It’s cold when I went to the store, so my feather cloak became a full length puffy coat. I don’t like that style, but my instinct was screaming at me to be unrecognizable today. I get a glance at my appearance in the store window before coming in. It’s hard not to laugh. A young woman’s hair style on a woman fifty years too old to wear it. Make up so thick, it looks like I taught Tammy Faye Baker. There’s a gaping run in my sagging black stocking, but I don’t give a fuck because bitch, my shoes are fabulous! Or would have been, back in my day.
Everyone shakes their head at Woman Holding On To Yesterday’s Glory, and remark how much I remind them of Aunt May, or Cousin Janice, or The Neighbor Whose Husband Died And She Never Aged Since. They all treated me with a little more respect and a little more pity, but none suspected who I was, and none tried to pry.
Success.
As I’m looking at the fake flowers (and bitching about the prices), I see in the parking lot, a group of men starting to gather. My sight pierces through window, cars, and coats to show me they are armed. Their body posture is tense and they look anxiously around. As their number increases, they start staring through the store windows, noting who is at what register, and who are the shoppers.
I grab a set of the fake flowers (they were actually quite cheap) and went to the register. I kept up the appearance, but dropped the vocal disguise. “There are a group of men in the parking lot that are casing the store. If you have a silent alarm, trigger it now. They are going to come in and rob you at the least.” I said it quietly.
The clerk blinked at the dissonance between my appearance and my voice. Her hand slid to the under counter alarm button, but she didn’t press it. “Are you sure? And who are you?”
Before I could answer, the men burst into the store, shooting wildly. The display beside the clerk shattered from a round and both clerk and I dropped to the floor. As she went down, she pressed the alarm.
The robbers patted everyone down and took what jewelry and money they could find. When they found only enough funds on me to buy the fake flowers I was holding, I received several kicks in the stomach for being “so damn cheap”. One robber said he should do the nursing home a favor by killing me. Another wondered out loud if there was an upper range to cougar age. He was quickly labeled as a necrophiliac by the others and teased mercilessly as they tried to get the safe open.
I heard sirens. Police cars were in the parking lot. The robbers were caught off guard and several tried to escape by running out of the store in different directions. Police dogs were hot on their trail at once. There were three robbers left inside the store and they were nearly panicking.
Another customer scooted over to me in the commotion. A young flamboyantly dressed man, he grabbed my hands. “Oh dear.” He whispered through his smiles. “If the police find me here, there will be much more trouble. I can leave at any time, but I thought I’d offer you an escape as well… Weaver.”
“You’re not human.” He shook his head. “Yea, if I’m recognized, there will be questions I don’t want to answer. What is the price for your assistance?”
“An afternoon tea with me and my partner. You won’t be on the menu.” I laughed and conceded.
He dropped through the worlds, still holding my hand, pulling me with him.
I open my eyes to find myself stark naked (and freshly bathed) in a four-post bed with billowing white linens hanging from the crossbeams between them.
“Oh, your guest is awake!” “Just in time for tea!” I scrunched my face as I realize I have been suckered. Again.
A tall human male figure comes into the room from outside. He pauses in the doorway allowing the sun to highlight his figure. And what a figure. Naked except for a length of white lace wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl, his lean body suggests an admiration for the human form, and the limberness required for all sorts of debauchery with it.
“Dropping between worlds can be so messy. And some pain struck you as he went. You were crying and barely aware when you arrived. I apologize for him, his youth blinds him that humans have much more emotions than we do.” My mind quickly processes his varied vocal inflection, his subtle wiggling stance at the door, and the little hand movements that punctuated his wording. Flaming Gay. And he is glorious being so.
“The robbers… they hit on a deep fear of mine. And going in between tends to amplify the things we humans try to hide from.” He nodded in understanding as he worked those hips with fabulous aplomb striding from doorway to bed.
He traced a slender finger along my arm. “He said you would be staying for tea… but your muscles tense under my finger. I don’t think you know how we take tea…” He was sliding from flamboyantly friendly to potential predator. I was keeping my cool… for now.
“No, he didn’t. But I agreed to it, so I guess I’ll find out one way or another. I do ask no bruises are left, and no open wounds. My roommate may take them as acts of war.” I’m trying to keep my composure, reminding myself that if what is implied is what will be expected of me, it was still a better fate than what the robbers were planning.
He lifted my hand to his lips. Delicately kissing the pads of them before placing my hand at his throat, he said, “Harm… you? Only if you ask us to. You were invited to tea, darling, not dinner.” The distinction made me smile. He kept my hand at his throat and began exploring my chest with his free hand. “You are… so warm… warmer than a human should be. Are you ill? It would be so wrong to take advantage of you when you are not well.”
He was giving me a way out. His partner knew I was Weaver, and probably knew about my heart as well. Did he see the implied event was placing me on edge?
“I have been… harmed… in situations like this. And because of that, I am afraid. But I agreed to tea, and so I shall stay for tea. But it might take me a while to pick up on the etiquette.” His roving hand stopped and he regarded me with what I thought were black eyes. But his stare was so intensive, I realized they were the flaw to his form. His eyes have no irises.
He leaned forward and buried his face between my breasts. “Then I will have to teach you. Etiquette is very important for proper tea taking. The first rule is the most important rule.” He released my hand and wrapped his arms about my waist. Looking up and resting his head on my breast, he said simply and seriously, “Respect those at your table. You do this, by not asserting yourself, when doing so, would harm those at your table.”
I started stroking his light blond hair. “Is that the only rule?”
He smiled gently. “Of course not. The second rule is to not force tea on those that don’t want tea, even if they have had many pots already. All you have to do is say, ‘Stop’, and it stops.” He slid himself down my body so his head was on my stomach. “And the third rule which must never be broken, is to not assume you know how others take their tea. Everyone likes their tea differently. Some may want tea strong enough to etch steel. Some may require lots of milk and sugar. No one has tried every variety of tea. Some may encounter a new blend and find it horrible. Some may think a blend is awful until they try it and find they love it. There is no shame in liking one tea over another, or in not liking tea at all!”
As his hands began to rove over my hips, I decided to be frank about what was being requested of me. “Are we talking about tea, or sex?”
His face hovered over the cleft of my thighs. He looked up at me with a conspiratorial grin. “Yes.”
His partner, a shorter and more stocky man, also naked, came in the room pushing a little cart with a portable stove, water kettles, tea pots, teas, and all the little assortments that would come with a tea tasting afternoon. The lower shelf held carefully folded towels, basins of water for cleaning, and wash cloths. “Well, you two were taking so long in here, I surmised we would have tea in here.” He saw the paused discussion on the bed. “Are we still on for tea?”
The taller of the two men never moved from his perch over me. It was clear what he wanted to do. But he would not proceed without my explicit approval. I agreed to an afternoon of tea, and after hearing the rules, I understood I could sit in the corner without ever being touched and fulfill my debt.
I looked at the man gently holding me, and the man standing at the cart. They were both waiting for my answer. “Yes.”
~~ later ~~
~pop~ “Uh-oh. Stop.” And the proceedings stopped. “I heard something pop where something should not go pop. Hold still.” I checked the taller man’s chest and found an odd lump on his chest. Poking at it, I said, “This wasn’t here earlier.”
He looked down and muttered. “It worked loose again. Just pull the damn thing out and throw it somewhere. We’re… uh… slippery, so you might have to bite it out.”
“Won’t that hurt if I do?”
“Yes.”, he purred. I chuckled and told his partner to ‘distract’ him while I pulled out the plug. The plug was right below the sternum, and I had to bite hard to get a good grip on the plug. He squirmed between us in pain and pleasure.
The plug came free with a good wrenching away. Shaped oddly like a human finger joint and made of a spongy material. “That damn thing never stays put. I need to find something better to use.” He leaned forward to investigate the plug and speak more derision at it. His movement causes the hole where the plug was to lengthen. His skin starts to split at the sternum.
“My good sir, you are becoming undone!” He looks down and fingers the seam. Laughing he sticks his hand into the gap. “You’re hollow! Skin only?”
He laughs. “I’ll deflate if I don’t patch it soon. And won’t that be a sour mess!” His partner looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes.
“I could melt it back together… but… Weaver… you could lick and seal it closed for me!”
“How?”
“Oh, Unquenchable Heart! Oh Forge-Spitter! You mean you can’t lick an envelope closed?”
I pushed him back down on the bed. His partner handed me a towel to wipe away the slipperiness of his chest. “Let me know if this gets too hot.”
“I’ll let you know if it’s not hot enough!” His iris-less eyes glittered in anticipation. My turn to roll my eyes.
Between sighs and yelps, the split seam of his hollow skin was melted and sealed. The proceedings came to an absolute halt as tea was served to one and all. They took theirs as hot as possible, as the steam is what inflated their hollow skins. I had a cup of Breakfast Assam, with milk and sugar. They were surprised I would take such a “weak” tea.
“I need the sugar to fuel me for the next serving of tea.” They looked at me, looked at each other, looked at where my feet were nuzzling, then broke into laughter.
~~ much later ~~
“You’re purring. And you reek of tea and milk. Where the hell have you been?” Snake was peeking under the pelts where I had buried myself.
“I had an afternoon of tea and now I need some rest to recover from my rest.”
“You are not allowed to cosplay Jack Harness.”
“I thought you weren’t going to get into the show.”
“I’m not. But I wasn’t prepared to be giving you the “Be careful what you fuck.” lecture.” He dropped the pelts on my head brusquely.
I laughed. “It does seem unnaturally soon after all that’s happened, doesn’t it.” He only severely nodded. “The rules were laid out. They honored them. Yes, I did get suckered into it, but I was given a way out and given a means to protect myself. I had fun, Snake. And there is nothing binding on me afterward. This is how things should have went.”
He sat by my head and lifted the pelts again. “If I see a single bruise…” I chuckled remembering my warning to them. “Who?”
“Not who, what. Hollow men. Skin only. The steam of the imbibed tea is what inflated them and kept them… supple.” I giggled as Snake rolled his eyes.
“Fae or dead?”
Oh, good question. “Nothing under the skin, so I guess fae. And one called me Forge-spitter.”
Snake said nothing for a while. “Get a bath, that smell is going to attract ants in here, and then I will certainly be annoyed.” But as he left, he was smiling.
I laughed after him, then turned over and fell into a good deep sleep.