#stories

smart, tongue, ryan, risk, clue, hunt, sole, soul, bond, cement, lace, band, heel, duckie, sorry, trouble

 

The rule was mostly to accept whatever pseudorandom environment SeecheeTri concocted, but after the elaborate meal Ko had prepared, Af wanted to curate a similarly rich experience for their next date.

A treasure hunt for Ko, Af decided, with a series of clues. They’d have to go to a lot of trouble, but if they were smart about it, a cunning soul willing to take risks, they might find the sole shortcut: a tall, blue-suited person named Ryan could provide a rubber duckie that would always bob its head in the right direction. 

The prize was Af, of course, held in bondage against a chilly concrete slab, metal bands around their wrists and ankles, in lace, in heels, with a stud in their tongue.  Af didn’t think they’d be sorry when they found their reward, no matter which path they took.

 

sphere, job, pod, pepper, tomato, cucumber, mac, pad, eggplant, cone, lima, polish, phone, cube, pyramid, mobile

 

Ko was in a virtual ship that looked like their real one, a short pile of child’s geometric blocks – the sphere of the command in module in front atop the cube-shape MAC unit, with the pyramid-wrapped cone of the thruster in the rear.

But it was much bigger than the real thing, with a flight deck big enough for Af’s virtual ship to dock in. Not to mention a cozy lounge, a bedroom — and a kitchen.

Ko was in a virtual kitchen, actually nervous. Was this too much? Their first date with Af had only been six months ago. The dish was inspired by pad thai, with eggplant in place of the feature protein. Peppers and cucumber were fine, but SeecheeTri kept trying to hallucinate other vegetables into the scenario. Tomato? Sugar peas in their pods? Lima beans? No. You had one job, Seech, Ko thought. But as usual, you’re trying to do thirty-seven.

Ko polished spoons absently in between stirring the food. Something buzzed in their flightsuit, and they nearly dropped the spatula. Right, they thought. A mobile phone.

Af texted a bunch of question marks, and Ko sent back a map from the docking bay to the kitchen.

And when Af reached the kitchen, sniffed the redolent air, when their eyes went wide and bright with surprise – Ko knew it wasn’t too much. Or anyway, the right amount of too much.

 

mother, bowtie, raven, shoulder, cowboy, airplane, shell, elbow, knee, hip, packer, oklahoma, wrist, them, bronco, spiral

 

Af was somewhere hot and dusty. Oklahoma? Af didn’t know, or care. Weird linear clouds criss-crossed the deep blue dome of sky. Contrails, Af remembered vaguely. Left by airplanes. Ancient times, then.

Ko preened for Af, swiveling their hips, and Af admired them. “Holy mother of God, you’re hot,” they whispered.

Ko was a cowboy, raven hair falling over their shoulders, a red bowtie slightly incongruous at their throat. They twirled a finger through it in a spiral, plaid blouse slipping down to reveal a slim, tanned wrist. Af wanted to trace the shell of their ear with their tongue.

Ko stepped close, hand on Af’s elbow. Ko was just a little taller today, their knee bumping the lowest part of Af’s thigh. Ko pulled Af even closer, and Af felt the hard bulge of their packer.

“Well, pardner,” Af said with a chuckle. “Guess I’m a bronco that needs to be tamed.”