that fact was not lost
on him when he moved, for every step he took still felt as though
he were being sliced to bits.
"And this?"
"Table. Chair. Dishcloth."
She followed him around the room, which she told him
was called a kitchen, and gave him the names of many strange and
wonderful things.
"That's a microwave," she said when he pointed to a
black rectangle. "Watch what it does."
She took a mug and put some water into it from the
bottle she pulled from a larger box. Then she put the mug inside
the microwave, pressed the front of it with her finger, and closed
the door. In a moment, the box chimed, and she withdrew the
mug.
"Careful," she warned. "It's hot."
It was hot. He put it down carefully. "Amazing."
She laughed, but seemed a bit self-conscious doing
so. "No microwaves under the ocean? What do you eat down there
anyway?"
"Fish. Vegetation. There is not so much wonderful
variety as you have above land."
"You eat fish? But aren't you part fish?"
He curled his lip at the insult, but quickly
realized she hadn't meant it to be such. Humans knew nothing about
the Carrageenai. Helena couldn't know that to call him part fish
was as offensive as if he'd called her a split-tail!
"Carrageenai are mammals. Like you. Like our
closemates, porpoises and whales. We are not fish."
"Not fish. I get it." She paused. "Carry-genie?
That's what you call yourselves?"
"Carrageenai."
Helena crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned
against the counter. "What does that mean?"
"It means...." Jeenai could not explain.
"Never mind." Helena's hands moved and danced,
though she wasn't speaking his language, only betraying her
nervousness. "So... You came up out of the ocean and grew
legs."
"I didn't grow them. The sea hag gave them to
me."
Helena bit at her lip. "Johnny, this is all very
strange."
He looked around the kitchen. "Yes. It is."
He did not want to frighten her, so he led her into
the next room and began to play the "what's this?" game again.
Answering his questions seemed to calm her, put her at ease.
Perhaps it was easier to accept him if she could feel she was
somehow helping him. For whatever reason, it made him happy to
watch her face as she explained her home to him.
"You're not listening to me," she said after a few
minutes. She put her hands on her hips. "Johnny! You haven't heard
a word I've said, have you?"
He had to admit she spoke the truth. He'd been so
lost in contemplating her lithe form, her lush curves, and the way
her mouth shaped the words he could not speak, that he'd completely
been ignoring the words she actually said.
"I'm sorry."
She huffed, but didn't look entirely angry. "You
really are a man."
It pleased him to have her accept him as such. "And
you are my woman."
She let him pull her into his arms with little
protest. "I could swear you just called me your woman."
"I did."
"I'm not anybody's woman." She peered up at him as
he snugged her closer. His hands caressed her plump rear portion.
"Just so you know."
"I thought humans mated one to one?" He had to let
go of her curves to speak, but even that could not distract him
from how luscious she felt against him. "One man to one woman? So
you would be my woman...no?"
Her eyes had gone a little dazed as his hands
caressed her body during his speech. "I have no idea what you're
saying, but damn, it feels good."
That invitation was enough for him. He kissed her,
then lifted her off her feet and carried her to the low bench she'd
told him was called a couch. He settled her there amongst the soft
cushions, parted her thighs, and bent to lick the tender flesh
there.
She gasped, but did not stop him. "Again...oh, my
God...."
Human mals must have very inadequate equipment,
Jeenai thought, if his advances surprised her. During a revel, fems
and mals could mate and climax hundreds of times if they did
on him when he moved, for every step he took still felt as though
he were being sliced to bits.
"And this?"
"Table. Chair. Dishcloth."
She followed him around the room, which she told him
was called a kitchen, and gave him the names of many strange and
wonderful things.
"That's a microwave," she said when he pointed to a
black rectangle. "Watch what it does."
She took a mug and put some water into it from the
bottle she pulled from a larger box. Then she put the mug inside
the microwave, pressed the front of it with her finger, and closed
the door. In a moment, the box chimed, and she withdrew the
mug.
"Careful," she warned. "It's hot."
It was hot. He put it down carefully. "Amazing."
She laughed, but seemed a bit self-conscious doing
so. "No microwaves under the ocean? What do you eat down there
anyway?"
"Fish. Vegetation. There is not so much wonderful
variety as you have above land."
"You eat fish? But aren't you part fish?"
He curled his lip at the insult, but quickly
realized she hadn't meant it to be such. Humans knew nothing about
the Carrageenai. Helena couldn't know that to call him part fish
was as offensive as if he'd called her a split-tail!
"Carrageenai are mammals. Like you. Like our
closemates, porpoises and whales. We are not fish."
"Not fish. I get it." She paused. "Carry-genie?
That's what you call yourselves?"
"Carrageenai."
Helena crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned
against the counter. "What does that mean?"
"It means...." Jeenai could not explain.
"Never mind." Helena's hands moved and danced,
though she wasn't speaking his language, only betraying her
nervousness. "So... You came up out of the ocean and grew
legs."
"I didn't grow them. The sea hag gave them to
me."
Helena bit at her lip. "Johnny, this is all very
strange."
He looked around the kitchen. "Yes. It is."
He did not want to frighten her, so he led her into
the next room and began to play the "what's this?" game again.
Answering his questions seemed to calm her, put her at ease.
Perhaps it was easier to accept him if she could feel she was
somehow helping him. For whatever reason, it made him happy to
watch her face as she explained her home to him.
"You're not listening to me," she said after a few
minutes. She put her hands on her hips. "Johnny! You haven't heard
a word I've said, have you?"
He had to admit she spoke the truth. He'd been so
lost in contemplating her lithe form, her lush curves, and the way
her mouth shaped the words he could not speak, that he'd completely
been ignoring the words she actually said.
"I'm sorry."
She huffed, but didn't look entirely angry. "You
really are a man."
It pleased him to have her accept him as such. "And
you are my woman."
She let him pull her into his arms with little
protest. "I could swear you just called me your woman."
"I did."
"I'm not anybody's woman." She peered up at him as
he snugged her closer. His hands caressed her plump rear portion.
"Just so you know."
"I thought humans mated one to one?" He had to let
go of her curves to speak, but even that could not distract him
from how luscious she felt against him. "One man to one woman? So
you would be my woman...no?"
Her eyes had gone a little dazed as his hands
caressed her body during his speech. "I have no idea what you're
saying, but damn, it feels good."
That invitation was enough for him. He kissed her,
then lifted her off her feet and carried her to the low bench she'd
told him was called a couch. He settled her there amongst the soft
cushions, parted her thighs, and bent to lick the tender flesh
there.
She gasped, but did not stop him. "Again...oh, my
God...."
Human mals must have very inadequate equipment,
Jeenai thought, if his advances surprised her. During a revel, fems
and mals could mate and climax hundreds of times if they did
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