I'm not a fan of this weed. The taste of it distracts me from the sweet taste of Parfait's lips — but I note her disappointment, and eagerness to return my good mood. I let myself get swept up in her passion. When she pulls back for air, and requests to see the room, I smile. "Any room with you in it will do, my dear. Come. Let's see our temporary home for the next few weeks."
Parfait climbs down the ladder after you, and gleefully walks beside you. It turns out that Dime-line's family lives in basically a compund within Bubble City, all of the different members of the extended family in their own beehive.
Your room is actually a small apartment, with toilet and bath, an amazing view of the horizon, even a small area for cooking food over a fire.
What's the first thing you two do when you arrive?
The room is spectacular. A true feat of engineering. I am most impressed with the state they keep it in — greenery, and fine bath soaps included. The fact of the matter is that I cannot resist a good bath — and it gives me some time to show Parfait how to use some of the finer things civilization has to offer.
I also take the opportunity to shave. It's not every day you get a sharp razor at hand. I am intrigued by how Dime-line has managed to keep this compound of his so well stocked. I wonder exactly what kind of work he has for me... Once I'm cleaned up, I join Parfait on the bed. "I've only had a few arrangements such as this before in my past... It is possible I will be called upon in the middle of the night for my services. Is there something I can get you to pass the time, my dear?"
"A radio?" She asks the question meekly, not sure how much jingle it would be. "I could listen to Roma for hours." She thinks for a moment, "I could make some jewelry! I saw some nice stones and crystals as we were coming here. That would help, yes yes?"
After a minute of lying there with you, she asks curiously, "Do you think Roma would... shave me? I'm not so good with it, and cutting me there really, really hurts. For the frakking, too."
I roll over to face her, and nod. "A radio it is then — and yes, we could certainly get you some resources for your jewelry."
On the subject of Roma, I chuckle, "I'm quite certain she would — though Roma has been lonely for quite some time, and I'm not sure if that might lead her on... The only way you'll be able to shave yourself is if you practice. It took me a few tries before I finally managed to shave without a single cut. Persistence, my dear. Persistence and patience."
She nods along, listening. Parfait rubs your face, smiling, "I like how smooth it is. You're very good. I will try persistence then." Her face creases a bit, "Roma is lonely? She's so funny! And, well, she is pretty, too. Why is she lonely?"
"Roma has ... Well, she's something of a two-spirited person. Do you remember BigMac? How he would often behave as both a man and a woman? Roma is something like that — except instead of only her mind being affected by both sexes, her body is a bit of both... It has caused her many complications in her romantic life, and as a result she is something of an outsider." Not unlike us, really. "She is a fine person, and worthy of your friendship — I simply do not wish for her to become overly attached, as we cannot stay here forever..."
"She has..." Parfait stammers, suddenly shocked and a little uncomprehending, "Both parts? That... happens?"
She sits up, pulling her feet under her, hands over her chest, still thinking through it. You can see the images in her head and she's pretty grossed out. And saddened, plus embarrassed that she's grossed out, all mixed up together.
"It's not fair, Jack. How some people are born wrong."
I cringe a bit when she says people are born wrong. I spent years of my life petrified of myself, convinced that I was cursed with something that doomed me to a life without intimacy — and when coupled with a sordid past that can turn your life on its head, it makes the image that much more poignant.
People are not born wrong — they are born different, and people perceive them as wrong when they cannot appropriately label them in a way they are familiar with. I am a brain-frakker to some people — but I would never do such a thing to someone. Roma is a "sexual freak" — and yet she is a kind and attentive person, seeking the love of someone who understands her.
I force a smile though — as I have a million times in the past, when confronted with stereotypes and preconceived notions of this sort. "Remember that this does not change who Roma is, my dear... It merely changes the way you see her. What if our child is born with my ... "gift" — as my mother put it. It is not a life I would wish for my child — but I would love it all the same."
Parfait takes a slow, quiet breath. "You are right, Jack. If our baby is born... I will love it. I will love it. It came from us. Please don't be mad at me, Jack." She reaches a hand to touch your forearm gently, "You are not wrong. You are my world."
My smile spreads, this time genuinely, and I take her hand into mine — I bring it to my lips, and kiss it gently. "And you are mine... I am not mad, my dear — merely sensitive. Come," I pull her closer into an embrace, "in spite of my best efforts, I've founds someone who accepts me — if I can do that, then I clearly cannot be wrong."
"Can we go to market now, Jack?" she asks suddenly, sliding her hand from yours and rolling off the bed to find her clothes. She does a sniff test on her pants, makes a face, then knee walks over to her bag and pulls out new clothes. What's in there with her clothes that you'd never seen before, Jack?
I nod back to her about the market and rise to find my own clothes. I'm looking for my underwear in vain when I spot something in Parfait's bag that catches my eye, "what's that ... That stuffed thing in there, my dear? Have you had that all along?" It looks like an old stuffed bear...
She looks up suddenly, surprised. Then her eyes follow yours, and she huffs a single laugh, "Oh... I saw it in Barinet's room. She saw me looking, and gave it to me. I thought... many years ago, I saw a child at Salt that had a little furry one with a different face. I thought our baby might like it." She pulls it out, gives it a tiny hug, then walks over to you, handing it to you, like you might examine it, or something.
She says with simple confidence,"You will be a good father, Jack. You are kind, and smart. You are brave and strong. Apple is proud of you. She told me to protect you, Jack." She breaks eye contact, pulls a yellow shirt over her head, then as she's playing with the edges, "But you are helping me more than I will ever help you."
She steps into a small skirt and pulls it up to button the side, "The other night, when I... swallowed your penis. Did I hurt you?" She looks back up to you, worry on her face. "Gala made jokes at me, showed me what I looked like. I was not going to say anything. But if I hurt you, and you would not tell me... did I hurt you?"
I take the little thing, and squeeze it a few times. I didn't have any toys growing up — but I saw many children in Salt playing with various things... When I was 10, I saw a young girl trying to get a pig out of a mud-pit with a little toy shovel — it was pink. The sight of this little bear touches me... A toy, for my child... They'll have a different childhood than I did.
This is good.
I smile, speechless at Parfait's compliments, and slowly hand it back to her. I sigh when she mentions Gala's gestures... I had hoped she didn't see that. It's clear Gala has decided Parfait is beneath him. Well, I certainly won't be working with Kodak if he ever brings him along again.
I shake my head confidently, and put my hands on her shoulders. "You were learning my dear," I say with a smile. "Nothing you did at your worst was more than a mere discomfort — discomforts which you corrected gracefully when I directed you, might I add. Gala is a crude, and paradoxically closed-minded person... It is a mentality one usually acquires when working with a gang. I was not hurt — and if I was, I would have told you."
I smirk playfully, "besides — I finished, did I not? Clearly you could not have been that bad."
Parfait's worried creases on her face smooth and she sees you smirk. "Yes, you finished. A great deal. It does not seem so much inside me." She pets the bears head affectionately and smiles, "Take me to market. And later, I want more learning."
I give her a quick peck on the nose, "what my dearest wants, my dearest receives."
I scan the room for my underwear — fruitlessly. I frown... "Hmm. Help me find my clothes, will you? I can't seem to remember where I threw my underwear..."
"I am a very powerful hunter, Jack," she says with this air of importance and reverence, like she's proclaiming an oracle's truth. "I... will find the hidden underwear." She hunches her shoulders over and peers with wide eyes, stepping deliberately and quiet, like some Wendy might sneak on a camp.
You realize that her face falls into that odd wide smile that Wendys wear when they prowl, and what seemed like a playful joke gives you a flash of what was. She hunted, Jack. She hunted animals, yes. But you know she's hunted people. She wore the paint.
Is she irredeemable?
I imagine that might distract you for a moment, right? She does find your underwear, behind a plant. Where she threw it. She whoops a war cry, then giggles when it is too loud, and looks at you, apology in her eyes. She pads over to hand it to you, completely unaware of what just happened for you.
I've spent years of my life unlearning the habits I had growing up. I made jokes people found frightening for quite some time after I left the Wendy tribe. She's hunted 3 people – something she's told me she is ashamed of. She wishes to change. I believe her.
This, like her first attempt at fellation last night, is a growing pain. It is her early attempts at learning humor. Eventually she will replace those mannerisms with new one, and she will find the behavior of her former life abhorrent. I will be there to show her how to cope with it. She loves me for the man I hope to be – and similarly, I love her for the woman she hopes to be. Failures and all.
To be sure, she is a hunter now – but she will learn, and grow; and one day, she will be my civilized little huntress. Just you wait and see.
Comments
Your room is actually a small apartment, with toilet and bath, an amazing view of the horizon, even a small area for cooking food over a fire.
What's the first thing you two do when you arrive?
Alright, hrm, ok, what's the second thing?
The room is spectacular. A true feat of engineering. I am most impressed with the state they keep it in — greenery, and fine bath soaps included. The fact of the matter is that I cannot resist a good bath — and it gives me some time to show Parfait how to use some of the finer things civilization has to offer.
I also take the opportunity to shave. It's not every day you get a sharp razor at hand. I am intrigued by how Dime-line has managed to keep this compound of his so well stocked. I wonder exactly what kind of work he has for me... Once I'm cleaned up, I join Parfait on the bed. "I've only had a few arrangements such as this before in my past... It is possible I will be called upon in the middle of the night for my services. Is there something I can get you to pass the time, my dear?"
After a minute of lying there with you, she asks curiously, "Do you think Roma would... shave me? I'm not so good with it, and cutting me there really, really hurts. For the frakking, too."
On the subject of Roma, I chuckle, "I'm quite certain she would — though Roma has been lonely for quite some time, and I'm not sure if that might lead her on... The only way you'll be able to shave yourself is if you practice. It took me a few tries before I finally managed to shave without a single cut. Persistence, my dear. Persistence and patience."
"Roma has ... Well, she's something of a two-spirited person. Do you remember BigMac? How he would often behave as both a man and a woman? Roma is something like that — except instead of only her mind being affected by both sexes, her body is a bit of both... It has caused her many complications in her romantic life, and as a result she is something of an outsider." Not unlike us, really. "She is a fine person, and worthy of your friendship — I simply do not wish for her to become overly attached, as we cannot stay here forever..."
She sits up, pulling her feet under her, hands over her chest, still thinking through it. You can see the images in her head and she's pretty grossed out. And saddened, plus embarrassed that she's grossed out, all mixed up together.
"It's not fair, Jack. How some people are born wrong."
People are not born wrong — they are born different, and people perceive them as wrong when they cannot appropriately label them in a way they are familiar with. I am a brain-frakker to some people — but I would never do such a thing to someone. Roma is a "sexual freak" — and yet she is a kind and attentive person, seeking the love of someone who understands her.
I force a smile though — as I have a million times in the past, when confronted with stereotypes and preconceived notions of this sort. "Remember that this does not change who Roma is, my dear... It merely changes the way you see her. What if our child is born with my ... "gift" — as my mother put it. It is not a life I would wish for my child — but I would love it all the same."
"Can we go to market now, Jack?" she asks suddenly, sliding her hand from yours and rolling off the bed to find her clothes. She does a sniff test on her pants, makes a face, then knee walks over to her bag and pulls out new clothes. What's in there with her clothes that you'd never seen before, Jack?
She says with simple confidence,"You will be a good father, Jack. You are kind, and smart. You are brave and strong. Apple is proud of you. She told me to protect you, Jack." She breaks eye contact, pulls a yellow shirt over her head, then as she's playing with the edges, "But you are helping me more than I will ever help you."
She steps into a small skirt and pulls it up to button the side, "The other night, when I... swallowed your penis. Did I hurt you?" She looks back up to you, worry on her face. "Gala made jokes at me, showed me what I looked like. I was not going to say anything. But if I hurt you, and you would not tell me... did I hurt you?"
This is good.
I smile, speechless at Parfait's compliments, and slowly hand it back to her. I sigh when she mentions Gala's gestures... I had hoped she didn't see that. It's clear Gala has decided Parfait is beneath him. Well, I certainly won't be working with Kodak if he ever brings him along again.
I shake my head confidently, and put my hands on her shoulders. "You were learning my dear," I say with a smile. "Nothing you did at your worst was more than a mere discomfort — discomforts which you corrected gracefully when I directed you, might I add. Gala is a crude, and paradoxically closed-minded person... It is a mentality one usually acquires when working with a gang. I was not hurt — and if I was, I would have told you."
I smirk playfully, "besides — I finished, did I not? Clearly you could not have been that bad."
I scan the room for my underwear — fruitlessly. I frown... "Hmm. Help me find my clothes, will you? I can't seem to remember where I threw my underwear..."
You realize that her face falls into that odd wide smile that Wendys wear when they prowl, and what seemed like a playful joke gives you a flash of what was. She hunted, Jack. She hunted animals, yes. But you know she's hunted people. She wore the paint.
Is she irredeemable?
I imagine that might distract you for a moment, right? She does find your underwear, behind a plant. Where she threw it. She whoops a war cry, then giggles when it is too loud, and looks at you, apology in her eyes. She pads over to hand it to you, completely unaware of what just happened for you.
What do you do?
I've spent years of my life unlearning the habits I had growing up. I made jokes people found frightening for quite some time after I left the Wendy tribe. She's hunted 3 people – something she's told me she is ashamed of. She wishes to change. I believe her.
This, like her first attempt at fellation last night, is a growing pain. It is her early attempts at learning humor. Eventually she will replace those mannerisms with new one, and she will find the behavior of her former life abhorrent. I will be there to show her how to cope with it. She loves me for the man I hope to be – and similarly, I love her for the woman she hopes to be. Failures and all.
To be sure, she is a hunter now – but she will learn, and grow; and one day, she will be my civilized little huntress. Just you wait and see.