had a little sister.”
Chapter Five
Rye pulled her jacket collar up against the wind and strode to ward the school gates. She wasn’t at all sure she really understood this new accounting module as well as she had the economics one. She should read more. There were just not enough hours in the day or days in the week. If she’d been able to take the public transit carpet to work, she could’ve read on her way to and from the building site. Mr. Bulrush had asked her again about the certification exam. Rye really liked the idea of taking the proper exam, and saving herself some courses, but the preparation would take even more of the time she didn’t have. And the exam itself was likely to carry a fee.
A carpet pulled alongside her. She grinned and bent to see Flora.
“What are you doing here?” Rye asked.
“Cruising for some hunky dyke to pick up and grope,” Flora said.
Rye climbed in. Flora dimmed the windows and twisted around to get closer to Rye. Their first kisses were like those of parched women slaking thirsts.