Whoo-hoo! Chapter 16, yes! I’m really looking forward to this one, and I hope you all enjoy it as much to read as I did writing it! Let’s get this ball rolling, okay?!)
My shower takes slightly longer than it usually does, since I decided to shave my legs, arms, and as much of my body as I can without looking too closely. Luckily, I’d gotten pretty good at it, and I manage to avoid nicking myself with my mum’s razor. I don’t have my own, and I hate using my father’s. It’s too rough and doesn’t get all the awkward little hairs.
About thirty minutes later, I’m back in my cute clothes, blushing slightly as I settle myself in a chair, Jeffrey grinning like a supervillain as he readies himself, a brush in one hand and a small pad of pink foundation in the other. “Now, time for me to go to work…”
A whirl of brushes and cotton pads, powders and all kinds of paints, for what felt like hours, as Jeffrey plies his craft on me. I do my best to remain still, eyes closed, as my friend pokes and prods, his fingers gentle and sure.
After an interminable, unknown length of time, he chuckles, “Okay, open your eyes and have a look!” I peek out from between my half-closed lashes, before my eyes widen. Jeffrey is holding up a large mirror, and, reflected back at me…
“Oh… whoa, no way…” I breathe, reaching out and taking the mirror, bringing it close, the dark-haired girl in the mirror staring back. A pale pink blush on her face, delicately-curved eyebrows, lush black lashes, and a soft red shade on her lips. Jeffrey helps me to position the mirror so I can keep looking, taking my hands and carefully applying polish to my nails. He’d chosen a soft blue, and I try not to bite my lip, so as not to damage my new lipstick.
With a subtle finish, he caps his little bottle of blue nail polish, and grins as he teases my hair into a loose ponytail. “Well, I think I’ve outdone myself! Don’t fiddle with your nails until they’re dry. If you want, I can leave this kit here and you can practice on your own?”
With a shy blush, I nod, and he smirks. “A’ight, I’mma head out. Good luck with your meeting, okay? I’ll log in when you let me know you’re home!”
A few minutes later, with a small backpack on my back, I bid goodbye to both Jeffrey and Houseworth, as the door closes behind my friend and I. He gives me a wink, and heads off towards his own hab-block. I make my way down toward the transit station to catch an early grav-train, checking my mobile. My bag holds my wallet, a bottle of water, my headphones, and my phone.
The station falls away as I take a seat, brushing my skirt into position and settling my bag on my lap. It’s early enough that no-one even glances over at me. I slip one headphone bud into my right ear, turning on some music to help the journey pass. I have no idea what Dana looks like, or how I’m supposed to identify her. Ah well, future-Kylie can deal with that…
The grav-train curves and winds through Downtown Union City, rising and falling along the twisting rails, the gentle hum of the gravitational magnets barely audible over my song of choice, and the announcement speakers blurting out the names of each station. As the time scrolls across the display screen for the upcoming station, 9:39 am, and I prepare to disembark, standing and swinging my bag onto my back and approaching the sliding doors. Off the train, down to the ground-floor terminus, then through the entrance hall and out into the early-morning sunlight, taking a deep breath as I emerge from the station. Stonehill Park isn’t far off, and I send Asteria a text. ‘I just got off the train. How will I recognize Dana? I forgot to ask what she looks like; all I know is that she has a dog!’
A few minutes later, I feel my phone buzz, and flip the screen on. ‘Ah, sorry about that! She’s a redhead, Irish accent. Try saying “Heat from Fire” to her, see if she responds with “Fire from Heat”! I’ve gotta go, my phone’s gonna be off since I’m helping my family with something! Good luck!’
I giggle. Typical Astie, always gotta have something to do! I tuck my phone back into my small bag and heading through the streets towards Stonehill Park. Wandering through the lush greenery, the centre of the park named for the tall, rocky spire that had been formed in the heart of the gardens.
Finding a bench to sit on, I take a small swig from my water-bottle, wiping the small lipstick smear from the spout as I cap it and look around. The park is beautiful this time of year, with flowerbeds and bushes exploding with riots of colour, with a few people and their dogs wandering the expansive green sward, trees and towering shrubbery arrayed out in a wild, un-planned pattern.
Suddenly, a bush nearby trembles. It shifts and warps, before something huge and hairy bursts out of the leafy depths, bounding towards me and letting out a booming, “Feff!” I shriek, and a loud voice roars out, “FEFFER, SIT!”
The massive thing flops down, right at my feet, and I shift back slightly, eyes wide. The animal before me... is an absolutely gigantic monster that could only sort of be called a dog! It’s immensely fluffy, and panting happily as it looks up at me. Its owner jogs up, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, complete with big, stompy, thick-soled boots, her ginger hair shimmering in the sunlight. It isn’t totally red, though. The centre is dyed white, all the way down the length of her ponytail. One side is a rich, vibrant green. “Eh, sorry about him, Feffer’s harmless, he’s just… feckin’ big.”
You are reading story Aegis Online at novel35.com
Her voice is accented, with a rich, rolling accent that sounds lilting and warm. Talking to her dog, she chuckles, “lookit, Feffer, ye daft git, you gave her a right shock! Ya gonna say sorry, right?” she nudges him with the toe of her big, black boot, and he lowers his head and licks at my hand. His tongue is huge and rough, but tickly.
The girl smiles. “Aye, there ya go, ya daft dog!” the massive, Leonberger-looking dog adds, “Foff!” Helpfully. I can’t help but giggle a little. As if just remarking on the weather, I say, “heat from fire…” the girl’s eyebrow raises, and she cracks a wide grin. Very deliberately, she leans in, and replies, “fire from heat.”
My eyes widen, and she tips her head back and cackles. “Ah, so, you must be the mysterious and adorable Kettrin, right?” her accent makes it sound like Cattrin, and I blush, enjoying how it sounds from her. “That’s right. I met Asteria a few days ago, and she kinda… instantly twigged that I’m transgender. She mentioned you, and then pretty much adopted me in-game.”
The girl, who must be Dana, rolls her eyes. “Ohhh, did she now? Figures, she always has been good at making herself a big sister-figure! So, where’re ye from, this place?” when I nod, she chuckles. “Ah, wicked. I’m Dana McGregor, by the way. If ye’re wondrin’ about the accent, it’s Irish. Me family’s from the Tailtéann Republic!”
I smile, shyly reaching out to stroke Feffer. The mahoosive ball of floof rolls on his back, squirming happily, as I give him the scritches that all good bois deserve. Dana lounges on the bench beside me, rocking her boots from side-to-side, her long, strong legs stretched out.
It takes quite a bit of effort to draw my gaze away, only to end up staring at her chest. Under her black leather jack, Dana’s wearing a dark pink tank-top, with… hhhoooolllllyyyy…. That’s a nice rack…
“Are ye havin’ fun staring at me knockers, Kettrin?” I start, almost falling off the bench and splutter in shock, as Dana chuckles, leaning toward me, blatantly giving me an even better look down her tank-top, on purpose, no less!
“Um, uh… erm…” I babble lamely, trying to think of something to say that won’t make me look or sound like a total idiot. The tall, Amazonian Irishwoman laughs huskily, backing up, before settling herself on the bench next to me and winking. “Ah, s’cool, I was the same before I got these lovely boys. Honestly, I still am, heheheheheheh!” she whispers conspiratorially.
Before she can say anything else, Feffer, more than a little put-out that the attention is off him, decides to join us on the bench, and we disappear under a previously-un-recorded natural phenomenon… that’s right, we both got buried by a sudden and unexpected floofalanche.
It takes almost five minutes to dig ourselves out of the avalanche of dog, with Dana swearing good-naturedly at her excitable pooch. Brushing herself off, she grumbles, “Chrissakes, mutt! How did ye get a handful of fur down me bra?!”
My blush deepens, and Dana reaches out and pokes me in the side playfully. “c’mon, let’s go get a coffee or something! I know a great place right close by, if that’s cool with ye?” I think for a moment, and then nod. Coffee is a good idea, especially since this whole thing was either Asteria or Dana’s idea.
“A’ight, awesome. I need to get me bike, I parked it o’er this way!” I follow, with Feffer bounding around us in giddy delight, as Dana leads me to a large grey motorbike with an extended saddle, covered in stickers and etchings. She mounts up, grinning. “You get in front of me an’ hold on to yer knickers, Kettrin!” she chirps, and, with a mixture of trepidation and excitement, I slip between the handlebars and the hot biker-babe. I can feel the bike rock slightly, and then a huge paw biffs me on the shoulder lightly.
“Aye, I know, this ain’t exactly… safe, but as long as we go slow, it’s fine. Besides, I know the best ways to get around without getting caught.” Dana’s rich Gaelic accent warms my ear as much as her breath, and I can feel her chest pressed against my back as she rolls the bike out of her parking spot and revs the engine softly, the chassis of the powerful metal beast thrumming underneath me as she sends us gliding smoothly across the carpark and out onto the main road, moving just fast enough to keep us in motion, as we round the corner, heading for a polycrete building within the park’s grounds, close to the side of the road. It’s got a large trans-pride flag spray-painted across the front, with planters full of actual flowers, not synthetic ones, under the windows. The sign above the door displays a stylised T, H, G, with a picture of a neatly-groomed brunette man in his mid-forties, holding a thermos flask with a short beam of blue light shining from the top.
Dana parks her bike, allowing Feffer to flop down onto the grass and nose about as she leans back, smiling as I slip off, trying not to trip and end up sitting on her. Inside, the café, it’s lovingly decorated, with posters of actors who I vaguely recognize, and a choose-your-own stereo sound system and lists of tracks displayed on a glowing holoscreen.
Over at the counter, a woman in a black tank top and jeans stands, fiddling with a cafetiere, chatting to a customer as she places a large mug of steaming coffee in front of the elderly patron. Turning to us, she calls, “Hey, Dana! Where’s my floofy boy?!” on cue, Feffer butts the door open with his gihugic head and makes a beeline for the woman, who falls on him with a playful roar of delight. Feffer rears up and puts his paws on the lady’s shoulders and proceeds to bathe her face in slobbery kisses, his tail wagging so fast it’s almost a blur. Between licks, the woman, Sasha, introduces herself and greets me.
“Hey, nice to see a new face here! Welcome to my café! It’s an established brand, going back almost a hundred and fifty years! Some famous berk named Ewan McGregor invested in the original place, as long as they put THC in the brew. The business changed hands a couple times, before I bought the rights to the shop, the land, and the name. There’s no weed in anything I serve, don’t worry. Welcome to… The High Ground!”