Page 29 of Feral

“I have always been curious about connections between people, about the politics of gender and how we got here. But it wasn’t until I got to high school that I realized how much of a role sex has had in creating culture, in particular women’s sexuality and the freedom we’re are or aren’t given to express it and how that can affect cultural norms in a broader context.”

“Ya do all that with those artifacts?”

“Well not exactly, but I do apply my studies on sex and culture there.”

Our food arrived and I knew that the waiter had heard her; his face was as red as a beet and he nearly dropped my meat pie in my lap in his hurry to leave.

“See?” Daphne said, chuckling. “Sex is shameful and mysterious when really it should be something we commonly, openly discuss so that it’s demystified. It should be just as acceptable in stories as the violence we see so often. More so, in fact, since sex is far more of a natural act than violence. And while yes, not everyone is interested in it, it is still a more universally experienced act than, say, blowing up a building or taking out a giant shark. Not to mention, the health benefits of partaking in some kind of stimulation regularly. Did you know that some ancient cultures not only encouraged regular visitation to their fertility temples for sexual rites, but they also taught self-pleasure? I actually have several ancient cultures’ version of sex toys from various fertility temples in my department. It’s fascinating really, the things we could learn just from not being so prudish about something so natural.”

The lass was telling me about her passions, her job, but my body wasn’t getting the message that this was just a discussion. And while her enthusiasm was purely of an informational nature, I was frustrated to discover that my cock was as hard as a rock under the table. Images of how Daphne liked to be pleasured, and just where I could do that pleasuring, were filling my head faster than I could toss them out. I shifted in my seat, trying to adjust or just get my body to behave.

“Ya sound like a professor. Why are ya not teachin’ this stuff?” I asked, hoping for ground that was less ‘stimulating’.

Her face fell a little and she didn’t answer me right away. Instead, she dug into her food with earnest and now my horny mind had a new thing to latch onto: the sight of her mouth opening around her fork, the way she chewed like she was savoring every bloody bite.

Fuck, lass! Do ya have to eat like yer having an orgasm?

I highly doubted she actually was intending to torture me, or be so damn alluring, but the fact remained; Daphne Reynolds was currently wreaking havoc with my self-control.

“I, uh, actually used to be a…well, sort of a professor,” she finally said.

Her voice had gone flat, her smile more apologetic than enthusiastic. The animal in me wanted to know what had happened to change her mood. Had I said something and if so, how could I make it up to her? Had someone else? In which case, who, and where, were they so I could beat them to a pulp?

“How do ya ‘used to be’ a professor?”

“It’s a long story. But no, I have never been able to teach any of this. Most universities already have a similar curriculum or they’re not interested, as I learned the hard way today.”

She looked so forlorn, like this situation had sucked all the sunshine from her. And I could not stand it. I may be deeply annoyed by the way Daphne could affect me, but something in me would not allow her to remain so defeated.

“Well,” I said, around a last bite of my meat pie, “I can’t imagine ya in a stuffy old classroom givin’ lectures. I think yer right where ya belong, makin’ new discoveries and helpin’ people.”

Her face lit up. It was like the sun coming out for a moment on the gloomiest of days. And something in my chest loosened at the sight. Pride bloomed in me and I sat up straighter. I wanted to do that again, and more than that. I wanted to make her laugh, to make her sigh. To find out what made her gasp and cry out. I wanted to know what made her cry so I could avoid it. All of it.

But I shouldn’t. I can’t risk it.

“Thank you for saying that,” she said with a wide, bright smile. “I do love my job. The ability to make discoveries and touch things that have been lost or hidden for thousands of years…there’s no feeling like it! I just wish I could talk about it to my family. They aren’t really impressed by an assistant to the restorationist.”

“Fuck ‘em then.”

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Daphne let out a shocked giggle and covered her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s quite alright. Believe me, I’ve thought far worse the last few years.”

“It’s not right to insult yer family. I don’t know why I’m stickin’ my foot in my mouth.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I stick my foot in my mouth at least six times a day. It’s nice to see someone else do it for a change.”

“I sound like an eejit.”

“No, you sound nervous, and it actually helps that I’m not the only one.”

“I’m not nervous,” I said around a mouthful of pie. “I just want this over with.”

Her smile faded and she looked down at her basket of fish and chips.

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