Saida & Autumn 4: Sunset

This time the walk seemed—almost normal, even with a couple drivers tapping their horns at her. (Autumn explained they were just letting the Rha know they were underneath her, although she’d figured that out.) A forest Saida had seen in the distance a few minutes ago turned out to be part of a huge municipal park, three blocks wide and at least eight blocks long. The trick for the two giantesses would be finding enough empty space for them among the sports fields, jogging paths, groves, and the occasional manicured flower garden. There were a few buildings, too—big and ostentatious buildings, probably museums—but they were several blocks away.

“There?” Saida pointed at an open meadow between one of the gardens and a soccer field.

“Sure.”

As they walked through the grass, over paths and benches and through thankfully-sparse crowds of littles, Saida found herself grinning. Autumn didn’t comment on it until they’d both sat down, the Rha with her legs stretched out, the bunny cross-legged in a lotus position. “What?”

“I went out for pizza, and suddenly I’m on a sunset date with a younger woman who’s showing me how to be out on a little town without accidentally trampling it.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“What’s the unexpected part? The not trampling, that I’m younger, or that I’m another woman?”

“Yes.” She laughed. “Well, maybe not as much the last. I haven’t dated a woman, but I know I’m bi.”

Autumn nodded. “I am, too, although my experience with boys hasn’t been great. But have you been out in little towns and accidentally trampled them? Or not-so-accidentally done it?”

Saida laughed again, although more weakly. “Yes and no.” She sipped her mocha. “This is really good.”

“They’re always good there, but Kim makes the best. I don’t know if she’s using a little more syrup or a little less, but she gets the balance perfect. So tell me about the yes and the no.”

“When I first started visiting here, it was drilled into me that the campus is the only safe place for giants, and that we’re all trying to make a good impression on the town here. But I started going for…long walks. Through other towns, farther away.”

“Did you want to be a monster?” Autumn’s beautiful violet eyes focused on her with uncomfortable intensity.

“I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “But I guess I wanted to not be too worried about whether people thought I was. I don’t think I did much damage, but I know I did some. And I got into enough trouble that I stopped.” She knew leaving things hanging there made it sound like she’d had little people try to kill her, but she wasn’t up for explaining to a beautiful stranger that she actually had been killed—and set up by a twisted curse to have it happen again.

“The stopping is probably good, and I hope it wasn’t too much trouble. What damage did you do? Did you dance across a city kicking over buildings? Did you swallow people whole?”

Saida’s eyes widened, and she looked up, fluffy tail lashing once.

The rabbit tilted her head, the setting sun glinting off her earrings. “I just want to know who I’m on a first date with.”

“I don’t think I’ve eaten anyone who couldn’t come back.”

The rabbit’s brows shot up, and she lowered her voice. “You’ve eaten littles who have resurrection magic?”

“Yeah. Not often. But more than once.”

“Wow.” Autumn sipped from her own mocha, looking out over the city with an unreadable expression.

As the silence stretched on, Saida sighed. Maybe honesty wasn’t always the best policy.

Autumn turned to look down at her. “I suppose I was testing you, but less to see what you said than how you said it. I don’t want to hang out with someone who’s enthusiastic about being a monster, but that doesn’t mean I expect everyone to be giant nuns or something.”

“Did I pass, then?”

The rabbit nodded. “I’m pretty good at reading people.” She lowered her voice again. “Besides, I’m not going to pretend I haven’t thought about being a monster once in a while. Any giant who says they haven’t is probably lying.”

“I thought it might be different for someone who...” How had Autumn put it? What she always was, and what she realized she should be? “Didn’t grow up the size she should have been.”

The rabbit’s smile grew warmer. “Maybe.” She took a sip of her own mocha, looking thoughtful again. “I absolutely love knowing that I have the power I do over most of the world, but just taking it because I can is…” She shook her head. “I know I can do anything I want with someone who fits under my paw, and so do they. But if they want to be there, if I get them to say, ‘Oh, Autumn, please do anything you want to with me…’” She smiled, letting that hang in the air as she took another sip of her drink.

Saida glanced down at one of Autumn’s shapely sandaled paws and found herself gripping her own drink tightly enough that the cup started to crease. “I hadn’t thought of it that way before.”

“Like you said, the trust is a hell of a rush.” She smiled, focusing that intense gaze back on the cat. “How would you feel if some cute little thing you were holding in your hand gasped out, ‘Please, Miss Saida, swallow me?’”

“Bemused. Although I guess I’d also be sort of thrilled. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. But I’d be so turned on by it.”

“Would you actually do it? Eat them?”

Autumn looked down at the Rha again. “Not if they didn’t have resurrection magic. Unless I had it, I guess. But if I’d be able to see them again and ask how it was?” She nodded after a moment. “Yes. I’d try it. At least once.” The rabbit tilted her cup and her head all the way back, exposing her long throat and visibly swallowing as she finished the drink.

“Oh.” Saida felt a blush rise to her ears. Before she could think of anything to say, her phone started buzzing. Frowning—but a little relieved at the distraction—she pulled it out of her purse. A text message, relayed from the office through the off-world beacon. She sighed. “Hang on, I need to respond to this.”

It was Jonry, of course: her patronizing problem child, following up on a sales contract he’d been having trouble working out yesterday. Reading between the lines, he’d made the problem worse, and was sending her new document revisions and by the way it would be so helpful if she could get on a phone call and smooth things over in person. It was a miracle that the hack she and her brother had put together for cross-dimensional data worked at all; she’d have to teleport back to Stravell to actually make the call. She tapped out a few curt lines of advice and a promise to follow up in the morning. “Goddess Arvya, what an idiot,” she muttered as she put her phone away.

“Problem?”

“I’m going to have to get back to my suite and review some documents before I get to bed.”

“You—you just got email from another world.” Autumn looked incredulous.

“Yeah.” She grunted, sipping from her own drink. Unlike Autumn, she still had a third left. “Even on another world I’m still on call.”

“What do you do?”

“I mentioned how teleportation beacons are a niche business now. I’m the sales director for the company that makes them.”

“Wow. You don’t seem much older than I am, and you’re the boss.”

“Less than you’d think.” Saida sighed; this wasn’t the time to go into this. “I probably wouldn’t have the job if I wasn’t family, and I’m sure it’s only because I’m family that I get enough slack to take long weekends here. But I shouldn’t complain. I make enough to rent a suite on campus with Arilin’s staff discount.”

“Two homes, then?”

She nodded, feeling self-conscious. “I mean, it’s a studio here and a two-bedroom flat back home.”

Autumn smiled. “Still, I’m impressed. And I admit it makes me more surprised you’d want to come here.”

“I like the place. I like feeling giant. And I like the people I meet.”

“Like me?”

“Like you. When I first saw you earlier tonight you seemed so dark and mysterious. Then as we talked and as you brought me here, you seemed so...surprisingly gentle. Then I saw a bit of an edge there again.”

“Everyone’s a bundle of contradictions.” The rabbit put her hand lightly on Saida’s shoulder; it looked slim and elegant, even though she could tell it was larger than the Rha’s in every dimension. “I’d like to think I’m gentle and dark and mysterious.” She grinned. “Besides, we were talking about people asking us to be less gentle.”

“So you don’t see yourself dancing across the city with me.”

Autumn grinned. “Only if we place our paws very carefully. But,” she rose to her feet and leaned down to offer her hand to Saida, “you wouldn’t do that, either.”

“You’re so sure of that?” She took the rabbit’s hand and rose to her own feet.

“Yes.” They started walking back toward the street. “One, you already said as much. But two, like I said: I’m good at reading people.”

As they approached the main street, the landing lights switched back on for them. The walk back toward the college was easy, despite higher traffic. “So other than mostly gentle, how do you read me?”

“I’m tempted to say ‘dark and mysterious.’”

Saida laughed. “I don’t feel like I’m either, but I’m going to take it as a compliment.”

“You should.”

Shortly they reached the DMZ again, and Autumn stopped just under the college’s gate. She tilted her head to the side, looking down at the cat. “So now what?”

“Are you asking how far I go on a first date?”

“Yes, but I know you have to leave to do work.” She put her hands on the Rha’s shoulders, looking down into the shorter woman’s eyes. “So I’m asking if there’s going to be a second.”

She smiled up. “I hope so.”

Autumn kept her eyes locked on Saida’s for long seconds. “When will you be back in town?”

“I don’t know. It could be two weeks, it could be a month.”

She lowered her muzzle, eyes still on Saida’s. “I’m going to give you my number, and I expect you to call. All right?”

The Rha moved her hands up to Autumn’s shoulders. “I will.”

After another moment, the rabbit touched her lips to Saida’s lightly, holding there. The Rha leaned up, tightening her hands on Autumn’s shoulders, purring.

When the kiss ended, Autumn brushed her muzzle against Saida’s ear. “You still haven’t told me a secret, little cat. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Saida shivered, eyelids fluttering. “Next time.”