Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
“This way we get to enjoy the early morning sunshine,” she tells me, giving my hand a squeeze.
“Are we supposed to enjoy it or are we supposed to be in bed?”
“You were enjoying it when you were on my doorstep yesterday morning,” she challenges.
“That was necessity.” But I don’t mind walking with her. It is a pleasant morning, made all the more enjoyable by the company. The conversation between us is easy again, and even though we don’t have a lot of history in common, we never seem to run out of things to say to one another. I’m surprised when we make it to the stream, as the walk took less time than I’d anticipated.
We settle in on rocks at the edge of the stream. It widens in one spot near a cluster of bushes that hang over the muddy slope on the other side, and that, Chelsea says, is our spot.
“Breakfast now?” I ask, my stomach rumbling. I’ve worked up quite an appetite after satisfying her all night long.
She takes the backpack from me, along with the strange case. “If you want to eat now, sure. Do you need me to bait your hook?”
“Bait…my hook? I do not know what those words mean, my beauty, but you look lovely in the morning light.” I appreciate the sight of the sunlight on her long hair, and the way her eyes shine with happiness. I think of the noises she made last night when I was deep inside her, and how her teats bounced wildly with every stroke, and my morning erection threatens to return. “Perhaps we enjoy breakfast and a little fun here in the sunshine.”
“This is fun,” she reassures me, and then pulls a strange, rounded container out of her box. It looks and smells like dirt, and I watch her with curiosity as I unwrap the bread with jam that she brought for our morning meal. Just as I’m about to take a bite, she digs a finger into the dirt and then produces…a worm.
A hideous, slimy worm.
She holds it out to me. “You sure you don’t want to bait your hook?”
I stare at the wriggling thing. It’s disgusting, with segments of all different colors and what look like antennae at the end. “You want me to touch that thing?”
Chelsea laughs at my distaste. “Well, yeah. That’s how fishing works. These suckers have a hard casing on the head so you need to tear it off before sliding the hook in. The fish go crazy when you do that.”
“Please, my beauty. I’m trying to eat.”
“Are you squeamish, Hrrrusek? My big cat-man with thick claws and thicker cock is scared of a little worm?”
“That worm is not little,” I warn her, leaning away when she holds it up. “And I have never touched a worm in my life and do not see the point in starting now. You can handle the worms and I will feed you. How is that?”
She grins. “It’s an acceptable compromise.”
I tear off a bite of the thick, seed-filled bread and hold it out to her. She nibbles it from my fingers, her tongue touching my claws, and gives me a grateful look as she chews. I eat, too, trying not to watch as she pulls the head off the worm and shoves a barbed hook viciously through its guts. She adjusts the fishing line, unspools it, and then tosses it into the water. A small bit of floating plastic shows where the line is.
“Now we wait,” she announces.
We stay there for a good while, me feeding Chelsea and offering her sips of tea, and talking about the weather here on Risda and the best way to cook up a fresh fish. She promises that she’ll make me dinner if we catch something, but by the time the sun is high, we’ve caught nothing and I can’t stay any longer.
“I need to go in for work,” I say glumly. “I’d rather stay here with you, but I can’t.”
Chelsea nods, tilting her face up at mine. “We’ll pull in our line and call it a day. I’m sorry I didn’t catch you anything. Still wanna come back tonight for dinner?”
“More than anything.” I lean over and brush my mouth over her strange human one. She tastes sweet, like sunshine and jam, and the urge to stay here all day and just touch her—or simply listen to her talk—is overwhelming.
She might not want more than a good time, but I worry I’ve already lost my heart, and when it comes time for me to leave, I’m going to be as gutted as that poor worm she massacred.
I rush through my work all day long. On my lunch break, I grab my food, slap it between two pieces of flat-bread, and eat as I work my mech suit, welding away. Jrrru comments on my sudden enthusiasm for “grunt-work,” but I’ve got Chelsea waiting for me, and the sooner I get done with my tasks for the day, the better.