Plagued by his insomnia, Johan looked up from the dull light of his computer screen over to the wall clock. Two in the morning. Still, he could not feel any fatigue.

            Large, dark circles had formed under his eyes, he was losing weight and his face had become gaunt. No longer could he bear to see himself in the mirror. His health was at risk, and his doctor had provided him with pills to help him sleep. Already he had taken the maximum dosage; any more and he would have another reason to fear for his life.

            Still, he could not feel any fatigue.

            It was that gentle scraping noise. It followed him everywhere. It kept him from sleeping. None of his friends could hear it. But he knew it was there. They must be lying.

            He could prove it, he just needed to…to…

            “Shit,” Morgan sighed, leaning back in his comfy computer chair. He had just hit the wall again. What had been a firm idea on the layout of the scene had become mere passing thoughts, like ice turning suddenly to mere wisps of steam.

            Looked like he’d have to scale back his writing next time he got to it and take it from there. Luckily, he thought, it would only be that last damnable sentence that would have to be removed.

            Even the author wasn’t quite certain what the source of the noise was, but shrugged off the lack of forethought with the rationalization that the less he knew about it, the better he could convey the mysteriousness of ‘the scraping’.

            Glancing at the calendar that hung on the wall behind his monitor, he smiled. No red circle in sight. When one was to be seen, it felt like a looming monolith. Something that was just strangely terrifying in its potential to simply tip over and flatten him on some inanimate whim.

            Without it, however, he felt free to seize the day. To his right he spotted the setting sun through the glass doors leading to the balcony. Smiling, Morgan thought about how that view alone made his cottage home worth every inconvenience.

            It was a half-hour drive from nearest town, one that – to get an image for its size – had only one gas station and one grocery store. From there, it was another hour and a half – two if one was worried about getting a ticket – from a real town; well, more of a city, really. Of course, going there was only necessary in the rare instance he’d need to speak with his publisher in person or with his ex for the sake of research.

Both of which, more times than not, were simplified by a simple phone or e-mail.

            Still, the television had little to offer without springing for satellite, renting movies was almost certainly out of the question unless he wanted films from the 80s. Of course, gone too was any easy access to specialty stores, restaurants, and many other life-simplifying accommodations. If he wanted something fixed or taken care of, Morgan would have to set aside a portion of his day to do it himself.

            But what a view. The dusk was directly in line from his balcony, seemingly dipping into the lake that lay just beyond. The trees that had not been cleared – ones that did not have the misfortune of once obstructing this view – were like many fingers reaching to help bring the setting sun to its resting place until the following morning.

            It was still early in the process, with the sky and the clouds taking a golden sheen, but before hues of red become visible.

            Feeling no urgency to resume work on his story – it wasn’t even a fantasy novel, after all – he saved the file, closed the program, and hurried through the cottage to the entrance.

            Before too long, he found herself running full speed down the hill towards the water’s edge where he kept his boat. It wasn’t fancy – he wasn’t that successful – just an aluminum boat with a motor, but it was enough to get him out on the lake and able to enjoy the rocking of the waves or fishing when the mood took him.

            The engine was needed only for a minute and then he was far enough out in the water to feel at peace. A gentle breeze made small waves on the lake’s surface; enough to make the boat feel like a rocking cradle.

            Laying back in the boat and adjusting his lifejacket to make use of it as a pillow, he stared up at the colorful sky. Once or twice in the time Morgan stared up at the drifting golden clouds, he felt something in the water bump against his boat and figured that the fish were particularly active.

            Sitting up, he decided that with fish as brazen as to smack into his boat, they’d certainly be willing to go after his bait, he’d just need to go to shore and fetch his fishing rod. With one jerk on the pull-cord, the motor started up but his boat suddenly rocked violently.

            Immediately, Morgan killed the engine, fearing something had gone wrong with it to cause such a strong shaking. Peering into the water, he noticed a red tincture that was gradually becoming more prominent as something deep in the water came floating up to the surface.

            From the size, color, and shape of what was rising, he believed it to be a dolphin; a thought that didn’t make sense to him; only serving to raise further questions. Soon after, Morgan noticed that halfway up the sleek aquatic body became that of a woman. From a gash beginning where – on a human – the thighs would be upwards along the side of the body up to a few inches shy of her ribs, blood leaded out to mix with the water.

            To an ordinary person, this may have raised more questions than had it been a dolphin. An ordinary person may have very well been afraid of either the concept of a ‘monster’ or the idea of possibly being responsible for the death of something that very closely appeared human.

            Morgan, however, lived for fantasy, and would have remained solely a fantasy author had some ideas for horror not have invaded his happy world and wound up earning him a nice sum. The sight of a mermaid seemed to satisfy all questions he had and so Morgan quickly pulled the wounded creature into the boat. This was an example of just what he wished was reality. This was something he could use in his stories. This was something he could – hopefully – communicate with and find more ways to blur the lines of reality and fantasy.

            This was a chance to have direct contact with someone other than the elderly couple who lived seven minutes away by foot.

            This was – after looking away from the tail for a moment – a chance to…oh God; he had just sliced up a woman’s body with his motor.

            Having no time to panic about what horrific deed he had accidently performed, upon ensuring that none of the mermaid was left in the water, he started the engine once more and brought the boat back to the shore. When it came time to carry her from the boat and into his cottage – a literal uphill battle – he found himself grateful for being born a man, having an easy time carrying the slender frame of the woman up the incline, her back resting over one arm while his other hand under her tail where he estimated the knees would be on a human. Not so fit as to make it up the gentle but continuous incline without getting tired by the end of it, Morgan focused on the task ahead, not the naked form of the woman cradled in his arms.

            The thought of her already being dead crossed his mind as he moved, but the feeling of sight of her bosom rising and falling with every breath dismissed that fear. Though the strong scent of fish and other unidentified but more vile odors coming from her mouth left him toying with the idea of just how bad of an idea it would be to place a mint in her mouth.

            After a slow, steady march up and around the cottage to the entrance and carefully pushing open the door without banging her against the wall, the author had to make a decision on where to put her.

            The guest bedroom wasn’t very far, and one of the beds would make for a nice, flat surface on which to place her while treating the injury. The bathroom – specifically, the bathtub – was a few steps closer and somehow seemed more appropriate, judging by the patient’s nature.

            It also meant he wouldn’t wind up dealing with bloodstained linens.

            Making his way to the left of the entrance, he stepped up to the side of the tub, bending his knees as to gently set her down in the basin. Taking a seat on the toilet, he leaned in close to inspect the cut. The wound was a foot long but not terribly deep, and she was not bleeding as profusely as he had expected. By virtue of the lake water’s cleanliness and that he hadn’t dropped her on the trek up the hill, there was no dirt or debris in stuck in the cut upon rinsing out the blood with the showerhead.

            For being caused by the motor’s blade, he marveled at how clean and straight the wound was. She must have arched her back to swim into the lake’s depths when the motor had started, which would explain the placement of the injury, and had been hit only by the first blade as it started to spin.

            Getting to his feet, he went to the foot of the tub and began rummaging through the linen closet for his first aid kit. Spotting the gauze, Morgan began to worry about the process. He remembered some research he had performed for one of his stories, on how to treat an infected wound. That involved packing in some gauze, but this didn’t appear to be quite the same scenario.

            Digging through the first aid kit, he found some instructions in the enclosed booklet and set to work, applying some antibiotic cream to the bandage, pressing it against the cut, and then taping it to the surrounding area such that the sides of the wound were pressed together. Taking a moment to consider her species, he fished out some waterproof tape from the storage room next to his cottage’s entrance and made sure the injury was completely covered.

            With his work done, he breathed a sigh of relief and took a moment to stare and appreciate the creature before him.

            Her hair, a shade of teal, was long and straight, the ends coming to rest upon her shoulders. It wasn’t very glamorous or well maintained hair – tangled and with many split ends – but simply knowing that the color was natural made it special. Beyond what was on her head, she did not have any traces of hair.

            From a lifetime of swimming, her body was fit like an Olympic swimmer; no bulging muscles, but not a hint of fat to be seen. The only exception to that observation being the two large mounds upon her chest: ones that if he had to hazard a guess would be double D’s or larger. For a moment he felt overcome with the urge to reach out and examine her body, to discover just how well-trained her body was. As his hand started to drift from his side towards her form, Morgan reached out with his other hand and pulled the rogue appendage back to his side, sternly reminding himself that she was unconscious; there was no way he could be forgiven for taking advantage of a woman.

            Staring at her exposed breasts, he realized that even looking wasn’t terribly appropriate and decided to angle his gaze more towards her tail; at least the fish portion wouldn’t be anything to tempt him. As Morgan’s eyes fell below her waist, where the human skin moved to that of a dolphin’s, he spotted another something that looked equally suggestive.

            A sudden grumbling in his stomach came as the perfect excuse to flee the room as he realized dinner was long overdue. Fleeing from his patient for the kitchen – a room only scantly larger than the washroom – Morgan rummaged through the refrigerator for his choice of food, torn between leftover meatloaf and salmon.

            Smelling his hands, the author decided he had enough of fish for the time being and put the meatloaf in the microwave. As it cooked, he pulled a carrot from the crisper and a couple slices of bread. As the bread started to cook in the toaster, he chewed on the carrot, waiting for his patchwork dinner. Once the microwave beeped, he popped out the partially toasted bread and headed into the combination dining room, living room, and place of work just adjacent to the kitchen.

            Placing the dish on the table, he started to break off a piece of his meal with his fork when he heard a noise to his left – from the washroom. It was the unusual sound of a fish flopping around. It only lasted a moment before becoming a stomping noise like someone placing their feet firmly on the ground. A number of gentler thuds followed, coming closer with each noise, and he soon found his mermaid rounding the corner from the washroom, moving along by pulling herself along the floor, relying on the slipperiness of her tail to help her along, having trouble keeping her back arched enough to avoid rather unpleasant friction upon her chest.

            At one point in her floundering crawl, their eyes met and she froze. The staring lasted for a few minutes, in which time Morgan noted that she possessed a second pair of eyelids. He was also fascinated by her blue topaz eyes, but couldn’t think of the proper way to describe their tincture at that moment.

            Finally, it was she who made the first move, continuing forward at a fast pace and lunging for his food, reaching far above her line of sight and quickly pulling her hand away after feeling the warmth of the meat.

            Morgan stayed motionless in his seat while watching the mermaid shake her hand and blow on it to cool it down. Thinking about it, it made sense to him that she wouldn’t be familiar with cooked food, what with the difficulty of starting a fire underwater.

            After sufficient time for her to see him as harmless, she propped herself up with her tail, arched her back, and supported herself with her hands just high enough so that she was like a dog, with eyes peering from just over the top of the table and staring at the food like it was some prize. Her body swayed slightly, leaving the writer with the impression of a snake awaiting the time to strike.

            “You can have some, if you want,” he said softly, hoping to speak to her without frightening her away.

            It failed; she suddenly jerked back and went stiff, as if preparing for a strong blow. She was clearly out of her element and rather shaken up about the situation. From her reaction alone he felt terrible, feeling as if he had just been voicelessly accused of being abusive.

            Letting out a sigh, Morgan realized he’d need to communicate with her as though she were a child. Using his fork, he cut off a piece of the meatloaf, blew on it to cool it down, and ate it. He then set the fork down on the plate and slid it over to the edge of the table nearest to her.

            There he continued to sit in silence, waiting for her to loosen up. Eventually she found the nerve to approach the table once more and reached for the plate with one hand. At first, she reached for it as if it were guarded by some sort of mechanism, or was intended to lure her into a trap, then quickly snatched it away as if to ensure he wouldn’t change his mind. Setting it on the floor, the mermaid proceeded to eat it as Morgan had presented, occasionally glancing up at him to ensure he wasn’t making a move.

            As she ate, Morgan examined her, taking in her mannerisms, such as her understandably skittish behavior, and her muscles as she moved even the slightest amount; she was in far better shape than any woman he had ever met. Looking at her from this side, he noticed that her dolphin tail didn’t go quite so far up as to cover her buttocks, a fact that made him cross his legs out and look away, not wanting to embarrass himself or startle his new friend.

            Remembering his toast, he settled with nibbling on that rather than heading back to the kitchen. Before he had finished his first piece, the mermaid had cleared the plate and licked it clean. As Morgan ate, she looked up at him expectantly.

            Swallowing what he had, in his mouth, he pointed at himself and spoke. “Morgan.” It was said more so in the hopes of having her adjust to the sound of his voice instead of an attempt to communicate, so her reaction came as quite the surprise.

            In response, she pointed to herself and announced: “Dace.” She then pointed to the toast remaining in his hand and said with a curious tone: “food?”

            Handing it to her, he nodded. “You can talk?”

            He assumed those words meant nothing to her by the way Dace tilted her head to the side, presumably in confusion. After a second, however, her eyes went wide and she began mussing her hair with both hands. Morgan wasn’t certain whether this sudden behavior meant she was familiar with the question and furiously thinking of her answer or was simply infested with some aquatic breed of fleas. When he spotted her lips moving without speaking, he realized it was the former.

            “No?” he asked, hoping to help the mermaid along.

            In response she clapped her hands and pointed at him excitedly. “No!”

            He smiled at her child-like glee at finding the right answer, even if it wasn’t the desirable outcome. It was clear that she didn’t know the language, but had picked up some English from what he assumed was prior exposure to humans. It was unfortunate but expected that there was a language barrier, and he wished there was a way to overcome it. Spotting his computer sitting in the far corner against the windows showcasing his balcony, he knew what to do; to the Internet.

             Getting out of his chair, the author started to walk to his computer when he looked down to find Dace staring at him agape. When he took a step, she twisted her back and started to crawl alongside of him, staring at his legs and marveled at how he walked.

            Half-way across the room, his shin connected with her face as Dace suddenly decided to examine his movements from a different angle. As he moved his leg back, he felt his heel pressing against her hand, forcing a squeal of pain from the mermaid. Startled by the noise and thrown off balance as she tried to pull her crushed hand away, Morgan fell fanny-first onto the very end of her tail, drawing out another squeal.

            As soon as he moved himself off his tail, she curled up into a ball, keeping her face and injured hand covered.

            “Oh God,” Morgan panicked, the number of times he’d hurt her already four times. “I didn’t mean to do that! It was an accident! You shouldn’t have…oh God I sound like a wife beater!” It was now his turn to curl up into the fetal position, horrified at the situation.

            Though his words undoubtedly sounded like mere gibberish to her, the tone of his voice must have conveyed his intentions, for she uncurled her body long before the notion of doing so even crossed his mind.

            Crawling over to where his head was – along with his knees – Dace softly patted the top of his head in what he interpreted as a comforting gesture.

            Raising his head to look up into her big blue eyes, he started to free himself from his guilt, apologizing to her before shifting to a sitting position. “I think you should rest for today; we can get you learning English tomorrow.”

            She smiled while still patting his head, caught up in the comforting act. Her gaze then drifted down from his crown to his chin when she let out a squeal as her eyes went wide. It seemed as though she were amazed by his facial hair, for her hands soon went to his cheeks, stroking the hair and letting out a series of giggles.

            “Okay, okay, that’s enough for now,” he smiled, reaching over and patting her

head in order to improve their rapport. “Come on now, follow me.” Rising to his feet, he started towards the washroom, taking special care to watch his legs and her position.

            Instead of going through the door in front of him to the washroom, he opened the door to his right and showed her the guest room; a reasonably sized room with two beds for guests and any visitors that might come; something he felt Dace qualified as. Sitting down on the nearest bed, he motioned for her to come as well. As she made her way over, he pulled back the sheets for her.

            Dace crawled up the side of the bed and imitated the way he sat. Once she had satisfied herself with the imitation, she stared at the bed’s surface and started to press on the mattress with the palm of her hand. Morgan felt that he would be entertained by her naïve sense of wonder for quite some time to come.

            Taking her gently by the shoulders, he eased her into a supine position, with her head resting on a pillow. Reaching for the mermaid’s tail, he placed it on the mattress and slid it under the covers. Before pulling the rest of the covers over her body, he decided to inspect the bandaged wound, making sure that all her crawling hadn’t agitated it. Though she hadn’t put up any fight against it, Dace looked around nervously, unclear on what was going on.

            He then tried pantomiming the concept of sleep, to which she seemed to somewhat understand the concept. She closed his eyes for a few moments then reopened them. Reinforced by a smile and a nod, she closed her eyes once more and stayed that way.

            Breathing a sigh of relief at how easy that had been, Morgan got to his feet and flipped the light switch to the off position. As soon as the room went dark, he heard a slight squeal and a bit of thrashing, to which he quickly turned the lights back on to find Dace staring up at the ceiling with a mix of awe and horror.

            At this spectacle, Morgan broke down and laughed for a good long while. Wiping a tear for his eyes from laughing too hard, the author looked to Dace whose expression was clearly a pout.

            She set to work, readjusting the sheets to how they had been before her panic and closed her eyes, making a defiant face like that of a pouting child trying to prove to a parent that they needn’t be treated like an infant. Turning off the lights once more, he heard a muffled squeal briefly and managed to stifle his chuckling until he had closed the guest room door behind him, opened the double glass doors to his room just a few steps further, and closed them behind him.

            It had been a long day, and though he didn’t get to enjoy the sunset as planned, his find was undoubtedly worth missing any number of dusks. Crawling into bed, he couldn’t help but feel young again, trying to fall asleep on Christmas Eve. Tomorrow would be interesting. As he reflected upon his day and the guest who now shared his home, Morgan felt restless and had to head to the washroom to settle down.

 

            Morgan awoke to the sound of a loud thump, and wearily opened his eyes and stared at his bedside clock. It was five thirty; no shreds of light were even visible through the window at the head of his bed, not that it even faced the rising sun anyhow. It was too early for him to want to get up, but he was glad it had at least taken this long for her to fall out.

            Rolling out of bed, he pulled on a housecoat and slippers before heading to the guest room. Opening the door and turning on the lights, he found her lying on the floor in a tangle of blankets, her tail the only thing that had stayed in bed. Her face was scrunched up from the light’s sudden assault on her eyes that had become adjusted to the dark.

            “You did pretty well for your first time in a bed,” he chuckled to herself, helping to free her from the mess, though only so much as she could move without being exposed.

            When she was finally untangled, Dace wrapped her arms around his ankles in what he could only interpret as a hug. Smiling, he gave her a pat on the head then waited for her to remove herself from him; it was too early in the morning to be feeling those pressed against him.

            Before too long, he noticed that the sheet around her body was starting to get darker, as though it was suddenly getting wet.

            “Oh God,” he exclaimed, realizing she wasn’t housebroken. “Stop! Stop that!” he cried hoping, if nothing else, that she would panic and tighten up enough to control her bladder. “Come on, follow me,” he ordered, taking her by the hand and half dragging her to the washroom.

            After realizing she couldn’t very well just sit on the toilet for what she was doing, he frantically tried to pantomime what he needed her to do, despite the obvious physical inability to much about it. Though she wound up getting the idea, Morgan understood that he’d need to clean the washroom far more often with her around. Thought that much had been a loss for cleanliness and hygiene, he had the foresight to prevent a far worse mess from her human derriere.

            As he went to fetch a mop, Morgan had a mix of sentiments. On the bright side, she was smart enough to learn quickly, meaning she wasn’t going to make as big of a mess next time and maybe she could even learn to clean up after herself. However there was still going to be a mess every time she went. Not to mention she would now need a bath to take care of the smell.

            It took some time to clean everything satisfactorily, yet the nature of the work did little to diminish his appetite and so quickly set to work frying up a couple eggs and placed some bread in the toaster. As they cooked, he wondered if preparing them for Dace would be a good idea or not, as he didn’t know just what foods she could stomach. He decided he could get away with an extra large breakfast if worse comes to worst and cracked open a few more eggs into the pan; wouldn’t be the first time he stuffed himself, after all.

            Dace, presumably from hearing the sizzling emanating from the stovetop, crawled over and tried to peer into the pan but failed to raise herself up high enough. As Morgan started to wonder just how high she could prop herself up were it not for the risk of making the wound worse, Dace reached into the pan and let out a squeal – a noise he felt she had been making quite frequently as of late.

            Had he not kept a hand on the pan’s handle, the force of her pulling away his hand would have surely brought the contents spilling down onto her head for even greater injury. While the author made sure the meal wasn’t burning, she lively scurried from the kitchen, to eventually peer in only around the corner while sucking on her burnt fingers.

            “You just keep getting into trouble, don’t you?” he sighed, wondering if there was enough in his first aid kit to handle what seemed to be a slowly escalating series of accidents.

            Satisfied with the state of the eggs, he divided the food and brought the plates to the dining room table. Recalling how she was able to sit on the bed and toilet, he pulled out a chair for her and patted the seat, urging her to join him.

            By imitating her host, the mermaid was able to be seated properly, at which time she sniffed the food and watched Morgan eat the meal, taking a few moments to observe his methods before attempting it herself. When the first mouthful proved a little too hot for her mouth, Dace applied what she had learned the previous meal and blew on the eggs before putting them back in her mouth.

            “After you’re finished, we’re going to work on getting you talking,” he smiled, glancing over at his computer. Morgan had decided as he fell asleep the previous night that it should be simple enough to find some software for teaching children, and this one seemed sharp-witted enough to pick up on it very quickly. A day or two would be too much to hope for, but the author expected that within a week he’d be able to stop gesturing.

            His first assumption had proved accurate, and within the hour he had the mermaid sitting in front of his computer with one of the programs he had found loaded on the screen; a portion of which time was spent settling her down over the concept of the ‘magical’ glowing box. Before putting on the first lesson, he showed her how to use the mouse – a surprisingly simple feat – and then pointed to each of the letters and numbers of the keyboard and said the symbol aloud. Much to his surprise, she was able to repeat more than half of them properly after being shown only once.

            For the first hour of her lessons, Morgan stayed in a chair next to the mermaid and had to guide her every step of the way. The following hour, she stumbled only every so often, and by the third he had moved to the couch and was writing down ideas for his current and future works. Dace still would call for his help every now and again, but the rate at which she was learning astounded him.

            Her lessons continued with fervor, and by evening, she had moved from her seat only twice, both times to rush to the washroom. Even a rumbling stomach failed to remove her focus.

            “Dace, dinner!” he called, setting two plates on the dinning room table, both with fish, rice, and spinach.

            She turned his head and nodded. Whether she understood already or simply knew the significance of food being placed on the table, he could not say, but nonetheless Dace slid from her seat and scuttled across the floor to her spot at the table.

            After a moment of examining her portion of the fish, she realized what it was and greedily devoured it before moving on to the other parts of her meal. Morgan, however, mostly played with his food, only taking small portions now and then. He wanted to say something to test her on how far she had come, but wasn’t sure if doing so would be too early or how to go about doing so.

            Watching the mermaid lick her plate where the fish had been, he had an idea. “Do you like fish?”

            Her body tensed up and he could tell. She put her tongue back in her mouth and raised her head, a cheerful smile spreading across her lips. “Yes, I do.”

            While the pronunciation needed a little work and it was apparent from both the rhythm and tone of Dace’s voice she hadn’t quite adjusted to speaking, Morgan was astounded that she had come so far in one short day. Deciding to reward her, the human moved all the fish he had left onto her plate which elicited great joy.

            The moment her plate was cleared, she moved back to the floor and started on her way back to the lessons.

            “Stop,” he commanded then followed up with “come with me,” after she turned her head.

            Morgan guided her to the washroom and had the mermaid crawl into the tub.

            Upon fetching some water he had warmed on the stove, the author gave Dace a warning: “this will probably hurt.”

            Though working on a nude patient – and a stunningly attractive one at that – Morgan was focused wholly on the aspect of being her doctor, undistracted by her physical appear. Until the procedure was done, at least.

            After pulling off the waterproof tape, which drew an expression of discomfort from his patient, he began using the warm water sparingly to ease the removal of the remaining dressings. Examining the wound, he found no signs of infection which allowed him to breathe a great sigh of relief.

            Had there been an infection, he would have had no choice but to be bring her to a doctor and he did not need that kind of an upset, especially so soon after finding her. Sure, there was one doctor he knew, but she wasn’t the kind who could prescribe antibiotics.

            “Are you…okay?” Dace asked, apparently confused by something.

            Snapping back to reality, he shook his head and slapped his cheeks. “Lost in thought, sorry.” He went right back to work, cleaning the cut of whatever fibers from the bandages had gone in and then replacing the bloodstained dressings with clean ones. “All done,” he smiled. “I’ll do this every day until the bandages aren’t needed.”

            Some of the words were beyond her comprehension, but ‘all done’ and ‘this every day’ got through to her and she responded with a simple “Yes”.

            “Would you like to get back to studying?” he asked, knowing the answer by the way her face brightened, even before she let out a cheerful response.

            As she went about her studying, a part of Morgan was disappointed by her ability to learn independently. At least for a little while he wouldn’t have minded playing the teacher’s role and becoming more familiar with her. Envisioning a scene with himself as a teacher with her dressed as a school girl, his face almost completed its smile before he snapped back to reality.

            For the next little while as he worked on his story notes, the author reprimanded himself, ashamed that he had ever had such a creepy fantasy. School girls? Really? And a classroom full of them to boot.

            A thought then occurred to him. Though he felt he was asking this question too soon for her to handle, he couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Dace,” he called, drawing his attention, “are there more of you?”

            She nodded. “Two.”

            “Really?” he exclaimed, thrilled at the prospect of others. “Where are they?”

            “I don’t know,’ she answered. Pausing for a moment, Dace waited for more questions but, when none came, she resumed her lessons.

            From a day sitting on the couch working on notes, reading, and observing the stationary student – despite it being a curvy mermaid, it was from the back through a highly obstructing chair and so not very exciting – he was bored. His gaze then focused upon his television set placed directly across from his couch. He didn’t want to watch anything while Dace studied, wanting her to learn as quickly as she could without distraction, but he needed to consider his own amusement.

            “Do you want to take a break?” he asked, stretching his back.

            Once more Dace turned her head. “No…why?”

            “We could do something fun.”

            “This is fun,” she replied, confused by his suggestion. Her tone and pacing was still awkward at best, yet the sound of her voice was music to his ears nonetheless.

            “We could watch a movie,” he suggested, hoping to pique her curiosity.

            It succeeded; hearing a word she wasn’t familiar with caused Dace to perk up and she slid from her seat, travelling across the floor to the couch. Not grasping the concept of personal space, the mermaid placed her face merely inches from his and pushed her chest to his, repeating that one word in an inquiring tone. “Movie?”

            The feel of her bosom pressed firmly against him, Morgan feared his ability to hide the coming arousal. Then her warm breath assaulted his senses, killing the mood entirely, taking some effort to avoid retching. “Yeah, but before that, come with me; I need to teach you something.”

            Bringing her to the all too familiar bathroom, the human found an extra toothbrush and toothpaste. Showing her the steps, he instructed Dace on what she needed to do and how often.

            “While you do that, I’ll get the movie ready,” he told her, heading to the television, opening the cabinet upon which it rested and flipped through his collection. Being so far away from any good rental stores, he had a habit of buying any movies that grabbed his attention.

            The first he settled upon was a horror movie Morgan had enjoyed and considered the possibility of her becoming frightened and clinging to him. Afraid of what that would do to his self-control and the possibility of too great a scare causing her to develop a distaste of movies led him to reconsider and continue searching. A movie featuring mermaids and mermen was quickly ignored; not wanting to put on a film that could leave her with the impression people wanted her to be dissected.

            Finally he settled on a fantasy movie that was enjoyable but not one of the best in his collection. Morgan chose it as to not make the rest of the collection look terrible and its simple dialogue was such that Dace would have little trouble understanding.

            Once she had returned and taken a seat on the couch, he pressed play and sat down beside her. Having already been exposed to the computer, she was not floored by what she saw, knowing that it wasn’t a matter of people being trapped inside of a magic box, but all the same she watched the movie intently as though it could not get any better.

            A half hour into the movie, Morgan found almost as much enjoyment watching his guest as the film itself, while struggling to keep his gaze above her shoulders. Every scene that relied on even the slightest of special effects left Dace slack jawed. The occasional big display had the mermaid grabbing his shoulder as if to tell him she needed assurance that she had really witnessed such a spectacle, and even the casual banter and dialogue of the film had her completely engaged.

            As the movie progressed, he recalled that the romance scene of film was drawing near and began to fantasize. This was not an explicit movie in the slightest, but he expected a sort of ‘monkey see, monkey do’ reaction from her. Taking care to ensure that he hadn’t drooled upon himself, he watched her intently out of the corner of his eye as the scene played out. The romance was tame enough that even should she insist on imitation he wouldn’t feel guilty going that far.

            To his disappointment, she never turned to him as if to contemplate trying what she had witnessed; rather, she only stared at the screen with unwavering fascination. A look of curiosity as to the nature of the couple’s actions, while a closer inspection revealed a redness to the woman’s cheeks; a indication of interest different from everything that had come before it.

            Once the scene was finished Dace looked to him, still red in the cheeks, and spoke. “What?”

            Having been unaware that his observation had become so overt, he silently thanked her lack of understanding of social norms before dismissing the whole event as “wanting to observe his reactions to the movie”.

            With refreshing naivety, she accepted his explanation and set her gaze back to the movie. Once the ending credits began to roll and it was explained to her that it marked the end of the movie, she squealed with delight and began excitedly chanted the word “more”. This time Dace’s enthusiasm was far more tolerable now that her breath was fresh.

            The sun had set so there was no sunset to enjoy and from a day of relaxing she wasn’t at all tired thus there was no reason to refuse yet he still denied her fun. When she pulled a pleading puppy dog-like face, he almost caved, but decided that he needed to stick with his decision. Morgan only owned so many movies, and driving to rent or buy more would be a hassle as well as expensive. What DVDs he owned would have to be rationed, and he didn’t want Dace to set ignore her studies.

            “We can watch another one tomorrow,” he said sternly, “and only if you keep studying.”

            “Why would I not?” she asked, perplexed by his conditions.

            “Never mind, I’m going to read in bed. Turn off the computer screen before you go to sleep.”

            Furrowing her brow, she nodded. A couple words were beyond her knowledge, he had spoken too fast, or it was just more than she was able to take in all at once just yet, but he knew that even if she wasn’t able to do what he asked just yet, it wasn’t anything important.

 

            Able to sleep in to his liking – no sudden thud to wake him – Morgan turned to his clock and smiled. For this author, ten was a more appropriate time to wake up.

            Stretching his legs as he moved them off the mattress, Morgan let his feet slide into a pair of slippers before getting out of bed. He considered keeping his attire much more comfortable than jeans and a sweater, seeing no reason to get dressed up for a guest who wasn’t dressed at all. That thought bounced around in his head for a few minutes as he rooted around in his closet for a t-shirt to go with the shorts he had slept in. Because there hadn’t been any noise indicating that she was awake, the author made a stop in the bathroom before choosing to rouse Dace from her slumber. When he arrived, however, Morgan found her bed empty. Of the thoughts that crossed his mind at that moment, he prayed it was not the worst of the options. He knew the mermaid could able to open and close doors on her own, and though he had never shown her the locks, she was a clever one and wouldn’t be hindered by such for very long.

            Hurrying from the guest bedroom and leaning around the corner to face the entrance, the human was relieved to find the door closed and – after taking a few steps towards it – could tell that the deadbolt was still secure. Turning around, he realized that the second worst option had been true: the mermaid was passed out on the floor beside the computer chair; presumably from studying to the point of exhaustion.

            “Not very good at pacing yourself, are you?” he quietly asked her sleeping form. Gently stepping over next to her, he winced at the awkward angle at which she laid.

            Taking the time to crouch over her and stare, he realized that there was still a lingering unpleasant odor coming from her body. After a few moments to place the smell, he understood that just because she lived in water, it didn’t make her clean.

            Unsure of how long she had been asleep, but wanting to have her smelling fresh as soon as possible, he gently nudged her shoulder in hopes of rousing her. After a second, more forceful attempt also failed he started to wonder just what it would take to wake his little sleeping beauty.

            Having fallen onto her left side, her toned derriere was in clear view, tempting him to do things he knew he couldn’t go through with while maintaining a clear conscience. Leaning forward to remove the temptation from his sight, instead he was left with a gaze of her full breasts, doing well to make him forget all about her buttocks in an undesired way.

            The author did his best to resist temptation, grateful for the stop he had made before hand. Instead of feeling her large bosom, he brought his hand to her stomach and felt her abdominal muscles with his fingertips. As he felt embarrassed by having no noticeable definition of his own, Dace reacted to his touch, but only in the form of mild sleep mutterings. Next he ran a finger up along the small of her back which elicited some giggling, but nothing more.

            Lastly – concerned with the possibility of succumbing to temptation – he reached over and pinched her nose shut. Within a second she was coughing, sputtering, and quite awake, confused as to what happened. Rolling onto her back, Dace looked up at him, staring him in the face, curious about the things she was seeing.

            “What time were you studying until?” he asked, wincing immediately realizing that he had never taught her how to read a clock, or even to understand what they were for. After seeing Dace furrow her brow over the question, he felt bad for having asked. “Never mind, I—”

            “Four-thirty-eight,” she answered. “But I did not look right before I fell asleep.”

            Morgan couldn’t believe his ears. In almost twenty-four hours she had learned how to speak at this level and how to tell time independently. “What else have you learned?”

            She hummed and hawed over this question, clearly uncertain how to go about answering this question. Eventually she settled for simple examples. “Computer, clock, floor…” Dace began, pointing to each of the objects before identifying them. “Shirt – white, shorts – green, man…”

            He let her continue on for a while longer, wanting to see just how long she’d continue, soon regretting his silence.

            “Face, red,” she began, pointing to his face before directing her index towards his shorts. “But what is that?”

            Glancing down, he fell back and away from her, pulling his shirt over his lap. “There’s something else completely different I need to teach you. Do you know what a bath is?”

            Spinning about on her back and sitting up as to face him, she hesitantly nodded. In her mind, she was curious as to why the human had reacted as strongly and evasively to her query.

            “Okay, well, it’s time you had one. Do you know where the bathtub is?”

            Nodding, the mermaid crawled along the floor until she reached the washroom.

            “Get in.”

            She did so and waited. As Morgan turned the taps and caused water to begin to pour into the tub, Dace stared with amazement. Though she already knew how to speak, she didn’t know much else, such as how things worked.

            “Let me know if the water is too hot or cold for you.”

            The lady nodded in understanding though was visibly perplexed as to how this magician could create water through a bent metal tube, let alone control the temperature. “How does the bathtub make water?”

            The question hit a weak spot of his humor and Morgan burst out laughing. When he finally calmed down, the author wiped the tears from his eyes and answered. “It doesn’t make water; it comes in through the pipes.” When she admitted to not understanding his explanation, he ended the discussion with: “It’s complicated.”

            Before the water came high enough to reach her wound, he shut off the taps and ensured that the waterproofing was properly attached. After deciding to reinforce it a little more, he resumed filling the tub until the surface was two inches from the top.

            “Now what?” she asked, her tone unclear as to whether she was impatient or just curious.

            Picking up a bar of soap, he dipped it in the water then handed it to her. The mermaid looked at it as though it were some curiosity and placed a part of it in her mouth before he could tell her otherwise. Gagging, Dace began to rinse her mouth in the bathwater and dropped the foul-tasting object.

            “That’s soap,” Morgan explained, reaching into the water to fish out the bar. “It’s for cleaning. Here, I’ll do it for you.”

            Retrieving the soap, he began rubbing it on her shoulder and bicep, surprised at how little suds it created. Splashing some water where he had cleaned, the truth came out. Though still tan underneath, a thick enough layer of grime had accumulated on her skin to allow for a distinct contrast between what had and hadn’t been cleaned.

            “Now clean yourself like that on the rest of your body.”

            Hesitantly taking back the foul tasting bar, she set to work scrubbing the rest of her body, gradually washing off the rest of the filth. With only both arms cleaned, already the water had taken an unpleasant grey color. Once her chest and stomach were cleaned – a process that appeared too seductive in his eyes to watch – Morgan took the soap from her and scrubbed the woman’s back, changing the water to a far darker shade.

            With her tail still left to be cleaned, he emptied the bathwater then refilled the tub. “Now do your tail,” he ordered. “While you do that, I’ll clean your hair.”

            Switching on the showerhead, Morgan gave her hair a rinse before pouring in some shampoo. Unsurprisingly, it failed to work up lather from all the grime that had collected over her lifetime. As he scrubbed the mermaid’s scalp, the product dribbled down her forehead and into her eyes. Dace let out a shriek and quickly submerged herself, rubbing her eyes underwater, kicking up a wave large enough to splash Morgan.

            Once she was able to cleanse her eyes, it still took two more attempts before the shampoo created foam, letting the author know it was clean. Applying some conditioner, he waited for her to finish work on her tail before rinsing out her hair one last time.

            Before too long, the work was finished and Morgan drained the tub. Using the showerhead, he rinsed her off then went to the sink’s cabinet to retrieve a comb and a pair of scissors. She appeared wary of the dangerous utensils, but seemed to know what they were.

            “I’m going to fix your hair, now. Let me know if it hurts.”

            As he ran the comb through her hair, it did not take very long before coming across the first tangle. Using his fingers Morgan was able to somewhat resolve the mess then tried to force it apart with the comb. Despite holding the roots of her hair with one hand to avoid pulling directly on her scalp, she still let out a few squeals of pain from his efforts. For some of the knots he was able to straighten the hair while others left him no choice but to make a few small cuts.

            Once the hair was proper, he used the scissors to get rid of the split ends, leaving her hair a touch shorter, but looking far better than it had.

            “There, all done. How do you feel?”

            Dace ran her fingers along her body then rubbed her head. “Better. I am not itchy now.” The mermaid then began to sniff herself, surprised but not disappointed by the scent. “I smell like you!”

            “That’s good, right?” he asked, wishing he would get proper pace and inflection down when speaking so that he could better grasp his intent. It didn’t help that smelling like a bachelor wasn’t normally a compliment.

            “I like it,” she smiled.

            “Good, then lets get you fed,” Morgan smiled, helping her out of the tub and quickly drying her off with a towel.

            After a warm meal, Dace went right back to her lessons, leaving the author to work on his stories by hand. By the day’s end, he decided it may be necessary to pick up another computer – an old one, maybe a laptop – so that he could get back to working efficiently.

            By the time they had dinner the sun had set and the stars and the moon were hidden behind thick clouds. Feeling the mood of the evening, Morgan decided it was time to introduce Dace to horror.

            Ushering her to the couch where she started bouncing excitedly, Morgan remained captivated for several minutes by the sight, keeping his posture low to the ground where being hunched over seemed more natural. As she started to settle down – allowing him to do the same – Morgan selected a DVD but before pressing play, he made certain to shut off all the lights in the cottage and turn off the computer to ensure the least amount of illumination.

            During the early scenes of the movie, she was almost disappointed by the lack of phenomenal scenes that last night’s film offered. When it came time for the first murder to occur, Dace tensed up and the color drained from her face as she saw the gruesome scene.

            Wanting to add to the atmosphere, he carefully moved his hand behind her and waited for the right moment to strike. He had seen the movie many times and had many a good laughs out of it; the movie was intended as a comedy, but Dace had no way of knowing that. The murder of the protagonist’s friends left Dace shivering and when the possessed hand was finally severed, she relaxed a bit.

            From how long the movie had been playing, anyone would have known that could not possibly be the conclusion, but that was common knowledge to which Dace was not yet privy.

            Once the hero returned to find the severed hand missing, Dace tensed up once more and Morgan struck. He suddenly clamped his hand down on her far shoulder, drawing from his victim a loud, terrified shriek. Pressing pause on the remote, he waited for her to calm down, assuring her that the hand was his own. After a passing thought, he inspected her lap and sniffed the air, suddenly relieved that she hadn’t soiled herself out of fear. It took the promise of never doing that again and several minutes of comforting before she was steady enough to agree to continue watching the film. Even then she cast him one last displeased pout.

            Eventually it reached the obligatory moment to parody – the prom night scene. Specifically, it was the scene of a couple making out on the car only to be brutally murdered by the demonic hand. By the way the woman’s exposed chest was being fondled in the scene, Morgan was intrigued as to just how she’d react.

            Glancing discretely to his guest’s face, he noticed that she was glancing curiously at her bosom, even starting to reach for them to replicate the experience. But then the hand made its appearance and slaughtered the pair, drawing from her a shriek while at the same time her hands moved as far form her chest as possible. To Morgan, it was as though she had suddenly associated the act with impending doom; he couldn’t have known how accurate his assumption was.

            From then on, it wasn’t until the hand was finally dead and the credits began to roll that Dace relaxed, if only a little.

            “So what do you think of horror movies?” Morgan asked with a smile. “Really got your heart racing, I’ll bet.”

            Utterly speechless, she could only stare at him, shaking more than a little. Some color seemed to have had returned, but that may have just been a trick of the dark.

            “It’s late and you didn’t get much sleep last night. Off to bed with you,” he decided, shooing her from the couch.

            As the mermaid scurried across the floor, he was surprised to see Dace pull herself into the guest room. After being so frightened, he had considered the possibility of her being unwilling to sleep alone. It wasn’t until after he settled into his own bed that the man heard her pulling herself across the floor towards his bed.

            “Can’t sleep?”

            “I’m scared,” she replied from out of sight, being too low to the ground to be visible over the edge of the mattress.

            “Come on up, you can stay here for the night. You’re just like a child,” he teased, keeping silent the fact that this was what he had been hoping for, though preferably with results that weren’t terribly awkward.

            Pulling back the covers for her, he watched as she pulled herself up and tucked herself in. With everything below Dace’s armpits covered, rather than housing a creature out of fantasy, it was as though he were in bed with a centerfold.

            Almost immediately she cuddled up close to him, holding him as one would a teddy bear for comfort. Appropriate, he thought, considering his facial and body hair.

            “Feeling better?” he asked in hopes of being comforting, but received no reply.

            She was lying on her left side, staring down towards her body, but not speaking. With the darkness of the room, it was impossible to tell exactly where her gaze fell, especially when all he could see was the top of her head.

            “Something from it bother you?” he asked worriedly, hoping what had been meant as a jovial introduction to horror hadn’t scarred her.

            “Are the hands real?” she whimpered.

            Fighting the urge to snicker, he shook his head and rubbed her back. “No, no they aren’t. Things like that don’t exist, and they’re certainly not going to pop out and hurt you.”

            “Even if doing that?” Dace sniffed, raising her head a little.

            “Doing…that?” he pondered her meaning and then gasped. “What? No! It’s just a horror cliché for bad things to happen at those times. The real world isn’t like that at all.”

            The lady clinging to his form breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay…ah…then does it feel good?”

            “Oh yeah it…um…pardon?”

            She leaned back, putting some distance between his body and her own. “What they were doing.” Reaching up, Dace touched her own breasts and imitated what she had seen in the later part of the movie. “Oh, it does! This is fun!”

             As she enjoyed herself, Morgan chewed on his lower lip, able to see just enough in the low light to enjoy it. Clearing his throat, the author suggested that she save that for another time, as it was late and they needed their sleep.

            “Aw, but I like this,” the mermaid sighed, teasing her nipples momentarily and letting out happy squeak.

            “Just for now, you can…do more of that tomorrow.”

            Letting out another sigh, she agreed and cuddled up close once more, still shivering now and again out of fear.

            Instead of finding the movement disruptive, Morgan found here vulnerability endearing and made him feel important; being the one thing she could go to for comfort. Just as he had closed his eyes and was close to falling asleep, he heard the words he had hoped would go unsaid.”

            “What’s that poking me?”

2: Chapter 2 - Head Trauma

           Awakening to the sound of chirping birds, Morgan rolled over and opened his eyes. From a long’s night’s rest, he had forgotten about his visitor had shared his bed and the surprise nearly sent the author sprawling from the mattress. After his mind finished waking up, he stared at her sleeping form for a moment, contemplating waking her up, but decided upon leaving Dace to her sleep.

           Morgan’s hands then cradled his head as the events of last night flooded his mind. The way she had pressed up against his body, her fondling herself and enjoying it, and how she had detected his physical response to her presence. He had been lucky to get to sleep without having to answer her most recent line of inquiry.

           Softly climbing out of bed, he made his way from the room and to his computer without making enough noise to so much as cause her to stir. With her previous all-nighter, he felt that it wouldn’t be surprising were she to sleep well into the day. Sitting down at the desk, he finally enjoyed the chance to do some more writing.

           It was impossible, on every window of his home he had covered in duct tape, still he heard the scrapping. Nine days, it had been nine days since he last slept and his mental health was only getting worse.

           At least, he thought, he was still collected enough to know he was going mad. With that thought in mind, he had left a number of sticky notes around the house for himself, each with the same – word for word – simple message for himself: ‘If you think you are fine, you’ve gone crazy’.

           All of a sudden, he heard a different scrapping. This time, he could tell from where it was coming. Scurrying out of his chair, he ran for the stairs and made his way up to the second floor and into his rumpus room. Barging into the room, he tripped over his disassembled TV that rested on the carpet, and tumbled to the floor.

           Picking himself back up, he began frantically looking about for the source of the noise. Once again, it had become the stalking noise that followed him yet came from no where. Still, he had heard it come from this room. He knew it; which meant that, somewhere, there was proof of the scrapping.

           The sign was that of fingernails on the tape he had used on the window.

           He ran his fingers along the tape and listened carefully. No, this was not the sound. He must have done that without noticing when he had put it up.

           Part of the carpet was torn up.

           He began to scratch away at the carpet, hoping to match what he had heard. Still wrong. It was an old carpet after all.

           Finally, he slumped into his recliner which faced where his TV had been and sighed. So close, yet nothing. With a little thought into what just happened, he thought himself lucky. Had whoever – or whatever – still been in the room when he had arrived, he could have gotten himself killed. Sleep deprived, gaunt, and not one with much fight in him even when healthy, he would have been easy pickings.

           That’s it, he decided, I need to keep something with me for next time; a bat, a golf club, a knife…something. He started to laugh at himself over the paranoid notion. He was just tired and on edge. Looking at the right arm of his chair, he found one of his notes and found peace.

           Reading the note aloud, he reminded himself of his situation and decided to head back downstairs to his computer.

           ‘You’re crazy if you think you’re healthy’.

           Leaning back in his chair, Morgan’s hazel eyes gazed out the window down to the lake and remembered how long it had been since he last enjoyed the waters without interruption.

           Silently leaving his home, he made her way down the hill to the lake and pushed his boat into the water. After climbing in, he reached for the engine’s pull-cord but stayed his hand. Remembering what happened the last time he had used the engine, Morgan decided it prudent to make use of the oars. Dace had mentioned there being two more, and even though part of him relished the notion of having three women – mermaids no less – sharing his home, he didn’t want to have to deal with that many casualties.

           Morgan grabbed the paddles he kept in the boat and started rowing to the center of the lake. Unlike the evening he found Dace, with the golden clouds and sky brilliantly colored by the setting sun, this time the sky was mostly grey with thick clouds overhead suggesting an impending storm…or at least a downpour.

           Still, it wasn’t raining yet, so he decided to use the silence to enjoy the fresh air and clear his head. Dace was fun to be around, but would she be staying or returning to the water after her injuries had healed? If she did stay, what then? She was straight out of a fantasy, possessed youthful energy and almost child-like innocence, which made him love her, but she was still part fish.

           Mammal – he corrected herself – dolphins are mammals. Still, this rationalization served little purpose other than a distraction from the larger issue.

           Would pursuing a relationship qualify as some sort of crime against nature? Thoughts like this almost made him wish he was still with his ex or had found a merman instead. Morgan immediately rejected that last idea, ruffling his hair as he rolled about. Having a naked woman in his home was a dream come true, even if the chivalrous portion of his personality admonished him for such beliefs.

           Becoming lost in his thought, it took the first drops of rain to snap him back to reality. Sitting up, he took the oars, dipped them into the water, and made a powerful stroke, being surprised at how one paddle gave more resistance than the other.

           Shortly after, a body floated to the surface – a naked woman, whose skin looked strange below the waist.

           “Oh, you have got to be kidding,” he exclaimed with a sigh. Finding one was a great achievement, but this was just odd, if not a little bit silly.

           Pulling her out of the water and into boat, he could tell by the red mark on the side of her head that he had given her a good blow with the oar. With his luck finding them, he was undecided as to whether this was a sign to stay away from the water or to visit it more often. Whichever it was, the red mark was surely going to leave a bruise and Morgan felt his stomach knot.

           “Why does everything I do lately make it look like I’m committing domestic violence?” he winced, abhorrent to the very idea, intentional or otherwise.

           Once more he considered using the engine to get to shore faster but ultimately decided against it. Her injury was not serious and he didn’t want the risk of catching another one in his motor. Despite the rain it was still a calm day and rowing back to shore was much less difficult than it could have been.

           Making the trek from the lakeside up to his cottage, once he was in through the door, Dace turned her head from the computer and shouted.

           “Kiyi!”

           “What? Her?” he asked still moving towards the bathroom.

           “Yes, she is my sister. What happened?”

           “I accidentally hit her in the head with an oar.” Much to his surprise, Dace startled laughing at his explanation. “What’s so funny?”

           “She got caught,” she smiled. “If you were in your boat, she was probably going to flip you.”

           Letting out an exhausted sigh, he brought Kiyi to the washroom and lowered her into the tub; prank or no he didn’t want to aggravate Kiyi’s head trauma by dropping her. Feeling sluggish, knowing his life was just about to become more interesting than he had ever imagined, Morgan put on a happy face as he smiled at the original guest. Hectic, awkward, and embarrassing or not, it was easy to enjoy the concept of living with two beautiful women. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you? How about I show you how to cook?”

           Dace happily accepted the offer and, after pushing a dining room chair across the floor to the kitchen, propped herself up to watch the preparation. For the first lesson, the meal was a simple one – toast, bacon, and eggs. Morgan made his serving first to show her how it was done then monitored the mermaid as she tried to do the same.

           He was astonished at the number of things that went wrong.

           On two occasions Dace placed a finger on the stove’s element, the sizzling bacon grease sprayed her protruding chest, she tried to fish the toast out of the toaster with her fingers, and when it came time to remove the eggs from the pan, the yolk ruptured and oozed over the back of her hand.

           Even though he watched it happen, Morgan couldn’t understand how the yolk burned her where it did. She also proved highly unaware of how long things should be left to cook, and if it weren’t for the author’s supervision he was sure she would have burned everything beyond recognition.

           “I guess you need practice, huh?”

           She nodded, with tears clouding her blue eyes, before slipping to the floor, wincing with every ‘step’, her hands already blistering from the burns.

           “What can you tell me about Kiyi?” he called to her, carrying their meals over to the table and sitting down.

           “She’s my sister, likes…uh…pranking people, and is good at catching fish.”

           “Sister? Older or younger? By how many years?”

           “Younger; one year,” she explained, eyeing her food with suspicion. The only meal she could recall that harmed her even half as much as this had been a large fish with a big mouth. After that incident she had avoided dangerous meals as much as possible.

           “It’s dead, you can eat it,” he smirked, noticing her apprehension. “You said there are three of you. Is the other one part of your family, too?”

           “Yes, younger sister by two years.”

           “What’s she like?

           “She likes to meet people but always swims funny after she talks to them.”

           As he ate, Morgan watched her clumsily try to use her fork. Using tools was not a problem for the mermaid, but with her delicate hands the way they were, she was trying to hold the utensil in such a way that it didn’t press against any of her blisters. After many failed attempts, she finally gave up and just started using her hands, though still cautious. With all the problems she was having eating, Morgan knew she would have difficulty using the computer’s mouse and keyboard.

           “How about you take a break from learning today?”

           “What? Why?” she shouted with a sad look on her face, unintentionally spitting bits of food onto the table.

           Morgan responded by pointing to her hands. As her gaze followed his finger to its target, her expression showed that he understood. “Cheer up, we’ll watch movies.”

           Her face brightened instantaneously. “Really? More than just one?”

           “Sure, I’ll even let you pick which one you want to see first,” he smiled, drawing a cheer from her.

           After swallowing the remains of her meal, she scurried across the floor to the television’s cabinet, simply too excited to focus on the pain. Finding the collection, she looked at each case’s cover before coming to a decision. Much to his surprise, she selected a mermaid movie.

           As the movie was playing, Morgan continuously expected Dace to either laugh or get upset over how the movie presented mermaids. Instead, she remained silent throughout the film as she would normally and showed signs of excitement as she watched.

           When the ending credits started rolling, her first statement took him by surprise: “It would be neat if I could do things like that, yes?”

           Morgan was amazed that she took the movie at face value as a work of fiction and reacted in much the same way he watched fantasy and wished he could cast spells or the like. This from a woman who was shivering just the night before out of fear that a severed hand would come to kill her.

           Her face then moved very close to his own, Dace’s crystalline blue eyes staring deep into his, her warm breath lingering against his lips. “They were doing that thing in the other movie, too. Does that mean I can do it too?”

           “Kiss?” His mouth was growing dry and hands were getting anxious. She was clearly asking for it without being pressured; that made it okay, right? “Of course you—”

           Dace’s head moved closer, over eager at his apparent acceptance of her request, their foreheads colliding hard enough to leave them both reeling and holding their heads in pain.

           “You’re, ugh, no supposed to move so fast,” Morgan groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Take it slow; it’s supposed to be soft.”

           The mermaid accepted his advice and moved towards his lips once more, this time keeping their heads from colliding and instead gently touching her lips to his. He closed his eyes as she experimented with the act of kissing, thinking to himself how it felt warm, soft and…and like an animal was licking his face more than it was a kiss.

           Pulling away after enough time to be polite, the author wiped his cheeks and mouth with his forearm, thinking that he ought to use a towel first chance to come around.

           “That was fun!” she exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. “So there’s that, playing with these, and…” Dace looked down at her chest, and then her gaze drifted to his lap. “You still have to tell me what had been—”

           The man quickly sprang to his feet and headed for the washroom. “While you pick out the next one, I’m going to check up on your sister.”

           The closer he came to the washroom, the more clear the sound of bottles colliding became. Pulling open the door, he found Kiyi staring up at him through her tangled seaweed-colored hair – far more unkempt then Dace’s had been at first. In each hand, she held a bottle of shampoo or conditioner, with many more such products strewn about the floor.

           “Busy little snoop, aren’t you?” he asked her, knowing she wouldn’t reply. Instead – in response to seeing him – she jerked suddenly and whacked her head on the underside of the sink’s cabinet.

           As the new guest went about squealing from the pain of a second injury to her head, Morgan called for Dace, letting her know her sister was awake. Dace crawled into the room, squeezing between Morgan’s feet, leading Kiyi to stop squealing long enough to make some noises he believed to be their way of communicating.

           Throughout their apparent conversation, the two looked at him periodically, but after a minute of being unable to participate in the conversation Morgan excused himself from the room and returned to the couch. On the coffee table in front of his seat was the case for the movie Dace had selected, and chuckled at how it was the only other mermaid series in his possession. He was starting to believe that these movies were to Dace what superhero comics were to children; something fantastic that couldn’t be done in real life.

           Morgan heard some shuffling noises from the washroom and guest bedroom and could tell that the girls were moving about. Before too long, they made their way into the living room, Dace at the lead.

           “Is Kiyi staying?” she asked.

           “Does she want to?” Far be it from him to turn down a woman willing to stay.

           Dace turned to her sister and made some of the clicking, whistling, and blowing noises that seemed to consist of their language. After receiving a reply, Dace turned back to him and nodded.

           “She’s welcome to stay; there’s plenty of space here. If she’s tired, the spare bed in your room is free. If not, you can start her on the beginner’s lessons on the computer.”

           There was more discussion between the two which ended with Dace teaching Kiyi how to sit on a chair and then instructed her in how to use the computer. It was during these teachings that Morgan felt truly blessed. Here he was, a lover of things ‘fantasy’, living with two mermaids – attractive young women with amazingly fit bodies – without a concept of clothing and giving him a full view of their toned physique, shapely buttocks and perky bosoms. As the two of them spoke in their own language, setting up the machine for Kiyi’s lessons, he observed that the sister wasn’t as large as her elder.

           Before Dace returned, the author made sure to get the movie set up and to sit with his legs crossed. He would do well to remind himself of the virtues of self-restraint.

           Once Dace was finished setting her up on the computer, she rushed back to the couch and excitedly awaited the next movie. The film needed to be paused periodically for Dace to have Kiyi focus on her studies and not the TV, but other than that the day was uneventful; one movie after another until it came time for dinner.

           Deciding to treat her to a familiar dish, Morgan retrieved a salmon from the freezer and cooked it along with some carrots and rice. By the time Dace had instructed Kiyi to sit at the dining table, the meal was prepared and the new guest wasted no time.

           Reaching for the fish, she shoved it in her mouth and quickly spat it back on the plate; some of which missed. An act to which Morgan and Dace both laughed.

           “Just like when you touched the meatloaf,” he snickered, receiving a shy nod from Dace.

           “I will teach her,” she sighed, switching over to her native tongue and began instructing Kiyi in how to properly eat human food.

           He could swear that Kiyi was giving him a dirty look, as though she was none too pleased that she needed to be taught how to eat. From how to use forks, knives, and spoons, to blowing on the food if it was too hot, Kiyi was shown everything by her older sister.

           Once all the lessons were over, the younger sibling – now holding her fork – proceeded to use her free hand to stuff the now cool fish into her mouth, only using the fork to feed herself the other unusual foods.

           When the meal was finished, Dace put her sister back in front of the computer as Morgan cleaned the dishes before they both met in the bathroom for the daily checkup. This time, he decided to pour a little peroxide on the scab. He was pleased by the lack of fizzing – a sign that suggested it was not infected – and took to reapplying the bandages.

           “You’re really lucky, you know that?” he asked, receiving only a puzzled look. “Okay, getting hurt wasn’t, but you didn’t need a doctor and you’re not being chased down by some kooky government scientists like in the movies.”

           “I suppose,” she yawned, crawling out of the tub and shuffling along the floor, once again aware of her injured hands. “I am going to go to bed now.”

           “You better take your sister too, and don’t forget to tell her about the toilet.”

           Letting out a loud squeal, it wasn’t long before Dace had her sister around the corner and being led into the washroom.

           Casually looking at his watch, he decided it was late enough for him as well and headed to bed, falling into a peaceful slumber not long after wrapping himself in the warmth of his sheets.

           His rest proved short-lived, for he soon felt a gentle poking of his stomach that roused the author from his dreams. Looking to the side of his bed he found the two ladies looking up at him expectedly. The man’s heart quickly filled with a mix of anticipation and dread – the former because of lecherous ideas and the latter from having an understanding of his own limitations. Looking to the clock on his nightstand, he found that not an hour had passed since crawling into bed.

           “Problem?” he mumbled happily; his reality was better than any silly dream.

           “Kiyi can not sleep,” Dace explained. “She can not get comfortable in the bed.”

           “What does she want, then?”

           “She misses the water.”

           His first instinct was to let her outside and return her to the lake, but he immediately denied that option; Morgan wasn’t holding them prisoner, but if there was an alternative available he’d use it to keep them in his home, and he had just such an option.

           Rolling out of bed, he led them to the bathroom and started filling the tub. “Have her tell me if she wants it hotter or colder.”

           Giving the instructions to her sister, Kiyi placed a hand in the water. Dace translated the messages until the tub was sufficiently full. The younger sibling then slid into the water, rested her head on the edge as to keep her head dry, and closed her eyes.

           “You can’t breath underwater?” he whispered to Dace.

           The lady shook her head, her teal hair whipping about around her. “Outside, we either find a beaver dam or rest on the side of a lake.”

           Readily accepting the explanation, Morgan made his way back to his room to once again find the sweet embrace of warm covers and serene sleep. Just as he had finished getting comfortable, the man winced upon a simple realization; his only washroom and place of release now had an occupant.

3: Chapter 3 - Meeting the Ex

           “My fridge is getting near empty, so I’ll be going shopping today,” the author told Dace over breakfast.

           “How do you do that?” she asked, her face brightening at the concept of a new discovery.

           He hummed and hawed over the answer, trying to decide the best way of explaining. “You…aren’t coming. You’ll be staying here with your sister to look after things.”

           Her face drooped.

           “I made sandwiches for you should you get hungry before I get back; they’re in the fridge on the bottom shelf. Just have water if you’re thirsty, and not that it should happen, don’t let anyone in, okay?”

           Dace nodded.

           “I should be home to cook dinner, but don’t be worried if I’m a little late, okay? Just behave yourself and tell this to Kiyi too, okay?”

           After breakfast and the ensuing cleanup, he dressed well enough to go out in public and found his car keys. As Morgan reached for the front door, he hesitated. Turning his head, he looked to the bathroom door and headed back.

           The floor was still wet from Kiyi getting out of ‘bed’, but he decided to worry about that later. To his chagrin, the dirty bath water would need to sit there until evening as well – in case Kiyi wanted to rest. Fishing Dace’s old bandages from the garbage, he stuffed them into his pockets before saying his farewells and locking the door behind him.

           After getting into his car, starting the engine, and driving onto the road, thoughts of morality versus curiosity clashed in his mind. Not like that of a fierce debate; far from it. Really, it was more like a pair of squirrels nattering at one another – annoying but not something that couldn’t be blocked out with a little effort.

           On the side of morality, he’d have a clean conscience, waste less fuel, and be home sooner, thus allowing him to spend more time with the girls. Of course, that also meant he’d be left to wonder.

           On the side of curiosity, he wasn’t harming anyone, Ryan was a reliable woman, and he’d need to find out the answer eventually. The big question was if going through with it would upset Dace and Kiyi at all.

           As his car traveled through the small town, exiting the other side, he knew he had made his decision, considering it best not to worry and just deal with things as they come along.

 

           She cautiously crawled through the cabin in its entirety. This was the first time she had been alone in this new world. Okay, so the human had stepped out for a while that time he wound up bringing Kiyi home, but that wasn’t for very long and not very far away, either. And Kiyi; it was true that she was present as well, but she wasn’t exactly well-versed in living on dry land either. Dace knew that this was a time to prove she could take care of the household and be responsible. By making sure everything was kept orderly, she would show that she, too, could go shopping and—

           With a reassuring whirl, the DVD player accepted the movie and the screen came to life with the color of the disc’s menu. It took several failed tries, but eventually she pressed the right buttons to start the film and watched excitedly as the movie started playing.

           When the movie began, Kiyi took advantage of her sister’s distracted state and squirmed from her seat in front of the computer. It was not that she didn’t want to learn the language, but more interesting things were to be done when the human was out.

           Crawling past the bright glowing box at which her sister obsessively stared, she gave into temptation briefly and followed Dace’s gaze and went wide-eyed at what she saw – though it was not an exciting scene of the movie by any measure. Still, she had larger schemes in mind and could not be distracted. So off Kiyi went, from room to room, finding anything and everything she could open – dressers, boxes, shelves, cabinets, and closets.

           There was much for her to see, and she wanted to see all that she could; the more things she knew about within the house, the more ways she could find to have fun at its residents’ expense.

 

           Morgan waited in the lobby for Ryan to arrive. It had been many months since he last saw her, though he had called her every now again for the sake of accuracy in his stories. It was one of the advantages of being on good terms with an ex who was the head of her own lab. Pacing a hand on his stuffed pocket, he smiled knowing of another benefit.

           Moments after the sound of a high-pitched beep, the lobby door leading further into the building was pushed open and out stepped his last girlfriend.

           “Sorry for the wait; security and all,” she explained with a hint of a smile. The display wasn’t so much joy over seeing an old flame again as it was from the thought of how secure her laboratory was.

           Ryan was a secretive person. Not in the ‘go out at night without saying a word’ sort of way, but in that gossips would detest her by how she wouldn’t speak of anything she believed to be of no business of those to whom she spoke. That was why Morgan felt it alright to see her on this matter.

           After a brief handshake – always the professional – she had him fill out a form in order to be given allowed entry.

           She was a wonderful lady – kind, polite, considerate – but not girlfriend material; at least, not for him. It certainly wasn’t physical; she was perfectly fit and had an hourglass figure he still missed feeling in his arms. Whenever she wasn’t working, she was likely to be exercising. Which was the problem – this scientist was a notorious workaholic.

           “My office is this way,” she reminded him; he had come to the lab in the past, but the visits were few and far between. “I take it what you need is…complicated enough that you had to ask in person?”

           “I could just be here to talk,” he suggested, the tone of his voice a giveaway that he was not being sincere.

           She laughed. “Considering where you live, I’d suggest a phone call.”

           Once inside her office, Ryan locked the door behind the author before taking a seat behind her desk.

           “So, what do you need?” she said in a serious tone, though not in the cold variety commonly reserved for dealing with an interrogation or other such nasty business. “I’ll try to answer any questions you have.”

           “Actually, I can’t ask the real questions quite yet. First, I need to know if you can test something for me,” he began, fishing out the lengths of  soiled fabric from his pants.

           She raised an eyebrow, the greatest sign she had ever showed of being intrigued. As he pulled out the bloodied bandages, there was the faintest twitch of the other brow, as though she was almost tempted to have a full expression of surprise. “So it’s a DNA test you’re looking for?”

           He nodded.

           “I don’t mean to offend – I’m asking strictly for legal reasons – but this isn’t crime scene evidence, is it?”

           “No, you don’t have to worry about that.”

           She laughed. “No, I didn’t think so; you’re the last person I’d expect to see caught up in anything illegal. I can’t promise to make it a high priority, but I’ll take a look at it after hours. You wouldn’t happen to want me to be discrete about it, would you?”

           With a sigh, Morgan nodded, feeling increasingly guilty over making her do this for him, especially while doing naught but keeping secrets. “Please; this is asking a lot as a favor, but don’t tell anyone about it at all. I’ll try to answer any questions you have about your findings afterwards, as well.”

           Ryan let out a chuckle; Morgan and his imagination, lost in fantasy, came as an endless source of amusement. “When you say things like that, it makes me think that this is like some sort of present just waiting to be opened.” After sealing the bandages in an airtight bag and tucking it away in a drawer, she turned back to him and smiled once more. “Is there anything else?”

           “Not presently, no,” Morgan admitted, getting to his feet.

           “Well, this wasn’t much of a talk,” the scientist sighed, glancing to the drawer in which she had placed his ‘present’. At least it wasn’t a total loss, having something of interest now in her possession.

           After walking him back to the lobby, she shook his hand once more. “Keep in touch, alright?”

           With a nod, he left the premises and headed out for shopping. Getting the groceries first, Morgan inadvertently walked down the snack food isle and wound up picking up a variety of sweets. Afterwards, he began looking around until he found a pair of wheeled boards for the girls.

           Getting back into his car, Morgan started for home, stopping only upon reaching the nearest town to pick up milk, frozen goods, and gas. Before he knew it, he was back on his property and fiddling with the key to the entrance.

           What he expected was a pair of faces eager to see him, though showing slight signs of guilt, which would be explained by the somewhat of a mess behind them. In other words, he expected an outcome akin to leaving irresponsible children alone without a sitter.

           What he got was an empty entrance. Stepping further in he found that the cottage was no different from when he had left save for Dace passionately watching the television with various DVD cases sitting on the coffee table. Without a greeting, the man looked around for Kiyi, finding the mermaid in his room, with all the contents of the closets and drawers within her reach strewn about the floor, with her currently rummaging through his nightstand.

           Based on her appearance it would seem that she had tried on some of his things – specifically one of his dress shirts that fell down around her shoulders, draped over her figure in a sensual fashion and unbuttoned enough to show a generous amount of her breasts. Even though he had always seen her naked until that moment, seeing her dress in such a way came across as far more erotic.

           That she was wearing something that aroused him so, Morgan had to get it off of her at once; an act he found even more questionable despite returning her to the status quo.

           After tidying the mess Kiyi had made – in more rooms than just the master bedroom – and preparing dinner, he gave them both a stern lecture – one which Dace had needed to translate for her prying sister – before sending them off to bed. They would have to wait another day to receive their treats. Thinking about everything that had happened that day, Morgan felt foolish for having the washroom occupied so early.

 

           Peaceful slumber was not in the cards for the author, as he continued to wake every couple of hours; unlike the sisters who slept soundly. Unlike the problem as when he first returned, the excitement keeping Morgan from sleeping was like that of a child before Christmas. With the gifts yet to be given, he wished to know just how the two would react, and if the boards would be as helpful as he hoped. A somewhat sour thought that crossed his mind was that he, the philanthropist, was the one losing sleep while the recipients-to-be were unaffected.

           Such an attitude quickly gave way to relief when he considered what would happen had the sisters become overly giddy and eager to receive their gifts; certainly no sleep would be had then.

           Rolling onto his opposite side, pulling a swath of soft and light blankets along with him, Morgan stared at the LED clock on his nightstand. Two in the morning; far too early to even consider waking them. Nonetheless, he didn’t feel any fatigue and knew it would take more effort than it was worth to force returning to sleep. Instead, the impatient man slid on his slippers and fumbled about for his housecoat.

           If the girls were going to be on the computer all day learning how to speak English, he would just have to do his writing at night.

 

           Carefully opening the lid of the box, he could smell the stench of something rotting – a clear indication of the unpleasantness yet to come – but still he felt compelled to open it. The wrapping – now in tatters at his feet – told him enough about its sender.

           No return address, just a series of scratch marks where that information would be expected. It was his stalker, it had to be. The markings were simply too deliberate.

           No sooner than he had the lid removed did he let it fall to the ground. The box tipped over and its contents made a mess of his carpet. At least, it would have had whatever was following him not already ripped it apart like a tiger had sharpened its claws all about his floor.

           A head. Whoever or whatever sought him had sent him a severed head. It was that of a rabbit, but the threat was clear all the same.

           Feeling a wave of nausea overtake him, he ran for his washroom and, resting his forearms on the seat, let is face droop in the toilet bowl. After making sure his stomach was settled, he raised his head to look at the mirror. Well, not so much the mirror – it had been broken days before – but the sticky notes he had covered it with. On each and every one of them he had written the same message to himself: ‘If you think you are fine, you’ve gone crazy!’

           Something caught his eye.

           Amongst all the notes, he realized there was a single red mark on several of them. Looking from the top left corner and continuing his search from left to right until he hit the bottom right corner. Once more, he placed his head in the toilet and felt bile burn his throat and mouth.

           ahoy! run dIe

           “You are awake early.”

           Morgan felt as though his heart would stop. Looking down, he found Dace looking up at him, with her chin resting upon his thigh.

           Laughing nervously, not only from surprise but how uncomfortably close her face was to his lap, the author nodded. “Y-yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d do some writing until I felt tired.” Looking to the clock, he was amazed that it was already six.

           “Sorry for being bad yesterday,” the mermaid told him, sad tone clearly present in her otherwise smooth voice.

           It could have been the way she said it, his sleep deprived mind, or just that his mind was too quick to go the way of erotica, but he was unable to hear her apology without picturing the woman placed upon his lap, firm bottom facing upwards. Rubbing his eyes, he muttered to himself the need for purifying his thoughts.

           “Don’t worry about it; your sister was far more disruptive than you, but I’m not mad at either of you. She didn’t break anything – that I’ve found – and your day of watching movies just means there are fewer unseen ones for you to enjoy.”

           “So you are not still mad?”

           Her brilliant blue eyes sparkled with hope as she looked up at him, rending his heart at the mere thought he had worried her about being angry. “No, I’m not still mad. I was never mad; frustrated, maybe, but never mad.”

           With a happy squeal, Dace did as she had seen done many times in the movies: wrap her arms around his waist in a hug and buried her face in his side.

           Letting out a pleased chuckle, he reached down and rubbed the top of her head gently. “That’s good, you don’t have to worry. In fact, wait here; I got something for you yesterday.”

           Waiting to be freed from her embrace, Morgan got out of his chair and walked to his room where he rummaged through his closet. The night before, after putting the two mermaids to bed, he had placed the sweets and wheeled boards safely out of their reach, just in case Kiyi tried to snoop in the middle of the night.

           Removing only one of the boards from the closet, he returned to the computer where Dace was obediently, though excitedly, waiting for him. “Here you are,” he smiled, placing the board down in front of her.

           She stared at it curiously.

           “Here, you just need to…” he started, reaching down and placing a hand on her shoulders. Gently pushing her forward, he eased her down such that the board was comfortably placed under her stomach and chest. With his other hand, he nudged Dace’s  lower back, rationalizing his coping a feel for her bottom being the most demonstrative of her need to move forward.

           Even lying down atop the contraption, the mermaid still did not grasp what purpose it served.

           “Crawl,” Morgan sighed, giving her bum another pat to get her going.

           After making the first pull with an arm since being placed on the board, her eyes went wide. “Amazing! How does it do this?” Continuing to pull herself along, she looked around excitedly at the ease in which she was moving, rolling about with only the drag of her tail – something Dace began using to assist her movement. “You must be a genius!”

           “Maybe,” he smirked, happy with the title she had given him.

           It wasn’t long before Kiyi pulled herself from the bathtub and came into the living room, leaving a wet streak wherever she went. With eyes showing her interest, she moved over beside Dace and stared; not at the platform, but the wheels attached underneath.

           Morgan stared as the two conversed in their own language. The author had not a clue what any of the particular noises meant, but knew Dace was bragging to an extent by the way she puffed out his chest and the proud expression she wore. Why, he thought, couldn’t she have a means of showing pride other than sticking out her chest?

           On Kiyi’s face was a clear indication of jealousy.

           He had considered giving each of them their platform at the same time, but seeing the way the younger sister scowled at Dace’s fortune – along with the memory of the imp snooping through his belongings and making a mess still fresh – he couldn’t help but feel it best to leave it until later.

           Leaving the room once more, this time he pulled out a bag of skittles from the closet, tore it open, and hid it in one of his housecoat’s pockets. Coming back to the living room, he fished a single candy out and offered it to the still glowing Dace.

           Overjoyed, she took it from his hand and examined it, looking at it proudly though clearly unaware that it was edible. To the mermaid it seemed as though it were a colorful and sweet smelling bauble.

           “You eat it,” Morgan explained, motioning for her to place it in her mouth.

           Following his instruction, the mermaid placed it in her mouth and suddenly Dace’s head shot upwards, rising above the rest of her body. She began to chew the small piece of candy then looked up expectantly at the novelist; the longer she looked without being offered another piece, the closer she crawled over to him until her chin rested upon his leg, just above the knee, and had her arms wrapped around his ankles.

           Staring back down at her, Morgan couldn’t help but feel as though he had created a monster, or perhaps an addict of sorts. Her first experience with sweets, and it was on an empty stomach. Still, having a clear view of her beautiful pleading face, slender yet well-muscled back, a firm ass, along with the sensation of her large pillows pressed to his bare leg, he had to throw her another candy to free himself and move to a sitting position.

           Sitting on the couch and letting out a sigh of relief, he watched as Dace chased after the single candy, found, and devoured the tasty morsel. Shortly thereafter, she was rushing back towards him, hungry for more. As she drew nearer, it became apparent to the author that she had spotted the piece he still held between his fingers.

           Faster than the crawling mermaid could manage, Morgan moved the treat to his other hand and held it to one side, well out of her reach.

           “No-no, this one goes is for your sister,” he explained, tossing it to Kiyi before Dace had the chance to crawl all over him. One day he knew he’d want such things but they would come later.

           Before the excitable eldest sister could so much as turn around to chase after it, the more mischievous sister had already snatched it up off the floor and placed it in her mouth, fully aware that whatever it was, she’d want to do so if her sister was so obsessively wanting to do the same.

           It came as quite the surprise to Morgan as to just how tenaciously Dace would pursue the candy, ramming into her sister and trying to take the candy from her mouth shortly after it had been placed on her tongue. The ensuing struggle of mouths left the author feeling more intrigued than he knew he should, yet burned the scene into his memory regardless.

           It ended with Kiyi swallowing the sugar candy, proving victorious while the elder, teal-haired beauty had to accept defeat.

           “It is not as hard with fish,” Dace pouted, but soon rationalized that where there had been those few treats, there must be more.

           The more slender sister, with her messy seaweed-colored hair, came to the same realization, now captivated by never before experienced sweet flavor. Seconds later, the happily beleaguered author was beset by the two needy women, each pleading for more in their own little way; Dace with her sorrowful expression and speech, and Kiyi with her busy hands, poking and prodding at his defenses in hopes of stealing away more sweets from his person.

           With all their pawing and whining, he was more reminded of the dogs his family owned as a child than anything; thoughts for which he was grateful as it kept his mind off reality of the situation. They were such good, well trained animals that he and his parents had taught many tricks so that they would earn their snacks.

           “Tricks…” he mumbled softly, a deep redness appearing across his face to the point of glowing. For only the duration it took him to suppress such thoughts, but ones that were present nonetheless, Morgan envisioned scenes that caused him to doubt his humanity – or at least any shreds of chivalry he had once believed himself to possess.

           Feeling a hand slip inside of his housecoat’s pocket, the one that held the candies, the author was quick to slap it away before leaping to his feet, escaping their pawing once and for all. “T-that’s all you get for now,” he stated, trying to be as authoritative as he could, given the circumstances.

           As he tried to continue, his words were drowned out by the rapid and loud clicks, whistles, and blows that made up the merfolk language as Kiyi set about conversing with her sister. Morgan could only stare, dumbfounded, for a time until Dace turned to him and spoke words the author could understand.

           “What was the other thing you had for us?” she asked; her melodic voice fully of curiosity.

           “Other? That was it,” he answered truthfully, reaching behind his head to scratch his scalp.

           Her shimmering blue eyes bore into him even before she spoke, silently informing the brown-haired author that whether he knew the reason or not, he had said something wrong. “Kiyi says she felt something else and I believe her!”

           All was not lost, as he quickly emptied his housecoat’s pockets before them, turning them inside out to prove that the bag of candy was all he had to offer. “I was telling the truth, see?”

           The two had to nod – rather, Dace had to side with the human while her sister made a futile lunge for the bag, destroying what credibility her claim had left.

           “I think the both of you have had enough sweets for now. I’ll make you some breakfast; you can have more candy later, but only if your studies go well. Dace, you should tell that to your sister.”

           Though he said he’d make them something, it was nothing more than bland cereal. The last thing he wanted was to make the ladies any more hyper than sugar and surprises had already caused. No matter how different a taste there was between unsweetened cereal and skittles, thanks to the deal in place, their bowls were quickly emptied.

           When Kiyi, despite the handicap of being without a wheeled plank, made it to the computer first and established herself as the one to make use of the electronic lessons, her sister was left perplexed as to how she could continue to learn without the use of the wondrous device. Much to her surprise and bewilderment, the mermaid soon found a large rectangular object dangling in front of her face.

           “Here’s what you’ll be doing for now,” Morgan explained from behind her, waiting for the book to be taken from him. “Your homework will be to read this novel.”

           At once, Dace took it from his hands, she stared wide-eyed at its size then winced upon pulling it open and spotting the size of the print. “When I finish, can I have more…” the eldest sister paused, her full lips pursing as she tried to recall the word he had used.

           “Candy? Yes, but you don’t have to read the whole book today. If you can finish…three chapters, you’ll be finished for today,” he explained, content to be having a conversation at all, let alone a normal one.

           “Three?” Dace smiled, glancing down at the page numbers, believing that she would soon be feasting on the delicious ‘candy’.

           Plucking the novel from her hands, Morgan flipped the pages until he was on the first chapter and pointed to the large number, rather than the tiny ones in the corner. “This means chapter one.  Read this one…” his fingers brought the pages to the second chapter, “…this one…and this one.” He let her take the book while it was open to the third so that she could better realize how much needed to be read. “Read all three and you’re done. But don’t cheat; I’ve a good idea what happens in those parts and will be asking questions to make sure you do, too.”

           Despite the disappointment of finding the task to be considerably more substantial than first believed, she was still far cheerier than when Kiyi had seized the computer and held the belief the entire book needed be read.

           Once the two ladies had set about their assignments, the writer found himself sitting on the soft couch alongside Dace and busily jotting down ideas for stories, both present and thus far unwritten. Every few minutes or so, Dace would look away from her novel and over to his scrawled notes then continue reading.

           It was during one such of these hasty glances that she turned to him properly and asked, “What does ‘harem’ mean?”

           “Harem?” he asked, pausing to recall where that had ever been used in her assigned reading; it certainly wasn’t in a setting that would make use of that term. As he tried to dig through his memory, Morgan’s eyes moved over his notes and he realized it had come from his papers. Hastily turning to a fresh page, embarrassed, he chewed his lower lip and motioned for her to return to her own literature. “You, um, don’t need to worry about that; just let me know if there are any parts of the story you don’t understand, okay?”

           From then on, he made certain to tilt his notes at an angle such that the mermaid could not read off his sheets without first making a rather noticeable effort to do so. With a so easily detectable cue, he could easily remind her to concentrate on her task rather than needing to be deceptive with his own ideas.

           It was as early as noon that both of the sisters had completed their respective objectives. Dace had been the first to finish, successfully answering the questions Morgan asked to ensure she hadn’t just been flipping through the pages; though her memory did prove a little sketchy on some of the specifics. The younger sister, upon failing the test at the end of the software’s unit, had to reread the material in order to earn her reward.

           Each of his guests received only three candies for their efforts, but despite the meager payoff, responded with nothing short of pure euphoria. As the buoyant sisters hungrily devoured their snacks, each skittle being eaten as if it were a meal of their own, Morgan snuck back to his room and hid the rest of the bag in the top shelf of his closet, pulling down the second wheeled plank for Kiyi.

           Upon giving the younger, green-haired mermaid her transportation device, the look on Dace’s face was sad and pouty; a sign of disappointment for not having been given a special sign of favoritism. The emotion she had intended to convey fell flat, when all Morgan could think of upon seeing her full, pouting lips was how soft they must feel and the earlier scene of her attempts to suck the candy from her sister’s mouth.

           When the board was in Kiyi’s hands, Morgan couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow at the way she seemed excited not over having something that would make being on land simpler, but the wheels themselves. Minutes passed before she ever placed herself on top of the plank and began rolling around the house, instead taking the time to study the wheels, curious as to how they could spin in all directions, the way they were attached to the board, and even their simple function. Only after the careful, meticulous inspection did she lay on the device and began propelling herself around the room.

           Yet after that curiosity was sated, she was content to return to the computer and resume her studies; Dace doing the same with her literature. Morgan was pleasantly surprised by their dedication despite having not offered any more sweets, but then he did know the chosen book the elder sister was reading was quite captivating, and jealously could be pushing the younger to catch up to her sister. Of course, Morgan knew they could just be expecting the payment for their efforts to be a set rate and were doing for a far more selfish reason. Whatever the case may be, the author decided, it gave him plenty of peace and quiet, allowing him to complete a healthy amount of work.

4: Chapter 4 - Inspection

           A period of peace and tranquility lasted for several days; pleasant in its serenity and without a discomforting degree of titillation but when all that was around him felt dull and mundane, the author couldn’t help but wish for any kind of excitement to break the monotony. The younger sister had dedicated herself fully to the studies and was already starting to speak in broken English; Kiyi’s comprehension considerably slower than her sister’s, but awe-inspiring nonetheless. Dace had finished the first novel with ease and had been introduced to the second in the series, of which she had already reached the second-to-last chapter.

           No matter how great the boredom, however, Morgan never found himself without a visual treat wherever he looked; always he could see either Dace’s ample bosom or the mischievous one’s more balanced figure. But no such things were happening that would grant him any remarkably and embarrassingly amusing fantasies.

           It was after settling down in bed for another night’s rest that the ennui came to an end; moments after pulling the quilt up to his chin, the phone rang. Hearing the clamor of the phone was uncommon enough to even give Morgan a start, but for the sisters who knew nothing of the device, it was cause for alarm as they shrieked and shouted for him in a panic.

           Springing out of bed, Morgan rushed for the window between the living room and kitchen, the ledge on which his only phone was kept. “Don’t worry, I’ll answer it; go back to sleep,” the author called to his guests, wanting to assuage their nerves.

           Raising the phone from the charger, he plopped himself down on the couch and answered. Before even having even the chance for a greeting, the familiar voice on the other end started speaking. “M&M?” the scientist asked excitedly. “It’s Ryan. I was able to finish the tests.”

           Morgan Macleod; because of this, his closer acquaintances called him M&M. “Already? It’s only been—”

           “You gave be a mysterious blood sample; regardless of how unique or questionable, I didn’t want to leave something like that just lying around,” the doctor explained in a level tone, her professional decorum overtaking her excitement.

           “That’s true….”

           “Could I meet her?”

           The phone slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor as the novelist sat in a nervous silence for a minute before retrieving the device.

           “—ou still there?” Ryan was in the midst of asking as he placed the receiver to his ear.

           “Y-yeah, but…like I said, I don’t want this to get out.”

           “Of course,” the scientist answered with all seriousness. “This will remain in complete confidence. Just seeing the result of the blood work…to see this would be like finding the fossils of a new breed of hominid only to bury them again without mention.”

           “So, are you going to expose them if I refuse?”

           There was dead silence over the line.

           “Hello?”

           “There’s more than one?” she asked in a much louder voice and in a noticeably higher pitch. “…To think, a discovery this great and you found not just one but…I’m sorry.” Ryan then took a few moments to clear her throat and calm down before continuing. “If you don’t want me to see…them, I won’t expose your secret or ask again, but I would appreciate it if I could.”

           “Really?”

           “Of course; I have no say in your personal affairs. Though setting my own curiosity aside, could you really leave things as they are; never knowing any more?”

           Raising his free hand to his mouth, Morgan gnawed on his knuckle; the desire to know more was already eating away at him, made all the worse by her reminding him of the fact.

           “You haven’t slept with them yet, have you?” she asked in an almost accusing tone.

           “Of course not!” the shaggy author shouted back, his face turning red.

           After another brief silence, a faint chuckle came from the other end. “I thought as much. I’ll bet you’ve wondered, though; what’s the most common question you ask when writing a fantasy novel?”

           Whenever it came time in one of Morgan’s tales of high fantasy for there to be a romance between a human and some fictitious species, he would inquire as to whether the result of their union would produce an heir that was fertile or sterile; or possible at all. In many ways, he regretted having ever heard of mules.

           “Before you do anything – if you ever do anything – it would be best for everyone if you knew the answer to that question first.”

           “Yeah…thanks Ryan,” he smiled, looking down at his knees, a little humbled by the words of his ex. It was true that he had considered such things and certainly felt tempted at times.

           “So when can I come see them?”

           He thought it over for a while only for it to be concluded with an indifferent shrug, not that Ryan had any chance of witnessing the gesture. “Whenever you’re free.”

           “Hmm…it’s too late tonight, but…tomorrow’s a Sunday so….” Ryan began humming and hawing, commenting on matters such as how she was usually the only person in the lab on those days followed by the barely audible sound of typing. After a mild shout, she simply asked: “Would tomorrow be fine?”

           “Sure; come any time. Just remember: not a word of  this  to anyone.”        

           “Of course; see you tomorrow.”

           Hanging up, he let out a sigh then a startled shout upon discovering the two beautiful figures staring at him from around the corner leading to the bathroom and guest room.

           “Why were you talking to that box?” Dace asked.

           “It’s a phone; it lets you talk to people who are far away,” he explained, rising to his feet. “Now off to bed with you; we’ll be having company tomorrow.”

 

           With amazing speed, the scientist was already at his door, waking Morgan with a loud knock. Even though he knew his ex was coming, it did little to keep him from jumping from yet another uncommon noise. It was made all the worse for the fact it had roused him from his sleep. Thrashing about to free himself from the mess of bed sheets, he glowered at his clock which read only seven.

           Dressing quickly in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Morgan tiredly made his way to the entrance of his home, opened the door just a crack, and showed his displeasure with a none too friendly stare. “It’s seven in the morning.”

           “I’m sorry,” she sighed, “but I wanted to make sure I’d have ample time for this.”

           “It’s a two hour drive to get here…how fast were you going?”

           “I woke up at four,” Ryan answered bluntly, running a hand over her tightly tied auburn hair.

           For Ryan, this could certainly be chalked up as ‘common behavior’ and so there was nothing to do but open the door fully so that she could come in, moving aside along with the wooden portal, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

           “How will we meet, exactly?” Ryan asked calmly as she hesitated to remove her shoes – simple, comfortable runners. “Do we go down to the lakefront and contact them? Do you have a call that they recognize? Or is there some usual location that you visit?”

           Pausing to consider his response momentarily, the author crafted his response while wearing a visibly impish smirk. “Except for the first point, the answer is ‘yes’.”

           “Really? Could you teach me the location and the call?”

           “Yup; listen closely…” he began, taking a breath. “Dace! Kiyi! Could you come and greet our guest?”

           The look of puzzlement on Ryan’s face quickly evolved into one of unadulterated amazement when the two mermaids crawled to the entrance, propelled by their boards. “Astounding! Genuine! Which one is Dace? Also, can you explain to me why they’re naked?” she questioned rapidly, looking at her ex; especially focused during the final point.

           “W-well it’s not like they’re, um, used to—” as he struggled for a plausible sounding explanation for excluding that intentional oversight, Morgan’s awkwardness fortunately came to an unexpected early  close when one of the sisters spoke up.

           “I am,” Dace replied in a cheerful tone. Her simple two word answer brought about an expression on the scientist’s face that could have easily been misconstrued as sheer terror.

           Likewise, the stiff manner in which she turned her head to face the mermaid only further supported the misconception. “You…can speak…English?”

           “Yes, Morgan taught me,” she nodded, her full lips curling upwards into a proud smile.

           “I same,” Kiyi added, though her far less eloquent speech drew less of a reaction.

           Rubbing her own face with one hand – the force of her touch pulling her skin taunt as it went – Ryan found she needed the assistance of the wall for stability. “I-I…I need to sit down.”

           “Take off your shoes and have a seat wherever you want. I’ll make us some coffee,” the author offered, moving from the entrance to the kitchen. Thinking it an appropriate time for breakfast, Morgan took some bread, bacon, and eggs from the pantry; enough for four. While working, he watched as Ryan stumbled into the living room to settle down on the couch, utterly stupefied.

           “What should we do?” Dace asked, poking her head into the kitchen.

           “Nothing special; just speak with our guest – Ryan – today,” he answered, glancing away from the sizzling bacon. 

           The two sisters made their way to the couch and sat down next to the scientist, speaking to her casually. Morgan watched through the kitchen window as Ryan struggled to regain her compose and hold up her end of the conversation with the mermaids. She soon pulled out a laptop and began frantically typing down all that he heard from them, clearly not wanting to miss a word they said.

           When the meal was ready, the author set the table and called the three over.

           Approaching the table, Ryan’s dark blue eyes moved over the contents of each plate, noting the matching contents of each. “They eat the same foods as you?”

           “Yeah, though I’ve tried to avoid giving them any milk yet; one of the few things I learned from an anthropology class I took back in university. I even have them eat cereal dry to be safe. And…that’s a personal-use laptop, right?” he inquired cautiously.

           “Of course; can’t mix public and private business after all.” Always business with her, never pleasure; the two seeming almost inseparable. “This is classified as well. Now, Dace didn’t know English when you met her, correct?”

           He nodded while taking a sip of coffee.

           “And how long ago did you two meet?”

           “About…two weeks now, I suppose,” he replied, unsure of the dates. “Time flies around here; my editor hates that.”

           “Two…she learned to speak fluently in fourteen days?” she shouted, her hands landing on the table, nearly spilling her coffee. “That’s amazing!”

           “Actually, she’s been speaking this well for a few days already, so less than that.”

           “Ryan shook her head in disbelief. “Did you find Kiyi at the same time?”

           “No, three days after Dace.”

           With a slight downturn of her mouth, she marked down the response, though was still visibly impressed. “So she hasn’t picked up on it quite as fast as her sister, but still at a remarkable speed. After we’ve finished eating, would I be allowed to perform a physical on each of them?”

           “I don’t have a problem with it; how about you, Dace?” he asked, leaving it up to her to decide.

           From her, there was only silence for a period though her contemplative expression suggested that Dace was coming to a decision. “That makes sure we are healthy, right?”

           Ryan nodded.

           “Okay,” the mermaid smiled cheerfully. After all the care that was taken over her wound, it was good to have someone more professional look at her.

           “I don’t have all the equipment, but I think I can do a decent assessment as I am,” she said eagerly, rubbing her hands together.

           Once the first of them – Dace – had finished her meal, Ryan brought her to the guest room and began thoroughly inspecting her body; checking the woman’s pulse, flexibility, eyesight, and every other test she could think to perform, even it were nothing more than prodding with her fingers.

           Throughout the examination, Morgan watched with a poorly feigned disinterest that included plenty of feeble attempts to not stare and constantly flushed cheeks that not even his beard could obscure.

           Her physical ended with a simple measuring of the chest, concluding with Ryan rubbing her eyes in mild frustration. “How do you not have back pain…and M&M, get this woman a bra as soon as possible; 30E.”

           Morgan coughed and nodded, saying nothing on the subject as Dace was sent from the room to fetch her sister. After she was out of the room, Ryan turned to Morgan with a suspicious stare. “Why was her skin a little off-color around her eye? That looked like there used to be a bruise.”

           The writer quickly raised his hands defensively. “W-whoa, it’s not like that; one day she was curious about walking and tried to get a view of it from the front, I swear! Whenever they see something new they can’t keep away from it.”

           Sighing, she shook her head. “Well, you never were aggressive and I doubt you’d do that to women right out of your fantasies….” Ryan’s expression then shifted into a knowing smile. “I can see why you haven’t introduced them to clothes yet, though.”

           “A-actually, Kiyi had put on one of my shirts once…” Morgan explained, covering his mouth and cheeks with one hand and looking out the door.

           “Made it worse, huh?” his ex sighed. “Sounds like you.”

           “If they were mermen, you’d have done the same,” he retorted with a smirk, his hand slipping away though his skin was still bright red.

           “Possibly,” she answered, laughing at herself almost as much as her former lover, “but I don’t see the appeal of fish. Maybe vampires, if they wouldn’t try to kill me. Seriously, though, get her a bra.”

           “Vampires?” Kiyi asked as she rolled into room, but had her question summarily dismissed as to get on with the checkup.

           Once her examination was also finished, the three went into the living room so that Ryan could present her findings. She openly acknowledged her lack of instruments and that her experience was predominately in a lab, not that of a doctor, but was confident in her affirmation of their well-being all the same.

           “Some time, if possible, you really ought to come to my workplace so that I can make use of the machines there. During the night shift, of course; we can’t have your secret getting out.”

           “How do you know Morgan?” Dace asked suddenly, catching Ryan off guard.

           “Curious thing, aren’t you?” she asked with a smile. “M&M, do you have any problem with me talking about our past relationship?”

           He waved his hand apathetically, confident that she wasn’t the type to spout any unwarranted embarrassing tales. “Be my guest; tell her anything she wants to know.”

           “Very well.” The scientist turned back to Dace, folding her hands on her lap. “A few years back, M&M dropped by my lab to have some questions answered about genetics. It was late in the afternoon, so I was the only person willing to remain to answer his many questions. He was working on a murder mystery at the time, so the questions were all reasonable and simple. Expecting him to have more questions down the road, I gave him my contact information. I had no clue, mind you, what I was getting into.”

           “Come on, dating me couldn’t have been that bad,” Morgan smirked, setting himself down on the computer chair on the far corner of the room.

           “Of course not; I’m very happy with those memories,” she smiled, bringing a faint redness to the author’s cheeks once more. “Where was I…well, after a month of fact-checking, he finished his story and moved on to another; a fantasy story. I was then left contemplating questions such as what species the offspring of vampires and humans would produce, or whether certain couplings would produce sterile heirs.”

           As she told the tale, Dace stared with wide-eyed wonder, eager to take in every word of the story.

           “I have to admit,” he smiled, “those kinds of questions were a lot more interesting and, instead of just e-mail responses, we started getting together for dinner to discuss it. Before long, we were dating and – a year later – had broken up.”

           “Why did you do that?”

           “Oh shit…” Morgan muttered inaudibly, leaning forward to hear her side of the breakup; perhaps claims of negligence or insensitivity.

           “Well, I was a workaholic and wasn’t able to separate myself from my work well enough to maintain a long-distance relationship; so he moved on, and rightly so.”

           Morgan was amazed. “You…didn’t embellish it.”

           “Of course not,” Ryan replied with an apathetic shrug. “There’s no reason for me to.” Turning back to Dace, his ex continued. “Still, it really was a lot of fun while it lasted.”

           “What did you like the most?” Dace asked, resting her head on the palms of her hands, her teal hair falling down over her slender shoulders.

           Thinking it over for a moment, weighing all the experiences against one-another, she came to her decision. “Well, I still think back to and smile over one of our earlier dates; it was when I learned that M&M gets really turned on when—”

           “No!” he shouted, cutting her off before she could finish revealing one of his kinks. “Let’s not give them any idea, alright?”

           With a nod in his direction, she turned back to Dace and apologized. “I can’t say any more about that; classified.” Not that they hadn’t already exposed him to it once already.

           Dace continued to inquire about the scientist’s past, with Morgan paying close attention as to deny the details that he’d rather the ladies not know; at least, not yet. For every question she answered, Ryan made sure to counter with one of her own. For Morgan, Ryan’s questions were boring as a whole, hearing only details that he already knew or had no interest in learning.

           “Hey Ryan,” the author interrupted, preventing her from learning the approximate duration for which Dace could hold her breath, “Even if it’s after hours, how do you plan on sneaking either of them into your lab?”

           Rubbing a loose length of hair between her fingers, Ryan considered her options. “I suppose there would be quite the risk of the evening crew, or even a janitor, seeing them. Let me think….” Her contemplation lasted for several minutes as she considered all possibilities. “You would have to arrive only reasonably late in the evening; maybe around six or seven; any later would be suspicious. There are a couple old fold-up wheelchairs that I’ve been planning to throw out or donating; I’ll give them to you. We can just make it appear that either of them is crippled; it would be an easy way to hide the tail.”

           “Do you think you could keep your tail still for a long time,” Morgan asked Dace, receiving a reassuring nod.

           “When next I come by,” Ryan continued, “I’ll be sure to bring around some of my old shirts, along with a few from a thrift store. I know you’d like to keep them this way, but it would raise suspicions out in public…and frankly….”

           Blushing and looking out the balcony window through the corners of his eyes, the brunette nodded. “It’s not like I’m doing anything to them….”

           With a soft chuckle, Ryan stared straight into Dace’s eyes. “He’s a good person, so I don’t have to worry, but I can only imagine what he’ll be teaching you and your sister later on.”

           “T-thanks, I think?” he laughed, wishing he had a pillow or some similar object to lob at his ex’s head.

           Glancing at her watch, the scientist ran her slender hand over her auburn hair and winced. “My word, how time flies; it’s half-past five already. Thank you for everything; I’ll try to bring the things around within the week. I look forward to our next meeting.”

           Curtly excusing herself from his home, Ryan hurried to her car and drove from his lot.

           Once the sound of her car could no longer be heard from indoors, a mischievous look appeared in the eyes of the two mermaids, leaving Morgan feeling more than a little nervous.

           To be expected, Dace did the speaking for both of them. “We did well today?”

           “Y-yes, you did.”

           “This was a special thing, today?”

           Once more he agreed.

           “So we get candy?”

           Comprehending the source of their eagerness, he went to his closet, fished out twenty pieces, and gave each of them half. Knowing the two of them would be positively giddy over their reward, Morgan stepped from his home, grabbing the keys to his car and his wallet as he left. Glancing at the slip of paper with the bra sizes Ryan had given him, he decided it would be best to fetch them in the nearby town while they burned off some of the sugar. Perhaps they might even hide some of the candies for later if they could muster that much self-restraint.

           Reading Dace’s measurement again, he shook his head in disbelief, hoping the small town clothing store would even carry that size.

           Stepping into his car, the author buckled up and started the engine, prepared for the half-hour drive into town. Pulling off his lot and onto the highway, he calmly sped along, hoping to make the voyage in less than legal time.

           Thirty minutes later, Morgan’s car was parked and he was browsing what was the town’s only department store. Glancing between the paper with the sizes and the different bras, he had an easy enough time, tracking down Kiyi’s 36B, but Dace was more difficult.

           “Do you need some help?” the cashier asked after watching him stumble around with a couple of the one size in hand for several minutes.

           “Oh, yeah, I’m trying to find one in this size…do you have any?” the novelist explained, showing her the slip of paper.

           “Hmm….? 30E? Really? Well, um…let’s see what’s in stock….” She led him around the shop as she checked the tags of every larger-sized bra that she could find, but continually shook her head. “You may need to visit a specialty store; we order them some times, but not—ah! Here we go, there’s one, but you’ll have to take it in blue.”

           “Blue is fine,” he replied, taking it from the cashier’s hand. “Any others?”

           After an exhaustive search, she was able to find what must have been the only other one in that size in the shop, this one a tacky neon green.

           “I’ll take all four of these,” he replied, paying in cash and getting them wrapped to take home. Morgan was more willing to take his time on the trip home, not needing to fear wasting a trip by arriving after business hours. The sun was starting to dip in the sky when he made it back to his quaint cottage, made more interesting by his new housemates.

           Parking the car and walking up to the entrance, he opened the front door to a scene of less carnage than he had anticipated, making the evening as a whole a victory in Morgan’s book. Picking up scattered belongings as he went – most of which were clothes, the author found Kiyi experimenting with the cables of his desktop computer while Dace stared at the television set, on but set only to the weather station. After shooing the younger sister away from the computer, he presented them their gifts. Though part of him would miss the free show from dawn ‘til dusk, at least it would give him a moment’s repose from the titillation.

           When it came to putting them on for the first time, Morgan was forced to show them how to do so properly, his face growing a deeper shade of red from every squeak the sister let out whenever he touched their bosoms in the process.

           Once finished, he rushed for the exit once more. “I’ll let you get used to wearing those, be right back!” he called to them, Morgan’s voice as much of a frantic blur as he was when making his escape. Why, he asked himself, did they have to be so soft?

           Thinking it best he clear his head down by the lakeside, enjoying a fine sunset while he was at it, Morgan stepped up to his boat and started to push it into the water when he quickly decided against such action, As of late, the author realized, every time he went out in his boat, he returned with another mermaid. Though it was a heavenly experience, it had its drawbacks and, frankly, Morgan didn’t want another patient.

           Looking down at his feet, standing in ground that was a mix of sand and stone, he found a nice flat, round stone perfect for skipping – harmless fun and something to occupy his time as he calmed down. After winding up to throw the stone, he quickly snapped his arm forward and let fly the rock as if it were a small discus.

           However, the very instant he relaxed his grip on the stone, there came a splash in front of him as a female figure broke the surface of the water. “Take it o—” she shouted enthusiastically, but was cut tragically short as the skipping stone caught her square in the forehead before it had even managed to strike the surface of the water a single time.

           “Oh, son of a bitch,” the brunette grimaced as the woman slumped into the water, fearful of having struck a swimmer. But as a dolphin-like tail rose to the surface, he contemplated as to whether he was blessed or cursed. Either way, he repeated his earlier profanity.

           Deciding that, as he had found her already – or perhaps the opposite would be more accurate – he might as well take her home with him. Wading out into the water to retrieve the body, he sighed as he realized how very routine this had become.

           Scooping her up in his arms – surprised by how much heavier that tail made what would have otherwise been a slender though muscular woman. “There had better only be three of you in this lake,” he mumbled to the unconscious female form, trying to keep his eyes off this one’s physique, lest he ruin the very purpose of his alone time. “I would like to go into the lake again without dragging home more cheesecake….”

           As he carried her up the hill, the occasional groan came as a relief, letting the author know the girl was still alive, though her breathing had made a point of that already.

           Muscles a little sore from the trip up the incline and wet from both the trek into the lake and the water dripping from his find’s body, Morgan whistled for the girls’ assistance upon carrying her over the threshold.

           “Varden!” Dace shouted excitedly, seeing her youngest sister’s unconscious form. “You found her!”

           “Actually, she found me,” the author confessed, shifting the mermaid’s weight in his arms. “She got in the way of a stone, so she’s won’t be feeling so well when she wakes up.”

           “Maybe that is why she’s always so strange after meeting people,” the eldest sister pondered aloud. “What should I do?”

           Ruffling his hair as he silently hoped Ryan wouldn’t return in time to find another bruised woman in his care, Morgan decided to go through the motions. “Take her to the tub; best to clean her up before she tracks everywhere.” Looking to the computer, which was occupied – once more – by Kiyi, only now studying properly instead of toying with the cables, and seeing how Dace was wheeling herself around with book in hand, he let out an amused sigh. “Never mind, I’ll do it.”

           Letting out a grunt as he shifted Varden’s body once more, Morgan started for the bathroom. “Have you finished your sugar rush already?”

           “We were full,” the eldest mermaid answered. “So we are saving them for later.”

           Upon entering the washroom, he closed the door behind him and carefully set the body down on the toilet. Emptying the water Kiyi slept in, he refilled the basin with clean, warm water before hoisting the youngest sister into tub. As she entered the bath, a wave splashed her in the face, drawing out a sputter. Just as quickly, her aquamarine hair drifted away from her head, forming a halo around her in a lovely shade of blue.

           Fishing a wash cloth from under the bathroom sink, Morgan took a bar of soap and set to work scrubbing her clean, all the while reminding himself to think platonic thoughts. The same as her sisters, Varden’s skin – once clean – held color of a perfect tan.

           It came as no surprise that the water quickly turned a shade of grayish-brown from all the grime that was being scrubbed from the woman’s body. What did come as a shock was that she awoke from her slumber partway through and stared up at him with a pair of seductive turquoise eyes.

           “H-hi, Varden; your sisters are in the other room. Oh and…sorry for hitting you in the face….”

           “Face?” she echoed, much to his surprise.

           That he was confused was to be expected, but her pronunciation of the word was impeccable – near perfect even – as if this mermaid was accustomed to English. Giving it some thought, however, Morgan recalled that she had said something moments before the rock struck, though what the message was eluded him.

           “Yes, your face,” he repeated, pointing to hers. “Looks like I gave your head has a nasty bruise.”

           “Give…head?” she asked.

           Honestly, he was amazed that she had any grasp of the language at this point; compared to Kiyi, or even Dace, she was something astounding. “Yes, that’s right.”

           The instant the word ‘yes’ were uttered, a devilish smirk appeared on the mermaid’s face. “For a beer.”

           Raising an eyebrow to her unexpected reaction and response, Morgan tried not to over think matters, such as the way she moaned from his work or the way she seemed to lick her lips while wearing bedroom eyes. He would just need to ignore it and not get wound up over nothing, Morgan told himself as he continued, sitting on the edge of the tub. All need needed to do was keep calm without delving into the gutter.

           And then her hand, with its long slender fingers, came to rest on his lap less than gingerly. Dropping the cloth and jumping to his feet, he stared down at her with a new form of shock. That had been far too deliberate to have been a coincidence.

           Firstly, she giggled from his reaction then followed up by a single utterance of the word ‘beer?’

           “N-no beers,” Morgan answered.

           Letting out a sigh, she took the cloth and continued his work, her bottom lip pushed out.

           “I-I’ve got things to do, I’ll get Dace to show you around so I don’t have to lead you by the hand.”

           “Hand?” she asked, perking up once more, her eyes once more gaining that certain hungry look.

           “Wow…you’ve learned a very select bit of English in a narrow scope, haven’t you?” he asked rhetorically, now more curious as to the unusual circumstances of her human contact than he was bashful. “Dace, come in here, please.”

           Within a minute, Varden’s oldest sibling wheeled in, wearing an excited expression as she saw her sister awake and well in the bathtub. “Varden! Welcome!”

           “Please show her to her bed,” he requested, taking a deep breath and promptly choking. Sniffing his own pits, the author realized how long it had been since he had last bathed.

           The irony of how many others he had bathed since then was not lost on him.

           Watching the two sisters enter the hallway and head towards the guest bedroom to the left, Morgan closed the door behind them. Draining the old water from the tub, he started drawing afresh bath and pulling off his now filthy clothes.

           Sliding into the warm water, he listened to the voices of Dace and Varden in their muffled incomprehensible dolphin-like whistles and clicks from the guest room on the other side of the wall he was facing. Halfway through his bath, the noises stopped and he found himself truly able to relax. Enjoying the tranquility until the water turned cool, Morgan decided it was time for bed and, rising from the water, stepped from the basin to hear an odd creak.

           His head turned to the door and found Varden smiling from ear along with Dace bewildered and staring intently at the never before seen appendage. Grabbing a towel first and heading for the door second, he pushed their heads out of the doorway as he closed it, looking to Dace with a flush face. “Don’t listen to anything she has to say,” he instructed.

           The mermaid nodded, hearing her sister squeals behind her, but couldn’t help but inquire. “What is that?”

           “N-never you mind; I’ll tell you some other time,” Morgan breathed with a heavy sigh, hopping over the sisters and rushing to his room, closing and locking the door behind him. That one would be an interesting influence on the others, to say the least….

5: Chapter 5 - Bump in the Night

           The second his alarm sounded, Morgan sprung out of bed without a moment’s hesitation. Now that the author knew how Varden behaved, he couldn’t stay in bed without worrying of how she would influence the others. However, he couldn’t quite think of how he’d keep her from doing so. Glancing at his bookshelf, he did think that had it been a man, he could have used one of the sturdier ones.

           After pulling on a pair of blue shorts and a matching t-shirt, only then did he unlock his bedroom door. By the demands of Morgan’s rumbling stomach, he entered the kitchen and set to work cooking a large omelet.

           Standing over the stove, feeling the heat rise out of the oven, the author let out an unrestrained yawn and scratched his paunch through the shirt. A slight gut and a scruffy beard: the natural conclusion of a job that required no movement and in a setting where personal grooming wasn’t terribly important beyond basic hygiene. The thought crossed his mind that with three attractive women now living with him, perhaps it would only be fitting to start shaving and perhaps do some exercise. While he wasn’t fat beyond his stomach, there certainly wasn’t any visible muscle on Morgan’s body, either.

           Good recipes were just too tempting and his computer too inviting.

           With the aroma of the cooking eggs, cheese, and diced vegetables in the oven, it was not long before the three well-toned bodies piled into the kitchen’s doorway, their heads full of exotically colored hair collecting into a tapestry of green, teal, and aquamarine. Already the bras were proving a worthwhile purchase, with Dace wearing her tacky lime bra and Kiyi in her black sports bra, already looking more modest, though their younger sister remained bare.

           “It’s almost ready, just sit at the table and I’ll bring it out,” he told them with a smile that caused a visible shift in his beard, chuckling at their eagerness.

           The three waited patiently as he brought out the meal, followed by glasses of water for each of them, still cautious about feeding them milk, not wanting to go overboard on the dairy.

           “Could I have a drink?” Varden asked, ignoring the glass of water.

           “You have one, that’s yours,” he explained pointing at her cup, confused as to why she hadn’t realized.

           “No, no, beer! Not water.”

           “Oh, then no,” he answered bluntly, not bothering to mention he hadn’t any in his home to start with.

           “Come on dude, I’m not gonna steal your keg!” she argued, her response’s content and the flow of the words sounding so strange Morgan thought it rehearsed; as though she were a parrot repeating a phrase heard many times before.

           Once more the author could only wonder from where she had learned to speak as he scratched at his russet hair.

           “What is beer?” Dace asked, familiar with the word but not the item itself, looking from the face of her seemingly world-savvy sister and the truly informed man, her long teal hair swishing and slapping against her full cheeks.

           “It’s wicked! You get such a buzz, and men will hand over all you can drink if you—”

           “Never mind,” Morgan shouted, placing his hands over Dace’s ears before she could hear any more, though the innocent sister shook her head and grabbed his wrists to free her head.

           “What does that mean?” Kiyi asked, having had no problem hearing Varden’s words.

           “Never mind!” the author shouted again, though more calmly and less panicked. “Once you’re finished eating: Kiyi, I want you to share the computer with Varden so she can get a start on learning things properly.”

           From the middle child’s hesitant nod, he gathered that the mermaid understood the intent of his order, but not the message in its entirety.

           “I am to continue reading; am I right?” Dace asked, her eyes shimmering with hope. It wasn’t even an assignment or job for her any more – if ever – as she so thoroughly enjoyed reading tales of intrigue, adventure, fantasy, and romance.

           “Yes, that’s right,” he replied, unable to keep from smiling at the sound of her enthusiastic cheer that followed.

           After moving another chair next to the computer, Morgan settled down on the couch to resume planning his novels, making good use of the quiet found in the three sisters all keeping busy with their educations. Though it was in said silence that he was able to overhear whispers between the pair sitting at the computer.

           “What does…mean?”

           “…Explain later.”

           Brief, but enough to merit anxiety.

           Within an hour of enjoying the serene silence, occupied only by the clicking of a mouse, turning of pages, or the sounds of a pencil on paper, Dace was tugging on his sleeve, a perplexed expression clear in her eyes.

           “Is the story missing pages?” she asked, lowering her gaze to the page numbers.

           “No…why?” Morgan asked, knowing full well that the novel was in pristine condition.

           “There is a missing piece in the story,” she explained. “Two characters leave and then come back, only sweaty and exhausted, but it does not say why.”

           Morgan had to force himself to stifle a laugh; a person was supposed to interpret the gap as something obscene, only to be proven wrong later in the narrative. Of course, he hadn’t planted such thoughts in her head as of yet, hence the confusion. “Well, that’s because the—”

           “Sweaty? Exhausted?”  Varden asked, turning about in her chair, her figure contorting to accommodate the twist as her tail hardly moved, showing a certain flexibility. “The two must have been fooling around!”

           Knowing what she was planning to say, Morgan got to his feet and started for the computer at a somewhat eager pace.

           “Fooling around?” Dace asked. “Playing?”

           “No, no! The two were making hot—”

           Once more Dace was without her sister’s ‘wisdom’, though this time by way of a strong hand being placed over her mouth; held in place to fully mute her speech at first before relaxing to just be hovering in front of her lips. “Can you stop that kind of talk?”

           The teasing lick she gave his palm came as a surprise and he pulled his hand away, leaving her to giggle mischievously as he doubted the effectiveness of his little request. Morgan moved back to his seat and properly explained to the waiting mermaid that the missed scene was intentional and would be properly explained later on. After a moment’s consideration, he mentioned that certain authors would choose to omit details without ever offering an explanation, leaving it up to the reader’s imagination as to what had occurred. Sometimes to build a sense of mystery, others take advantage of expectations to avert them, while others use it as a means of avoiding something too explicit for publishing.

           With a nod of comprehension, Dace eagerly resumed her studies, ignoring the frequently interrupted speech of her youngest sibling. The peace resumed until noon, at which point all studies ceased for the sake of their meal and reward.

           “Was good, we get treat, yes?” Kiyi asked, sliding out of her chair and onto her roller board.

           “That’s right, you’ll get your reward,” he answered, rising from the couch.

           “Reward?” Varden said with a smile, flopping out of her chair as her sister had done, sans platform.

           “I guess your sisters haven’t told you; when you’re good and study, I give you a treat,” he explained, watching her scurry along the floor even faster than her more advantaged siblings.

           “Reward?” she asked in a sultry voice. “And bad girls have to reward you?” As she spoke in that same, sensuous tone, her hand reached up his leg and grabbed the bottom of his short, giving it a strong tug.

           Quickly taking hold of his waistband with one hand, Morgan prevented the fabric from sliding any lower than it already had. With his other hand the author slapped away her hand, uncomfortable with the idea of being any more forceful. That her hand retracted was almost silly to him, as the definition of her arms made him think she could easily ignore his less than half-hearted reproach.

           “The reward is candy, but I don’t get a…r-reward if you’re bad,” he stated, his imagination piecing together that very situation. Good lord, she was encouraging this behavior in him, as well….

           Heading into the kitchen, the bachelor tore open a few packages of noodles and boiled some water. Lunch was going to be simple this day. Fetching some peanut butter and a bottle of hot sauce, he placed it on the dining room table, poured enough glasses of water for everyone, and finished setting the table.

           “Put whatever you want in,” Morgan offered, pointing to the peanut butter and hot sauce. “Just don’t put in too much or won’t taste very good.”

           Each of them sniffed the contents of both containers. Kiyi chose to leave them both alone while Dace eagerly put in a generous amount of each – so much so that the water, previously only a shade of yellow from the spices that came with the noodles, was now a rusty brown sludge. Varden, on the other hand, carefully added a sampling of each to her bowl, but only after having first tasted the noodle soup beforehand.

           The eldest sister took her first taste of her concoction and began coughing almost immediately. From the beads of sweat forming, redness of her lips, and the rosiness of her skin, the author knew she had added more spice than her taste buds could handle.

           “That’s all you’re getting,” Morgan told her flatly, slurping up some noodles from his bowl. “Next time, remember not to use so much.” Glancing across the round table, he saw Varden adding a slightly greater amount of each into her soup then stirring it. Let out a sigh, he spoke the words he feared could be misconstrued. “I hate to say this, but…you could learn a thing or two from your sister. Just be careful about what she teaches you.”

           Even though he had insinuated against it, a few unrelated – and certainly unvoiced – ideas popped into his mind. His willpower was weak, for he chose to live in his imagination as he ate rather than dismiss even one of the fantasies.

           As each of them emptied their bowl – Dace taking by far the longest, torn between hunger and anguish – they flopped from their chairs and set back to their tasks. After washing the dishes, Morgan took a few candies from his closet and gave an equal share to each of them.

           “My idea was better,” Varden sighed, popping the candies into her mouth and turning back to the computer screen. Despite the mermaid’s statement, her mouth belied her disappointment. Despite the guilt he’d no doubt feel were he to enact her suggestion, Morgan had to agree with how much better her idea was.

           Dace – too – devoured the treats the moment she received them, letting out a deep, relieved sigh to have a more palatable flavor occupy her mouth; the sweet flavor fast replacing the omnipresent sensation of uncomfortable heat that pervaded her mouth.

           When Kiyi received hers, she slipped away to the bathroom and hid the candies within the sink’s cupboard; her actions not nearly so devious as to keep the author from seeing. After sliding a few towels to conceal her cache, she noticed the pipe that ran from the sink into the wall. Removing her head from the cupboard, Kiyi turned on the faucet so that a slight trickle of water poured into the sink and down the drain. She then placed her head below, with an ear against the pipe.

           Hearing the water move through the metal cylinder, her eyes went wide and she found herself fascinated. Chewing lightly on her thumb, the mermaid turned off the water, closed the cupboard doors, and began exploring. With a quick glance at the tub – her bed – she assumed it was set up the same way, even though the pipes couldn’t be seen.

           Wheeling herself into her sisters’ room, she found a lamp and flicked the switch. To her expectations, as she had seen it many times before, the light bulb illuminated. Flipping the switch once more, the light went out and she smiled. By means of a quick examination of the lamp, the seaweed haired woman found the power cord and followed it back to the wall. Pulling the plug free, she flipped the switch once more and found that the light did not come on.

           With an understanding nod, Kiyi reconnected the power and saw the light turn on. Flipping the switch once more, she reached up and unscrewed the bulb before moving the switch back to the ‘on’ position. Seeing it not come on, she began screwing the bulb back in and gave a wide, knowing smile as she witnessed the light return.

           Turning off the light one final time, the mermaid resumed her search around the home for other fascinating items she could study.

           When Kiyi had returned to the living room, Morgan wondered what she was doing, but as he had heard no sound of items breaking or other such red flags, and she had already finished her assigned studies for the day, he paid it no mind. Dace was still busy reading, still so enthralled by the novel that she hadn’t even asked to watch TV or a movie since having started. Perhaps if not for the novelty of watching things acted out for her, she’d have been happy to do naught but read.

           Looking over to Varden, he was glad that she was silently studying on her own. Just as the author looked down to his work, he performed a double-take and noticed something off about the screen; it was far more colorful than what he had witnessed during any previous lessons. Although he doubted that the inexperienced mermaid would know how to do anything, Morgan nonetheless left approached Varden from behind, discovering that she was using the Internet for illicit purposes.

           With a moment’s consideration, he found himself more impressed that she had learned how to do so on her own than upset over the way she seemed so capable at sniffing out the obscene. Standing to the right of the aquamarine haired mischief-maker and tapping her left shoulder, Morgan was able to snatch away the mouse while her attention was drawn and closed the browser window. He then, in turn, used her reaction over the loss of her newfound pictures to pull the Internet cable from the back of the computer.

           “Either study or do something else,” he told her, an ultimatum that led her to load up a game of solitaire; furrowing her brow as she slowly learned the rules of the simple game.

 

           The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Kiyi’s explorations proved considerate enough as to not cause beyond a slight inconvenience upon testing cables attached to the back of the computer. Dace needed help with only a few portions of her novel, but had succeeded in catching a typo. Even Varden managed to behave herself – relatively speaking.

           When it came time to prepare dinner, Morgan found two of the women gathered around his feet, making it difficult for him to walk without collateral damage. Kiyi was hoping to watch the manipulation of the stove to better grasp its function, while Varden insisted on being allowed to smell and sample everything he put into the meal – everything from vegetable oil to the pepper. Her dedication to something that wasn’t associated with Spring Break was commendable.

           As he cooked, the inquisitive mermaid studied everything – the setting of the dials on the stove, how much of each ingredient he added and when, and how much or little the ingredients were stirred into the pot.

           When the meal was done and the four housemates sat down to eat, Morgan took note of how each of the sisters went about consuming their portion, thinking it intriguing ever since he had spied the differences at lunch. For Kiyi, he thought that she was devouring the food without giving it a thought – as if her mind were so preoccupied with other things that she could very well have been swallowing anything of any flavor for the sake of sustenance. Dace showed more enthusiasm over the effort Morgan put in to cooking for them, joyfully eating her meal, spouting compliments of how well it tasted and going so far as to lick the plate clean when there was no more of the curry and rice left to enjoy.

           It made the author feel awash with a warm sense of accomplishment and appreciation to know that even one of them appreciated his cooking.

           Varden, he realized, was being the most contemplative of the three in how she ate. The seriousness on her face as she slowly consumed her meal surprised him because of the contrast over her normal behavior; a focused expression unlike anything he had ever seen from her before. From staring at her cheeks and jaw line, smooth and slender, Morgan could see how slowly she chewed and seemed to move the morsel about in her mouth before continuing. He also realized that Varden started by picking up single ingredients at a time from the curry at the start of the meal then – upon having sampled each item individually – worked her way up, taking in combinations of the portions.

           The mermaid’s thoughtful way of eating gave the impression of a food connoisseur considering the quality of a meal. In fact, the author could swear that after most samplings, she would take a sip of water to cleanse her palette like a professional.

           Between how she ate and her ability to keep her hands out of the pot and off the stove during the preparation of the curry, he couldn’t help but think that – unlike Dace – she would be worth making an attempt to teach how to cook. The interest was clearly there, and better towards food than other pursuits that could complicate things in a not entirely unwelcome way.

           Once dinner had been eaten and the dishes were cleaned, he called everyone to the couch to enjoy a movie – something Dace anticipated far more than her sisters. Selecting a film about an android assassin from the future, it was not long before even the apathetic siblings’ eyes were glued to the screen; both amazed and terrified by the way the metal man with the red eyes kept attacking no matter what.

           As the movie neared the credits, or rather the moment the android was finally destroyed, the three sisters let out a collective sigh of relief. The ominous final utterance of the heroine – Morgan noted – had been overlooked by the mermaids for Dace simply smiled and said “a happy ending”, to which her siblings agreed.

           “Well, actually…” Morgan commented, rolling his eyes, “there are more movies in this story.”

           “More…movies?” Kiyi asked, intrigued.

           “Yeah, like…Dace, you know how one of the stories you’ve read continues in another book?” he asked, receiving an enthused nod as a reply, her hair whipping back and forth like a heavy metal rocker. “This movie is like that.”

           Dace tilted her head to one side. “The movie was not like the book at all.”

           “No, no,” he sighed. “That series has a story that goes between books, understand?”

           “Yes….”

           “The movie we just watched has a story that goes between movies.”

           Her eyes widened. “Oh! So there’s more?” Dace smiled happily.

           “That’s right.”

           Squealing, she turned to her sisters and began explaining it to them in their native tongue, which didn’t take very long, for they too were soon behaving in an excited fashion.

           “Can we see?” Kiyi asked hopefully; the machine, it had been wonderful and she wished it had been real so that she could find out how it ticked. Morgan’s cheeks grew flush, noticing her tasty rump moving back and forth on the cushion; her breasts, fortunately, kept reasonably unobtrusive by her bra.

           Something more to thank Ryan for, he thought.

           “W-well, not tonight,” he answered with a cough after swallowing hard, purging his mind of primal thoughts. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” In face of the sisters’ pleas, he remained resolute and shooed them off to bed, feeling like a villain for having said ‘no’.

           Deciding he had been awake long enough as well, Morgan walked to his own room, pushing the doors closed upon entering then bolting them shut and pulling closed the purple curtains hung upon them. Stripping to his underwear, the author started crawling into bed when he heard a knock from across the room.

           As Morgan returned to his feet, he entertained the notion of Dace being unwilling to sleep alone after watching the hunter android at work. Unlocking the doors, he pushed one open to find the youngest sibling slide her way inside.

           “Oh…Varden, what do you need?” he asked, scratching at his head and beard, feeling self-conscious and nervous, though more from the awkwardness he felt than any sort of displeasure of the outcome.

           “This bed is more nice; want to sleep on this bed,” she smiled, crawling towards it at a casual pace, as if there would be no objection to her decision.

            Before she made it three pulls, however, the room’s occupant set a foot down on her tail as a sign for her to stop. “I don’t think so.”

           “You don’t want to be lonely in bed, right?” she asked with a smile of clearly feigned innocence.

           Beautiful exotic hair that flowed, a body toned through a lifetime of swimming without exposure to indulgent foods with untarnished skin tanned caramel. Throw in her big brilliant turquoise eyes; smooth, breathy, and sensuous voice; soft pink lips; full bosom; and a buttocks Morgan subjectively considered the most enticing.

           Honestly, in face of the offer by such an attractive woman – and one straight out of his fantasies – he felt but a beer away from accepting, if that. “That…oh, um…well, t-that’s very….” It was impossible for Morgan to keep his head together. Everything was coming together to make it hard to refuse: single and isolated for so long only to find himself surrounded by women not indoctrinated to feel ashamed, this one certainly willing; it was his own upbringing that was holding him back.

           “I’m quite good,” she purred, her voice a siren’s song to his ears.

           Stepping off her tail, the author started pacing about his room as Varden continued towards the bed. He needed time to sort his thoughts, torn between doing what he was taught to be the ‘right thing’ and giving into temptation; the latter of which was doing a good job overriding his upbringing. Turning around and spying the woman lying on his bed like a pinup girl – save for the out of place lower half – he swallowed hard. “Seriously…you have absolutely no subtlety.”

           Rolling onto her back and stretching out, she angled her head to look at him as he stood flabbergasted at the foot of the bed. “No?”

           Plucking several hairs from his beard, he shook his head. “Yes.” Closing the door to his room, he then nervously made his way to the bed, crawling onto the mattress beside her. Morgan still doubted his choice, a thought he was certain was clear as day upon his face, but he felt carelessly flip-flopping would be worse than remaining resolute with either decision once made.

           The lights off, doors closed, and the two of them alone in his bedroom, there was nothing left but to enjoy the evening together.

           “You will like,” Varden purred, kissing his neck and giving it a light nip.

6: Chapter 6 - Bring Her to the Lab

           As Morgan slept, his dreams were that of one on the line between pleasant and nightmarish. His subconscious mind crafted a scenario in which every little thing left him with another mermaid to take care of. Starting his car and driving a few feet only to have run over one’s tail fins. Opening the front door and smacking another in the face. Even a heavy rain left a couple of them flopping around on his property, at no fault of his own. The more that found themselves living in his quaint cottage, the more the author experienced a Marshmallow Hell.

 

           He woke the next morning to find him hand resting on his alarm clock, the snooze button pressed down. Though he had set the alarm for seven-thirty, he could see through his still groggy eyes that it was already past ten. As his mind finished waking up, Morgan suddenly wondered if the events of last night had been real or just a vivid and embarrassing dream. Springing to his feet and looking to the other side of his bed, the author found it to be empty. Breathing a deep sigh, he pulled on a casual outfit of jeans and a t-shirt, realizing that his guests would undoubtedly be hungry by now.

           Unlocking and pulling open his bedroom doors, the bearded author spotted Dace on the living room couch, reading peacefully. Mere feet from where he stood was a still wet trail across the hardwood floor leading from the bathroom, alerting him to the fact that Kiyi was out of ‘bed’ for the day. Stepping out into the living room, he could see Varden sitting at the computer, studying quietly.

           The youngest of the mermaids raised her head in reaction to his footsteps, turning about in her chair to lock eyes with the human. He watched as the mermaid’s cheeks turned red before quickly looking back to the computer.

           Hope that last night had been just a dream was fleeting.

           “I’m awake,” he called to the two sisters while turning to the washroom, expecting the third to be within earshot. “I’ll make breakfast for you in a minute.” Taking a beige towel from under the sink, he placed one foot on the fluffy fabric and slid it along the floor, wiping up the wet line left by the middle child. It saved him the trouble of having to bend over to work, but he felt mighty silly swirling one leg all about.

           Once he was satisfied with the condition of the floor, Morgan turned his head to look back at Varden, feeling self-conscious about last night’s activities. It had been a moment of weakness that he had accepted, but it didn’t mean for things to work out they way they had. What was most uncomfortable was the way she was reacting, so uncharacteristic for the shameless flirt.

           But thinking about it wouldn’t accomplish anything, nor would it get their bellies full. “Time for breakfast,” he told himself, making his way to the kitchen.

           As he approached the small cooking area, Morgan understood at once that this was not going to be a tranquil day; the sound of foodstuffs falling to the floor catching his ear. The mess he saw moments later was better than he had expected – only bread, fruits, and plastic jars littered the linoleum floor, no spills, breaks, or splatter – with Kiyi pulling items out of the fridge, examining them momentarily, and then throwing them over her shoulder.

           The saving grace had been that the milk and glass containers were all kept too high up for the curious mermaid to reach. What’s more, the freezer, which was further along in the kitchen, had been left untouched, though it would have been even more difficult for her to terrorize than the fridge.

           “C’mon, get out of here,” he shooed, placing his hands on her buttocks and wheeling her from the room; a payment for the mess made. Once he had the tiny room all to himself, he ruffled his light brown locks in frustration.

           Rather than waste time putting everything back in its place and then preparing a meal, he decided upon the recipe by what was strewn about, making the inconvenience as small as possible. The girls would just have to be happy with a meal of bananas and toast with peach jam.

           An unusual meal, to say the least, but none of them seemed to realize that it was only a lackluster attempt by someone who was already contemplating crawling into bed until all memories of last night were lost to all involved.

           Morgan couldn’t help but sigh as he ate. Taking care of two wholly dependent women had been trouble enough, but with the addition of the third who needed some social reconditioning – and a means by which he could once more look her in the eyes – this once dreamlike scenario had quickly become unpleasant. Were they able to pull their own weight somehow, most of the stress would vanish.

           Thinking it over – this topic keeping him from dwelling on less enjoyable subjects – cooking was the most time-consuming endeavor, but he didn’t trust Dace to have anything to do with heated surfaces, knives, or other potentially dangerous tools. The same applied to Kiyi, only it was her curious and mischievous nature made the author fearful for entirely different reasons. As for Varden….

           And his mind was back to the unpleasantness.

           “What did I do wrong?” the youngest sister asked out of the blue, setting down her banana. Any clamor at the table came to a sudden halt as her sisters turned to face her, while Morgan couldn’t have felt more tense had he locked eyes with Medusa.

           “Wrong?” Kiyi asked, the more curious of the two mermaids.

           “You said ‘yes’. Why did you not get hard?” she demanded to know, slapping her palms against the table. “Was embarrassing!”

           The eldest sister cast her shining blue eyes on the author, brimming with curiosity. “What did you do? What didn’t get hard?”

           “I-I, uh, that is…you see…” he floundered about for an answer, finding himself rooted in the very subject he didn’t want the girls getting involved in just yet.

           The young, blue-haired lady’s face grew red, but by the way she couldn’t meet his awkward stare, Morgan assumed it wasn’t out of anger but feelings not unlike his. “I wanted sex…why just…holding…all night?” Varden replied, her gaze growing even more evasive, to the extent that she didn’t want to even look at her sisters. By this time her face was beet red.

           “Holding all night?” the mischievous sister asked, not understanding.

           The eldest sibling mused over the words as well, giving an expression denoting an epiphany moments later. “You cuddled?”

           “Cuddled?” The word meant nothing to the party girl as she stared at the floor or anywhere else that wasn’t another’s face.

           All eyes were on the book worm as she left her chair, pushed her seat until it was next to the author’s, and got back in place so that she could wrap her arms around his shoulders. “This; cuddling,” she explained.

           Cautiously looking up, her tan skin returning to its usual hue, Varden let out a muffled cry as she pointed at the pair, her blush reappearing at once. “That! Embarrassing!”

           Morgan couldn’t help but wonder how this was to be considered more embarrassing than offering oneself up for beer.

           “But it’s so nice,” Dace insisted, leaning further into the innocent embrace, resting her head upon his shoulder, much to the discomfort of those who had shared a bed one night prior. “Didn’t it feel warm?”

           Her sister’s eye contact broke once more, as she conceded the point with a sense of malaise.

           Kiyi, feeling left out, shouted something to the effect of wanting to experience this warm comfort for herself, first in English before – presumably – arguing for the same in her native tongue of whistles and clicks.

           Perhaps, Morgan realized, that given her experience, all built upon frivolous interaction lacking any form of attachment, it was the intimacy of act that was causing her consternation and not that his inability to perform when burdened by a great deal of anxiety. Feeling a sense of tranquility despite the trio arguing in a language he couldn’t hope to understand nor imitate, the author divested of his fears. Now he could focus on what mattered: delegating chores to his guests.

           Varden had shown a competence for seasoning food, based on how she had handled the noodle soup and her attention to the making of the curry – without causing herself any form of harm. Were she able to prepare everyone’s meals, the human contemplated, his schedule would be considerably more open. Not to mention, having her busy cooking could also keep her busy and away from influencing her sisters with tales more suited to adult film.

           With a plan in mind to impart upon the youngest sister the skill to create fine cuisine, Morgan pondered just what strength the others could offer to make his life easier. Nothing came to mind for Kiyi, but so long as she maintained her curiosity and got her fingers into everything, he was sure there would come a day where her talents would shine through. As for Dace, he decided she could serve as a fine and dedicated proofreader for his projects, her love of literature seeming powerful enough to supersede the dull nature of the task; the notion of having her fill the role of his own personal pleasure girl actively being pushed to the far recesses of his mind.

           As the hoopla died down, the sisters finished their meals one by one and gradually returned to their assigned tasks. Before Varden – the most eager to slither away – was able to leave the table, however, he reached over and placed a hand on one of her shoulders.

           Feeling his touch once more, she squirmed a little but looked up all the same.

           “I, uh, was thinking that you can speak well enough for now, so maybe I could teach you how to cook,” he explained, wanting to explain things before she became self-conscious once more.

           “Cook?” she asked, her tone quickly changing from one of discomfort to that of intrigue.

           “Yes; I have some cookbooks I haven’t touched in months and it’d be handy if at least one of you three could help out around the house,” he explained in a friendly voice.

           Varden stared at him, her normally big and brilliant eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What about ‘cuddling’?”

           “Uh…only if you wanted?” Morgan replied rather confused.

           His answer appeared to satisfy her, her cheeks rising up into the corners of her eyes from a great big smile. “Teach me!”

           A warm, genuine smile came to the author’s lips as he nodded. “We’ll start you off with something simple – pancakes.

           

           Over the course of the day, he allowed Varden to attempt several recipes. The first try at pancakes left them with many more charred misshapen discs than those that were edible, and even then there were shards of eggshell and lumps of baking powder that rendered them almost equally unpalatable.

           Wanting her to get the hang of something reasonably simple before moving on to a more advanced – and costly to attempt – recipe, her tutor had her try again, which yielded surprising results. Some of the flapjacks still wound up overcooked, but none had burned – a fast improvement by itself. With no readily visible flaws with the batch, Morgan made use of them for lunch; their taste matching what he often prepared, and between the four of them, there were only a couple of small bits of eggshell; an excellent start for the novice.

           After giving the chef-in-training a congratulatory pat on the head, he had her help him with the dishes before starting her on how to bake cookies. It seemed as though she had already gained an understanding of measuring, order, and preparation for she succeeded in following the recipe properly until such time as Morgan needed to explain the differences between baking and frying.

           Such was the importance of his supervision at this early stage.

           With all the sugar and chocolate chips that had gone into the recipe, offering a reward of skittles for a job well done seemed like an unnecessary reward, agreeing instead to allowing the trio to divide the spoils amongst themselves. Varden, naturally, claimed the lion’s share for reasons he – giving her the benefit of the doubt – attributed to personal effort over abject gluttony.

           By evening, the mermaid had mastered the use of eggs – in so much that she no longer made the mistake of allowing any bits of shell to disrupt her cooking – and  successfully made an omelet for dinner.

           The ability to have prepared the meal by oneself seemed to have been lost on Varden’s sisters, who, as they ate, excitedly tried to convince Morgan to let them watch another movie after dinner. The author was amused by the way the pair seemed to congratulate themselves over getting him to agree despite it having been his intention all along, even routine by now.

           Once he and Varden had cleaned the dishes, he put on a movie for them to enjoy about a rich bitch losing her memory and being taken advantage of by a carpenter who she had ripped off. Unlike the other movies they had enjoyed, this film was not horror, action, or fantasy, but a slow-paced comedy which, to Morgan’s delight, they enjoyed all the same.

           By the time the movie had concluded he decided he was ready for a good night’s sleep and insisted the sisters were to do the same. Ushering them off to bed, the author decided to reward the youngest not only for her improved behavior but also for taking on some of the responsibilities of the household. As she crawled into bed – her own, as Morgan ensured – he brought her a couple of cookbooks he had in the kitchen and suggested she look through them to find something she’d be interested in making.

           As he turned to leave for his own room, Morgan felt a small but strong hand squeeze his right buttocks. Glancing over his shoulder and through his untrimmed light brown bangs, he could see an impish grin on Varden’s face and a twinkle in her playful blue eyes as she enjoyed the placement of her hands.

           Raising a hand, he brought it down on her head and ruffled her long aquamarine hair such that it covered her face, strewn every which way.

           “If you can get hard….”

           With a flush face and an uneven tone, he was quick to answer her offer with an insistence she get some sleep. A vague answer because for all the embarrassment, in his heart Morgan wasn’t sure he wanted to refuse the invitation.

           His gaze then moved to Dace who was buried up to her nose in the covers and staring up at him with big, deep blue puppy dog eyes that made him want to cuddle her right then and there, but had to be mindful of the other guest, who was still questioning such deeds. Just as much, he didn’t terribly want to keep his back turned to the little imp. Circling the bed, he bent over and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and offered a simple ‘sweet dreams’.

           With a large smile made visible as she pulled the sheets down an inch, she cheerfully returned the sentiment and closed her radiant eyes.

           Secretly, Morgan wished her sisters could be that sweet and innocent, but the author inside of him decided that it would be quite dull and undesirable to be surrounded by carbon copies of the same basic personality.

           Heading to his own room, Morgan got changed before his attention was drawn to the puzzling lump on his bed. Pulling away the covers, he found Kiyi staring up at him, arms folded across her bare chest in a pout with an expression as if to say ‘where have you been?’

           “What took so long?” she asked in a stern voice.

           Close enough, he thought.

           “What…are you doing here?” he countered, scratching at his beard; it was overdue for a trim.

           “My turn,” Kiyi answered in the same tone as before, her narrow, piercing gaze focused on his much more timid brown eyes. “Cuddle me.”

           She was much more forceful than her sisters, he noted, resigning himself to laying next to her before pulling up the sheets and pulling her to his chest. At least the way in which she was demanding was one in which he was comfortable accommodating. Closing his eyes to drift off to sleep, the warm body next to his making his rest more soothing, he could hear a faint hum from his bedmate, her tone reminiscent of that of someone in the midst of contemplating their opinion.

 

           Days passed and the sisters’ studies continued. Dace started reading novels on the adult level and was doing so without the need to resort to a dictionary; in fact, there were times in which she pointed out to Morgan grammatical or spelling errors – though some intentional. Kiyi had finally reached an acceptable level of understanding but never became enthralled by literature in the way her elder sister had. Instead, she spent his time getting her hands into everything, even disassembling one of the clocks in the guest room. Varden also was able to polish her speech and made great strides in cooking. The aquamarine-haired pervert had yet to become a gourmet chef, but she had a certain flair for the art and Morgan was more than happy to let her prepare two of the three meals each day.

           At night, he was never without company, Dace and Kiyi having taken a liking to having someone beside them at night. The author, himself, had grown comfortable with the arrangement, though was temporarily asking that there be only one at a time. He was still giggling over their choice for dividing up the week, with the two eldest siblings alternating from Sunday to Friday. That part was fine, but when Varden, who still openly professed to find the mere act of cuddling to be embarrassing, demanded she get the last day to keep from being left out, Morgan had to leave the room with hand clamped over his mouth as to not upset anyone with peals of laughter.

           With the sisters doing so well, Morgan found the computer available for his writing, allowing him to finally set about converting his pages of notes and shorthand into proper literature. There was still some time before the deadline, but the sooner he finished, the more time he’d have to edit and polish the manuscript, limiting any regrets when it hit the shelves.

           At the start of what he presumed would be another day of peaceful leisure, Morgan woke to the scent of hash browns wafting in past the glass double doors of his room. Breathing deep and taking in the aroma the author let out a pleased sigh as he turned to his clock; eight-nineteen, which had become late enough for him in the past few weeks. Turning the other way, he gently touched Dace’s shoulder.

           “Hey, wake up; breakfast is on.”

           Her eyes shot open and she let out a happy squeal – something else to which he had become accustomed on the mornings after she had shared his bed – and nestled up closer. The mermaid let out a contented sigh that sounded like ‘warm’.

           “I know, I know,” he smiled, edging his hips away, “but I’m hungry and your sister’s cooking only makes it worse.” Wiggling out of her embrace, Morgan rolled over and climbed out of bed, pulling on his housecoat and slippers.

           No sooner than he was dressed did the phone ring, making him flinch out of surprise. It rang again and he was able to lower his heart rate, and by the third chiming he was prepared to answer. “Hello?”

           “Hi M&M, it’s me.” The recognizable voice of his ex. “Sorry for calling so early—”

           “Nah, you got me just late enough.”

           There was a moment of dead air.

           “…Splendid.”

           There was something to her tone that suggested she had believed he informed her of things she didn’t want to know.

           “Well, I’ve been looking at my lab’s schedule and I should be able to pencil you in for tomorrow evening.”

           Morgan rubbed his eyes wondering if, perhaps, it was still too early in the morning of that something had outright slipped his mind. Unable to form a proper response, he made due with an unintelligible noise to convey his confusion.

           “I’ll swing by this afternoon with everything you’ll need.”

           “What? Hey, w—” before Morgan could protest the sound of her hanging up was heard and he was left to wonder just what that had been about. Though the bearded novelist was tempted to phone her back, he decided it best to just wait until she had arrived in person to sort things out.

           Moving to the kitchen Morgan filled his plate with hash browns and retrieved some ketchup from the fridge and hot sauce. Whatever appointment Ryan had been talking about, having it tomorrow suited him just fine, as it had been over a week since he last went shopping and the freezer and pantry were in need of more than a few items. Not to mention he could ask for what sized bra to get the newest addition to his household.

           Beyond the call from his ex, the day passed like any other day before it until 4, at which time the geneticist arrived as promised. After opening the door for her, Morgan was only given enough time to say her name before she handed him a cardboard box.

           “You’ll find the shirts in there – I got a collection of styles and sizes, so pick whatever is the most comfortable. Some skirts too, to fit around their tails. I have the fold up wheelchair right here,” Ryan informed him, motioning to the compact item she had held under one arm. “I wish I could give you more time for all this, but two people asked for tomorrow off just this morning….”

           “Ryan!” he shouted, derailing her train of thought. His ex’s head moved so fast from in response to his call that even her tightly wrapped auburn bun could be seen wobbling from the sudden shift. “What the hell is this all about?”

           She fell silent for a moment before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, M&M, I was moving at my own pace. Would you mind if I come in and explain?”

           “Yeah, why not; come on in. Have a seat in the living room and I’ll be right with you” he offered, carrying the box to the guest room.

           She followed him in, leaning the wheelchair against the wall of the entrance and removed her shoes. As Ryan made her way for the living room couch, she spotted Kiyi wheeling herself along the floor, moving towards the guest room in hopes of rummaging through the newly delivered package. Dace was seated on the couch happily reading The Hobbit, so Ryan took a seat on the far end as to not disturb her.

           The scent of meatloaf cooking in the oven caught her attention and the geneticist glanced left towards the kitchen. Both eyebrows raised in shock as she spotted Varden through the kitchen window, busy chopping ingredients for a salad.

           “Okay, now, start from the beginning,” Morgan demanded as he came back. “What’s this about?”

           “Three?” Ryan shouted so loud that all eyes were upon her; even Varden wheeled far enough to peer around a corner.

           Rubbing his ears from the sudden blast of high-pitched noise, the author nodded. “T-that’s right, I didn’t tell you…that’s Varden,” he introduced, the mermaid blowing him a kiss at the sound of her name. “She’s become quite the cook.”

           “Only you…” Ryan mumbled under her breath.

           “What?”

           “She seems to have taken a liking to you,” Ryan commented.

           A nervous chuckle escaped the writer’s lips. “Uh…yeah; it was surprising at the start.”

           “He’s weird in bed!” Varden shouted the houseguest. “Did you know that?”

           Ryan stared up at Morgan from her seat, her eyes were neutral yet he couldn’t help but feel a chill. “Did you pick up some new tastes since we…no, that’s none of my—”

           “Cuddling,” the novelist snapped, eyes closed and cheeks burning. “They like to share my bed and we cuddle, that’s it.”

           “And that’s weird? Well, that sounds more like you. Anyways, to business; last time I was here, when I gave Dace and Kiyi the physicals, I mentioned using the lab sometime for more thorough tests….”

           He had to spend a minute to recall but Morgan eventually nodded. “Right, I remember.”

           “Yes, well, I’ve been waiting for someone to ask for time off, and as luck would have it, both employees who work evening shifts have both asked for the day off tomorrow. If you wheel in one of your…ladies before six, we can have you signed in at the front desk before closing.”

           “Okay, if we do this, who do I have to worry about?” he asked. Morgan honestly did want to learn the results of as many non-intrusive tests as possible, but not if it meant word getting out about his wondrous find.

           “Signing in, you just need to keep the receptionist from seeing their tail. After that, you can stay in my office until after everyone else leaves. The night janitor works until eight, but he’s not allowed to clean anywhere that’s having tests being run, so we just need to start with a full body CT scan and we’ll be reasonably safe until we’ve got the place to ourselves. Better yet, we could start with blood samples so that your choice doesn’t even need to leave the chair.”

           “Great! Wait…what about security cameras?”

           The security of her lab was one of the things Ryan prided herself on. Along with studies in Ryan’s field, the facility had everything any decent hospital would have and had been made use of on multiple occasions by local hospitals. Making sure valuable equipment wasn’t stolen or test results intruded upon was something the professional needed to ensure wouldn’t happen.

           “We’ll be careful. I’m the only person with access to the footage and any slips we have, I’ll be sure to remedy. Are you in?”

           It was clear to Morgan that she desperately wanted this plan to go ahead, and by the way one of his legs bounced up and down, the feeling was mutual. Without Ryan, he’d have no means of sating his curiosity and he trusted her ability to adhere to her principles. Despite his excitement, if he could think of even a single element that would put his life with the sisters in jeopardy, it was a small price to never know the answer.

           “Do you need some time to think it over?”

           He nodded, his light brown hair bobbing with his head. “Yeah…please let me think it over at least until after dinner. If I can’t imagine a single reason to turn down your offer, I’m in.”

           “Is that an offer to enjoy a mermaid’s cooking?” Ryan asked with an almost mischievous smile. At least, that’s how it would have appeared on anyone else’s face but with her personality, he couldn’t be sure.

           “It is,” the author laughed. “Before I start picking your plan apart, what do you think the odds are of it going awry?”

           “Things can always go wrong,” she conceded, being a realist. “If someone at the company I hired to archive my security footage looks it over and finds gaps, they might question it; of course, I could file a complaint if they did that. Test results could be found by someone who snoops well enough, but I plan to do some thorough purging to remove any evidence and I know systems and protocols to handle anything that could arise.”

           “You’re sure?”

           “Yes…” she answered immediately then thought it through. “Yes. Whatever comes up, it’ll fall on my shoulders and not yours. I just have to know more!”

           “Okay, fine, I’m in. Dace, how’d you like to come with me to town tomorrow?”

           Dace had been pretending to read as the conversation had been going on, doing as well as an infant in her deception. Lowering the book to below her chin, having been holding it mere inches from her face during the charade, the blue-eyed mermaid gave an openmouthed smile of elation. “I can?”

           He nodded. “That’s right, but I’ll need to teach you a few things tonight before you’re allowed. If you’re good, I’ll even give you a whole bag of skittles after tomorrow.”

           The expression that replaced the former led Morgan to believe Dace had rainbows appearing in mass within her head. Giving her access to that much sugar all at once would certainly have its consequences, but he wanted to make sure she behaved and sat still when it mattered.

           “Well, with that all sorted, I suppose I should take my leave…” the guest announced, getting to her feet.

           “Sit your ass back down,” he ordered. “You’re still invited for dinner. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to speak candidly with them.”

           Over dinner, the sisters had as many questions for Ryan as she had for each of them, hers being simple in nature but not always answerable, stemming from a lack of knowledge on their own species.

           Dace asked about towns and the lab, which the ex was more than happy to answer. Kiyi inquired about various personal or intimate details about her life as well as her former relationship with Morgan, the greater share of which the host forbade her from answering. Varden, revealing her true nature, asked for information on Morgan’s sexual habits and preferences, along with what would convince him to go further than ‘that weird cuddling’; a topic that was immediately vetoed, though not without considerable laughter from his ex.

           “Did you become a monk without telling me?” the geneticist laughed, more earnestly than he could remember.

           “S-shut up, if I didn’t do this, you’d be giving me an earful,” Morgan pouted, placing his pushed out chin in one hand.

           As if not having their questions answered wasn’t a great enough disappointment as it was, the potential for a great deal of candy that was available to their eldest sibling but neither of them led them to occasionally stare daggers at the unknowing Dace with their eyes.

           When the meal had concluded, Ryan helped with dishes then took her leave, having a long drive ahead of her. Once she was gone, Morgan set about giving Dace the instructions she would need to follow in order to come to town: not talking to anyone other than him and Ryan, to stay in the wheelchair, not move her tail, and to never wander off.

           Though the mermaid said she understood, the author took care to reinforce the notion through practice: having her play the mute no matter her sisters’ provocation. Then he had her dress in a blouse and long skirt before wrapping everything below her waist in a blanket and putting on a movie for her to enjoy while ensuring she’d keep his tail still. This not only proved to him that she could keep it still for a good deal of time, but also while excited. Passing the tests, he decided to call it a night and insisted that Dace do the same for the long day ahead. He decided it was for the best that it was Kiyi’s turn to sleep with him; otherwise he could only imagine the favoritism he’d have been showing. The next trip, for whatever reason, he decided, the choice would fall between Kiyi and Varden.

7: Chapter 7 - Road Trip

           Their morning went on as would any ordinary day – considering Morgan’s wonderfully unusual circumstances – though Dace showed all the excitement of a young child knowing she would be leaving for an amusement park. Every ten minutes the mermaid would call to him, asking if they would be leaving soon, only for the author to reply that they wouldn’t leave until two in the afternoon.

           When noon rolled around, he made sure to have the three sisters feed before getting Dace into a light hooded sweater. Though it was warm enough of a day for her to wear something lighter, he wanted to keep her as conservatively covered as possible. Some mental gymnastics later and he convinced himself that the fact that her first experience wearing more clothes than just her bra – gaudy though it may be – would be an uncomfortable one had nothing to do with his decision.

           The time for departure drew near and so Morgan made sure to go over the plan with Dace once more in hopes that any potential faux-pas would be avoided. She once again demonstrated good self-restraint in avoiding speaking as well as not moving her tail – the latter more essential to the plan than the former, so long as she understood not to bring her species or past into a conversation. However, when he asked her to try moving forward using the wheelchair, the most unusual thing occurred.

 

           The attempt had been made in the living room on its nice hardwood floor. Kiyi and Varden were kept well out of the way and Morgan had made special care to check that nothing was littering the floor. All in all, it was the ideal condition for a test run. Still, within two seconds – and too fast to even spot where she had gone wrong, Dace managed to make the chair topple forwards, sending the accident prone mermaid sprawling to the floor only to have the back of the seat whack her in the shoulder blades as it fell on top of her prone figure.

           As Dace let out a high pitch squeal – more so from surprise and confusion than pain – Morgan stared on in disbelief. He gave himself ten seconds to collect his thoughts before letting out a loud sigh and shaking his head, the fingers of his left hand pressed to his forehead.

           “I…how…was that intentional?” the human asked, staring at the mess with half-closed eyes. “I even tested it myself…so that wasn’t the chair’s fault…wow.”

           Dace looked up at him from over her slender yet strong shoulder with big sad topaz eyes. “What did I do wrong?”

           “Did you push forward?” Kiyi asked. “With your body?”

           “Uh-huh,” the eldest sister nodded, calming down.

           “Just use your arms; do not lurch with our body,” she instructed.

           “Y-yeah…how hard did you…lurch to flip the whole chair?” Morgan asked, wincing. Secretly, he was amazed by both the clumsiness of Dace and the observational skills of the middle sibling. “Well, for today I’ll push you myself, and you can practice…not failing so hard another time, okay?”

           The puppy dog eyes flared up again and a sorrowful whimper was made, but the klutz said nothing and nodded.

           “Good. I’ll fold up the wheelchair and put it in my car. You come outside as well, but leave your board behind.”

           Mention of leaving the cottage snapped her right out of her mood and she wheeled herself to the front door, where she did as she was instructed in leaving the board tilted up on it side by where Morgan kept his shoes.

           It surprised Morgan how quickly the aquatic girl could move over land as she rushed to the entrance, thinking that she may very well finish preparing before he could, but found herself able to get ahead once outside; between the grass and her lack of transportation, the mermaid’s crawl clearly took considerably more effort while he was able to calmly stroll past with the collapsible chair under one arm.

           Folding it up and sticking it in the trunk, Morgan unlocked the car doors and waited for Dace to reach the passenger side where he helped lift her onto the passenger seat. Getting the blanket wrapped around her tail, he made sure that aside from her hair – which could be explained with dyes – there was nothing visible to show her not-quite-human nature.

           Making sure they were both buckled in, Morgan started the car, which drew a squeak of excitement from his companion. He noted how her eyes went wide and jaw slack from the mere act of his driving in a tight circle and pulling out onto the country road. Dace’s hands balled up momentarily before she pressed her hands against the window and stared out at the road as it went moving by.

           “How…how do you make everything move?” she asked, perplexed and awe-inspired.

           “It…” Morgan paused to consider what answer would satisfy his mechanically maligned lady. “It’s like a big wheelchair.”

           She let out a drawn out noise making clear that she was astounded by his grasp of something so complex.

           “You’ve never been this far from the lake, have you?”

           She shook his head.

           “Well, you’ll be seeing a lot of new things firsthand,” he chortled. “Enjoy the sights all you’d like, but remember what we practiced.”

           It was a longer drive into town than usual, not because of traffic but from Dace’s near-constant inquiries. What kind of tree is this, what kind of animal is that, where do roads come from…it was always something. He thought it adorable at the start but it had become old thirty minutes in, and nerve-racking by the time they pulled into the city limits.

           “Dace, you need to be quiet starting now, understand?”

           She opened her mouth to answer but held her tongue and nodded, beaming. Morgan believed she thought herself quite clever the way she answered while already doing as she was told.

           “Good. It’s still too early for our appointment, so I’m going to do some shopping first. I could take you into the store, but there would be a lot of people and a lot of new things. Do you think you would be good on your first time out or should you just wait in the car?” Morgan knew that he was speaking to her as he would a child, but from how much life experience she had, it was necessary condescension.

           Dace looked out the window and saw all the different vehicles milling about and the pedestrians that dotted the sidewalks. Rubbing her tail through the blanket she shook her head. “You want…to be careful?”

           “That’s right.”

           “I’ll stay,” she stated, visibly crestfallen. “But I can come another time?”

           “Sure thing; I’ll take you and your sisters out some time,” the author smiled, rubbing the top of her head. “Next time I have shopping to do, I’ll take you into that town we passed on our way here; it’d be good practice to start somewhere small.”

           Her wide, innocent smile came back to her face and she nodded. “Okay!”

           Leaving the keys in the ignition but taking the keychain, he kept the AC on low, turned the radio on for her, and showed her how to use it. “Just push these buttons to go through the stations. It’s like a TV, but without video, okay?”

           Dace’s reply was rushed as she was already absorbed by the new device and enjoyed the many sounds.

           “I’ll be back in a bit; don’t let anyone into the car besides me, don’t roll down the windows, and don’t talk to anyone. See you soon.”

           Locking the doors with his keychain, Morgan grabbed a cart and made his way inside. Knowing he had quite the span of time to wait out before heading over to Ryan’s lab, he casually moved along, taking his sweet time to see everything he could possibly want; even picking out a few new DVDs in the electronics department. Once he had bought everything he needed or wanted, Morgan made her way back to the car, casually walking through the rather crowded parking lot.

           Using his keychain to unlock the door, he slid back into the driver’s seat, surprised to find the mermaid to be listening to the news over any music, and apparently oblivious to his return.

           “Anything interesting happening?” he asked, snapping Dace out of her trance.

           “Yes!” she exclaimed, jumping in place with her breathing elevated. “I, yes, so many things are happening,” Dace explained, slowly calming down. “How can there be so much?”

           Morgan laughed. “I guess I’ll have to introduce you to geography, it’s a big world out there, and whatever you’ve been listening to doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

           Her eyes sparkled at this news. “How big is it? Like…another place like this?”

           “You are so cute,” he teased, unable to stop his laughter as Morgan reached out and ruffled her hair. “Let’s put it this way. Where we live is a ‘house’, if you get together a lot of houses, you get a ‘village’ – like what we passed through on our way here – and with even more houses it’s a ‘town’. A really big town is called a ‘city’.”

           Dace nodded in what he assumed was comprehension but didn’t make a sound.

           “So far you’ve only seen a small part of this town. Beyond cities you have states, provinces, countries, continents…all of which make this place look as small as my house.”

           By the end of his childlike explanation, the mermaid’s jaw was slack and eyes practically popping out of her head. “Small?”

           “You got it. Now…we’ve still got some time to kill before our appointment; what say we get some ice cream?” Morgan smiled, gently moving some of Dace’s long teal hair behind her ear.

           The remaining hours were spent lazily in the car, with Morgan showing her what few points of interest he could display from inside the vehicle. When it finally came time for their appearance at the lab, he pulled into the slowly emptying small parking lot and found a space. Fetching the folding wheelchair from the trunk, the author helped her get settled in before pushing her over to the door.

           The receptionist looked up from her computer screen and then back to the game of solitaire as the two entered, doing no more to acknowledge their presence until Morgan approached the desk. “Macleod; we have an appointment.”

           The woman silently verified his claim and picked up the phone. “Have a seat; Dr. Andrews would be with you shortly.”

           Dace looked about in wonderment, this being the first structure she’d ever visited after Morgan’s house. At first the novelist was worried this would attract undue attention but realized that most people would have never visited a laboratory; as evidenced by the way the receptionist seemed unfazed by Dace’s behavior.

           A few minutes after the secretary completed her call Ryan came out through the security door and welcomed them. “Morgan, Dace, just sign in and we’ll get started right away,” she greeted warmly yet professionally, picking up the clipboard from behind the desk and handing it to the couple.

           Morgan signed for himself as usual but had to walk Dace through the process, taking note that she’d have to be taught how to write as well. Ryan chose to simply look away from the scrawl but the receptionist let out a stifled laugh, clamping her hand tightly over her mouth.

           Guiding the two through the lab and to her office, Ryan locked the door behind them, giving them complete privacy. “Thank you for coming, I hope you don’t mind but the two of you will need to stay in here for a half-hour before we can start the tests.”

           “Everyone is still leaving tonight?” Morgan asked, folding her hands over his lap. “There haven’t been any chances, have there?”

           The scientist double-checked the schedule and nodded. “Everything is still in order; we can do everything tonight and never have to worry about risking this again. In the meantime, Dace, I’ll explain to you everything that I’ll be testing and how. If either you or M&M doesn’t want me to go through with a procedure, we…can cut it from the schedule.”

           Her pause told Morgan a lot about how invested she was in the whole process; Ryan wasn’t one to doubt or hesitate, and that trait showed in her speech, at least when it came to a prepared dialogue. That she paused meant Ryan was hoping that not a single item would be removed from her agenda. Whatever that entailed.

           For the next half hour Ryan explained to the pair every test in as much detail as she would with any other patient. Scans, x-rays, and samples of blood, Dace was informed of them all, and though she voiced worries about having blood taken from her, the process was intriguing well beyond the weight of his concern.

           Ryan checked her watch before smiling and clapping her hands. “Most people should be gone by now. To begin, let’s draw blood; you won’t have to leave your chair and, Dace, I assure you: if you can handle this, none of the other examinations will be a problem for you.”

           The mermaid nodded, curious as to what it would feel like. Morgan had already assured her it would be much less painful than when she had been diced by the boat’s rotor, which was oddly successful at putting her at ease.

           As they made their way from Ryan’s office, the geneticist bid farewell to the men and women that were on their way out for the evening, leaving only the three of them plus the night janitor, who Ryan assured would only be present for a little while longer himself.

           Collecting a sterilized needle and several plastic containers, the scientist took to labeling them before setting everything in place. Having Dace roll up a sleeve, she searched for a vein then applied a local antithetic. Morgan suggested Dace look away as the needle pierced her skin, allowing Ryan to start filling the first vial.

           The author let her know when she could look back and Dace was astounded by how painless the process was, especially for how quickly the plastic tubes were filling.

           “Only felt a pinch, didn’t you?” Morgan asked.

           “Uh-huh! But how do you stop it?”

           “You’ll see; just three more to go,” Ryan answered as she casually exchanged one tube for another; a process she had done hundreds of times before. Once all the needed blood had been drawn, she picked up a cotton ball and carefully pulled out the needle before pressing the fluffy cotton against the small wound. “Hold that in place until I tell you otherwise.”

           Morgan watched the patient puzzlingly hold the swab in place as Ryan stored the fresh blood and returned with a Band-Aid to put in place. “There you go; I’ll leave it up to Morgan to make sure you don’t strain yourself for the rest of the day. Next we should move on to the—”

           Her speech was cut short as a head popped suddenly through the doorway. “Hey, Ryan,” the janitor began, smiling cheerfully. “I’ve finished cleaning the offices and halls; will you be using the labs tonight?”

           “More than likely, Cheryl.”

           “Gotcha, so…” he began, making it apparent that there was something more he wanted to say, his thumb brushing his clean-shaven chin as a visual cue.

           “You can leave early,” she confirmed.

           “Hey, thanks. See you tomorrow.”

           Ryan paid his departure no mind but Morgan had to rub his eyes. “That was the biggest threat to the plan? Someone who’s more than happy to leave work early? And seriously, a boy named Cheryl?”

           “I don’t like taking risks, you know that, M&M,” she smiled. “Besides, keeping secrets is much simpler if those around you don’t care about them in the first place. Also, I never knew you liked country.”

           The author couldn’t argue with her there. “Is everyone around here that apathetic?”

           “Presently? Yes. That’s why I suggested this plan.”

           Looking between the two chatting humans, Dace’s cheeks grew a little red. “When am I having the next test?” she asked, loudly enough that it would stifle any further conversation between the two for the time being.

           “Oh, well then let’s continue with an MRI,” Ryan decided, folding her arms and nodding her head. “Yes, that would be very telling of your internal structure.”

 

           As the scan progressed, the scientist could tell by the images displayed on her monitor that the upper half of the anatomy of the subject was on par with that of an ordinary human being. Size, shape, and placement all seemed to coincide with everything she had seen and studied in the past. At the waist, everything changed, with the yet familiar organs arranged to fit the mermaid’s tail before becoming something wholly alien to the woman only familiar with the human body.

           “Fascinating…” breathed Ryan.

           The amazement in her voice caught the attention of the author, who had just finished spending the better part of an hour watching a series of images that meant nothing to him while playing with his facial hair. “What? What is it?”

           “This is so very…this is wonderful; to be able to see and study this…I have so much to research now. Hmm…Morgan, have you noticed anything unusual about any of them?”

           He blinked once. Twice. “They’re mermaids; you’ll have to be a little more…”

           “Physically,” Ryan sighed; it was always frustrating whenever he chose to be the pedantic one. “On the human side; when you’ve touched or however far you’ve gone, what—”

           “W-whoa, hold one, ‘however far you’ve gone’?” he interrupted, growing flush with embarrassment. “Just say it straight; what do you think I’ve been doing with them?”

           The gesture she made with three fingers across both hands was a rather concise, if not rude, answer.

           “Just because I live with three women doesn’t mean I’m some harem-building pervert,” he huffed. “And I’m not going to hit on them until they’ve finished learning what’s what.”

           “Right….” The way Ryan spoke the word was slow and flat, reeking of incredulity. “And how many of them have slept with you?”

           “Only literally,” he snapped, “and that’s beside the point; they…like the warmth.” At the sight of his ex opening her mouth once more, he quickly added: “Upper body.”

           “None of my business; I only wanted to know if you noticed anything ‘special’,” she explained giving him a faint smile. “I know you well enough to know they’re safe with you, whatever’s happening.”

           “Well, safe from me,” Morgan mumbled, pushing out his chin, upset that she had made yet another passive accusation.

           Cocking an eye at his inarticulate remark, the scientist looked back to the monitor and smiled. “There, finished and…saved. Let’s go see how she faring and we can get on with the tests.”

           She led him out of the observation room and to the mermaid subject, sliding out the table on which Dace laid. “Didn’t hurt a bit, did it?”

           “Not at all,” the mermaid smiled, sitting up; a little stiff from having lain motionless for so long. “Can you help me into my chair?” In asking, Dace was looking straight at Morgan, as if there was no one else in the room.

           Thinking nothing of her directed request at the time, the author carefully lifted her in his arms and set her back into the wheelchair, wrapping her tail safely once more.

           The rest of the evening was spent running the gamut of tests, of which Ryan helped speed up by saving the results for inspection at a later date rather than combing through the information as it came in. Yet it was long after dusk when they were finally finished.

           Despite the long, exciting day, Dace was still wound up as she was wheeled out to the car, but Morgan was sure that the over stimulated lady would crash once the long drive home began. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, Ryan assured him that she’d tell him all of the findings and hide their tracks most thoroughly. Thanking her but also warning her for good measure to keep everything quiet, Morgan started out for the long quiet drive home.

 

           Their studies had been completely neglected. The computer had been left unused all day long; by Kiyi because a magic box such as that didn’t hold her interest and Varden because she couldn’t use its wondrous Internet without having Morgan fix it for her.

           Shirking their responsibilities, Kiyi spent the day on her impish studies, opening every door, cabinet, and container she came across, trying to find things she could tinker with or use self-servingly. Any device she found that she could take apart with her bare hands was soon in pieces on the floor, allowing the mermaid to pick at the components.

           Once the parts had been inspected and prodded, she would reassemble the device to the best of her abilities, leaving out one part to see if it would still work – and how well. When it didn’t she’d try it without a different piece, and when it did – which was hardly ever – she would continue removing pieces until it stopped working. Only after her curiosity was satiated with one device would Kiyi put it back together with all its pieces intact and crawl over to the next item.

           Varden’s mischief began much more subdued than her sister’s, simply going through the shelves in the kitchen and sampling each and every spice or seasoning to be found. After that she took to nibbling on the foods in the fridge, learning quickly to avoid biting into eggs. Once her teeth had left impressions in all the food in the fridge, the focus of her curiosity then shifted back to her earlier ways, bringing her to Morgan’s bedchambers. The mermaid rifled through his drawers, disappointed by the ordinary clothes found within, and not a dirty magazine to be found.

           Kiyi, finally reaching Morgan’s room in her exploration as well, spotted her younger sister’s perplexing behavior. Whistling and clicking at her in their native tongue, she asked why she was doing such a pointless activity.

           Pouting, she answered that it was only pointless because she hadn’t found what she was looking for just yet. Sadly for her, from the looks of it, there wasn’t a single one of those items she had seen or experienced from other humans to be found. Also, had her elder not had such peculiar priorities, she’d have been trying to find it or them too. Without paying attention to the high-pitched, and rather rude, clicks her older sister loudly made, Varden set her eyes on the room’s sizable closet. Digging through several boxes, she found little more than junk, seasonal wear, and photo albums – but lacking any of the variety that was on her mind. Though she did spy on picture of Morgan at a beach in swimsuit she decided to keep for herself.

           While the youngest of the sisters was busy hiding the minor treasure under her mattress, Kiyi craned her neck upwards and noticed how, above the hanging outfits, there was a curious cardboard box tucked away on the top shelf, barely visible from where she laid.

           Believing it to be something special, it didn’t take long for her to alert Varden, knowing the extra pair of hands would be needed to reach it, along with a little more ingenuity. The two mischievous imps began trying to conceive a means of reaching the parcel, but well before an idea had formed – and even longer than they could have hoped to implement any such plan – the two heard the sound of Morgan’s metal box outside and quickly cleaned up after themselves. Kiyi knew how things could grow complicated when her activities were discovered, and Varaden expected the author wouldn’t be pleased with snooping. So displeased, in fact, she might be refused her turn tonight in the big bed. Protest as she might about how weird the platonic closeness was, it wasn’t something she was willing to sacrifice.

           Unaware of how much time they had before their entry, only just how late it was, the two scurried off to their respective beds, with an act of sleeping quickly giving way to genuine exhaustion for Kiyi, while Varden did her best to stay awake until such time as she had company.

 

           The front door quietly swung open as Morgan led a drowsy mermaid inside. As he had expected, Dace had fallen asleep on the drive home, and was barely lucid enough to crawl to the house. Guiding her to her bed, he tucked her in and gave her a peck on the forehead, wondering if Dace would even remember how she got home. Stumbling around in the dark, Morgan made his way to his own room, finding Varden watching him as he changed into his evening wear through half-closed eyes. Had he not been so tired, the author would have shown more modesty. Conversely, had the mermaid been more alert, she’d have been intrigued by his revealed figure. Their mutual exhaustion worked out for the best, as Morgan lost consciousness shortly after climbing into bed and wrapping his arms around the aquamarine-haired beauty. Too tired to give her token complaint, Varden let herself curl up and give in to fatigue.

 

           Two days passed and Morgan was left oblivious to the transgressions of Dace’s siblings. Perhaps thanks to this oversight he conceived a treat to present the three sisters. Each wanted to see the world of humans beyond the confines of his now rather cramped cottage. By his own decision, they looked to him as though they’d be quite content having their long, unkempt hair with all their split ends taken care of properly. The small town between his home and the city had a small hair salon, and since he did have the wheelchair now….

           Over a breakfast of waffles and juice, made by the resident cook, the novelist continued to stare at the girls’ hair in a not terribly discrete fashion. Washing down a mouthful of food with a sip of apple juice, he cleared his throat and spoke. “You three still want to go into town, right?”

           There was a clatter of forks as both Kiyi and Varden dropped what they were doing and lunged towards him over the table, only the already experienced Dace having a modicum of restraint on the subject. “We can go?” the two sisters asked in near sync, their eager voices loudly exclaiming their excitement.

           “T-that’s a yes,” he chuckled, leaning back in his seat. It couldn’t be said that the two weren’t honest. “Then, uh, I was thinking of driving out today – with all of you, of course – and taking you to a hairdresser.”

           The two receded into their seats and all three squirmed excitedly.

           “Dresses for hair?” Varden did question curiously. “What will we do?”

           “Hmm? Oh, no, they give haircuts,” he started before clumsily detailing the process and what they could have done. The finer points were omitted both to keep from over explaining and not to give them any extravagant ideas that would thin his wallet.

           The explanation over and done with, he observed as the three sisters reacted to the notion of changing their hair. “I was thinking we could leave right after we’ve eaten and you’re all dressed.”

           Never had he before seen the plates clear faster than that moment, though none had choked, most fortunately. Having dressed in a casual pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt before the meal, Morgan handled the cleanup as the girls cleaned and dressed.

           They fished from the box of shirts and skirts the first set that would fit their toned bodies of various curves, having no sense or concern with what would compliment what nicely. Dace already had her sweater for the trip to the lab picked out and the pleated skirt that complimented it nicely, but that match was thanks to the human having been the one to put it together. The middle child didn’t care, squeezing into a dark blue top and a yellow skirt simply because they were at the top of the pile. Varden selected a plain white top with a black tube skirt; while it hadn’t been her intention, a self-satisfied smile overtook her face when she realized the shirt, combined with her plain black bra, made a somewhat revealing combination.

           The smug expression did not go unnoticed by the more observant Kiyi who plainly asked: “Why the look?”

           “I’ll get him yet,” answered the youngest, haughtily, propelling herself past her siblings and to the front door.

 

           Having already experienced a drive with one mermaid in the car, the author had thought himself prepared for the shock and awe of the others, and knowing just how to answer that which was coming. His assumption couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead of a great many questions about nature and what things were, each of the two inexperienced sisters rattled off various other queries.

           “How many parts does this ‘car’ have?” inquired the mechanically inclined Kiyi.

           “What’s more comfortable? The front or back seats?” asked Varden.

           “What makes the car run?”

           “How well can two people fit in the backseat?”

           “What’s the road made from?”

           “Have you ever done it back here?”

           “It?” Dace interjected.

           “How can you make this road? Does it take long?”

           “You want to?”

           “What’s ‘it’?”

           Disregarding the man’s frenzied or lacking answers to the questions of the two women that he was ill-suited, incapable, or unwilling to answer such was an apt summary of the first ten minutes of the drive. From then on, Morgan reminded himself, he’d never make the assumption that the three would be interested in the same aspects of an activity.

           Being able to park out front of the hairdresser’s was a godsend for the mentally exhausted driver. Slipping out of his seatbelt, climbing out, and then locking the doors with the press of a button, he reminded the three sisters to keep their tails still until such time as they were once more driving down the road. Leaving the three behind, he scampered off to the salon’s entrance and stepped inside.

           “Excuse, uh, excuse me, Miss? Do you have an opening?” he asked, looking about, finding a plump middle-aged woman in the midst of coiffing a younger lady’s hair.

           “Can you wait until I’m finished?” she replied, doing not so little as glancing to him from her work, carefully moving around the seated customer.

           “Oh, uh, of course.” Entering entirely, Morgan shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited, until such time as the stylist’s scheduled customer was ready to leave.

           The client paid him no mind as she stepped out of the combination hairdresser’s and house, while the stylist was more concerned with finding a notepad in which were her appointments. “Hmm…you’re in luck.” Looking over at him, the curly-haired woman smiled widely. “So, what can I do with…all that?”

           “Oh, uh, no, not me…really it’s that bad?”

           She shrugged.

           That did little for his ego. “…Anyways, there are three women with me that would like a cut, is that alright?”

           “Three?” she looked at her pad again. “I thought I was just squeezing you in; three people is a little—”

           “Just a trim; nothing fancy,” Morgan quickly interrupted.

           “Simple?”

           “Simple.”

           Letting out a sigh, she gave an inviting wave. “Alright; but if I don’t get to the last of ‘em before my next appointment….”

           “Then we’ll come back later,” finished Morgan, as a promise. Hurrying back out to the car, he pulled the collapsible wheelchair from the trunk and set it up. Dace, having been the favourite last time, was made to wait and he helped Kiyi into the chair first while telling the others they’d have to wait for a little while longer.

           Before he could help the middle sister any further, however, she was already moving up the walk to the entrance, fully capable of moving the chair properly. Inside, there was still the need to carry her into the hair stylist’s chair.

           The wheelchair now empty, the writer proceeded to fetch the next one – Varden – for the sake of saving time. The last words he heard as he was stepping out the door was the hairdresser asking just what she’d like done with her horrible nest of hair.

           The youngest of the three was thrilled to be chosen next and, like Kiyi, tried to use the chair. The results were…spectacular in their own right, but not in a way in which anyone would desire. With half a turn of the wheels by her hand, right before Morgan’s very eyes appeared a seemingly flawless recreation of the utter train wreck that had been Dace’s attempt at manoeuvring the simplistic device.

           Had the fuzzy author not previously borne witness to the sight and been within arm’s reach, there would have been a chance her tail could have fallen free of its blanket, but his quick and nervous response saved the day. One hand grasped the back of the chair, keeping it from falling over in the most baffling of ways, while the other reached around to cradle her body, keeping it pressed against the chair rather than be hurling forward.

           “Okay, from now on, only Kiyi gets to do that, alright?” he breathed, slowly moving his arm away from her body. His arm moved away faster upon noticing just what part of her torso was being cradled and the telling look of interest on her cheeks.

           Thank goodness it would be Kiyi’s turn that evening.

           By the time Varden was settled in a waiting chair in the stylist’s place of business, the owner was busy clipping at the customer’s hair, clumps of hair over a foot long falling to the floor with every snip of the scissors. By the time Dace was carted into the salon, most of what had once been on the mechanically inclined mermaid’s head was on the floor, leaving her with a length considered short for men – perhaps mid-length if being very generous.

           “Do I have to look like that?” Varden asked with a visible wince.

           “Only if you want to,” answered the author.

           “No.”

           The stylist gave her first customer a once over, giving a few snips here and there to balance things out before calling for the wheelchair. “If they all want it this simple, I don’t think there’ll be a problem,” she breathed, watching as Morgan carefully transferred her from one seat to another. “So, why the wheelchair and blankets?”

           “Oh, um, bad car crash,” he answered quickly leaning towards her so he could whisper. In his mind, the author hoped that doing so would keep the sisters from wanting to unravel the lie. Perhaps his fellow human might think it more of a touchy subject this way, as well. “No guarantee yet, but it’s looking like they won’t be able to leave the chairs. Their doctor said to keep their lower half warm, though.”

           Mouth open, as though to speak, she remained quiet nonetheless and nodded.

           The youngest sister was the next to get her turn as Morgan sat patiently with the other two to keep them company. Kiyi couldn’t help but touch her head of hair, brushing the straightened hair that had never been so short for as long as she could remember. Tilting her head from side to side, the normally disinterested woman let out what the writer could swear was a faint giggle.

           “You like?” Morgan asked, the corners of his mouth turning the ends of his moustache upwards as the corners of his eyes scrunched up.

           “Yes, it’s very light. Now it shouldn’t get caught in anything,” she reported, though the way her slender hands repeatedly rubbed the short locks suggested there was another, less utilitarian reason behind her satisfaction.

           “Have you decided what you want done?” he asked Dace, her eyes glued to the pages of a picture book, each image a different woman with a different head of hair.

           “I like this one,” she declared, pointing at a woman with a ponytail. “Oh, this too.” Braids. “Or this.” Short and curly.

           Suddenly, the mermaid’s enthusiasm came to a halt as her gaze rose from the collection and seemed to stare at something far away. Slowly, it moved over to his face in a contemplative look.

           “Something on your mind?”

           “How would I look with Ryan’s hair?” she asked, looking up at him with rosy cheeks.

           His heart skipped a beat. No, no, calm down, he told himself; just calm down, obviously she was asking because his ex had been the only human woman she had met. It was only a matter of associating the style unfamiliar to her with a person’s name. “I’m…not sure,” he answered honestly. “But I’ve never been a fan of them, anyways; I like it more when the hair isn’t all bundled up.”

           Her eyes were fixated on him as he gestured with his hands from the top of his head to his shoulders, signalling unstrained hair. “Okay,” Dace smiled, closing the book. “I know what I want now.”

           Though he asked, she remained tight-lipped as to what she wanted, up until it came to be her turn. When Morgan came over to retrieve Varden, he was surprised by her choice of hair. Unlike her older sister who had asked for nearly all of it to be cut off, hers had been shortened enough to get rid of split ends and a bit of evening, leaving her head full of long, wavy hair; not unlike that of an actress.

           “You like?” the youngest sister asked haughtily, running her fingers through her hair from just below her right ear to the very ends, pushing the locks outwards as she went.

           After a quick check to ensure his mouth wasn’t hanging open, the author nodded. “Yeah, that looks very…nice.” Giving too much praise, he feared, would come back to haunt him.

           “Bring in the last one,” the stylist smiled, sounding far more jovial than she had before, and as he walked past, he felt a nudge in the ribs from her elbow and could swear he saw her wink.

           The eldest sister was brought in without problem, and he was made to leave the room by her before she was willing to share the desired style. Fifteen minutes later – time spent transporting the other two back out to the car – he was called to pick her up; well-timed as the scheduled client had recently arrived.

           Making his way over to see how she looked, the writer had to slap a hand over his face to hide a blush, realizing that this wasn’t likely a coincidence. Her hair, apparently having a faint, natural curl to it, was now shoulder length.

           “Like this?” Dace asked with a clear-cut sense of cheer, her fingers coming up to the tips of her hair, framing her teal locks nicely.

           “Yeah, um, that looks right,” Morgan answered, getting out his wallet. “So, uh, what’ll this run?”

           As he paid for the three haircuts, once more the author noticed another peculiar change in disposition, the woman’s speech and mannerisms as she collected her payment that of someone who thought of him as some lesser existence.

           Disconcerting, but at least this wasn’t a place he had been before or exactly planned to frequent regularly.

           Placing the last sister in the car, Morgan climbed into the front seat and proposed they all get ice cream as a reward for behaving themselves. When the cheers died down, however, his curiosity got the better of the author and he couldn’t help but ask the nagging question. “Did any of you talk with the stylist about anything?”

           “Just how to cut my hair,” Kiyi said simply, looking out the passenger side window. “After I said ‘short’ it was nice and quiet.”

           “Short?” the youngest of the three puffed. “I asked for ‘sexy’, and had a fun time talking with her.” Reaching up to the front seat from the opposite end of the car, she poked Morgan in the shoulder. “And you’re weird; she was very interested when I said we were sleeping together.”

           “W-wh…you said what?” he tensed up. Well, that did explain the nudge and wink, but—

           “Really?” Dace asked, turning to the right to stare at her sister. “She became serious when I said that.”

           And there was the rest of the answer. “Oh god,” he winced; there went his reputation, at least around that town.

 

           One round of ice cream and a short drive later, the four were back at home, already resting after their short excursion. Though, the fun done with for the day, Morgan insisted that everyone dedicate themselves to their studies while he set about working on his novel. The rest of the day was productively spent in comfort, the girls all happy with their new, more comfortable hair, and having been able to see the world at large. At least, they had as far as they were concerned. Morgan, on the other hand, relaxed on the couch as he wrote out several pages of rough drafts of his story, intent on meeting his deadline with a little time to spare.

           When evening came, the author took it upon himself to prepare dinner personally, having a craving for some Italian sausage. Boiling up enough of them for everyone along with simple side dishes of rice and peas, the four were able to sit down to a nice relaxing meal. So long as he didn’t pay attention to the way the youngest of the three set about teasing him with her food.

           “So, did you girls enjoy getting out of the house?” he inquired, hoping to stir up some conversation.

           “I did,” each of the three said at once, though the eldest was the most subdued of the three.

           “All the cars and trucks,” Kiyi said excitedly.

           “Ice cream,” purred Varden as she twirled a lock of aquamarine hair around one finger.

           “That’s good,” he smiled. “I’ll have to think of where I can take you next…hmm…maybe….” He had to think just where would be appropriate for each of them. It would come down to just what would interest each of the ladies most. Glancing towards the youngest, he immediately ruled out the obvious choice of a strip club.

           Well, there wasn’t any rush; the author was confident he’d figure something out by the time it mattered. For now, thought Morgan as he climbed into bed next to the short-haired sister, he’d just focus on getting a good night’s rest.

           “G’night, Kiyi,” he yawned, closing his eyes as he cuddled up behind her as they always had done.

           “Yes, but first, I have a question,” she began, looking back at him from over her shoulder.

           With a faint moan, he let her know he was listening.

           “Why did Varden eat that way?”

           Letting out a long, drawn out sigh, Morgan chose to simply remain content that the one inquiring was most definitely the least interested in all things physical. With one evasive answer he ought to be free of the subject. “I think she was just pretending it was something else.”

           Lucky something else….

           “Oh, okay.” Her satisfied, sleepy tone revealed the success of his reply. “One more thing….”

           Another faint moan.

           “What’s that poking me?”

8: Chapter 8 - When the Mood Hits

           Morgan let out a long, blissful sigh as he climbed into the bathtub, feeling the hot water and bath oil wash over his bare skin as he sank as far down as possible. It had been so long since he had last treated himself to something so relaxing – not since he had grown fearful of enjoying the lake for fear of gaining another dependent. Fortunately, he thought, there was no risk of running into any strangers that dark and rainy morning while in the privacy of his own home.

           Several days had passed since their trip to the salon, and the home had grown a bit more energetic as a result, the sisters enjoying the change of appearance never before experienced by any of them. Though perhaps the experience being out and about, seeing the world of humans for themselves may have had a larger place in their jubilation; to him, it had just been a trivial voyage to a home business, while the three had experienced something that must have been akin to a child taking a ride on a submarine.

           Letting his feet out of the water on far side of the basin so that he could sink down to his neck, the author released another contented breath. For the better part of a month, he had been experiencing a fantasy, no, two, for here he was, enjoying the company of mermaids, all three of them lovely ladies. Admittedly, he had yet to work up the courage or nerve to take it any further than merely holding one of them as he slept; there was a simple comfort in doing so, and no reason to feel guilty.

           For just a second, Morgan slipped his head under the water’s surface, getting his hair nice and wet as his hands went to his soft beard so that he could rub the bath oil onto his jaw. For tens of minutes he was able to relax when there came the sound of knocking at his bathroom door, the small, closed room carrying the sound well as one of the sisters’ knuckles rapped against the wooden surface.

           “Who is it?” called the author, his voice almost a yawn from how very relaxed he felt in the soothing bath.

           “It’s me,” was his vague answer, though the speaker’s smooth, breathy voice that made even those words sound sultry exposed the speaker as the youngest of the three. “Breakfast is ready.”

           “Thanks Varden,” he replied, climbing out of the bath, thankful for having had that long of a soak. Before opening the drain, he asked one more thing. “What’d you make?”

           “Bacon and eggs; come get it while it’s hot,” she purred, the sound of wheels sounding as she distanced herself from the door.

           The very sound of the meal caused the human’s stomach to rumble with hunger as he dried himself with a towel then wrapped it around his waist. Pulling on his housecoat and tying it good and tight, he decided that was enough to be decent for the day – or at least the time being – and exited into the hall, heading straight for the dining room table. Sitting down in the only empty seat, he looked down at the plate and listened to his belly a second time; louder now that the fragrance had filled his nose.

           The three ladies happily ate their meals, stealing glances of their host periodically that failed to go unnoticed. “Something wrong?” he asked, swallowing the eggs he had been chewing and touching his beard to ensure none had gotten stuck in it.

           “Can we watch a movie?” Dace asked, reaching below the table to hold something that had been resting on her lap.

           “Hmm? Sure; which one do you have there?” Holding out a hand, he watched as she handed him the box, the image on the back notifying him of the selection at once. “This isn’t about a real mermaid…you know that, right?”

           “Of course.”

           Flipping the box over, he shrugged. “I don’t see the harm.”

           He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the film, but it was one of the few mermaid pictures he’d been able to find. At first he had been apprehensive to show them the movie, given the notion of people trying to capture and study the leading lady’s nature, but with the three being on good terms with a scientist themselves, he felt the time to worry had passed.

           Clearing then cleaning his plate, Morgan made his way to the DVD player and set up the film before sitting back on the middle of the couch until such time as his housemates were ready. Kiyi was the first to arrive, setting herself down to his right, followed by Dace who settled to his left, leaving enough space opposite to her for their sister, last to arrive because of her sisters’ untended dishes. Crawling over, she looked up at the author then to her siblings and lastly the empty space. Puffing out her cheeks, she deliberately crawled to the center and pulled herself up by the man’s knees, setting herself down on his lap defiantly of her sisters’ apparent monopoly.

           An attractive woman on each side of him, including the front; a wonderful experience in his mind, to say the least, but with the notable drawback that they’d be sitting that way for almost two hours. To make matters worse, that half her body was a heavy, solid mass, making the woman remarkably heavy.

           “V-Varden,” he grunted, discomforted by the sudden heavy weight that landed on his lap. “That’s…not going to work for me for this. Can you get off?”

           Twisting her body and looking over her left shoulder, a look made all the more enticing by her long wavy hair and soft pink lips, she asked: “Do I have to?”

           “Yeah; I can’t sit through the movie like this,” he insisted, helping to shuffle her off his lap and over Dace to the empty spot.

           “No fair, I only lost because I was helping,” she pouted, folding her arms over her chest now that she was the furthest away.

           There was no denying that she was the one pulling her weight the most around the house. “Okay well…then to be fair, you can ask for a favour to make up for it later, okay?”

           After a second’s blank consideration, Varden smiled and agreed with a nod, undoubtedly looking forward to the option of having free reign in her request rather than specifically a close seat. Though Dace let out a disappointed utterance, she, like Kiyi, remained optimistic about their situation and stared at the television as the movie started to roll.

           It was a comfortable experience for the author as the film started, experiencing nostalgia as he watched. He could only hope that his guests wouldn’t find a movie about human’s imagining of their kind would be too ridiculous to be enjoyed. When the female lead made her entrance, he felt the two eldest sisters lean towards him, feeling Dace rest her head atop one shoulder and Kiyi, being of the smallest stature of the family, against his arm.

           At first, he paid it no mind, especially once the tail of the movie’s mermaid transformed into legs that the ladies commented of how amazing it would be if such a thing was real. But later on, as the romantic aspect of the film started to come to the foreground, Morgan felt as a hand touched his right hip, sliding across to the opposite side. Had it been Varden, or even Dace, it was an action the author could have understood, but this. Glancing away from the TV screen, he verified the obvious: that it was still Kiyi to his right, her body angled towards him and pressed closer while her arm was draped over his hips.

           Before he had even the chance to rationalize her proximity as simply getting comfortable, there came a sudden added, though gentle, pressure against his left side; a certain friction on his cheek and neck. Soft strands of hair tickled his shoulder as the eldest mermaid gently moved the side of her head against his beard and neck, slowly and consistently.

           “Soft…” Morgan could swear she uttered as the tips of her curly teal hair lightly danced over his exposed skin.

           One was unwilling to let him go as the other continued to happily nuzzle his beard, so close that her every breath warmed the front of his throat, the occasional turn of her head letting him feel the softness of her full lips. Turning just enough to spy on the uninvolved Varden, he could see the envy clear in her eyes; lower lips pushed out as she was left to focus on the events of the film.

           Trying to parse the situation, the author’s mind freed itself to come up with any plausible explanation for their actions, narrowing it down to a dream, prank, or that his bath oils was some sort of functional aphrodisiac with mermaids. That last point his more rational mind judged as an unlikely fantasy. Considering Kiyi was involved and how vivid the experience, he ruled it to be a prank of some sort.

           If this was the sort of prank the sister wanted to pull, he thought, let her.

           As the video came to a close, with the man joining the mermaid in the sea, another remark was made to the effect of wishing things worked that way, followed up by Dace reservedly asking: “You can’t, can you?”

           Shaking his head, Morgan smiled as he asked whether they enjoyed the story. When they responded positively, he went on to inquire: “What made you pick this one? Because it had a mermaid?”

           There was some hesitation among the three, but ultimately they denied that reason, with Dace speaking for the others. “The box said ‘romance’.”

           “Oh?” the human uttered at first. “Well, if you’re interested, I have better romance movies in my…oh.” Suddenly he conceived a fourth reason for the sudden cuddly nature of the ladies.

           “Better?” Varden asked, leaning forward in her seat.

           “Y-yeah, but that was, uh, enough movies for now,” he argued. “Maybe we could play some cards? Or…say, when was the last time any of you had a bath? That’d do you good, right?”

           Idiot, Morgan thought, chastising himself for avoiding the obvious issue. Still, his avoidance did prove somewhat effective, as the youngest sister decided some bathing would do her well, the others settled to wait to see about this curious offer of ‘cards’.

           Thinking some simple casino games would be best he found a pack of cards and began teaching them the basics of poker, walking them through several hands of play. The three were taught in rotation, one occupying the washroom as the others learned and played. When everyone had become nice and clean, all four sat down at the kitchen table to play a lasting game, using all the loose change the author could find lying around his home.

           “What do I get if I win?” Varden asked suddenly when the first hand was dealt; a phrase that Morgan considered rather telling of the quality of her hand.

           “You win what everyone’s bet, remember?” he replied, staring down at his terrible hand, only managing to have a high card of nine.

           “No, no, I mean if I get all the money?”

           That required a bit of thought. It wasn’t as if he would just let them keep the money; that would become expensive should they play the game repeatedly. He could offer to let the winner ask him to buy them something, but unless he was planning to go into town any time soon, that could make for some rather grand side trips.

           “What should I give out to the winner?”

           “Kiss?” Dace asked sweetly, holding her cards close to her chest.

           Suddenly, all eyes were on him in anticipation of his decision. Just a kiss wasn’t a problem, though it did come across as a deterrent against his victory. “Okay, that works, though I get to ask something if I win.”

           They agreed and started to play. The first victory went to the unsubtle Varden, with a lot of money being earned from his eldest sister, while the others had been sensible enough to simply fold at the first opportunity. For the better part of an hour, the loose change continued to exchange hands, moving about the table in an amateurish way, only for Dace to be the first one to be bankrupted. Ten minutes later, it was Morgan who found himself on the sidelines, having experienced simply too long a run of hands of no value or outdone by the smallest of margins.

           The frisky or the unsociable; one of these two would be winning a kiss from him, so in either case, he figured himself a winner and it was just a matter of silently judging from whom he’d rather share the experience with. Given young Varden had greatest interest in such things and was always being helpful, Morgan found himself hoping that things would go well for her.

           As if his hopes had been a curse, after only two more hands, Kiyi was sitting proudly with every last penny laid out before her. “I win,” she declared, raising her chin.

           “So you have,” he confirmed, reaching over to pull all the coins to his chest; he’d need a simple container to keep all of it for the next time. “Do you want me to k—?”

           While still in the midst of leaning over the table to collect, the middle child’s hands clamped down on either side of his head. Each hand gripped him so tightly around the ears and the back of his skull that the act of pulling away was impossible. Her eyes, blue as a mid day sky free of clouds, stared deeply into his, brown as the earth. Without hesitation, she leaned in and took his lips, kissing him with a force that let him feel it even in his teeth.

           Seconds passed before she drew herself away and resumed her stare, giving her upper lip a quick lick. As if in spite of herself, the corners of Kiyi’s mouth moved upwards into a smile. Releasing him from her grasp, she turned back to her sisters and proudly raised her chin once more, pushing out her chest in victory.

           Personally, Morgan was still feeling rather dizzy from the experience, perplexed by just how many of the sisters had an interest in him. To most, he had believed it to have been two, but now he was left with reason to believe it was more than a triangle.

           “I’ll…go make us dinner,” the author announced, rising from his seat and heading for the kitchen.

           Looking through the fridge, he had to select something simple and fast, given nothing had been taken out in advance. Finding some green onions and mushroom, Morgan made a simple noodle soup with those items – finely chopped – some vegetable broth, soy sauce, and sesame oil.

           Basic meal fit for a college student, but the girls liked it well enough. After dinner had been eaten the author let out a yawn and glanced out his balcony window, coming to realize just how quickly the day of fun and games had come to an end.

           “It’s about time for bed,” he yawned once more, surprised that he had spent the entire day in just a housecoat and towel. “Whose turn is it tonight?”

           Kiyi rose her hand into the air, feeling victorious once more.

           “I want to,” Varden shouted, slapping her hands on the dining room table.

           “Eh? But it’s…” he checked his calendar, “…Wednesday.”

           “You said I get a favour,” she pouted, staring at him intently through the window that joined the dining area with the kitchen.

           “Well, yeah, but it’s not fair if it kicks out your sister.”

           “I don’t care; I just want to do it too!”

           Not a prank, not a dream, and yet things were growing more fanciful for the man by the minute. “That’s…are you okay with that, Kiyi?”

           “Well….” Her head tilted to and fro, somewhere between a nod and shake. “It did work on the couch….”

           Heart racing, Morgan accepted the request, excusing himself so that he could dress in something properly for the evening before his bed mates would enter. Climbing under the warm sheets, onto the soft mattress, the author rolled many of the covers to the foot of the bed, suspecting their combined body heat alone would leave him quite warm enough.

           Rolling onto his right side and closing his eyes, he listened for the sound of wheels, hearing them faintly as the sisters moved over the floor. The first climbed up behind him, her strong, supple frame pressing up right close to his back, running from his feet clear to his nape, leaving scarcely any gaps between their bodies. The woman’s hand even reached around his waist and held him close with a familiar strength.

           “Goodnight…Kiyi,” Morgan guessed. Silently, he congratulated himself when he heard her give a matching response.

           The next did the opposite, crawling in front of him and pressing her backside firmly against his front, even taking his left arm to be laid over hers – something he’d have been inclined to do anyways, but now a declaration of initiative.

           “Goodnight Varden,” he whispered. The author knew how close her head was to his without the need to open his eyes.

           Then, just when he believed everyone to be settled for the night, the bed shifted once more as who could only have been the eldest sister pushing the bed’s capacity to its utmost limits.

           “Dace? It’s not your turn….” The mumbles of a man ready for bed.

           “It’s not like I am actually cuddling,” she replied simply, curling up under the sheets, touching the back of his left hand with one finger.

           “Hah…well Varden, it’s your call….”

           Wiggling her body against his, the youngest sister answered haughtily. “Fine, so long as I don’t have to move….” A pause as she settled down. “Oh? So you can—”

           “I can’t be blamed for that!” interrupted Morgan with a shout, feeling decidedly unapologetic. “Just go to sleep before I do something I’ll regret!”

 

           Soft, Morgan thought upon waking, his conscious mind only aware of how warm he felt and the soft objects in hand and pressed to his back. Oh yeah, that happened, he realized, looking ahead and then over his shoulder. Three women, all in bed with him; how many men could truthfully claim to have had that happen? Admittedly, even he could only make such an assertion literally. Realizing then that he couldn’t feel much from his legs, the author felt around under the covers to find the tail of…he wasn’t quite sure, but it was resting over his limbs, leaving them numb from the long-term pressure.

           “Whoever’s tail that is, can you get off me?” he moaned, pushing at the dolphin-like skin with one hand, ready to move it himself if the owner didn’t respond.

           “Stop,” the youngest of the three moaned in a groggily, “that fucking hurts….”

           “What does?”

           “My tail…shit; everything.”

           Pulling himself closer to the headboard, sliding his legs out from under the perpetrator, he looked over her and placed a hand on her forehead. “Is everything alright? Are you sick?”

           Dace then reached up from under the covers and waved an apathetic hand. “Want sleep; be quiet.”

           The human nipped his lower lip and turned about to examine Kiyi, hoping to find at least one of the three as sociable and, hopefully, healthy. Admittedly, geniality from that one was a stretch of the imagination.

           “Hey, Kiyi, wake up,” he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder with his left hand. That wasn’t going to improve her disposition any.

           “Eh? Wha—damn it, not again….” The mermaid groaned and changed her posture, curling up into a fetal position that left the man seated back against the headboard and his knees pulled up to his chest.

           “Again? What’s wrong?”

           With just one word, he was given a sense of relief followed by immediate dread: “Cramps.”

           “I’ll get you something for that,” he replied, climbing out of bed onto shaky legs, hobbling his way over to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet. Taking out aspirin enough for all three, he filled a glass with water and returned to the bedroom.

           Insisting that it would help to ease their pain, Morgan convinced all three to take the medicine before excusing himself from the bedroom – better that then face the potential backlash of emotions born of pain and irritation.

           Settling into the living room, seated on the computer once more, the working author received quite a start when the phone rang suddenly; his heart seeming to leap up into his throat. As the phone continued to ring, his mind could only think of two possibilities: it was Ryan announcing that she had the results or a warning to flee because of the secret getting out.

           Doing his best to calm his nerves, Morgan took a deep breath before picking up the cordless and answering.

           “M&M? Hey buddy, it’s me!”

           A man’s voice. He let out a long sigh and his broad shoulders slumped, all the tension melting from his body. “Oh, it’s just you….”

           “Charming.”

           “Sorry Jessie, I was expecting a call from Ryan.”

           A sudden assuming laugh pierced the author’s ear. “Old flames burning anew, are they? Tell me about it when I come.”

           “Old fla…no!” he shouted, turning a light shade of pink. “It’s research! Wait…when you come?”

           “Three weeks; I’ll need you to put me up for the night, too. Hope you don’t mind; we can have some fun.”

           “What? Why?” he asked, carrying the phone over to the balcony. Checking the calendar hung on the wall next to his computer, Morgan’s face drooped. “Oh.”

           “Yup, I’ll be by to pick up the story and have you sign for everything. You know how I like being hands on,” Jessie chuckled.

           “Yeah, I do,” he replied in good humor before muttering under his breath: “And that could be a problem.”

           “Come again bud? I didn’t catch that last part.”

           “I’m hungry!” Dace shouted from his bedroom, joined by two much softer demands for food, one of which was Varden demanding waffles.

           “Who was that?” the editor asked excitedly. “She sounds cute! Is she hot?”

           Morgan wanted nothing more than to dash his hopes right away with false claims of a nauseating appearance but held his tongue. Not only was he aware that everything would be unraveled upon his editor and friend’s arrival, but Morgan found himself unable to bring himself slander her appearance. Although her advances may have been uncomfortably forward for him at times, she was physically stunning.

           Her body as fit as an Olympic swimmer; toned and seemingly devoid of fat save for her perky bosom, slender yet strong, with definition that was apparent but not so great that it detracted from her beauty. Varden’s eyes were a pair of sparkling turquoise jewels – big and brilliant – complimented by long silken aquamarine hair, now wavy and even more illustrious now that it had been treated by a professional.

            “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Morgan answered honestly.

           “I can’t wait!” Jessie exclaimed before hanging up.

           Rubbing his eyes as he set down the phone, Morgan forgot his worries about Ryan leaking her research, replacing them with fears of what would happen when he arrived. Worse yet, having him find out that there three attractive women living with him; even ignoring the difference of species.

           Taking a deep breath to relax, even those worries faded as he set about making breakfast. There was everything he needed in the fridge and cupboards for the demand, and a little more that he decided would be a welcome addition to the batter – ham and cheese.

           Preparing the meal – a simple yet delicious one at that – he divided the results up onto four plates and brought three of them to his pained patients, wishing they’d eat in bed. He recalled how Ryan had been upset during such periods and would rather not imagine how greatly the problem would have been magnified if her only means of travel was by crawling about on the floor – in part by the area most afflicted, no less.

           Sitting with the sisters, his cuisine was complimented, though their moods remained – by and large – soured from their pain.

           “So, uh…do you think you three will be alright if I made a grocery run?”

           “You’re leaving us alone? For how long?” Dace asked, almost tearfully.

           “No more than an hour and a half; promise,” Morgan declared. “Actually, Varden, while I’m out, is there any recipes you’d really like to try? I could pick up the ingredients while I’m there.”

           Varden, with a fork halfway to her mouth, suddenly froze; her mind clearly at work. Setting the utensil back down on her plate with a fain clatter, she began rubbing her right thumb against the index and middle of the same hand. “Lobster or….”

           Waiting for her to finish coming to a decision, the author prayed that her second choice would be something a little more common; not that he couldn’t afford it, but would prefer if something like that wasn’t prepared casually. And the market in the nearest town was not the best place to find the finer things in life.

           Her thumb started rubbing faster. “What was it…onion soup?” Varden suddenly snapped her fingers loudly. “French Onion soup!”

           Laughing, he gave her head a rub. “Let’s have that; we can have the lobster another time; next time we have a visitor.” The preference was a meal he had a vague recollection thereof, and upon looking it up in the cookbook he had given the mermaid, Morgan was reassured by its simplicity.

           Onions, flour, beef soup base, pepper, and butter; simple ingredients that could be found anywhere. “Well, I’ll be back soon,” he called. “Is there anything I can get you before I leave?”

           “What did you give us?” Kiyi shouted back.

           “I want more!” Dace followed.

           “Aspirin; give it some time to kick in and you can’t have any more until later!”

           The moment the human was out the door, Varden and Kiyi’s gaze invariably wandered to the closet, recalling the mystery box located within, up high. Exchanging a knowing nod, they confirmed they knew just how to get up there, guaranteeing that its contents would be theirs. With that silent communiqué, the two sisters laid back down to rest.

           Today was not a day to be up and about for women who no longer felt light as a feather, swimming about.

 

           Pulling a canvas bag from his trunk, Morgan was relieved to find the tiny grocery to be mostly empty, wanting as little cause for delay as possible. Besides the grocer, there was an elderly couple – he could swear they were his closest neighbors – a young man, and a mother and daughter wandering the shop. Even should every last one of them inconveniently be in line ahead of him when it came time to pay, it would be a brief delay nonetheless.

           He just couldn’t shake the feeling that the others kept looking his way and muttering things beneath their breath or to one-another.

           Passing the elderly couple, he bowed his head politely in greeting, just in case they were the neighbors, and made his way towards the produce section. Filling a plastic bag with onions, the author glanced over to see the elderly couple paying for their things, looking his way and leaning over the counter to the grocer. The gasp and rising of a hand to her mouth the little old lady made him fear just how quickly rumors had spread about him.

           Picking up the pace, the newly infamous author set about collecting the beef soup base along with some extra bread and cheese. Filling the bag with the rest of the items of which he had been running low on, Morgn quickly moved to the front of the line, paying for his things quickly and rushing back to his car.

           Thank goodness there hadn’t been more people.

 

           The onions were tucked away in a corner of the fridge, having to wait until another time to be made into a thick, meat-flavored soup. Instead, dinner that night consisted of homemade burgers, being something both simple to make and to clean up after. Afterwards, to keep them from wasting a day sitting in bed doing nothing and remaining miserable, one by one he transported the sisters to the living room couch for a movie.    One became two, and then a full trilogy before the household – Morgan included – was satisfied, with the moon high in the night sky, many points of light illuminating the tranquil lake.

           The women all grumpy and even Dace, whose turn it was to cuddle, declared that she’d rather spend the night alone than close to anyone. Three beds to be found and none having any desire to share, Morgan let the eldest sister take his room, as was her privilege on Thursdays. Giving each of the sisters some more aspirin to ease their cramps, the author took a blanket for from the linen closet and set himself down upon the couch.

           Not the most ideal of sleeping quarters but, given how wonderfully cramped his bed had been the night before there was more comfort to be had.

           “Goodnight girls!” Morgan shouted as he let his weary head rest, hearing no replies as he closed his eyes. For nearly half an hour, the man rolled about, finding it difficult to sleep without the comfort granted by holding another person closely. Sighing, he found himself another pillow and did his best to make due.

           How quickly he had grown dependent on company; in under a month he had progressed from happily enjoying his isolation to be left wanting a companion simply for rest.

 

           Time passed in a blink of an eye for Morgan, leaving him only two days before his publisher and friend was to arrive. His trio of lovely ladies was unconcerned with his inevitable arrival, or more accurately they were looking forward to meeting with another human. With how routine life was around the cottage save for the occasional surprise – pleasant or otherwise – Morgan couldn’t very well blame them, but was concerned nonetheless.

           Dace spent her time reading the last of the books the author had in his small personal library, very close to reaching the collection of his own works. Pretty soon, he realized, he’d need to start finding books online for her to enjoy. Her pacing was almost a full novel each day; a rate that had made buying or even visiting the library uneconomical.

           The author had finally acknowledged the middle sister’s love of how things worked and found her a number of e-books about engineering, wiring, and plumbing. As her knowledge of the subject grew, Morgan took to finding books explaining how to make various machines and devices. The more Kiyi absorbed, the more he wondered if she could be put to work as a live-in mechanic.

           Lastly, Varden had taken to giving voice to a certain complaint that had been a long time coming. Despite her earlier grumblings that sleeping side by side, her held in his arms – and nothing more – was bizarre and embarrassing, the youngest of the sisters had appealed for more turns sleeping in Morgan’s bed. The nearly successful attempts at seduction continued, only now when she slept with him, he often found her turned to face him and held him back, quite closely.

           For the new schedule, he came to realize the depths at which their love of sharing the bed ran and, by extension, perhaps for him as well. Though it was conceded that it was only fair to let Varden gain a day, neither was willing to concede the spare night to either of their sisters. After two hours of bickering and arguing it came to pass that each would have two nights alone with the rather esteemed host with the bed being very crowded on Saturday nights.

           Being so close to Jessie’s arrival, he felt it as good a time as any to make the long trip into town and buy his supplies, including enough lobsters for the five of them. After grabbing his wallet and keys, the phone rang. Hurrying for the kitchen he prayed it was a cancellation on his friend’s part but was instead greeted by the voice of his ex.

           “Hello, Morgan?” she sounded exhausted and listless.

           “Speaking…is everything alright?”

           “I wanted to­—” her voice suddenly lowered as thought the phone had been moved away and coughing could be heard despite the supposed distance. “Sorry, I’ve been working too many late shifts. I wanted to let you know that I’m slowly making progress. Everything is handled at night so I…” a yawn, “…just do what I can. I can tell you already she’s B negative. Also, her injury seems to be healing well – no internal damage – so you won’t have to worry about it coming back to haunt you.”

           “That’s great. Has anyone…you know….”

           “Oh, yes, of course. The security feed is free of anything embarrassing. There had been a couple questions asked about all the tests that we performed, but what with your friend being a hypochondriac….”

           Morgan laughed. She was acting like someone from a cheap spy movie, avoiding saying anything that could be overheard or recorded. “Thank you; I owe you one.”

           “I just thought you should know, but time to get back to work; take care M&M.”

           Before she finished hanging up, the author caught another yawn and smiled. He had no doubts that the only thing she was sacrificing for this secret project was her sleep; heaven forbid she decrease his workload or even take a break from that strict exercise regimen.

           Making his way back to the door, he called to the girls to behave while he was gone. Not that he had anything to worry about; they were well-adjusted enough by now to handle a day on their own.

 

           As soon as the door had closed behind Morgan a smile crept across Varden’s face and Kiyi was already crawling from her manuals on the computer to the dining table to gather the chairs. The chef peered out the kitchen window and watched as the human drove away in the car, waiting a couple of extra minutes to make sure he wouldn’t come back unexpectedly.

           Rushing from the kitchen, Varden helped her cunning older sister transport the chairs to Morgan’s room. With so much action in such a small home, it wasn’t long before Dace set down her book and followed them.

           “What are you doing?” she asked, watching them bring the chairs into the bedroom.

           “We found a box!” Varden answered excitedly. “Now we can finally see what’s inside!”

           “Box?” she asked, the eldest’s tail moving to and fro in anticipation. “Filled with books? Oh! Those colorful candies, maybe?”

           The family of three each stopped to let out a dreamy sigh as they considered the possibility of the container being filled entirely with those sugary sweet treats. Clearing their heads, Varden helped Kiyi stack the chairs exactly as she directed and the middle child then scaled the structure, leaving Dace and Varden to stare up at her as she reached for the box.

           Her hands brushed against its corners when she felt the impromptu scaffolding below her smooth tail collapse from leaning just a little too far. Thrashing about as she fell, the mermaid hit the shag carpet with a dull thud in a painful belly flop; the impact blasting the air from her lungs and leaving Kiyi’s front a stinging shade of pink. She was grateful that, at the very least, none of the chairs had been where she had landed.

           “Put it closer,” Kiyi instructed, unwilling to give up on this discovery, despite the stinging impact.

           Once again the tower was assembled, only this time almost in line with the wall – there would be little to no leaning required. “Varden, you get the box. Me and Dace will hold it steady.”

           “Dace and I,” her elder corrected, not that she paid it any mind.

           Varden was able to scale the structure without trouble, minding that her long locks didn’t get caught between any of the unsecured chairs, and claim the box as her siblings held the chairs steady. It took the woman a few seconds to decide against descending with the box in hand, ultimately passing it down.

           “Open it! Hurry!” Dace demanded, bouncing up and down, her shoulder length hair hopping with her.

           Taking off the lid, the trio sighed dreamily as they found several bags of Skittles at the top of the box’s contents. Each of them shoved their hands inside, hoping to claim as many as possible for themselves, but after an extended period of scratching and slapping one-another with no clear victor in sight, they started to calm down.

           It was Kiyi who served as the mediator, saying that they ought to each just take one bag now and worry about what was left afterwards. Her verdict did nothing to ease the hungry stares each of them cast upon the goods, but served to create a momentary armistice.

           With the matter of the treats settled, it was time to look at the rest of their newfound treasure. Realizing it was filled with DVDs, Dace squealed with glee thinking of all the movies they could watch, but it was the youngest of the three who reacted the most favorably.

           “So he is interested…. We have to watch these!” the chef exclaimed, snatching the box away and hugging it tightly to her chest. “Now!”

 

           It had been a long drive to and from the city, but he didn’t mind. The car was loaded with enough supplies to last the four of them quite a while so he wouldn’t have to do it again any time soon, and the silence of the drive had been most welcome, able to concentrate on the scenic countryside and think about his writing rather than strain his knowledge to answer each and every question thrown at him. Morgan had been able to finish his tale of suspense, reviewing and altering it to his likings. Sure, there may have been a thing or two yet that he could find, but nothing that would leave him embarrassed when it hit the shelves.

           Parking the car on his lawn, Morgan popped the trunk and started gathering the frozen goods for the first trip. There was a smile on the author’s face as she passed through the long uncut grass that made up his lawn – out in the countryside, he rarely found need to perform any yard work. When he unlocked the front door and stepped through the entrance, he could make out sounds coming from the television.

           Morgan’s smile widened. Those mischievous women had snuck in a movie or two while he was away. Well no matter.

As he kicked off his shoes, he tried to guess the film. When it dawned on him, the smile was stricken from his lips as joy turned to horror. Leaving the groceries at the entrance, Morgan burst into the living room, his worst fears confirmed. On the screen was a gorgeous man moving rhythmically – washboard abs, muscular arms, a good sense of timing, and not a stitch of clothing – in front of an audience of women who were each given the opportunity to ‘sample’ the performer.

           They had found his porn.

           On the floor there were enough DVD cases out of the box for him to know that they had looked at several of them already and not just the one that was on. Quickly turning off the TV, he turned to face the culprits and turned an unthinkably deep shade of red, for his eyes quickly followed as to where their hands were resting, leaving nothing to the imagination.

           “What the hell are you three doing?” he shouted, pointing to the various lewd and unimaginative titles lying on the floor. “You went through my things? How did you even get at this?” The sisters shrank into the couch, either ashamed or fearful, save for Kiyi who seemed disinterested in his lecture, as though she were above it all.

           Taking a deep breath, the human tried to calm down. The only rationalizing he was willing to do on their behalf was that he had never explicitly forbade them from looking through his effects, having only placed the contents of the box someplace he hadn’t imagined they could ever reach.

           “I don’t want any of you going through my things, understand?” Morgan managed to lower his voice from a booming shout to a contained growl, hoping that it would get the point across without frightening them terribly.

           He continued to set some ground rules about his privacy as he collected his things and set the box down on the coffee table. When she was finished with the lecture, he tucked the goods under one arm and looked at them.

           “Do any of you have anything to say for yourselves?” he asked, even the growl having faded.

           Dace was the first to speak, looking up at him tearfully. “I’m sorry….”

           Turning his gaze off the sorrowful woman, he answered: “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

           “Nope,” Kiyi unapologetically stated.

           “How did you even get at this?” His question was asked through gritted teeth.

           “Stacked just a few chairs.”

           “Really? Huh…that’s…well, don’t; it’s dangerous.” The way she proceeded to rub her abdomen and chest Morgan gathered that it wasn’t quite a ‘new’ lesson.

            “Well…when can we do that?” Varden inquired, pointing to the box. “I didn’t think you even knew what it was!”

           Before the author could even finish being taken back by the youngest mermaid’s forwardness, the others joined in on the attack.

           “Yeah, you have one of those too, right?” said Kiyi.

           Tears having vanished, Dace looked up at him with her hands balled up into tiny fists. “Your books talk about it too; when can we?”

           ‘Saturday’ came to mind, but he quickly shook that idea from his mind – though it would inevitably return several minutes later. “Certainly not tonight; all of you are to spend tonight in the guest room as punishment,” the host announced sternly.

           Clearing his throat, he carried the box off to his room and locked the door behind him. Finding a hiding place for her movies didn’t seem like a priority at the moment and so he slumped to bed and breathed deep.

           That was embarrassing.

           Morgan sat there, head in hand for several minutes, his light brown hair covering his hands. Worse than embarrassing, now they were more curious then ever.

           Wait…worse?

           Mulling it over, he considered that this put to rest any ambiguity or concerns he had. They had discovered the act on their own, they knew just what it was, and they were the ones pursuing him. Was there anything really to debate?

           “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, hoping to his feet and rushing from his room. He had just remembered the groceries.

           Finding a more secure place for his movies would have to wait until after dinner.

9: Chapter 9 - Sudden Attraction

           When Morgan wearily climbed out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen for his morning cup of coffee, he had yet to realize that his guest was scheduled to arrive that very day. Covering his face with an open palm as he saw Varden wiggle too and fro in an attempt to mimic the strippers from some of his private collection, sitting down and enjoying the freshly prepared cheese omelet and bacon breakfast were all that the author cared about. Brushing his bangs away from his eyes, he considered going for a haircut, but shivered at the prospect of sitting down for the stylist who had such an opinion of him.

           Drawing in a deep breath as he chewed the last strip of bacon, Morgan was happy for his carefree—

           “Everyone, wake up and get your asses in here!” It finally hit him.

           Varden set the rest of the food on plates for herself and her sisters on the kitchen sill before sliding into the living room, soon followed by Dace and Kiyi as they hurried out of their bedroom.

           Of the three, Dace was the only one who showed even a hint of anxiety about the loud demand for their presence.

           “My friend Jessie will be coming today and we need to set some ground rules,” he explained, folding his hands on the table. Hearing the eldest of the three release a loud sigh of relief, he couldn’t help but get sidetracked. “Dace?”

           “I thought you were still mad….”

           “I…just don’t go through my things without permission, please. Now then, when he’s here—”

           “He? Is Jessie hot?” Varden asked, jumping in her seat with anticipation. “And is he willing?”

           “Willing to do what?” the naïve Dace inquired.

           “Never you mind,” Morgan told her as he tapped his knuckles against the table’s surface. “Unlike with Ryan, I don’t want him finding out that you’re mermaids, so all of today and until he leaves tomorrow, the three of you will keep your tails wrapped up and aren’t allowed to crawl around. If you want to go anywhere, call me and I’ll move you with the wheelchair, alright?”

           Dace nodded in comprehension, content with the fact she wouldn’t have to attempt to move around in the chair on her own. Kiyi also agreed but voiced a willingness to propel herself; her curiosity piqued by the notion of wheeled transport beyond the use of the platforms he had provided.

           “So if I want something, you have to fetch it for me?” Varden inquired, obscuring the lower half of her face with one hand.

           “That’s right.”

           “…And you really don’t want him to know, right?”

           “That’s…also true, yes,” the human confirmed with a nod. A sense of unease, existing from the questions alone, grew worse as her slender hand failed to conceal her mirth. “One more thing: you’ll also all need to put on clothes while he’s here. Since he’ll only be here for the one night, we can stick with the usual sleeping arrangements, but please don’t bring up the rotation when he’s here, alright?”

           In casual unison, the three agreed to follow his requests; Dace smiling innocently, Kiyi tapping her fingers togethers nefariously, and Varden looking quite pleased with herself.

           Being the only one to have finished eating, Morgan went off on his own to fetch the big box of women’s clothing and began sorting the garments; it would be best, he decided, if they could choose their two outfits in advance, saving them the hassle for later.

           When the ladies arrived to sift through the contents, each drew the same attire they had worn during their trip to the salon before the rest became a target. The youngest selected a t-shirt with a beer logo on the chest complete with a silly slogan. Kiyi seemed pleased with a black and white checkered dress shirt, while Dace was happy with a cheerful red blouse.

           All three, with their love of things that were new, decided to wear the second set of clothing then and there, leaving the rest to be put away until the following morning. As the sisters dressed, hiding everything save for their hair that distinguished them from ordinary humans, he felt his heart sink.

           “You all look very nice…and ordinary. Now, I don’t know for sure when he’ll arrive so you have to put on this act from now until after he leaves.”

           Each sister chose a place where they’d be willing to stay for a lengthy period so that he wouldn’t be stuck wheeling them around needlessly without their guest even being present. Kiyi read her textbooks on the computer while Dace read through the last of the ring trilogy and Varden studied how to properly prepare and serve lobster.

 

           It wasn’t until late afternoon that Morgan and his guests reacted to the sound of an approaching engine, which the author recognized at once as belonging to his friend’s truck.

           “Okay everyone, remember what we talked about,” he reminded them as he headed to the door, wanting to meet Jessie outside first.

           Opening the front door, Morgan stepped outside, the long grass tickling his bare feet, watching as his friend climbed out of his truck and approached.

           Jessie Ritzer was the only other friend he kept in contact with, and had since university. He had always been confident and extroverted, not letting people’s opinions deter him from doing as he pleased. Jessie’s long wavy black hair – now tied back in a ponytail – and sky blue eyes had earned him some notice with the women on campus, though he was always quick to argue that his athletic physique and charisma deserved most of the credit.

           Naturally.

           That he had found work at a publishing company was what led Morgan to bring his first works to that particular publisher and had since never looked elsewhere for a better deal. How big of a role Jessie had played in giving his book a chance to be printed in the first place, he’d never know, and didn’t care.

           ‘Nepotism be damned,’ he thought to himself, and to Jessie’s credit, he had never once made any claim to have been involved.

           “M&M!” the editor exclaimed as he came within arms reach. “Man, you’re looking great!” Jessie quickly pulled him into a friendly embrace.

           “You’re certainly dressed up for just an overnight visit,” Morgan noted with a knowing smile.

           At the office, his friend always wore a suit with his hair tied back, whereas while visiting he would instead relax in baggy jeans and seasonally-appropriate shirt. This time, he had instead decided to wear form-fitting - or rather form-accentuating – blue jeans with a tight black t-shirt that showed off his arms and chest.

           “And you’ve been keeping a new ‘friend’ secret from me, for shame,” he replied. “I couldn’t let your new beau think I’m some unkempt slob, now could I?”

           “Of course not; let her think that after she sees how much you love boxing.”

           “It’s good to see you again,” Jessie smiled, slapping the author playfully on the shoulder.

           Returning the gesture, Morgan led him inside but didn’t get past the doorway to the kitchen before his friend seized the back of his shirt and dragged him back outside.

           “H-hey, what?” the author sputtered and coughed, his throat sore from the unexpected and forceful pull.

           “You’ve been holding out on me!” Jessie accused. The look on his sculpted face was a mix between elation and annoyance, but which emotion was greater was beyond Morgan’s ken. “You haven’t gone and built yourself a little harem, have you?”

           Ordinarily, such an accusation from his friend wouldn’t have fazed him much, but given that he had come to realize the situation wasn’t that far from the truth, Morgan’s face grew a noticeable shade of pink. “I-it’s not like I­—”

           “Ease up,” he laughed, clapping him on the back. “It was a joke; a joke. Just don’t use a line as weak as ‘they’re my relatives’ or I’ll slap the cliché right out of you.”

           “Fine, then yeah, they’re all mine,” he boasted, knowing just how well that would be received.

           Letting out a single, loud laugh, Jessie smiled. “That’s a new one to me; you’re giving me ideas now.” Glancing back inside through the door, he stared, though could only now see Kiyi’s back from that angle. “Any of them spoken for?”

           “What?” Morgan winced, knowing all too well where this was leading.

           “You – do you have dibs on any of them?”

           “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

           “No, no one meets my standards in my area,” he replied simply, looking away from the distant figure and back to Morgan.

           “And a passing look is all it takes? I didn’t think you were that shallow,” Morgan countered.

           “You yourself went on about how hot they are, and if you let them live with you they can’t be too bad. So spill it.”

           Grumbling, Morgan had to go with the one who’d be sharing his bed that night, otherwise his friend would receive quite the shock. “Her name is Varden; I’ll introduce you, but there’s something you should know about her sisters.”

           “They’re family?” Jessie asked, startled at first but quickly rationalized it under his breath.

           “Kiyi – the one you keep staring holes in – is more interested in machines than people, and Dace – the one on the couch – loves to read and…never dated.”

           The editor let out a low whistle. “Sure is hot for a wallflower.” His lips pursed into a tight-lipped smile. “Interesting, maybe I could help with that…. But enough about the sisters, how far have you gone with yours?”

           Morgan refused to answer. “Not now, you can have your fun after business is taken care of, alright?”

           Smiling through his own grumbling, Jessie followed his friend back inside. Varden glanced at him from the kitchen as he walked by, looking him over, which only served to make the editor’s smile grow.

           “Have a seat on the couch next to Dace,” Morgan offered, pointing to the lovely lady in the blouse.

           “Pleased to meet you Dace,” he smiled, offering her his hand as he sat next to her. Feeling her enthusiastic shake and childlike grin, Jessie couldn’t help but laugh. “Friendly, aren’t you?” then, glancing over at his author companion, he threw out a hushed: “Wallflower, eh?”

           “She’s the oldest of her family. Over at the computer is Kiyi, the middle child.”

           Without looking away from the screen, the mechanically-inclined sister raised her right hand as a lazy wave.

           “Varden, the hottest,” the last called from the kitchen, raising herself to get another look at the new man through the sill.

           “She’s also something of an aspiring chef,” Morgan offered.

           “You lucky dog,” the editor teased, slapping his back.

           “We’re sleeping together,” Varden added confidently, throwing a haughty look at all those in the living room, whether they were observing or not.

           “Forward to…” Jessie observed, looking from the kitchen window back to his friend so to mouth the words: ‘You son of a bitch….’

           “Well, it’s nice to meet all of you. I hope you haven’t been giving M&M too much trouble.” Suddenly his expression became less warm and carefree as he opened his briefcase. “As always, I want a digital and hardcopy of your manuscript. Here is a flash drive for you to copy it while I get out the documents you’ll need to sigh.”

           This was a process Morgan had been through a number of times, enough for the sudden transition to be expected, but he still found it remarkable how the publisher could change to a business mindset so easily. Handing over a printed copy of his newest work, Morgan seized the computer for a minute to copy the file. For the following quarter-hour, Jessie went through the routine speech explaining just what Morgan would be agreeing to by signing and initializing a variety of documents, making the transaction finalized as well as getting him signed on for the next novel.

           “Any ideas for what you’ll be writing next?” he asked, ensuring that everything was in order before tucking it away inside his briefcase.

           “I’ve made some notes,” the author nodded. “A fantasy romance.”

           “Stepping away from adventure, are you?”

           “Just for now. So, you feeling hungry? Varden will be putting on lobsters for us.”

 

           The chef had to be careful with the preparation of the meal. It was a process she had little with which to compare it, was forced to stay immobilized as the injured patient Varden was supposed to be, and knew she hadn’t a supply of ingredients that would allow for error. Taking it nice and slow paid off for her in the end, as the result was the most stunning meal the mermaid had ever prepared: each plate had a small cup of melted butter next to a finely boiled lobster, accompanied by rice and several pieces of asparagus topped with melted cheese.

           Her sisters, as always, were unappreciative of the fine cuisine, though the little satisfied noises they made implied their approval in spite of themselves. Though Morgan did give his compliments to the chef, Jessie was the most vocal in his appreciation and approval. After he had sampled everything on the plate, the editor jokingly inquired about having her cater for him on occasion.

           “You lucky son of a bitch,” he smirked, glancing sideways at the host. “If she’s half as good as she is at cooking….”

           “Do you mind?” Morgan warned, breaking off a piece of his lobster’s shell. “I’m sitting right here.”

           “Fine, fine, so…I can’t help but notice you three all have your legs wrapped….”

           A sudden coughing fit from the author attracted everyone’s attention. “S-sorry, it went down wrong. Uh, yeah, they were in a car crash a little over a month ago and got some nasty breaks and fractures. They’re doing better but still not well enough to walk.

           “Is that so…?” the publisher asked, eying the three suspiciously. “Tell me the truth, M&M…you didn’t hobble them, did you?”

           “Jessie!”

           “It’s a joke; a joke,” he laughed, waving his hand. “You really hate that, don’t you?”

           Morgan watched as his friend went back to his meal, still full of joy but it wasn’t clear to the host as to whether or not the ruse had been successful.

           For the rest of the meal, Jessie inquired into the histories of the sisters, wanting details such as where they were from, what they enjoyed, and – for Varden – how long they had been ‘together’. Much to Morgan’s dismay they answered for themselves, but his fears were unjustified when their simple answers with regards to their background sounded perfectly ordinary.

           “We’re from this lake,” Dace answered sweetly, dipping a hunk of lobster meat into her butter. “We met Morgan here, as well.”

           Setting down his fork and resting his chin upon his woven fingers, the friend smiled. “It certainly is nice here, though quite out of the way. Have you lived here long?”

           “All our lives,” she explained before placing the seafood in her mouth.

           “Any hobbies?”

           The three listed off what they enjoyed, all being activities they had enjoyed since coming to live within the confines of the cottage. When it came to the questions pertaining to Varden’s relationship with Morgan, the experienced mermaid didn’t fail to catch any of the meaning to his words, even though the meaning might have been lost on her innocent siblings.

           “We got together almost as soon as we met,” she replied with a happy sigh, flicking her gaze to Morgan for just long enough to throw him a confident smirk. “I’m sure you know how he is already, but he had tried to keep things innocent.”

           A low smooth chuckle escaped Jessie’s lips as he smiled and agreed. “Too true; despite how quickly his mind gets there, the rest of him is like molasses.”

           “Hey!”

           Stabbing a piece of asparagus, the woman giggled. “Not too slow; we’re sharing a bed now, after all.”

           Though more naïve than she, her sisters were not so oblivious as to let that comment go unnoticed, each casting a disapproving look as to how she proclaimed her monopoly on Morgan’s affection. Nothing could be done about it so long as the guest was present, each aware that they weren’t allowed to speak of the sleeping arrangements.

           “Did you ask her to boast on your behalf?” Jessie inquired, once again forced to glance as the other man momentarily.

           As his eyes moved back to the long-haired beauty, the envious glares of the two older siblings did not go unnoticed. At first, the friend dismissed them as simply the bitterness of those who were single being subjected to the gloating of someone in a happy relationship. Yet the way their features softened when their eyes moved from her to Morgan, he came to infer that it wasn’t something so simple.

           “So tell me, how did you two first meet?” Jessie asked as he removed his arms from the table and instead chose to lean back in his chair.

           “I was skipping stones when she popped out of the water…right in the path,” Morgan winced. The story was ridiculous on its own, but fortunately less damning than, say, hitting her with his boat.

           “Seriously?” the editor roared with laughter. “That’ll make a great story for the kids! Let me help you with the dishes and we can do something fun!”

           “Thanks, what’d you have in mind?” Rising to his feet along with his friend, the two collected the dishes, leaving the sisters at the table.

           “Movie?” Kiyi suggested hopefully, calling to them through the kitchen window.

           “Works for me; say do you have Young Frankenstein? I haven’t seen that one in ages,” the tall, black-haired hunk inquired.

           “I bought it after your last visit. Best of all, the girls haven’t seen it yet.”

           The two working together were able to clean Varden’s mess without too much trouble and the five were soon watching the comedy. At the end, the night was still young and everyone was asking for more. Kiyi wanted science fiction, Dace wanted comedy, and Varden wanted something hot.

           “How about you break out the other collection?” Jessie suggested, nudging the host’s shoulder.

           “Not on your life,” he laughed, slapping his hand away. “I’ll put in Space Balls then we’re calling it a night.”

           The editor and acting girlfriend grumbled in tandem but soon gave in when they settled for the mindless parody. When the movie had finished it still wasn’t terribly late but Morgan insisted on turning in nonetheless, taking the wheelchair and carting the ladies off to their respective beds before returning with sheets for the couch.

           “You’re sure you can’t trust me to share a bed with—”

           “Not a chance,” interrupted Morgan, tossing his friend a pillow.

           “Eh, worth a shot. Well, when Dace’s legs heal let me know; seems like she’d take me up on an offer for dinner and a movie.”

           “Uh…yeah, well, just call some time and you can ask her.” There wouldn’t, after all, be such a time where he could see her without the wheelchair.

           “Well, enjoy your hot new girlfriend. I’m going to stay up for a bit and read through your story; I’m looking forward to being the first to read it.”

           Bidding his friend a good night, the author returned to his room, closing the double doors and their blinds, and securing the lock. Taking pause to release a contented sigh, Morgan felt the anxiety of their secret being exposed lift from his shoulders if only for the night.

           “Oh M&M,” called the lithe voice in a breathy tone, giving a new form of tension to the host. Stretched out on the bed and on her side, only her tail under the covers, laid Varden, her day’s outfit lying crumpled on the floor.

           “Uh…if this is going where I’m certain it is…” he swallowed, looking where his instincts commanded him to, “…then I don’t think now is the best time….”

           “Do you want to?” she purred, remaining in place.

           With an inelegance not befitting his trade, the author nodded and replied with an ineloquent: “Uh-huh.”

           “So do I; and you did say you’d do whatever I asked for while your friend was here.”

           “Yeah, but to keep it a secret that you’re…oh….” Suddenly, that morning’s mirth all made sense.

           “Kiyi isn’t the only clever one, hmm?” Rolling onto her back, the mermaid raised a finger to her chin, just under her pink lips. “But if you’re really not interested…Jessie seems like he’d be ready to go, if I just crawled out there to meet him and….”

           He would, too, Morgan thought with a disapproving click of the tongue. “Don’t do that.” Moving over the free side of the bed, the author sat down and began undressing for bed.

           “So, what’ll it be?” she pushed, inching closer to him with every button that was unfastened from his shirt.

           Looking back at her, not a single reason born of some puritanical pretext came to mind, or at least the likes of which mattered to him. Only one objection was left, and he whispered the request that would remove even that barrier. “Can you be quiet during?”

           Through pursed lips and a victorious smile Varden draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his hairy cheek. “I can…but how about you?”

           Leaving her embrace to get the lights, the author returned to her and lowered himself over her eager form. “I think so….”

10: Chapter 10 - When the Morning Comes

           As the sun crested over the woodlands, Morgan was lying on his back, watching as the sunlight shined through his windows and cast its light on the wall. Breathing deeply, the author turned his head to stare at the face of his lover, the smile upon his lips almost as wide as that of his still sleeping lover.

           Varden had been everything she had claimed, and more; despite his worst fears about coming to live out one of his fantasies, everything about it had been comfortably ‘human’. Now, there she was, cuddled up next to him, her head resting on his right shoulder; slow, hot breaths warming his skin as she rested. There she laid, not a care and the world as she experienced, what he imagined, were happy dreams stemming from a satisfying night of events.

           Lying there feeling the warmth of her body while enjoying the morning’s tranquility, he found his mind free of any concerns and the desire to fret about any silly anxiety. Intruding upon his bastion of mental calm the concern of how Dace and Kiyi would react upon learning of their nighttime adventure; as he was fully aware, such things greatly affected the dynamic of those involved. Yet, in the face of his enjoyment, the invader was repelled, leaving him to bask in a level of satisfaction not experienced since his memorable days with Ryan.

           Releasing a longing sigh, he stared at her features, contrasting it with that of last night; an experience that he couldn’t recall the length thereof, swearing that, despite it having been before ten when they had retired to the bedroom, he had seen eleven sometime during the experience.

           What a night, thought Morgan as he let out another sigh, the sound as it came to his own ears reminding him of just how relaxed he felt after the experience; the tension that had been building since Dace’s arrival now released. Wanting to be considerate to the amazing mermaid, the author carefully moved away from her, doing his best to not rouse her from her slumber. Had it not been for the guest out in his living room, he’d have remained in bed for house, but, alas, there was the role of a host to be played, and fluids in need of replenishing.

           Finding himself some trousers, Morgan threw on his housecoat and slippers before shuffling from his room, leaving the mermaid to sleep away the morning. When he turned away from closing the doors, his heart skipped a beat as he saw Jessie sitting on the couch, cup of coffee in hand and a massive knowing smirk upon his face. One that, without saying a word, bellowed ‘I know’.

           Remaining silent, Morgan shuffled over to the couch and sat down beside his old friend. “So…” he huffed in a whisper.

           “Man, I hardly got any reading done last night,” the editor replied, sipping from his mug with that same telling smile. “Don’t think her sisters did either.”

           It was impossible for him to not tense up. “Mean…what d-do you mean?”

           “Haven’t changed a bit since university, have you? C’mon, every time you brought a woman to your room, the neighbors and I couldn’t sleep a wink until you were through.”

           Rubbing his eyes while covering his face with both hands, Morgan let out what was a half silent yell and half yawn. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

           “Did; twice. Each time you seemed like you convinced yourself you can keep it down. Hey, that why you’re way out here? Last neighbors couldn’t take it?”

           “Sorry.”

           “And hey, want to rub it in that you’ve got a hot girlfriend that cooks some more?”

           “Sorry.”

           A hard clap struck Morgan square between the shoulder blades, unexpectedly blowing the air from his lungs. “Lighten up,” Jessie continued to smirk. “You could’ve been a lot crueler about it; besides, we’re pals, aren’t we? I know it’s fun messing with you when I can.”

           Quickly sucking in another breath, the bearded author let out a chuckle in good humor. “This mean you didn’t try for a bit of fun yourself?”

           A stifled snicker from the editor. “Yeah, it’s easy to put moves on a woman’s sisters when they’re together and listening to the dulcet tones of a gorilla hooting.”

           “I…that…really? Gorilla hoots?” His answer came in the form of his thumb and index being held a few centimeters apart. “Damn….”

           “Dace and Kiyi aren’t heavy sleepers by any chance, are they?”

           “Not especially.”

           A second, more gentle, clap on the back. “Well…I’m sure they’re used to it by now.”

           “Uh, yeah…they’d have to be, wouldn’t they?” Morgan chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as his friend quickly gulped down the last of his coffee. “Should get something on for breakfast; any req—”

           “Nah, helped myself to some cereal,” Jessie interrupted. “I decided I’d leave bright and early today, but didn’t want to just disappear without saying goodbye first.”

           Leaving the three sisters in their respective beds, the two collected the guest’s things and headed out the door. After an amicable handshake Jessie climbed into his car and started the engine, pausing for a moment to roll down the driver-side window.

           “You know, I don’t know how often you pretend to be an animal, but if the other two start to complain you may want to invest in a ball gag.”

           Inured to the taunts of that specific nature, the author simply took his hairy chin between his right thumb and index and looked back to his home in a contemplative manner. “Left of right side….” Waiting for a brief perplexed grunt from his companion, Morgan went on to add: “…oh, just wondering where I put that box of pictures we took in university. Oh, you know, I’m sure I even still have that one video where you—”

           “Whoa, whoa, truce, alright?” Jessie cried. “C’mon, let a guy forget about the crazy shit from his youth already.”

           “Now where’s the fun in that?” Morgan smirked, happy to have seized the upper hand.

           Shaking his head, the editor put the car in gear and started to pull around. “I’ll call you later; just don’t get caught throwing too big a net.”

           As much as the host wanted to call out and demand an explanation, by the time he had even finished parsing the warning, his best friend was already off his property and tearing down the country road.

           The risk of his and the sisters’ secret being exposed had come to a satisfying close, with his friend being none the wiser. So long as the ‘net’ comment hadn’t been some veiled statement of understanding Morgan fretted. Now he was forced to confront the more uncomfortable issue of his late night escapade.

           Approaching the front door, he breathed deep to brace himself for the road ahead before entering.

           “Is he gone?” Kiyi shouted from the guest room when Morgan’s bare feet came down on the bare hardwood floor past the entrance.

           “Yes, it’s safe to come out now.”

           It took a couple minutes, but the doors to both bedrooms swung open and the three mermaids came crawling out on their boards, each with an expression clear upon their face. For Dace it was one of jealousy, made more prominent by her youngest sister’s haughty look of superiority and victory. Kiyi’s was more complex, resembling neutrality at first but quickly being one of thinly veiled displeasure as she, too, caught sight of Varden.

           “We…need to talk about this, don’t we?” he surmised, directing the ladies to the couch as he pulled up a chair so that he could sit across from them. “I’m sure you’re—”

           “Why’d she get to do that and not me?” Dace pouted, folding her arms over her chest.

           “Us,” Kiyi corrected.

           “Because I’m special,” Varden huffed proudly, raising her chin up high.

           “That’s—” the author cut in, hoping to return things to a calm state.

           “What makes her special?” the eldest inquired.

           “Experience?” offered the middle.

           “I’m the hottest, of course.”

           The eldest looked down at her body. “But I’m more like the women in his movies.”

           “I don’t think that’s all that matters,” Kiyi insisted.

           “Quiet!” Morgan shouted, drowning out all other voices; his booming order startling all the others into silence as they stared at him rather than each other. “Let’s make this clear; the only reason Varden pretended to be my girlfriend yesterday was because it was her turn; had he set things up to come on another day, then it could have been either of you.”

           Not the most diplomatic way of phrasing his explanation, the author had to admit, having soured one’s mood considerably while the others’ improved slightly.

           “As for…that, you both know what your sister is like; she…well, she knew what to say and do to for…well, for it to happen.”

           “What did she say?” asked Dace in a tone brimming with curiosity. “If I say it too, can I try doing it tonight?”

           In a split second’s hesitation, the still young author believed himself to be the envy of every person on Earth with a fetish for mermaids at that very moment. After the imperceptible pause had come to pass, Morgan reached out while leaning forward and placed a gentle hand atop her head. In an even and relaxed voice, he assured her that so long as it was what she wanted, they’d do so that evening.

           “So what are we doing today?” Kiyi piped in, leaning back in her seat as she draped her arms over the back of the couch in a relaxed fashion.

           Humming as he considered the day’s schedule, the man shrugged and gave an tightlipped smile. “I thought I’d just stay in and relax. The four of us could—”

           “No,” the middle child interrupted, flicking her tail for emphasis then resting it on the coffee table, appearing to get even more comfortable. “What are we doing today?” The most she let him say was ‘I’ before cutting him off once more, the questioning tone being all she needed to predict the rest of his sentence. “Yesterday Varden spent the day being your lover. Tonight Dace finds out what sex is like. So, for the rest of the day, what do I get?”

           As blunt as ever, thought Morgan as he was left tongue-tied, though felt it to be as refreshing as it was off-putting. “Well…that’s only fair, I suppose. What, uh, what did you want to do?”

           For the first time that day he saw the tomboy wearing an expression other than that of distaste or detachment as she scratched her ear while furiously contemplated aloud just what would be the best thing to request – or rather, demand.

           Clapping her hands together, she looked up. “I want you to take me to a hardware store and I want to look at your car!”

           Just what the little mess of curiosity was planning to do with his car was something he didn’t want to contemplate, he found it a pleasant surprise that he’d need not go any further than the closest town to find what she wanted. “Alright, that’s what we’ll do, then. I ought to go to the bank sooner than later anyhow,” he declared approvingly, thinking of his received check. “We can head out after we’ve had breakfast and gotten dressed.”

           Making his way to the kitchen, Morgan assumed the roll of the morning’s chef, mixing up a batch of pancakes for everyone. Taking his time all the while, stalling so that they’d not be out the door before the store or bank had even opened. His date for the day ruined his attempt, however, waiting at the table fully dressed and sitting in the wheelchair with a casual outfit selected for him to wear. Whether she was aware of his attempts at delaying their outing or was simply impatient, he hadn’t the gall to ask.

           Able to affect the pace of his eating, at least, Morgan looked to the remaining sisters and asked about their plans. Dace, with her usual cheerful demeanor, spoke of her plans to read through one or more novels, starting in on the ones he had published early in his career. The youngest instead stared at the kitchen through the window connecting it to the living room and rubbed her thumb against her index and middle fingers.

           “I’m going to make that soup,” she announced happily before running the tip of her tongue along her top lip, already anticipating the flavor of the as of yet unmade dish.

           “I’ll be looking forward to—”

           Once more the author was cut off by the middle sister by way of her thrusting his clothes against his chest. “You have eaten; get dressed and let’s go,” Kiyi ordered, indicating his now empty plate.

           At a loss for words, the human rose to his feet and shuffled to his bedroom, the selected attire held tightly to his chest, changing quickly as to avoid an expected impatient knock on his door. Moving fast, he was able to avoid the rapping by a narrow margin, opening the door to find the tomboy approaching, only a couple feet away.

           Speaking casually, Kiyi said a quick, “here you go,” and tossed his keys at him before navigating to the cottage’s entrance with a level of competency her sisters could only wish they possessed.

           With a glance, Morgan confirmed she had given him the right keys and smirked. To say the least, he knew it wouldn’t be dull spending the day with the driven woman.

 

           The date got started sooner than the author had expected, with Kiyi expressing a desire to go out to the hardware store before even taking a look at what he had under the hood. Upon inquiring about whether this was because she was anxious about getting to the store before things had closed up for the day – something the inexperienced mermaid may very have believed – or that she just wanted the excuse to go out into the world once more, she surprised him once again with various inquiries that were tangential at best.

           “Can I take apart your engine later?” the green-haired tomboy inquired, running her hands over the dashboard.

           His heart skipped a beat, not from attraction but fear at what she might have planned before answering with the expected: “Certainly not.”

           “Just some parts of it, then?”

           “No.”

           “You can’t expect me to just look.”

           “Well…I can show you how to change the oil and tires, how’s that?”

           “It’s a start,” Kiyi replied in an uneven voice, though a quick glance out the corner of his eye was all it took for Morgan to see her excitement. “How about electronics?”

           “What about them?”

           “Can I work with them?”

           “What kind of work?”

           “Well…” her rapid stream of questions slowed momentarily as she considered her whims, “…something with you computer?”

           “Hmm…well, that’s important but I could see if I could find a broken laptop for you to fix.”

           “Really?” At once Kiyi lunged towards him from her seat, giving him quite the start. Enough of one, in fact, that he momentarily swerved the car into the opposite lane before returning to his rightful place on the road.

           “W-watch it, I’m driving!” Morgan shouted, glad that the country road was one that was so infrequently travelled.

           “I can fix a laptop?”

           “Y-yeah, I can try to find one; maybe a store or, better yet, Ryan, has one waiting to go in the trash.”

           “And I get to keep it for myself?”

           “Well, sure; only fair if you do all the work.”

           She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Yes, yes, that will be good.”

           “In that case, let’s swing by Ryan’s work to ask her first; a computer would be the cheapest through her, I’m sure. After that, you’ll want to go to a computer store.”

           Nodding in agreement, Kiyi voiced another request. “Lunch out?”

           The date had quickly gotten rather expensive – a computer, replacement parts, the tools needed to fix it, and now a meal out. Conversely, thinking instead about his latest pay check and the few expenses for which he was responsible made it not seem like such a big deal. So long as he kept it simple. “How’s a hot dog and fries sound?”

           A wry smile crept across her face. Neither food was one she hadn’t already seen in the myriad of films watched by her and her sisters, yet had thus far never been enjoyed personally. The author knew, of course, that any new experience was a worthwhile one to the girls.

           Meal aside, Morgan was momentarily silently considered whether it was such a good idea to propose a change in their schedule that would require him to drive all the way to the city rather than the small, backwater town that had been their original destination. As he had just crossed the town limits, the feeling that the outing would take forever vanished suddenly – the very moment his eyes fell upon the hairdresser’s quaint salon. Like magic, he found himself perfectly content to not tarry in that gossipy little burg.

           By the time his car pulled into the parking lot of his ex’s lab, it even felt late enough in the day to be out and about shopping.

           “Hey! Where are you going without me?” Kiyi shouted from the passenger side window as he quickly walked towards the entrance.

           Dragging his feet to a halt, the author turned around and came back. “Oh, uh, Ryan works here, I was going to ask her if—”

           “This is a date, isn’t it?” the mermaid pressed, waiting for him to confirm. “Then why am I waiting outside?”

           “Because it’s just a quick run in, there’s—”

           “I want to go inside.” Her voice was stern and resolute.

           Still preferring an outcome that would let him run in alone, the time it would take to argue his point would undoubtedly take even longer and leave them both soured for the remainder of the day. Conceding at once, the human chaperone retrieved the folding wheelchair and carefully moved her onto its seat before moving alongside her to the lab’s entrance.

           Inside, he moved up to the receptionist’s desk and asked to speak with Dr. Andrews.

           “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, barely able to tear herself away from whatever time waster she had loaded up on her computer screen.

           “No, but I—”

           “Sir, we don’t accept walk-ins; if you’d like to set up a meeting, something can be—”

           “Just tell her ‘Kiyi is here to see her’,” Morgan cut in. “If she’s still too busy hearing that, we’ll leave.”

           With a dejected sigh the receptionist picked up her phone and called her boss’ office relaying the message. By the way her eyes suddenly widened and moved between the author and the woman in the wheelchair, he knew at once that Ryan wasn’t as busy as the employee had claimed.

           Given her previous lack of hospitality, Morgan had no qualms with wearing a haughty grin upon seeing her reaction.

           “She’ll…be out to see you momentarily.”

           “I thought as much,” he smiled, rocking his weight between the balls of his feet and the heels before doing an about-face and waiting beside his date.

           Within a minute, the punctual researcher appeared through the security door and greeted them both, commenting on their unexpected arrival. “I didn’t think you’d come here out of the blue like that; especially not with a…guest,” Ryan remarked, working in a handshake with each of them in turn.

           “Well, had I planned things better I’d have let you know in advance but, well, here we are; and I was wondering….”

           “Another favour? Kiyi isn’t ill, is she?” the scientist finished, taking a cue by the way Morgan simply trailed off. “It’s not morning sickness, is it?”

           “What? No! We haven’t done anything like that.”

           “Yet,” she remarked, noticing a curious echo to her claim; the mermaid having had said the same thing almost in sync.

           Scratching at his beard, the man weakly tried to insist that there wasn’t anything she ought to concern herself with.

           “Don’t worry; I’m well aware that you’re benign. So what is it you need, exactly? Now’s not an appropriate time for a medical examination.”

           “No, nothing like that; I was wondering if you had any broken laptops lying around that you were planning to throw out.”

           Repeating the request under her breath, Ryan stopped and thought about it, muttering something about what day of the week special waste was collected from the lab. “Hmm…I might; let me go check.”

           As the scientist returned to the laboratory beyond the security door, the author and his date remained in the lobby to wait; the smirk he had once worn now hidden to keep from being too obnoxious.

           “So, if she has one, it’s mine?” Kiyi asked, breaking the silence that hung over them. “And I can do what I want with it?”

           With a nod of the head, he smiled. “That’s right; it will be your private machine and you’ll be able to install whatever you want.”

           “Install?” her voice piqued with curiosity and she then continued to press with inquiries about what that meant, to which he could only barely keep up with a list of options of what was already on his desktop machine and a few simple concepts like video games. “I want that!” the mermaid exclaimed eagerly at the end, extracting a stifled snicker from the eavesdropping receptionist.

           After several minutes had passed since her disappearance, their benefactor reappeared with a bulky laptop from a couple computer generations past; a notable gap visible on one side of the veritable black brick. “Here, it stopped working the other day. I’ve already removed the hard drive – security reasons – so you’ll have to get a replacement, but you could have some fun trying to fix it.”

           Not the nicest looking piece of technology but Ryan threw in the two most wonderful words he could hear.

           “No charge.”

           “Really?” he asked, simply as a polite formality. “Thank you. Do you—”

           “I can fix it?” Kiyi asked excitedly, reaching out and taking from the human woman.

           “Sure. I did find out what’s wrong with it, and it’s nothing that makes it a complete brick, so if you work at it, you’ll have it up and running,” Ryan assured him. “If it weren’t an old model, I’d have fixed it myself instead of replacing it.”

           That answered his only concern. “Great, now we just need to figure out what to fix it with,” Morgan explained.

           “I know what tools I’ll need,” Kiyi stated bluntly with just a hint of pride. “One of the textbooks I read told me.”

           “Is…is that so? But until she says what’s wrong…” the author started with a nervous laugh.

           With a twinkle in her eye, the mechanically inclined mermaid boasted: “anything I could fix uses the same tools.”

           “Okay, great. We’ll buy them on our way home, I guess. Well, thank you for this, Ryan.”

           “No problem. Honestly, I’m glad you decided to come as early as you had,” the scientist smiled, reaching behind her head to fiddle with her bun.

           Leading in with a curious hum, Morgan pressed for details. “Something come up for this afternoon?”

           “Yes and no; I’ll have to take off early today and…well, you don’t need to fret over it.”

           There was that secretive side to her again, Morgan noted as he said his farewells and left the laboratory. Helping his date into the car and buckling her in, the author drove around until coming to the first electronics store he could find so that he could run in and buy the required tools and parts. Before he could take more than two steps from the vehicle, however, he reconsidered and set Kiyi down in her wheelchair once more.

           After all, why risk wasting time and money with mistakes when it’d be all the easier for her to select the necessities herself? What’s more, he thought upon looking into her piercing sky blue eyes, was how happy it made her being inside the store – to her a veritable paradise of parts. Why he’d ever thought to deny her this simple pleasure, he’d never know. Once her newfound toys had been selected and purchased, leaving the woman wholly satisfied, they climbed back into the car and made the long trip home, but not before pulling slipping into a drive-through for the promised lunch.

           At once the car filled with the unmistakable scent of fries and a hot dog, causing the host’s stomach to grumble in anticipation as his date picked up a single fry and sniffed it, having never before tried fried foods. First she sampled it plain then did another one dipped in ketchup. Morgan then looked back to the country road for safety’s sake for a minute then glanced back to see Kiyi licking her fingers and lips clean, the box her food had come having only the hot dog left.

           Without the need to ask, he knew she was a fan of the foodstuff by the way she then voraciously laid into the remaining dish; her ravenous hunger and the gnashing of teeth leaving him with a sense of malaise. Perhaps dreading what sort of a prelude her eating might have been for later events.

 

           That evening there was the heavy scent of onions wafting through the house. Morgan didn’t mind because he knew what would come of it. The chef loved it, breathing deep even as tears rolled down her face, wanting to catch every taste and smell as the recipe went from start to finish. Her sisters were less than pleased with the smell, both retreating to the far corners of the guest room and opening the windows to keep the stench away.

           When it came time for dinner, Morgan had to coax the two sisters into the kitchen with a trail of Skittles and then promise a double feature if they emptied their bowls. Seated at the table, they were both left confused by the meal; fully aware that those foul smelling vegetables were present in spades, but a thick meaty scent was all that wafted from the soup to their noses. On top of it were small cubes of toasted bread with grated cheese melted over everything. Varden was already in process of eating, enjoying her creation immensely, releasing gentle, pleased moans with every mouthful.

           “Go on, it turned out perfectly,” Morgan insisted, already halfway through his first bowl.

           Dace and Kiyi hesitantly prodded the meal with their spoons, wondering whether a double feature was really worth it. It was Kiyi who first sampled the dish and froze after the first spoonful passed her lips.

           “Come on, you two, you’re being rude,” he chastised. Setting down his spoon, Morgan waited for the two to swallow a mouthful each. There was no doubt that the two were tense and pessimistic about the meal. After they got started, there were no more complaints, with the two eventually draining their bowls.

           Kiyi was the first to leave her seat and brought his bowl to the sink. Everyone else that followed had a second bowl, with Morgan going so far as to have a third. Varden, given the way she remained at the table after having finished and stared at his portion left the author with the impression that she’d have had more, had she the appetite.

           Even with how much had been consumed, however, there was still leftovers that Varden was quick to claim as her own, and would have succeeded had Morgan not insisted that it be used for tomorrow’s lunch.

           Having to uphold his end of the deal, Morgan found a pair of somewhat related films to show the girls. Both movies were cheesy horror parodies featuring the same snarky hostess, known for her ample bosom and plunging neckline.

           Morgan always enjoyed the movies and was glad to see his harem laugh along with him, albeit for different reasons. Dace giggled at the wordplay and double-entendres, having picked them up from the many stories she had read. Kiyi laughed at the special effects – specifically, how poor they were. As for Varden, whenever a bit of tease took place, she’d snuggle even closer to him, letting her fingers move along to see if he had enjoyed the scene more than it was worth.

           By the end of the second film, everyone had grown tired enough from laughing to head off to bed, with Morgan followed closely by Dace as she looked up at him expectantly, wearing an innocent smile and a gentle flushing upon her cheeks.

           Closing and locking the bedroom doors behind them, the human scratched at his cheek as she climbed up onto the bed’s mattress until she could sit on the foot of the bed. “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, wanting to provide another chance for her to change her mind or keep from complicating things.

           “Yes!” she declared enthusiastically, pumping both arms for emphasis. Well, he could only assume that was the reason, as he was more interested in the jiggling such a movement caused. Suddenly, her voice and expression grew far more reserved. “But I don’t know if I can do the things in your movies….”

           “T-that’s fine; you don’t need to do things like that,” explained Morgan, half coughing. Kiyi hadn’t had any problem doing so – and then some – but that was neither in this mermaid’s personality nor part of her charm. When he looked at the eldest sister, he saw innocence with an eagerness to learn; someone who, whenever his heart would start to race and feel his temperature rising, had done so by complete accident.

           Turning off the light, the author reached an arm under one arm, around her back, and to the other side of her chest before gently sliding her far enough along so that she could lie comfortably on the bed, her head close, but not against the headboard. Looking down at her, his eyes quickly adjusting in the darkness where the only illumination was the moonlight coming in through the windows, he smiled and leaned in to kiss her gently; first on the cheek and then the lips before tasting her neck in the same fashion.

           Either naturally or in an imitation of the scenes so often appearing in romantic novels or film, her arms reached up or she embraced him around the shoulders and neck, holding him gently – a fact for which he was appreciative, having an idea for just how powerful these women’s arms were. Dace squeaked from the first kiss, hummed at the second, and gasped from the third, lying back as he continued to lead.

           “You’ll figure out how to do everything in your own time,” he assured in a low whispered as his lips brushed her skin along her jaw line up to her ear. “This time, just relax and enjoy the experience.”

           Watching her nod in understanding and closer her eyes, Morgan continued, taking things slow and gentle, letting her adjust to everything he had to offer a little at a time. After several minutes of near-silence, the eldest mermaid did have a surprise for her lover, breathing an audible and sincere: “I love you.”

           Taking pause, Morgan looked into her now open eyes – a face waiting expectantly for an answer. Drawing breath, he parted his lips to reply.

11: Chapter 11 - A Knife on Cloth

           Light poured in through the windows unhindered by the left-open blinds, casting everything in its brilliance. Though early and the cause of his awakening, the author opened his eyes without experiencing the pain of a sudden exposure. Last night his sleep had been far more restful than the evening prior, allowing for a much more relaxed slumber and pleasant rousing. Yet the simple act of leaving his mattress for the day proved considerably more difficult as he lay there, listening to the slow rhythmic thumping of the mermaid’s pulse as she slept, his head cradled atop her bosom.

           Her arms were relaxed as they rested around his neck and behind his head, as were her fingers where they were nestled in his russet locks. Physically, as it were, it would have been so very simple to slip from her grasp and get a start on the day, but Morgan felt so at peace that leaving would be wasteful.

           Coming to the only logical conclusion, the human let his eyes return to a restful state and he continued to doze in the warm, comforting embrace. He remained there, blissfully, for over an hour until Dace stirred to wakefulness by an impatient and forceful rapping on the glass panes of Morgan’s bedroom doors.

           Surprised to find how she was holding him, the mermaid smiled and angled his face upwards to hers and gave a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Good morning.”

           “Morning,” he smiled back before accepting that he had to leave her embrace. “Don’t break the window!” shouted the author to whomever was banging away.

           “Then get a move on!” answered the decidedly silken voice.

           Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, Morgan started to glance towards his clock. “What’s so important that you have to wake us up at…oh, ten already?”

           “French Toast is made and waiting; eat up before it gets cold,” Varden explained. “And I want to hear what we’ll be doing today.”

           Rising to his feet, the author milled about his room and pulled on a pair of pants and socks while trying to figure out what she meant by ‘doing today’. “What, did you want to play cards or watch a movie?”

           “No, I mean on our…um…our….”

           The sudden faintness and hesitation in her voice piqued the author’s curiosity and he pulled open his bedroom doors to get a visual of the woman to whom he was speaking.  Confirming his suspicions, to either side of her decidedly pink lips were her cheeks of an even deeper hue.

           Looking at him with a gasp, Varden looked away and pushed out her lower lip. “Our…date,” she finished at long last.

           “Date?” he asked, scratching at his beard – thinking it perhaps time for a bit of maintenance.

           “Kiyi got one yesterday and Dace had last night, so you owe me!” she insisted. “Kiyi even agreed that’s how things worked yesterday.”

           “Then I suppose it’ll be Dace’s turn tomorrow?” inquired Morgan, taking pause afterwards to recall that it would be Friday, meaning the following night he’d be with…one interestingly crowded bed.

           “Ooh? Can we?” the eldest sister excitedly asked, clasping her hands together.

           “What? But, uh…sure.” A weak smile was offered to them both. “But then no more dates for a while, okay? I have to get some of my work done.”

           “I’d like to go to a bookstore,” she replied; either an implied acceptance of his terms or having failed to notice in her excitement.

           “I want to go to a restaurant,” Varden answered, wheeling back to the kitchen, her waist needlessly moving back and forth in a fluid motion. As Morgan’s eyes were transfixed, he realized both that she had already dressed in preparation for the date and that somehow she had successfully added a seductive sway to crawling.

           Just as he had reached the table for breakfast, Kiyi was already on her way out, propelling herself back to the guest bedroom. “Morning; see you tonight,” she greeted simply.

           “How go the repairs?” called Morgan, thinking of nothing else that would so readily monopolize her attention.

           “Just reviewing the steps,” the eager mechanic shouted back from out of sight.

           Shaking his head, the author took a seat and poured syrup over his breakfast along with a dot of ketchup. “So,” he began, looking across the table to the chef and his date for the day, “what kind of food do you want to try?”

           “There are kinds?” Dace asked, climbing into her seat and looking at the simple meal before her.

           “Different places sell different foods,” he explained, “fast food, ethnic, and so forth.”

           Quite quickly, the youngest sibling answered with: “Italian!” before second-guessing herself and rattling off many other options. “Fried? No…Indian…soup…how about sushi? Oh! I know, some thing!”

           “Dim sum?” A reasonable guess at her intent.

           “Yes, that!”

           Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Morgan gave a nod of approval; it had been a long time since he had been able to enjoy that variety of foodstuffs and would be a great many flavours the likes of which the chef had never before experienced. “I know just the place we can go.”

           Three days, three long drives; after this was over, the author swore he’d not step foot out of the house for a week.

           As Varden expressed her excitement and nearly non-existent patience for their date, Morgan explained that he’d need to take care of a few things first, such as bathing, grooming, and ensuring that the house was in order before leaving. All of which he was given time aplenty to resolve for unlike Kiyi’s choice of activity, Varden understood that leaving too soon would mean being too full from breakfast to truly capitalize on the meal.

           Still, despite having all the time in the world, Morgan was able to get the both of them driving down the highway by the time the clock struck eleven. The passenger-side window was rolled down and the mermaid’s hair blowing in the wind as she talked cheerfully with her date.

           She was dressed conservatively – by her standards, anyways – with a dark violet, short-sleeved shirt with a neckline that didn’t dip nearly as far as he’d have expected of her, and a jean skirt that, to be frank, was going to be hidden by the blanket anyways. Morgan, on the other hand, was dressed in always-appropriate black jeans with a matching long-sleeved shirt.

           The drive out to the Chinese restaurant was uneventful enough, with a parking space being found nice and close to the entrance. As to be expected given it was an ordinary weekday at noon, not a weekend or holiday. Stepping inside and being seated was something of a surprise, however, as despite the lack of waiting, there were far more customers inside than the amount of parked cars would have suggested. People who worked in the area and were taking their lunch break was the best theory that came to the author’s mind. Still, they had been seated without delay and the carts stacked with various dishes were in full service, giving him reason enough to make a mental note such that should the four of them ever come here again, he ought to pick the same time.

           Varden was less concerned with such pedestrian matters of parking and other people, instead focusing on the foreign décor and, more importantly, the sight and smell of the cuisine. The first cart to come around had various deserts on it and was revealed to be the likes of mango pudding, coconut-covered pastries not unlike doughnuts, and what appeared to be blocks made of red beans or red bean paste.

           When asked if they’d like any of the items, his date looked at him excitedly. “Can we? I want to try them all!”

           While the waiter took that as a sign to serve them, Morgan raised a hand to signal a halt. “We should save this for after; there’s a lot to try and things like this we can just take home with us.”

           Sighing but agreeing, Varden had to agree and shook her head at the waiter and waited for the next cart to pass them on its rounds. When it did, it was her turn to be delighted as they took a plate of buns and one of spring rolls. Before those two were even cool enough to be eaten, Morgan asked for a plate stacked with many small strips of beef coated in a thick ginger sauce.

           Taking a fork in hand as Morgan made due with chopsticks, she was humming with delight when she bit into one of the spring rolls to find it stuffed with shrimp. A sweet and warm flavour she enjoyed so much that Morgan needed to remind her to try a bit of everything before filling up on the remainder. Understanding at once, she gingerly picked up one of the steamed buns, making sure that it wasn’t still too warm to be held.

           Morgan did the same and bit into the wonderfully light and fluffy bun that seemed to melt in his mouth only to take a mouthful of the sweet and spicy barbecue pork inside. For the sake of appearances, he was thankful the bread served to absorb any drool he might have otherwise released in appreciation. Looking across the table, it seemed the young mermaid had the same opinion of the food, holding the item in both hands as she took one small bite after another with an avid appearance of approval.

           Once the mermaid had finished her bun, the two of them started on the ginger beef, which always left the author curious as to what had been included to give it the added spice that stuck to his mouth.

           Looking up from her plate, Varden asked:  “How do you make this?”

           Unlike her elders, Morgan thought, she had the manners to not speak with her mouth full – or that she respected food that much. At least she wasn’t an embarrassment to be seen eating with.

           “I wish I knew,” answered her date honestly.

           “I want to make this,” she sighed then quickly perked up. “I need more cookbooks!”

           Another expense, but one he’d benefit from at least. “We’ll pick up a couple on the way home.”

           Cart after cart passed the table by and every now and then they took another dish to enjoy: buns stuffed with custard and coconut, seafood and vegetable dumplings, glutton balls coated in sesame seeds and stuffed with red bean paste. After tasting it, his date once more inquired as to how it was made and though he had not the slightest clue how to put it together as a whole, he could identify its parts at least.

           “Beans?” she asked, clearly in disbelief. “But it’s sweet.”

           He could only offer a shrug, having only been told in the past what was inside without the slightest inkling of how or why anything tasted the way it did. Not much of a cook himself, all that really mattered to him was that he enjoyed the taste.

           The two ate their fill then asked for a few more items – desserts the lot of them – and had them put in a doggy bag. Bellies full and their taste buds delighted, the two drove home, picking up cookbooks of various ethnicities.

 

           Arriving at home, the special treats were quickly tucked away in the fridge to be kept a surprise until after dinner, lest they all spoil their appetites. The afternoon, or what was left of it, was spent relaxing at home; the youngest reading through her new recipes, the second still working away at the laptop, the eldest reading, and the author dedicating some time to his profession. When it came time to eat, a simple meal of peas, rice, and meatloaf was thrown together to tide everyone over, prepared by the host.

           As Morgan set out the dinnerware, he listened in on their conversation, feeling content when matters turned from personal interests and activity to the satisfaction each felt since moving from the lake to the land. Silently congratulating himself for trying to attend to each of them rather than doting on just one, he got quite the shock from the direction the conversation turned.

           With rosy cheeks, Dace cheerfully declared: “Morgan said he loves me,” just as he took a seat at the table to eat.

           All faces were on him for what felt like several minutes, and every second of it was spent with bated breath. As his lungs felt pained, more so by anxiety than duration, their attention silently moved back to their sister.

           “So?” was Kiyi’s only answer, apparently unphased by the news. Instead, she picked at her meatloaf, absentmindedly mincing it with her fork between moments when she remembered to place some of it in her mouth.

           The other was somewhat more responsive, vocally demanding to know just when this had happened.

           “L-last night,” Dace explained, leaning away from her anxious sibling. “In bed.”

           “Well, he’s in love with me, too,” the youngest insisted, whipping her gaze back to Morgan so fast that her long wavy aquamarine hair sailed through the air. “Right?”

           In private, he’d have admitted such plainly and simply, but now that her big and brilliant turquoise eyes were burning a hole through him, even speaking the truth felt to be an act of coercion. Still, he answered honestly. “That’s…that’s right, I love you too.” Not speaking those three words for the first time felt as though they’d have been a cheat.

           A satisfied smile came to Varden’s smile and she huffed confidently as she started into her meal. “See? You’re not the only one. But what about you?” she pressed, her attention now focused on the uncomfortably stoic middle child.

           By now, what was left of her meatloaf had been stirred in with the rice and peas, which had also been reduced to an unidentifiable mess of green, brown, and white. “Hmm? What?” Kiyi mumbled, insisting on her indifference to the matter. “Why would I care?”

           For a brief instant, Dace was focused on her meal while Varden rolled her eyes and Morgan caught the tomboy stare at him and quickly tilt her head to what was past her right shoulder. Incidentally, based on where everyone was seated, that was towards his bedroom. Confirming with a nod before either sister’s attention was back on either of them, Kiyi momentarily let slip a relieved smile and went back to eating; now finding the slop her meal had become rather unappealing to behold.

           After dinner, a comedic take on the tale or Robin Hood was played with the various desserts in their boxes laid out on the coffee table before them. As the movie was watched, some treats were enjoyed wholeheartedly while others only had a single bite taken from them before being set back for someone else to deal with. Whatever the popularity of the items had been, all had been enjoyed to the last bite by the film’s end, ensuring everyone was full when it came time to climb into bed.

           As he had done the nights before, Morgan closed and locked the doors to his room once he and his partner were inside to keep the others from interrupting.

           “So, uh, Kiyi, I’m not really sure what you’re thinking about, so if you just want to sleep, that’s—”

           “Turn off the lights and get over here,” she commanded, already in bed under the covers and lying on her right side, facing away from where he always laid.

           Thinking that a fair sign that she only came to enjoy her turn sharing in the proximity, Morgan did as she asked and sat down after changing into his pyjamas. The moment he laid down under the sheets, however, the mattress shook as the powerful mermaid quickly rolled across the bed and on top of him, the weight of her tail easily pinning his legs.

           “Wh—Kiyi?” he gasped as she held his head tightly between her hands, her fingers spread on either side and her thumbs pressed upon his cheeks, the tips resting just under his eyes. Though she was likely not trying, the pressure could still be felt.

           “Do you love me too?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

           “What? Of co—” began Morgan but quickly her palms moved inwards to distort his mouth, keeping the words from being said.

           “Not so loud!” she hissed; less as a threat and more from it being the loudest she could speak while still a whisper.

           Her hands moved back to a normal distance – as far as his skin was concerned – and he tried again, this time keeping his voice low. “Yes, I love you, too,” he declared, now understanding that his experience at the table was far from coercion.

           Studying his face, her piercing blue eyes staring into his, she asked: “Really?”

           “Yes; really.”

           With a nod, she accepted his answer and let go of his face, instead leaning over the side of the bed and snatched up a discarded article of clothing of his from the floor.

           The author watched with a sense of curiosity as she examined the sock, wondering what fascination she had with it now that she wouldn’t have had before. The experience was not a pleasant one when she roughly pulled open his mouth and pushed as much of the item into his mouth as possible.

           To the best of his ability, he asked her what she was doing through the sock; his question pitifully muffled and distorted, but to her credit, she had either understood or anticipated what he’d want to say.

           “You’re always too loud,” explained Kiyi in a hushed voice. “I don’t want them to know – and don’t go telling them that I asked you about that, either.”

           A mouth stuffed with one of his socks did have one advantage: it kept the smirk from his face as he thought about how bashful she was being. The thought did somewhat persist even as she continued to have him lie beneath her as she reached for his waist.

 

           Morgan woke the following morning feeling sore and stiff; his hands instinctively rising to his jaw to rub the joints. Wiggling his toes, he also checked that feeling had returned to his feet – something he had lost some time the night before. Slowly moving every part of his body to ensure nothing had been disjointed or would otherwise cause him pain to move, the author sat up in bed and worked the kinks out of his back and neck.

           To his surprise, he was alone in bed – in fact, his room was empty with the door open a crack. Figures, Morgan thought, that she’d not want to stick around to cuddle in the morning, giving the impression that she was sweet on him.

           Climbing out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxers and his housecoat, the human made his way to the washroom, relieved to find a distinct lack of bruising anywhere that he could see. After taking care of his morning toiletries, he made his way into the living room, his feet moving gingerly over the bare floor, making hardly a sound, attracting the attention of none of his guests as he walked up behind them, each sat at the dining table.

           “—said he loves me too,” Kiyi declared, puffing out her chest and her head rose with pride.

           She was, conveniently, the one whose back was turned directly to the human host, letting him stand behind the tomboy with ease, getting up nice and close. “Didn’t want them to know, eh?” Morgan asked, wishing he had a mug of coffee to sip from as he spoke – if only for dramatic effect.

           Taking her by surprise, he had hoped that she’d jump and begin babbling while trying to explain her change of heart in an incoherent fashion. To see her flustered would have been a reward in and of itself. Instead, she calmly turned around as though she had known him to have been there all along and looked up at him impassively.

           “I changed my mind. What’s the problem?” was her flat response.

           Several seconds passed in silence until the youngest of the three broke the silence, thankfully.

           “Well, it’s my turn again tonight, don’t forget.”

           Or not.

           “And I get to go to the bookstore,” Dace exclaimed happily, clasping her hands together and smiling wide.

           “I remember,” Morgan confirmed, moving to the kitchen to start making breakfast, finding golden hash browns still warm in a pan on the counter. Filling a plate, he made it back to the table and listened in on their conversation, hearing about all their newest interests and discoveries, throwing in his two cents as he could, wanting to be more than a mere observer.

           The youngest naturally spoke of the various Italian and Russian dishes she had read about in her books, declaring that she’d be making one called beef stroganoff for that day. Explaining what was called for by the recipe, the author was pleased to hear that no extra groceries would be needed, but the chef’s stoic sister wasn’t thrilled by the need for onions.

           Kiyi spoke of how the hardware problems of her laptop had been fixed and was now busy setting up the operating system, hording over her siblings the things she’d get to do once it was finished. Various things the likes of which Morgan had to correct her on, as they were based on concepts that had come from movies written by people with no idea as to what could or couldn’t be realistically performed. The options that remained in the aftermath were still enough to leave her excited – in her own special way – about the future.

           The eldest went on about the various stories she was or had been reading, both promoting various tales and questioning Morgan about certain details of his writing. Some merited the explanation of subjects neither she nor her sisters were familiar, others being legitimate flaws in his narrative.

           Breakfast passed peacefully and so did the time leading up to the departure for the date, Dace being patient enough to not to be insistent. Despite that grace, she didn’t keep from picking through the available clothes several times for the right clothes and bouncing about with unrestrained jubilation. As part of the waiting game, she even attempted to sit in the wheelchair and move about, and yet somehow caused another accident.

           Morgan had to rush from his bedroom into the living room, fearing the worst from the volume of the crash and the pained cries that followed. It looked bad and, as he soon discovered, the results were not much better, though far from threatening. Varden was pinned under a thrashing Dace, who in turn was halfway under the chair, her tail entwined about a wheel of the chair. With every forceful and reactionary movement of her tail, the wheel would turn until the spokes once more pinched her tail, eliciting another pained cry.

           Rushing to their aid, the author calmly took hold of her lower half and the wheel, carefully separating the two while keeping her from any more harm. The chair was removed from the pile next, allowing the sisters to separate; Dace smoothing out her clothes and Varden adjusting her bra.

           The mess sorted out, the author breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?”

           “I just wanted to move myself,” Dace sobbed lightly. Whether it was out of pain or disappointment, he couldn’t tell. “Like Kiyi can.”

           Recalling what had been the problem on her first attempt, he inquired: “Did you throw your weight forward again?”

           “No, I didn’t.”

           “She didn’t,” Kiyi confirmed, fiddling with her laptop while seated at his desktop computer in the far corner. “All she did was try to turn one wheel while leaning too far to her right.”

           “You capsized, huh?” Hard to believe that she could throw it that far off balance when she had already mastered the use of a stationary chair. “Then how did Varden—”

           “I was just moving to the couch,” the youngest explained as she checked that none of her flowing hair had been pulled out by the wheels when she had been landed upon.

           “Try to be more careful,” he instructed with a sigh, “and leave the moving to me; I have no problem pushing the chair.”

 

           The drive into town was effortless, the weather being a cloudless summer day, and the roads clear. That he had received much more practice driving as of late than he’d have normally cared for didn’t hurt either, though he’d prefer that come to an end and soon. As his car moved through the city streets, they passed several bookstores, but as only he knew how to recognize them as such, there was no furor from his passenger.

           When the author brought the car to a stop on the street in front of an old stone building – just over a story tall and built in an age when stone columns built into the wall were still a normal aesthetic – Dace began showing a reserved sense of excitement.

           Dace’s hands alternated between wringing her wrists and weaving her fingers. “Is…this is a bookstore?”

           “It is,” Morgan affirmed, keeping private the detail that it was a used bookstore. After all, he was sure she’d be happier with an armful of titles over a couple that were in better shape.

           The confirmation brought her hands to settle on a contented clasping as she stared up at the building with now apparent reverence, waiting for her date to fetch the wheelchair from the trunk and help her into her seat. Wheeling her up the ramp – the only apparent refurbishing the store had ever received – to the heavy wooden doors that were its entrance, Morgan clumsily propped open the door with the front right of the chair while trying to open it further with his hand, all while pushing her up over the elevated threshold. Once inside, he had to do it all over again with the set of interior doors.

           Certainly not the most accommodating of places thus far, he acknowledged.

           Inside, the used bookstore seemed even larger, the high ceilings matched with shelves reaching high yet still falling short of its grandeur, each overflowing with old, worn encyclopaedias, novels, texts, and tomes. Elsewhere there were tables with the spines of every manual or compendium facing skywards for ease of browsing, with even more piled loosely upon them. Under which were cardboard boxes also filled with a potpourri of literary offerings.  Even the cashier’s counter and the wall behind it were stocked with books, likely new acquisitions from customers selling their unwanted stories and as of yet unappraised and unsorted.

           The spacing of the shelves and tables were such that there was scarcely the room for two customers to move past one-another; meaning that though she could travel through the room, it would be tight to manoeuvre past the mermaid, but impossible to have her turn about. Fortunately, the musty, old, unadvertised building hadn’t much by way of customers.

           Wheeling her about, the author took his time, letting her browse at her leisure as she examined book after book, reading titles, authors, and the summaries on the backs looking for tales that would pique her interest. Naturally, that could be summarized as effectively everything upon which her gaze fell, but grew more selective as he informed her of the spending limit of sixty dollars.

           Suddenly her considerations became such that she would set back those whose summaries were too clumsily phrased or read too much like a tale she had previously enjoyed. Every book – many of which her lover had labelled as ‘doorstoppers’ by their size – had suddenly become a unique experience. A tale of science fiction here and historical intrigue there, with dashes of romantic plots whether dark, mischievous, or tender. Even a bodice ripper or two found their way into her pile, with covers that made even the uninitiated mermaid blush as she peered over the cover up at her partner as pulled books from higher than she could hope to reach.

           Receiving a book from him, Dace read the back then quickly flipped through the pages to verify that it wasn’t full of damaged pages, kicking up a tiny yet potent cloud of dust. Her eyes clenched tightly and nose crinkled as it agitated her senses. Drawing several half-breaths, her body lurched forward with a powerful sneeze; even her tail thrashed during the release, smacking him hard in the shins.

           The unexpected forceful blow from an appendage stronger than any human’s kick stole any semblance of balance from her date and sent him collapsing into a pile over her, his legs stinging to his very bones.

           “You okay?” the cashier shouted to the two of them, moving from behind his desk to get a better look. “What happened?”

           As sure as he was there’d be a large purple welt where she struck him, the scruffy human had to quickly pull away from her lap and set her lower body back in place properly on the foot rests and keeping the blanket tucked in nicely. “Yeah, j-just fine,” he shouted back, hoping to deter the bespectacled employee before he needed to take a better look. “She just sneezed and clipped me with her chair,” he insisted.

           “Must’a been one heck of a sneeze,” he shrugged. “Sorry ‘bout that; can only do so much to keep this many clean.”

           Now taking to rubbing his injured leg, Morgan crept back around to behind the chair – out of harm’s way. Their browsing continued for a while longer before her collection came to exactly the imposed limit and it was time to buy.

           Leaving the bookstore proved easier than entering, with the underworked cashier being happy to hold the doors open for the couple; especially the cute woman who was hugging a bag full of books to her chest. The author helped Dace into the car and folded up the wheelchair with great care, having a suspicion that the employee was still watching from the entrance; something for which he couldn’t fault him, knowing full well how lucky he was to be with such an attractive woman – mermaid or not.

           Once they were both seated securely in the vehicle, he threw Dace a cheerful smile. “Did you enjoy this?”

           Her answer was a resounding ‘yes’ as she dug through the bag and retrieved a thick book with a deep purple cover displaying a stained dagger resting on a red cloth on the front.

           Fourteen books in all, one of them even a collection of comics, he knew she’d be entertained for a couple weeks at least, and they could always resell them to buy the next batch she’d want. Of course, she was also so eager that before they were able to get home, she had already read fifty-some pages.

 

           Just as with the days before, the afternoon passed by in comfortable routine, each resident doing as they wished. This left the small five-room cottage rather quiet, with only the sounds of pages being turned, keys on keyboards being tapped, and the sizzle of meat from the kitchen. Naturally, the latter also enticed the noses of all, save for Kiyi who chose to leave her pet project behind to retreat to the balcony when work with onions began.

           As was to be expected of the youngest sister’s efforts, the resulting meal was exquisite from the soft noodles to the creamy meaty sauce with mushrooms and onions, poured over thin strips of peppered beef. For a change, Dace gave her vocal approval for the dish rather than the commonplace ravenous devouring. Even Kiyi slowed to appreciate the meal, taking small bites at a time, chewing carefully with each mouthful.

           Well, that was how it appeared at first. Once her plate had been emptied, Morgan could clearly see the pile of onions she had taken care to eat around. Feeling peckish, he didn’t let them go to waste.

           With his collection of movies running low, Morgan decided to switch to something that would keep them entertained over a longer period. Not the special movies, as Varden teased, but a TV series he hadn’t watched in quite some time – a comedic western featuring a lantern-jawed hero pursuing the bandits who murdered his father. Tacky, hammy, and not taking itself seriously at all, it was just the sort of cheese the author enjoyed, while being enough to satisfy the girls’ daily craving for media.

           Just finishing the pilot episode brought the four late into the evening, with the crescent moon hanging above the silhouettes of reaching trees. The cycle having taken him back to Varden, the human host was aware of how little sleep he’d be receiving and hurried through his evening routine, wanting no delays. Unlike his earlier self-deluding self-declarations of disinterest in nightly activities, he had come to admit that this providence was something he desired.

           Climbing into bed with the enticing mermaid, he did his best to remain mindful of his voice, reminding himself constantly of the affirmations of his disruptive habit. He didn’t, after all, want to have his mouth plugged with another sock.

           Tens of minutes into their evening, Varden’s attention left him and focused on the closed bedroom doors. Detecting her distress, Morgan arched his back and glanced over his left shoulder to follow her gaze. “Something the matter?” he asked, seeing nothing amiss.

           “Mm…maybe not?” she whispered; her voice even hotter and breathier than during the daylight hours. “I thought I heard something.”

           “Something? Like, what? A bird? Or maybe one of your sisters moving about?” Never in his life did he ever think mentioning to his partner’s family to her while in the act would not call an immediate end to things.

           “A clatter,” answered Varden as she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer.

           One of the others must have been looking about, he thought, as his attention returned to what mattered. What mattered only was allowed to continue for a couple minutes longer before another distraction came to pass. This time, it was Morgan who swore something was amiss at the faint feel of a breeze against his bare back.

           Glancing over his shoulder for the second time, he found the doors to his room wide open yet with no one standing – or, more predictably, lying – in the entryway. That he had forgotten to lock them was surprise enough, but with neither Dace nor Kiyi declaring their arrival brought a knot to the author’s stomach.

           First a crash and now a door opening without a person to have done either; a scenario made worse by the sheer darkness of his home. In the recesses of his mind, Morgan judged that someone could have very well been standing in the room along with them while remaining well hidden; the doors having only been detected by the faint starlight reflecting on the panes of glass. Heart racing for reasons he didn’t enjoy, Morgan knew that were there an intruder – and a dangerous one at that – calling for the police would still leave him in harm’s way for the better part of an hour at best.

           Hoping for the best, the human nervously leaned over to his left, over the side of the bed, and hoped to see signs of a mermaid.

           He did.

           He also saw the glint of starlight against a carving knife in her hand.

           Staring down at the knife in her hand, the author dared not move. The reason for her to have fetched a weapon was beyond his ken, yet what it would be used for couldn’t have been clearer. Whatever had brought her to this had yet to cross the Rubicon, and as Morgan’s arms strained to keep his upper body perfectly still, he dreaded what small act would bring about the tipping point.

           Varden, having only seen her partner’s terrified reaction and not the source rolled to one side and peered over the edge as well, finding her sister. “Dace? Fridays are my night, remember?”

           “I know,” replied the eldest in her usual cheerful tone. So indifferent to the fact she was armed that she felt all the more dangerous to the man. “I’m just doing something more human.”

           The youngest let out a confused grunt in response, saying nothing yet plenty.

           “Lots of my books say this is supposed to happen,” she explained cheerfully, raising the knife a touch for emphasis. “But they can’t agree on when, so I thought I’d wait until you’re done.”

           “Ah,” was Varden’s reply, as if what had been said was the most natural thing in the world, her arms once more wrapping around his neck.

           More likely, he supposed, was that she hadn’t grasped the knife was meant for them and not cooking. Still, she did at least give the author an explanation. Choking back the lump in his throat, Morgan nervously spoke. “Y-you don’t have to, y-ya know?”

           “But even you wrote about this,” she retorted. “It’s what people do, right?”

           “S-sure, but not all, right? I-I mean, uh, we-well, like…damn it,” he muttered, doing his best to keep his nervousness and any other vulgarities under control and under his breath. “Are you angry?”

           “Of course not,” she smiled warmly.

           “Do you want to hurt me?”

           “Why would I want to?”

           “Then why?”

           “You’re sleeping with all of us. In twelve of the books I’ve read where this happens, seven had murders, two had suicide, two had a murder-suicide, and one had a mass suicide.”

           It was then that the youngest sister looked horrified, staring up at him in horror. “That’s what books are about? I’ll stick to watching movies.”

           “She came here to kill us,” he hissed, wondering how quickly he could roll the both of them to the other side of the mattress.

           “What? Dace? Really?”

           “I thought it’s what Morgan was waiting for!” she shouted back.

           “Lord no!” the author snapped. “Please, put he knife down and don’t think about hurting anyone! First thing tomorrow, I’ll explain everything to you, okay? Properly.”

           Turning the knife over in her hand, she shrugged and placed the sharp tool down on his nightstand before turning about and crawling away. “Goodnight you two; sweet dreams.”

           Holding still for the remainder of what had been ten minutes since her arrival Morgan finally let himself collapse to the bed, his deafened by the pounding of his heart. Upon sucking in one deep breath, he rushed to the bedroom doors and locked them shut. While he was up, he flipped on the lights as well – at least until he could calm down once more.

           “Books are weird,” Varden huffed, stretching out on the bed, pulling the sheets up to her neck for warmth. “In movies people die for reasons that make sense.”

           “There’s more to it than that; besides, some movies are based on books anyways. But anyways, you understand that people don’t just do things because it’s in a book or movie, right?”

           “I don’t care about ‘acting human’, I just do what I enjoy doing,” she answered matter-of-factly. “If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t cook, I wouldn’t have sex with you, and if I….” Suddenly her face reddened. “…I didn’t like being with you, I’d have gone back to the lake.”

           Warmth filled him, replacing the chilling fear that had been there moments before, and Morgan took a seat on the bed beside her, quickly taking the knife and slipping it into the top drawer of the nightstand. “Thank you. That means a lot to me, really.”

           “I’m staying here forever; you know that, right?” she declared, turning her eyes up at him while keeping her chin down and lips pushed out in a sexy pout.

           Reaching out and gently running his fingers over her bangs, the author smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. But, uh…if you wanted to keep going, I can’t say that I’d—”

           “Huh? Oh, no, I just want to cuddle now.”

           Breathing a sigh of relief, Morgan got the lights and climbed into bed beside her, holding her close to his chest from behind and kissing the back of her neck before shutting his eyes. As before, his heart was pounding, but no longer for reasons of terror.

 

           Early the next day, after a simple breakfast and having put last night’s knife away safely in the drawer, Morgan called Dace and Kiyi to the living room. Each was made to sit on his couch as he set himself down on a chair pulled over from the kitchen. Having taken a second to look at their faces, he gently patted his knees.

           “Kiyi, I don’t know if you know what this is about, but—”

           “Why doesn’t Varden have to sit through this?” the tomboy was quick to interject.

           An anticipated query. “Because we already went over things last night,” he answered simply. “Now, do you know what your sister had planned to do last night?”

           “Which one?” she asked as her nose crinkled. As comfortable as they appeared about the open relationship, the author supposed having to describe each other’s ‘activities’ was still disconcerting. “Either way, yeah, I do.”

           “Ah, good, well, you see, what Dace had planned—”

           And already he had lost her attention. “You really don’t understand how to play a prank, do you?” she asked, staring intently at her sister. “Moving things, hiding them, make people scared or paranoid. Confusing people, giving them a surprise…” Kiyi then slipped in a sudden whistle and click, “even something that leaves a mark; that’s what’s funny. That’s a prank. Killing? There’s no…reaction to enjoy when it’s over!” Another whistle and click passed her lips and Dace’s head lowered. “If he couldn’t swim, I would have brought him to the shore.”

           Raising a hand with a single extended finger in hopes of drawing their attention, Morgan butted in. “Um…if who couldn’t swim?”

           “You; when I had tried to tip over your boat.”

           “Okay, well, I’m glad you also know better than to…try to kill me, but I just want to explain some things relating to how people – human people – behave and our stories. You see…humans generally have relationships of just two people. Because things normally are that way, when there are more people involved things usually get…messy.”

           “See!” Dace cheered.

           “I’m not talking about killing anyone,” Morgan insisted. “It’s usually just a lot of cursing, shouting, things being thrown around, and one or more people leaving angrily.”

           “But novels—”

           “Love to make things exciting,” he concluded on her behalf. “People talking aren’t all that gripping; it’s why in movies people never call the police, clear up simple mistakes, and keep making the same stupid decisions.”

           “Oh…well, then so the right thing to do would be to fight?” she asked curiously.

           Slapping a hand over his eyes, slowly Morgan’s hand slid down to his chin, pulling his skin taunt as it moved. “Ugh…no! Well, maybe? Let’s go through the list…do you love me?”

           “Yes,” Dace answered enthusiastically.

           “Do you think I’m keeping secrets from you? Ones that matter, I mean.”

           “Hmm…no.”

           “Do you have any problems with your sisters being in love with me? Or what we do together?”

           “Not at all.”

           “Do you feel that I’m not treating you fairly?”

           “No.”

           “Are you happy with how things are? Do you want anything more?”

           “Yes, and…oh! I want to try writing my own stories!”

           With a laugh, he encouraged her to go right ahead. “But that aside, what do you have to fight about over how things are? People fight when there’s something they feel they need to fight over. Well, unless they’re insane.”

           Nodding while wearing a sheepish look upon her face, Dace asked if that was everything.

           “If you understand, that’s it,” he confirmed.

           “That was a waste,” huffed Kiyi, slipping form the couch and wheeling herself back to the bedroom.

           Looking at the mechanic as she went, the author held his tongue for a minute before letting Dace know she could use the computer to do her writing if she wished, even helping to set her up on the machine and walking her through a few simple details, such as how to save and the notion of saving frequently. Once she was happily typing away he excused himself and made his way for the guest room where the other sister was – quite predictably – at work with her newest toy.

           “Hey Kiyi, would you mind if I asked you a few questions? It’s something that’s been on my mind since last night.”

           “Do I have to stop what I’m doing?”

           “No.”

           “Doesn’t bother me,” she shrugged.

           “Ah, good….” His voice trailed off as he paced about the room, coming to a stop beside the lakeside window of the room. In true form, Morgan was ignored for as long as he went without speaking. “Why…hmm…why do you stay? I mean, why are you choosing to stay here?”

           Her fingers continued to tap away at the worn keyboard and Kiyi’s gaze never left the screen. “Because this and things like it – technology – wouldn’t work in the lake. Why would I ever want to go back to only swimming around and eating what I have to catch myself?”

           An amused though somewhat nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “Can’t argue with that, I suppose. How about here? With me?”

           “Why do I choose to stay here?” she asked after a short hum and receiving a confirming nod. “Well, I know you already; you’re…familiar? Everything is taken care of for me, and you don’t plan to dissect me.”

           With a laugh, the author replied. “Well, yeah, I wouldn’t wa—”

           “If things were backwards, I’d have you strapped to a table and picked apart by now.” Her tone was flat, even, and disturbingly cold. The lack of hesitation in her claim was enough to let Morgan break into a cold sweat. Just as matter-of-factly the mermaid continued. “But humans have done all that on their own so I can just read the books.”

           Hesitantly, he nodded.  “I’ll…see if I can find you some to read if you want.” Beat leaving her with curiosities of what made him tick. “One more thing, you said you love me. Why?”

           For once, Kiyi’s more engaging activities were put on hold and she gave him her undivided attention. “Is this something you’ve asked Dace and Varden?”

           He shook his head. “No; wasn’t thinking of asking them, either.”

           “Then why me?”

           “If I had to pick a reason…” the author began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “…then I guess it’s because you’re the most practical of anyone. I figured if anyone decided upon a reason, that person would be you.”

           The corners of her mouth curled up into a smile for several seconds before returning to their default neutrality. “Well, since you asked so nicely. You will be disappointed to find I can’t think of a reason.”

           He cocked an eye. “So you are just because it’s only me here?”

           “No, I just never thought of the why. I know how I feel and that is what I think it is. Whatever the reason for why I feel this way about you is, I don’t think I need to find out the reason and I don’t care to, either.” Her tone never fluctuated, always remaining even and admirably analytical.

           In many ways, he thought, she was very much Ryan.

           Driving the point home, she added one last thing before going back to work on her laptop. “I know I love you and that’s all I need to know.”

           He could hear those words any number of times in his life and each and every one would bring a smile to his face; this being no exception. “Thanks; I’ll see if I can find you some biological textbooks for you later.”

12: Chapter 12 - Such Sweet Sorrow

           Though he had finding the books for Kiyi on his list of things to do, Dace was busy at his computer, slowly typing out that which her imagination wove. For the time being, he would just have to do the same with his next novel on paper. Fortunately, with how early into its development he was, there was still much he could write out before needing to use his machine.

           After sitting about for hours filling pages with notes, plans, designs, and relevant themes, the phone started to ring. Casually moving to answer, he placed his ear to the receiver and was surprised to hear the voice of a man on the other end.

           “Heya M&M, how’s it hanging?”

           Confident and enthusiastic as ever. “Just fine Jessie; to what do I owe this surprise?”

           “What? Can’t an old friend just phone to talk?” The hurt was laughably forced.

           “Of course they can; so what do you want?”

           “How about a visit? Tomorrow?” he laughed.

           “Who? Me? Or do you mean the ladies who live here?”

           “I’m hurt! Hurt, I say, that you know me so little to need to ask,” he scoffed, nary missing a beat as he threw in the expected answer. “Them, of course.”

           Sighing loudly, the smile had yet to leave the author’s face. “Yeah, alright, c’mon over, but just for the day; I’m not going to put you up for the night because you felt like shooting the shit with my housemates.”

           “Eh, well, I have to be in the office on Monday, so I couldn’t even if you had asked.”

           “And around what time should I expect you?”

           “Ten, ten-thirty at the latest. See you then, and I’ll bring some drinks for everyone!”

           Hearing the click from the other end, Morgan hung up as well and rubbed the back of his neck. Was his friend ever going to be disappointed when he came to learn that neither Dace nor Kiyi had a romantic interest in him. Come to think of it, he couldn’t recall any of them even bothering to speak of his publisher even in passing since the last visit.

           “Who was that?” Varden asked, sliding out from the bathroom.

           “You remember Jessie?”

           The youngest sister remained quiet as she moved up to the kitchen table, pulling herself up and taking a seat. “Uh…was that the guy who spent the night once?”

           He nodded.

           “I remember the night more than I remember him,” she confessed. “What’d he want?”

           “He’ll be visiting tomorrow,” he explained, patting her on the shoulder as he moved around her and back to the couch.

           “A guest again?” Dace asked, snapping away from her disorganized writings. “Who and how long?”

           “Jessie – my publisher – and just for the day.”

           “Could he print my story too?” she asked with unbridled excitement.

           “Not before you write it,” the author answered simply with a chuckle. “But when you’re done, I’ll show it to him. Just let me give it a once over first.”

           Clapping, she went back to her work.

           Looking back to his myriad pages of notes, Morgan took pencil in hand once more and began moving from one character sheet to the next. Ideas were jotted down as they came to mind as well as diagramming each one’s opinions of those around him or her. Every few words additions, the author leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, glancing to his right out the glass doors of his balcony.

           Sunshine, blue skies, and lake almost as still as glass seemed to beckon to him; a beautiful day that begged a reminder of the last time he had gone and enjoyed a pleasant swim. To submerge himself in the oft chilly water and feel revitalized while moving about in a world where he could feel weightless.

           Summer was nearing its end; before he would know it, the leaves would be falling and it would be too chilly to wander outside. Surely having at least one more dip couldn’t hurt? Looking to Dace while thinking of the others, surely they wouldn’t object to swimming. Better still, he knew two of them had no intention of departing so it wasn’t as though a reminder would leave him lonely.

           Two….

           “Hey Dace, would you mind if I ask you some questions?”

           Letting her hands leave the keyboard, she turned around in her chair. “What did you want to know?”

           “Well, for one, you really want to be ‘more human’, don’t you? Why?” he inquired curiously, setting down his pencil before relaxing his posture – legs apart, hands clasped and resting between his knees.

           “I do!” answered the mermaid cheerfully. “You are all so fascinating! All these stories I never would have known just staying in the lake. So many different words and terms with nuance; before we might just say….” A pair of clicks and a brief screech was made. “But here…story, fable, tale, myth, lie, history, idea, epic, folklore, joke, riddle…so much more.”

           “Language?”

           “It’s amazing,” she smiled. “Everything else is, too, but it’s what I love…what I enjoy most.”

           “Well, if that’s what floats your boat,” Morgan chuckled. “Uh, so, why is it you choose to stay here? With me or on land at all?”

           “Because I…I….” Though when she started to speak, her words were chipper and confident, her tone quickly grew choked and sorrowful; something mirrored by her tearful eyes. “D-did you not want me here?”

           At once his hands sprung to life, waving constantly in denial. “No! No, not at all! I want you to stay; please, you, Kiyi, and Varden; I want all of you to stay here forever!”

           “Really?” she asked, her eyes clearing up almost as quickly as it had come.

           “Yes, really; I had only meant to ask if there was a reason you chose to stay with me.”

           Giving a sigh expressing a mix of relief and understanding, she pursed her full lips and sat in silence for several minutes as she pondered; sometimes swaying her head, other times tapping them upon her lap. “Um…well, you’re handsome and creative,” she began.

           At once he let out a chuckle. Certainly she had the most conventional of reasons. “People could argue either, but thank you.”

           “You treat me and my sisters well, have so many wonderful books and movies, and I really love it when we cuddle.” Her eyes closed halfway as a wide smile overtook her face; a faint pink hue appearing on her cheeks.

           Leaning forward where he sat, the author embarrassingly rubbed the back of his neck and reservedly laughed in good humour once again. “Thanks again; I’m glad I’ve given such a good impression.” Sitting upright Morgan decided to guess the reason as to why she didn’t want to return to the lake. “And you can’t watch movies or read underwater, huh?”

           “That’s right,” she clapped.

           Rising to his feet, the human slid open the balcony door and felt a warm breeze blow. “Still, how would you feel about leaving the house for a bit to go swimming?” he asked, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air.

           “Why?”

           “For the fun of it,” he shrugged. Morgan had considered that a mermaid might consider swimming as enjoyable as a human walking. “And I haven’t had a good dip since you’ve moved in.”

           “Skinny dipping?” Varden called out from the kitchen, busy experimenting with yet another recipe. “I’m in!”

           “I will be wearing my swimming trunks,” the author corrected.

           Despite his expectations, her pink lips stretched wide with apparent glee. “I can work with that. Kiyi? You in?”

           Though he couldn’t hear one, Morgan felt confident her response had been preceded by an exasperated sigh. “Why would I want to do that?”

           “How about I show you how to do maintenance on a car?” he offered as a motivator.

           Within seconds, the tomboy was crawling through the living room on her wheeled plank. “C’mon, c’mon, let’s go swimming right now!”

           Cold, logical, and yet so easily swayed, he mused with a smirk.

           Quickly changing into a pair of ordinary black swimming trunks and sandals, Morgan grabbed a handful of towels to do the four of them. Though he had offered to take them down one at a time by wheelchair, only Varden took him up on the offer. The others crawled along beside him as the youngest sat prettily in the seat as he carted her down the hill to the water’s edge.

           The towels and his sandals were piled into his boat for safekeeping as they moved into the water; the girls taking off like torpedoes as soon as they were deep enough to propel themselves with their powerful tails, wholly indifferent to the slight chill that left the author gingerly stepping into the lake, thinking of how cold the water must have been back in early spring if it was still nippy.

           It was nearly a minute before he had crept in up to his waist and the sisters popped up out of the water halfway across the lake – narrow thought it may have been, it was still a distance he couldn’t have crossed in so little time without the motor of his boat. With equally amazing speed, they came closer, calling for him to get to swimming already, questioning and at times laughing over his claims of the water being ‘cold’. The giggling continued when he dove into a front crawl, setting about on as strong of a swim as he could.

           Despite his best effort, Morgan still fell quite short of the casual pace brought about by any of them as they gingerly moved backwards, propelled by their tails alone.

           All along he knew there was no way he could keep up with them, but it still hurt his pride that they could outperform him with so little effort. A fact one of them had obviously anticipated as he soon learned.

           Continuing to practice his front crawl, he felt the churning of the water as one of the sisters swam past in the opposite direction. In the midst of their passing, he felt a pair of slender fingers grab hold of his waistband, making off with them and causing him to thrash about to recover from his interrupted strokes.

           Morgan took to treading water and shouted out for Varden to return them, only to see that it was the mischievous mechanic to have performed the heist. His assumption of her guilt didn’t have the time to vanish, as seconds later the long-haired beauty was calling out encouraging words to her sister to keep them away.

           As the author vainly took up the chase for his clothes, moving now with a target in mind rather than in whatever direction happened to take his fancy, Dace decided to join in on the pursuit thinking it a game. Not that she was mistaken; momentary embarrassment aside, even the prank’s victim found himself enjoying his time in the water more.

           After several hours of play – during which time Dace had been able to snatch away the trunks only to lose them again before getting them back to their owner – it was time to return home; everyone taking a towel and drying off before climbing the hill. Keeping true to his word, Morgan showed Kiyi how to do such things as replacing or rotting the tires, changing the oil, and whatever other simple things he could show that wouldn’t require special tools.

           The session came to an end just as the cook called to them that dinner was ready. After an enjoyable meal of stir-fried vegetables and ginger pork, the quartet settled down to watch shows until it grew dark. When it came time to retire to bed, Morgan took to his toiletries while the three decided who had first choice of where to sleep on the bed over a game of cards.

           Their contest ended some time after he had already been able to claim the center of the mattress and they climbed up one after the other and cuddled up close under the covers. One pressed close to his left, one close to his right, and the other laying directly atop him. Whether she had been the one to win or lose – or whether he was perhaps the real victor of the evening – Morgan couldn’t say, but he was able to predict another night of not terribly restful sleep.

           Not restful, though not exactly unpleasant either….

 

           Waking up buried in a pile of his housemates, feeling almost as tired as he had been when he had first fallen asleep, the author twisted about simply to get a glimpse of his clock. Quarter past nine, he noted, surprised to have been able to have been able to stay sleeping for so long. Perhaps not quite a shock given how toasty warm he was from the shared body heat, though he was somewhat concerned by feeling in his legs he was still lacking.

           Kiyi, despite having the fewest curves among the sisters, still felt at least as heavy as the others; a fact that made it so difficult for Morgan to escape his pleasant prison, for while eldest and youngest still snoozed at his sides, the mechanically inclined mermaid kept him immobile from above.

           In spite of his struggles hoping to rouse the woman whose tail kept the feeling from returning to anything below his hips, she proved too deep a sleeper. It wasn’t until Dace woke that he was able to be wrestled free, but not before she greeted the human with a cheerful kiss upon his brow.

           Sitting with his legs over the edge of the bed, it felt as though there were pins and needles in his limbs as they became useful once more. The more time he had, the more Morgan realized that his body felt stiff all over, from his neck to his toes in most of his bones and joints. As the realization struck as to just how complete his rigidity ran, the scruffy man closed his eyes and let himself dream of coming across a mysterious fourth mermaid; one who had an irrepressible fascination with massage therapy.

           Such fantasies lasted a scant few seconds as Varden draped herself over his back and purred in his ear. “Morin’,” she greeted; her breath hot against Morgan’s skin. “How does it feel to be living the dream?”

           “I think I need a bigger bed,” he answered with a strained laugh. “A dog pile just isn’t restful.”

           Yawning loudly, Kiyi gave her two cents. “Have to complain about something, don’t you?”

           “You got to be on top,” he countered, eliciting a snort from the youngest. “Whatever, we need to get started on the morning already. Jessie will be here in…about an hour so we all need to get dressed and eat, and you three have to remember: if you need to be moved, call for me and the wheelchair.”

           Some of the finer details to what they weren’t allowed to do needed repeating since the last visit, but for the most part they were all up on the routine, however infrequent. Crepes were made by the resident chef, filled by a mixture of syrup and whatever fruits were handy, and enjoyed by all before everyone was made to decide where they’d like to be set up before the editor arrived.

           Dace sat herself down in front of the computer to work on her novel, Kiyi in the guest room to fiddle with her new, now functional, laptop, and Varden upon the couch as she contemplated various curry recipes. The author, taking responsibility for the kitchen’s cleanup, had only just finished placing the last of the plates onto the rack in the second sink to drip dry when an enthusiastic knocking sounded.

           Quickly wiping his hands off on a dish towel, Morgan stepped around the corner and threw open the front door, his friend standing tall in what had to be his tightest blue jeans and equally form fitting black t-shirt. Clothes he had seen many a time back in university when they had gone to bars and mixers, having every intention of leaving with someone new.

           Well, it wasn’t as though he believed Jessie had come for his benefit in the first place.

           “Heya M&M, how’ve you been buddy?” the editor laughed at once, stepping up to the threshold and clapping both hands over the host’s shoulders.

           “Pretty damn good, mostly,” he answered honestly, swinging an arm up and around to slap his friend on the left shoulder. “Feeling a little sore today.”

           Another good-humoured chortle escaped the upbeat extrovert’s throat. “Ah, nothing a nice hot bath wouldn’t work out I’m sure; Hell, throw in some bubbles and Varden and you’ve got yourself one enviable evening.”

           “Yeah, yeah, come on in already and take off your shoes,” Morgan sighed, folding his arms and shaking his head to dismiss his friend’s suggestion while mentally filing the advice away for later.

           Kicking off his shoes, the guest’s grin overtook his ears when he spied Dace straight ahead, her back turned to him. “Perfect,” he breathed, likely louder than he had intended, for it had been caught by the author. “Say, has she said anything about me since I spent the night?” he asked, motioning with a tilt of his head.

           “Hmm, nope, can’t say she has,” Morgan shrugged, his voice apathetic.

           “C’mon, don’t lie to me…nothing?”

           “Guess you didn’t make a worthwhile impression on her.”

           “Huh…and how about that other one…Key?”

           “Kiyi, and nope, her neither.”

           “Eh, can’t say I’m too disappointed, but really? Neither one….” As he sulked, Jessie pushed out his jaw. “Going to have to try harder….”

           “Maybe they’re not interested?” the author proposed. If he could just get him to give up on the sisters without needing to reveal their secret and, preferably, that he was enjoying a rather unconventional relationship at the same time. “She – Dace – has talked about wanting to be an author, however. Maybe after she’s done you could….”

           “Yeah, sure; just so long as you make sure she has a knack for it first I’ll give what she does a look-see. But not interested? C’mon, I know that I’m not exactly your type, but you’ve got to admit I turn heads.”

           “And I’m sure if Varden was single, you’d have had a chance turning hers, but her sisters haven’t, except Dace remembering your job.”

           Clicking his tongue and running a hand over his hair clear to the ponytail, the guest shook his head. “Be damned if I pull any ‘casting couch’ shit. Just have to give a better impression this time around.” Wasting no time, he called out a greeting to the other residents, singling out Dace in particular with his rich, buoyant voice.

           “Hello again,” Varden greeted giving the editor a half-hearted nod when briefly glancing away from her reading. “What are you doing out here?”

           “To hang out with my good friend M&M, of course,” he smiled, bringing the image of a crocodile to the author’s mind. “That there are such interesting ladies in his company may have swayed me, I’ll admit.”

           Dace turned in her seat and gave the customary salutations before quickly getting to what was on her mind. “I’m writing a novel!”

           “So I’ve been told; what’s it about?” inquired Jessie, moving beside her with a subtle swagger. Leaning over to get a better look at the screen, he gently placed a hand on her right shoulder; his fingers giving a gentle, almost massage-like squeeze.

           “Mermaids,” she exclaimed happily. “It’ll be about a mermaid who meets human and the two of them start to fall in love, but there are other mermaids and people who get involved.”

           Rubbing the tip of his chin between two fingers of his right hand, the editor nodded. “You’ve been infected by his tastes, have you? But a good premise if you can make it work; romance sells and it’s not a niche that’s been exploited much at all.”

           Two words in particular got her dander up. “Infected? Exploited?” As her tone was less than cheerful, Morgan carefully crossed his arms and covered his mouth with one hand, lest his shit-eating grin be seen. “What’s wrong with liking mermaids? What isn’t to like about mermaids?”

           Eyes wider and the corners of his mouth now wavering, Morgan noted that he had yet the composure to keep from anxiously clearing his throat or letting the smile falter altogether. “Nothing; it was just a joke. You’ve seen M&M’s stories, haven’t you?”

           “Yeah,” she answered slowly after a hum that lasted several seconds. “So, if I write a good story, it can be printed?”

           “Sure can; that’s they way it works,” he reassured her, straightening out and throwing a reassuring ‘thumbs up’. “Until then, how ‘bout we get to know each other better? You can always come to me for pointers.”

           “Wouldn’t I be better off going to Morgan for advice on how to write?”

           The author’s incisors were digging painfully into his lower lip, coming dangerously close to drawing blood. Still, it was a necessary pain. He had witnessed his friend fail miserably many times before with some song and dance, but at a party or bar, Jessie had always taken advantage of the fact he could just move little ways away in hopes that someone else was interested in whatever he was offering. Here, a tactic of taking ten shots to hit once wasn’t going to do him any good.

           And he thought it hilarious.

           “W-well, sure, he’d be a lot better in a lot of areas, sure; but that’s up to how he write, while I’ve looked at styles not his own. Plus, I have a much better idea of what the market wants.”

           “But I want to tell my story.”

           “I respect that,” Jessie replied quickly, removing his hand from her shoulder. “But if people won’t want to buy it, it won’t get published.”

           Hesitantly, Dace glanced over her shoulder back at her lover and he nodded solemnly. Before he had any sort of reputation as a novelist, there had been several works that – at the time – had been refused publication or had alterations requested for the sake of sales.

           “Oh…well…okay then. I’ll ask you for help as needed,” she nodded, taking his hand and shaking when it had been offered.

           “It’ll be my plea—”

           “But I’ll still go to Morgan first,” she added.

           “Uh…yes, of course. Say, where’s Kiyi? I haven’t seen her yet.”

           “In the guest room, probably enjoying her laptop,” the host directed.

           “Sure hope you three are able to be up and walking again soon,” Jessie offered Dace and her sister before walking in on the tomboy. “Hey there; what are you up to?”

           With complete indifference to him – not once looking up from her screen – Kiyi answered him in a cold, flat voice. “Looking through biology and medical textbooks.”

           “Is that so? Thinking of going into medicine?”

           “No.” Her reply came quickly, almost having cut him off. “Right now I’m just curious how much can be taken away without being fatal.” Pausing for a moment, she did him the disservice of looking away from her machine and focusing on him. “There is so much of your body that can be unnecessary.”

           At once, Jessie’s face contorted to that of confused revulsion, his mouth rounded into a small ‘o’. Without a word, he carefully backed away and into the living room. Once she was comfortably out of his sight, he looked to the author with the same expression as when he had departed.

           “Is there some sort of medication she ought to be taking? Or some sort of…sociopathic tendencies?”

           Morgan had to ask for more of an explanation, and when received, he laughed. “No, no, she’s screwing with you.”

           “Really?” The editor’s face showed a clear sense of doubt.

           “Trust me; she gets a kick out of it. That or was just an observation; she loves machines and taking them apart.” He then went on to reminisce over her rebuilding of the laptop, determining just what components wouldn’t keep it from working.

           Hesitantly accepting the explanation, Jessie was quick to propose everyone do something fun. “Wait here, I have just the thing,” he smirked, rushing from the cottage and to his truck, coming back with a couple of DVDs in hand. “You watched either of these yet?”

           Taking one in each hand, the host read their titles and the summaries on the backs. The first was a romantic film about a ruined couple wanting to rid themselves of the memories of the other, while the second was a horror movie about a couple of hillbillies being hunted by preppy college students. If he had to guess, Morgan assumed he was looking to inspire cuddles or clinging.

           “Nope; they’re new to us.”

           For the first time that day, the editor had said and done something that earned him points in the girls’ books. Dace was moved to the couch while Kiyi was left in the wheelchair and the romantic flick was put on.

           Over the course of the story, the bittersweet and disheartening moments resonated with the author, familiar with parting with someone and wanting nothing more than to forget. An experience he could only hope the sisters hadn’t felt as well. Glancing over to the far side of the couch, he could see that his best friend showed no signs of vulnerability, be it from familiarity with the story, thicker skin, or a generally flippant attitude.

           As the movie neared its end, where the romantic side of things came to the forefront, Morgan felt Varden grab his right arm and cuddle up close. To his left, he felt Dace do much the same thing, with her head resting upon his shoulder. He thought nothing of it, being something he had very well gotten used to, even anticipated, but after several seconds of relaxed enjoyment, Morgan wished he had.

           From the far left of the couch, he heard it. “Oh what the Hell!”

           The sound of his friend’s sudden exasperated shouting made the author’s body tense up suddenly, jerking in the process and giving Dace’s head an unexpected jolt. Just then Morgan realized what he had allowed to happen that exposed their ruse. “Wait, I…I can explain!”

           “You’re having an affair?” Jessie asked, his voice demanding while surprisingly calm after his previous exclamation.

           “No, I’m not! Nothing of the sort!” That was the truth, actually; it wasn’t cheating if the other person was part of the relationship.

           “Oh? Then what’s the story? Spill.” Jessie’s eyes were fixed firmly on Dace as he spoke; it figured he didn’t want to hear things from the person whose job it was to craft tales.

           All eyes were on the eldest mermaid – that much still being a secret at least – as they waited for her response. The author held his breath, thinking that he’d be content so long as she didn’t pull Kiyi into the mess as well. Kiyi who, he noticed, was staring with a surprisingly blank expression rather than the mischievous smirk he would had expected.

           “Um…I…I like to cuddle,” answered the aspiring writer, twiddling her fingers nervously, looking back and forth between Morgan and the guest.

           “With your sister’s boyfriend?” the black-haired flirt asked with distrust. “Don’t you think that might be a bad idea?”

           “No.”

           It would have almost been worth the laugh, Morgan thought, as he watched Jessie’s reaction: a confused jerk of the head from such an unexpectedly blunt reply. “Hey, Varden, would you take it the wrong way if another girl was getting all close and comfortable with your man?”

           Before he had even the chance to sweat now that things had come down to the youngest one’s role as well a sultry voice whispered quietly into his ear. “You owe me that bath he talked about.”

           “Oh, I know she doesn’t mean anything by it,” Varden answered gaily. To emphasize her point, she reached around Morgan’s shoulders and gave the girl’s hair a tussle. “She just really likes to snuggle up with whoever’s nice and close.”

           “Oh…well, I’m sitting right here,” the publisher smiled, throwing his arms open wide. “You may not know me as well, but I’m at least as comfortable as M&M.”

           Her eyes slowly drifted over him and his invitation, then over to her secret lover, against whom she was still pressed. “Um…but…um…I’m already comfortable like this.” It was then a rosy hue took to her cheeks.

           Trying not to look too disappointed, he breathed a simple sigh. “Too shy? Alright, alright…maybe next time?”

           Her voice low, she agreed to his proposal, including a notable emphasis on her echoing the word ‘maybe’.

           The rest of the movie was enjoyed before switching to the horror comedy which, while garnering laughter from all five of them, elicited the occasional extra creepy chuckle from Kiyi that raised some eyebrows. Specifically, they were those of Jessie who had apparently still not fully come to accept that she was harmless.

           “Thanks for that,” Morgan laughed when it was all over. “I haven’t seen a new movie that fun in a while.”

           Confidently running a hand over his luxurious, tied back hair, the friend laughed. “But of course; you know that I have an eye for movies like this. But the day is still young, how about we play a game?”

           “A game? Like cards?” Dace asked enthusiastically.

           Jessie smiled. “Sure, cards; you have a deck, right M&M?”

           “Old ones,” he confirmed, rising from the couch and rummaging about to find where they had been put since the last time the girls enjoyed a round of friendly gambling. “What game should we play? And if you say strip poker….”

           Though the author simply trailed off, the sharpness in his voice was made prominent enough to be a clear threat rather than an invitation. “Give me some credit,” the guest laughed. “I was only thinking of blackjack or poker over drinks.”

           Kiyi was the first to respond, vocally insisting they play poker instead of anything else. Close behind, to the point her voice was partly lost to her sister’s, the youngest called out for drinks.

           “Great; I’ll get everything from the truck.” Disappearing out the door for a couple minutes, the tall friend returned holding up a six-pack of beer in one hand and a bottle of coffee liqueur in the other. “Who wants beer and who’d like a brown cow?”

           The five gathered tightly around the round kitchen table meant for four. The tomboy deftly shuffled the cards while Jessie mixed and passed around the drinks: a beer to the dealer and one to Dace; a brown cow for himself and his good friend; and one of each for the acting girlfriend.

           Using the loose change he had laying around as their chips, the game was on. Dace was as transparent as ever in her playing, giving every tell imaginable whether her cards were good or poor. Early into the afternoon she gave her beer a try and immediately returned everything she had taken back into the bottle. Looking to Morgan’s brown cow, he let her try a small sip; she winced and stuck her tongue out at the flavour but, at the very least, kept it down.

           The author observed that though his friend was losing as many if not more rounds than he was winning, but his bets were always so conservative the changes in his wealth were always marginal. By all the conversational topics he raised during play while casually sipping at his drink, he didn’t seem to care about the game so much as it excused his continued presence.

           Varden played a somewhat worse game that to which Morgan was familiar. By the way she enjoyed her beer, the one Dace had rejected, and the brown cow, it must have been hard for her to keep her head in the game. Strangely, he noted, was that unless she was just a high-functioning drunk, her behaviour remained the same as without alcohol, though she was still asking for more from make-believe bartender Ritzer.

           The dealer, on the other hand, was steadily building up her stock of coins, already accustomed to how to read her sisters and – he believed – himself as well. Just how well she could do Jessie was uncertain, but as the game wore on, she was taking more time to humour his conversational topic, feeding him random tidbits about her and her sisters. Sometimes what she said was true – such as things they enjoyed or could do without – or clever fabrications – subtle ruses about their lives before the accident, education, and the like. Their conversation grew steadily constant, interrupted only by matters of the game or when she’d bring her bottle to her lips. Interestingly, no matter how many times she did so, Morgan could never see the drink empty by any perceptible amount.

           At the game’s end, Kiyi proved victorious after the game came down to just her and the guest, winning every hand when she didn’t fold immediately after dealing. Maybe, just maybe, letting her continue to be the dealer may have had something to do with the outcome.

           Still, even having lost, Jessie laughed it off and thanked everyone for the game and the day as a whole. “I’d best be heading home but I’d like to see you ladies again real soon,” he smiled, looking from Dace to Kiyi before holding up what was left of the beer and liqueur. “You can also keep the leftovers.”

           Rising from his seat, Morgan asked the one thing that had been on his mind since they had started playing cards. “Are you sure you’re good to drive?”

           His worries proved well-founded when the editor joined him on his feet and wobbled noticeably. “Well…now that you mention it, I—”

           “Morgan,” Kiyi said, her expression lacklustre yet her voice loud, drawn out, and whiney. “It’s still going to be Dace’s turn tonight and mine tomorrow, right?”

           The guest’s face blanched at the unexpected claim, and made even worse when the tomboy made an obscene gesture to confirm just what she had meant by ‘turn’. Whipping his head towards his friend, Jessie shouted for the second time that day. “You asshole! Seriously?”

           “Jessie, look, just calm down and I can—” Morgan exclaimed, raising his hands defensively, but the middle sister would have none of it as her siblings looked on in confusion and disbelief.

           “All three of us are sleeping with him; do you have a problem with that?” she snapped at once, her already narrow and piercing blue eyes growing more fierce. “If you do, why should any of us even care? He’s an asshole because we’re sleeping with him and not you? Get over yourself you self-centered prick. Because he’s sleeping with all of us? Wheelchair or not, I could make him cry like a baby if he tried to make me do anything I didn’t want to, and the same goes for my sisters.”

           Already Dace was covering her mouth and looking nervously between the orator, host, and guest. The youngest was now smiling in a cocksure fashion as she pulled Morgan back down into his seat and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Jessie just stared – no longer pale or outraged – listening in disbelief.

           “Thanks for the movies, but if I have to spend another day listening to your unwanted flirting and boring stories about yourself, don’t come back. And, damn it, if you really are Morgan’s friend you should not be spending the whole day talking to everyone but him while staring at our breasts! Got it? Now piss off!”

           A heavy silence ensued as everyone remained still for the better part of a minute. Even after, the only sound was the faint clatter of keys as Jessie fished them from his pants pocket then headed for the exit.

           Slipping out from under Varden’s arm, Morgan went to join him, scratching anxiously at his beard. “Look, I’m sorry I kept it secret but…she’s ri—”

           Greatly diminished and no longer so predatory, like a man whose confidence had yet to recover, the publisher smiled nonetheless. “No, no, it’s fine. Actually, it was kinda refreshing to be called out on my bullshit again. And really, if I was in your shoes I would have been gloating about it until your ears fell off.”

           “You have, for less,” he answered, folding his arms and twisting one heel into the floor.

           “But only after a really good night.”

           “Right, but now that you know about me and…all of them, about Dace’s book….”

           Giving a good-natured chuckle, Jessie patted his friend on the shoulder and shook his head. “I told you, didn’t I? I don’t do that casting couch shit; if she sends in a good story it’ll get printed, never you worry.  Just, uh, you know, don’t let your writing go into the shitter from…you know.”

           Tittering nervously, unsure of just how intently the girls were listening in, Morgan agreed.

           “One more thing before I take off, though…and be honest: can they really beat you up?” Even the flagrant live wire kept his voice down when asking the question, going through with every cliché of the hushed query – standing close, mouth by his ear, and a hand placed to cup in the sound.

           “They never have,” Morgan started, “but yeah, they’re really damned strong. If you let one of them squeeze your wrist you’d have a bruise at least.”

           Wincing as he backed away, Jessie shook his head. “Wow…that’d be really bad if—”

           “Yes…just, yes.”

           Pulling on his shoes, throwing open the front door, and stepping out onto the long, overgrown lawn, the editor fiddled with his keys as he went before pausing. “Oh, one more thing….” Turning back around to face his friend, Jessie raised one foot well off the ground, closed both eyes, and touched his nose. For emphasis he then counted backwards from seven.

           “Alright, alright already, you’re fine; now get out of here.”

           The scruffy author waited and watched as his friend drove off before stepping back inside the house and locking the door behind him. “All clear!”

           Within seconds, the three were squirming out of their seats, happy to be able to move about freely once more. The leftover booze was stored away for another day as the cook prepared salmon and rice for the long overdue dinner.

           “He’s not coming back anytime soon, is he?” Dace asked as she took a large serving of fish for herself.

           “Doesn’t look that way, but he’s not going to begrudge your writing,” Morgan smiled.

           “I better not be in trouble for what I did,” Kiyi stated sternly, taking a real sip from her beer and seeming indifferent.

           “It worked out for the best…heck, now we don’t have to put on that act any more whenever he’s around.”

           “Can we break it to him that we’re mermaids next time?”

           “No!” There had been no hesitation before his shout, then a pause. “No, we ca…shouldn’t. Well…maybe later, if we do it carefully…maybe?”

           “We’ll see,” the tomboy smirked.

           With a rehearsed elegance, Varden swept her flowing hair back over one shoulder with a hand to emphasise its luxuriousness. “Even now that he knows, you still owe me for helping out before.”

           “I know,” the author answered.

           “Tomorrow. You. Me. A hot bubble bath.”

           “I know.”

           “That sounds nice! Can I try it too?” Dace asked cheerfully.

 

           The day-by-day continued for Morgan and his three housemates, each living contentedly in his out of the way cottage. Despite Jessie’s expectations to the contrary, Morgan continued with his writing, reaching his deadlines at least as well as he ever had before.

           It was months before she had her debut novel completed, but Dace was eventually able to get her story printed to moderate success. By that time, Jessie was made aware of their secret; baffled as he was he did his friend the favour of arranging payment so that any searching would just leave people to think it was Morgan Macleod writing under a penname. Eventually, ‘D. Piscis’ gained in popularity; never famous but at least as successful as Macleod ever was.

           Kiyi stayed ever-focused on machinery, eventually registering for online engineering courses. Taking advantage of the income her sister was pulling in, she was later given a workshop of her own – really, more of a large shed – where she built her own homemade electronics, either original or as described in hobby books. Certain unapproved examinations of his car were always a source of trepidation for its owner.

           The chef accumulated an ever-expanding collection of recipes of every style imaginable, hell-bent on preparing every last one of them that caught her fancy. Suffice to say her sisters and lover were never left wishing for restaurant-made foods, though diets or dire changes in menus were required periodically. Later on, she also branched off into making mixed drinks and cocktails, though such experiments were much more restricted. Whenever her interests didn’t fall towards the culinary, Morgan’s life was made quite interesting.

           That was one of the best ways the once isolated author could have ever described his newfound life: interesting. An existence spent with people thought to never have existed, eating rich foods, and wonderful company who cared for him as much as he had affection for them. Even though at times it could be hectic or exhausting, there was no other way he would have wanted to spend his days.