More Tales of MU

…or, The Red Flannel Diaries

“We were going to have a smoke,” Violet said when Barley calmed down a bit. “You want to join us?”

“I don’t know,” Barley said. “Mack was in the nexus when I ran into her.”

“We can go first,” I said. “Or we could go out the other door and go around the long way.”

“Why don’t you two just go? I’ll be fine up here.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t be alone right now,” Violet said. “And, also, to a lesser extent, you could stand to air out a bit.”

“Oh!” Barley said. She sniffed at her shirt. “I guess this is kind of dirty. Could I borrow a shirt, James?”

“Sure,” I said. “What do you want, a t-shirt?”

“Do you have a flannel shirt?”

“Yeah,” I said. I went to the closet, watching her peel off the dirty undershirt. My cock, already half awake from Violet’s display, poked out of my open fly. Barley put her hand on it as I handed her a red flannel shirt.

“Thank you, James,” she said. She tried to slip one arm through the sleeve while slowly tugging on my meat, then gave up. She let go, sank to the floor, and slipped her mouth over it instead.

A woman in a man’s shirt being sexy isn’t just a cliché. It’s true. A spontaneous blowjob while she puts it on just adds to the strength of the image.

“I’m going to have to start coming over more often,” Violet said. I’d forgotten she was there. “The view’s interesting from outside.”

I finished in Barley’s mouth. She wiped off her lips. I helped her to her feet.

“Thank you, James,” she said again. “I think I needed that. Comfort food.” She giggled. “It took me a while to come around to oral sex, you know.”

“Really?”

“It seemed, for lack of a better word, counter-productive,” she said. “And less than mutual. But not all sexual enjoyment is orgasmic.”

“You still aren’t going to catch me letting anybody shoot their junk in my mouth,” Violet said.

“You watched me fantasize about it, though,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s hot. In reality? No.”

“I think you’re an extreme version of what many people go through with porn so readily available,” Barley said. “People are viewing sex from an external position and then fantasizing about it, long before they’re having it. Then when they do have it, the experience—the physical sensations, the way their partner moves—doesn’t conform to their expectations the way the fantasy does. Some people realize that this is because the real thing’s better, but some people are just disappointed.”

“See, I get what you’re saying because I get a lot of fantasies from people who clearly don’t know what it feels like,” Violet said. “Even really how it’s done. You’d be surprised what some guys our age think a pussy looks like. But I also get to feel how it feels. It’s fine, but I don’t want that in my own skin.”

“Fair enough,” Barley said. “But I wonder if it might not help to talk to—”

“Stop,” Violet said. The word reverberated in my head.

“Okay,” Barley said. “Sorry. I guess that’s a personal subject.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Violet said. “I’m the way I’m supposed to be.”

“Sure, okay,” Barley said. “Everybody should be comfortable in their own skin, I guess.”

“On that subject, not that you aren’t fun to look at, but you really need to get dressed if we’re going downstairs,” I said.

Violet looked at Barley.

“Do I?” she asked.

Barley shrugged.

“Might be polite,” she said. “But if you aren’t worried about your privacy, I don’t see why anybody else should be. It’s like leaving your blinds up. If you don’t care who sees your bedroom, why should anybody else?”

“Well, I’m getting dressed,” I said, zipping my pants. I grabbed a shirt from the open closet and pulled it on, buttoning it up. Barley tied hers together as a halter under her breasts, barely covering them.

“You want to try a pair of my boxers?” I offered on impulse. The picture had popped into my head. It wouldn’t be denied.

Barley blushed beet red. There was an image to cherish.

“Oh!” she said. “I’m not sure I should.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” I said, remembering Violet’s projected thought.

“It’s not that,” Barley said. “It’s just—oh, what the hell. I guess I can try it.”

“Go ahead and pick one out,” I said, gesturing at my dresser. “Top drawer.”

She went. It was dead sexy watching her ass as she leaned slightly forward to pull out the drawer, and then to look into it. It was sexier watching her pull the red and white plaid shorts on over her long, well-tanned legs. The boxers and shirt went together so well they might have been an outfit.

“You want some cleaner socks, too?” I offered. The ones she was wearing were filthy, with dust and dirt and grass stains.

“No, they’ll just get dirty again,” Barley said. “I was surprised they did, but I guess it makes sense when we don’t normally wear them. It’s a shame, because I really like how they feel on my feet. Where do shoes come from?”

“What?” I asked

“Shoes. Do you buy them the same place you buy clothes, or do you have to get them specially made?” Barley asked.

“Uh, there are shoe stores, but department stores sell both,” I said.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Barley said. “It seemed like everybody’s shoes are different sizes, and they aren’t as flexible as clothing, so I thought maybe each one had to be—I’ll shut up now.”

“No, I guess it’s a natural question, if you’ve never dealt with them before,” I said.

“So, you ready now?” Violet said. She yawned. “I think I’m going to need a good buzz going if I’m not gonna crash all day.”

“You’re seriously going to do this,” I said.

“Yes, I seriously am,” Violet said.

“Okay.”

Down we went, Violet naked and Barley wearing my clothes. Once we were out of the room, my eyes drifted back from Barley’s flannel-clad parts to Violet. I didn’t know what had changed, but she seemed a lot more like my fantasy version than the girl who was just hanging out while just hanging out.

“You’re so oversexed that nudity in private isn’t transgressive any more,” Violet said. “But now that we’re in public, it’s exciting. Even though nobody’s awake to see.”

“I’m not oversexed,” I said. “I’d be sick of it if I was.”

“What do you call it, then?”

“Sufficiently sexed to get by, but still well under the upper limit of tolerability.”

Barley giggled. I smiled. She put her hand on the back of my jeans. The coast was clear when we got to the nexus so we just went out to the regular smoker’s area. My preference would have been the more secluded stairs, but Violet wasn’t interested in hiding.

Barley cleared her throat once I had my cigarette lit. She pointed at my crotch. I was past the point of being embarrassed by the severe tenting that was going on.

“Would you like me to take that?” she asked.

“Uh, thanks, but no,” I said. “I think we’re being transgressive enough.”

“Okay,” she said. “Offer’s good anytime, though.”

“Thanks.”

“So what’s this dragon thing?” Violet asked me. “It’s not the show you went to see, is it?”

“Same troupe, I think,” I said. “I don’t know if they’re doing a show or not. I’d guess at the very least they’re not having the whole band and everything. I don’t know. My herbalism professor told me about it.”

“It’s a whole conservation and awareness thing,” Barley said. “They’re going to be doing some flying, but mostly it’s so students can see what an LWD looks like up close.”

“LWD?” I asked.

“Lesser winged dragon,” Barley said. She turned her head down and gave an abashed grin. “Sorry. I kind of immersed myself in the literature back at the start of the term, when I signed up for this. Gah! I’m so glad you reminded me, I would have totally forgotten. Anyway, the LWDs are in trouble in the wild because they need such a large hunting radius to sustain themselves, and they’re usually slain as soon as ranchers start encroaching on their territory. I think it’s great that you support them, James.”

“Uh, thanks,” I said. “To be honest, I don’t know a lot about the subject. The guy I’m seeing took me to see their concert and I thought it was cool.”

“Oh, well, that’s still something,” Barley said.

“I got that tattoo because of it, though,” I said. I reached for my shirt buttons. “You’ve seen it, right?”

“Oh, yes, she’s very pretty,” Barley said.

“It’s supposed to ‘wake up’ sometime soon,” I said. “Then I’ll be able to bring it to life.”

“That should be cool,” Violet said. “I’d get a tattoo, but I’d have to do it with transfer paper. And it would have to be of a shapeshifter because I wouldn’t want the same thing on me all the time.”

“They do make temporary tattoos,” I said.

“Yeah, but that takes premeditation,” Violet said. “I don’t want to have to have a unicorn on hand just in case I want one tomorrow.”

“So, why naked?” Barley asked. “I mean, I’m not saying it’s a bad look, but you’re not turned on by it.”

“No,” Violet said. She spread out her arms and spun around. “I’m not. I just don’t feel like wearing clothes.”

“Well, it suits you, and if I had my way you could do that whenever you wanted,” Barley said.

“Thanks,” Violet said. “My mom didn’t like making me wear clothes, either. I spent pretty much a whole year naked, around when I was three. It was only when school started that I had to start keeping stuff on, and by the time I was old enough that it would be an issue for everyone I kind of got out of the habit.”

“Did you grow up in a commune or something?” I asked.

“James!” Barley said.

Violet just laughed.

“A very small one, maybe,” she said.

“Well, I think your mother sounds like a very special person,” Barley said.

“Yeah, that’s the word I’d use, too,” I said.

“You know I can light things on fire with my mind, right?” Violet said.

“Okay, James, seriously, stop,” Barley said.

“No, it’s okay,” Violet said. “I knew he was thinking it before he said it.”

“Okay, but making fun of mothers is just not cool,” Barley said.

“Sorry,” I said.

“No, seriously, it’s cool,” Violet said. “I have a crazy, crunchy hippy mom. I know. It doesn’t bother me. But can we get back to the dragons?”

“Okay, yeah,” I said. “So, what are you actually doing?” I asked Barley.

“Leading one of the mock dragons around in a harness,” Barley said. “I have experience with animals, so I get a good job. I’m also on standby for healing, if somebody’s stupid.”

“They put them in harnesses?” Violet asked.

“I think they have to, with so many new people around,” Barley said. “They brought one of the mocks in to class for us to see. He was cute, but excitable. I’d like to see about getting some of them back home when I graduate. Did you know that some orchard growers keep domesticated mock dragons? They’ll eat pests of all sizes but leave the fruit alone. They’re really efficient hunters, too.”

Violet was looking a little green around the gills again.

“Sorry,” Barley said. “I should probably mention that we’re going to be feeding the guys on premises throughout the day, too. Little cut up bits of meat, mostly, that kids can toss to them, but there are also going to be some hunting demos with birds and rodents.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Violet said. “Nobody ever said ‘nature, vegan in tooth and claw’.” She laughed. “Maybe I can get a mock mock dragon, that lives on tofu.”

“Or a dragon tattoo,” I said. “They’re low maintenance.”

“Yeah,” Violet said.

Off to our side, the door opened, and another group of students came out. Half a dozen, mixed evenly between male and female. The two guys who made up the tail of the group both glanced our way and then did a double take. They laughed and elbowed each other. One of them muttered something to the other one.

“Yeah, you’re saying that but you’re both memorizing what you’re seeing,” Violet said. She gave her belly a slap.

“You know you’re not fat,” I said.

“Don’t,” Violet said.

“No, I’m serious,” I said.

“I am, too,” Violet said. “Fat’s a relative term, like short or tall. Everybody can look at two people and say who’s taller, but nobody’s gonna agree on what ‘tall’ is. Barley’s fatter than Kira. I’m fatter than Barley. Missy’s fatter than me. Marlot’s fatter than me. So, I’m not ‘that fat‘, but so is everybody, where ‘that fat‘ is defined as ‘too fat for your personal tastes’. Those guys like to act like anybody whose stomach isn’t concave is too fat to be seen in public so I am that fat for them. I’ve got a poochy little belly and a big fat ass, but I’ve got a narrow waist and shoulders so I’m not ‘that fat’ for you.”

“I wouldn’t care if you were that fat,” I said.

“You wouldn’t be a dick about it, but if I was wider across but had the same belly and ass, instead of telling me how fat I’m not, you’d be telling me how much it doesn’t matter,” Violet said.

Barley was looking at Violet like she’d fallen in love.

Try not to be jealous, Violet thought. She’s not my type.

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