Ai Love Therapy Ch. 05

Because of space restrictions within the city, the ground floor was not large. Comparatively. Palace might be a misleading term, it was just how she thought of it and none of the fauns corrected her. It was an embassy with palatial trappings, but the grounds outside were as large as Irene would expect of a large house instead of Buckingham.

The buildings clustered around in the district were all equally upwardly built when seen together, mimicking the appearance of Manhattan if the architect was Dr. Seuss. No two palaces - or embassies - alike in style or shape, only in how narrow and tall they were. Stone tower carved in the shape of an elongated gryphon, a giant mushroom with little tower mushrooms growing out of it, a more traditional skyscraper of steel and glass followed by a building made entirely out of burning fire. At some point Irene had stopped asking how and just shrugged and said magic, because what else was she supposed to do?

With a start, Irene realized she had arrived despite her daydreaming to Jeston's rooms on the third floor. Nothing to it, she smoothed her tunic and knocked softly.

"Enter."

Irene walked into a large sitting room (much larger and grander than her own, having the aspen tree walls rising thirty feet (9 m) into a canopy of leaves), which was unoccupied. The large double doors to the side led into a room with tall windows and taller bookcases, truly a tale as old as time in this fairytale Irene found herself in. In the center of that, Jeston sat at a small table and poured hot water into a teacup.

Hecate help me, he is gorgeous. Irene stood at the door, licking her lips because she felt like licking something else. She was also nearly certain this wasn't her Heat talking...wasn't only her Heat. No large velvet Prince Vest this morning, instead opting for a more conservative style vest he had buttoned closed. It was a light beige, lighter than his own tan skin, and more in style with a classic waistcoat. Usually wearing an assortment of styled bracelets and armlets, today he wore unadorned copper and only a few on each arm. All window dressing to a man that might as well bottle the testosterone oozing out of him because it could masculine an entire YMCA. Trying not to appear rushed and bowing her head slightly to hide her bit of blush, Irene clopped forward quickly so the table could hide the ongoing fact that he wore no pants. Potion only did so much.

His face oddly tense and impassive, he made to politely stand, but Irene was having none of that and quickly waved him back down, turning her left foot and head in the Dance motions of there is no need to bother yourself. At least, she hoped that is what she said, this body language language was incredibly complex.

Jeston's impassiveness broke with a small smile, but he sat himself back down and gestured towards a tray with various jars of tea and a diffuser in the shape of a tree next to her cup. "I'm particularly fond of a citrus in the morning, with milk."

I want green tea, Irene grumbled in her mind, knowing they didn't have it in this world. Or maybe they did, tea was the drink of choice for most peoples in this world, but asking for green tea just got her something that tasted like arugula. Peppermint they did understand, though the blend was more wintergreen with a hint of unsweetened chocolate. She liked it strong as she could make it, using the tiny spoon to cram the powder into her diffuser and setting it into her steaming cup, waiting for the water to turn dark enough of a brown for her taste. "Thank you, I'll have to try that mix some other time."

He nodded, both finishing preparing their tea in silence. Irene couldn't help looking at his right arm, which should still be broken. Jeston was favoring his left hand, holding the right mostly in his lap, yet he still brought it up and moved the right, everything seeming in order. There wasn't even any swelling. "How did your arm heal so fast?" Irene asked, pursing lips briefly at her bluntness.

"We mend quickly," Jeston replied, though he paused stirring his tea when he realized Irene's lack of knowledge. "Fauns in general, but the royal family in particular. Comes with being more thaumian attuned than most races aside from the demonics, and my family has some deity blood mixed in sometime about a thousand years ago to boot."

"Broken elbow twenty-five hours ago quickly?" Irene asked, giving a skeptical glance into his turquoise eyes.

"Well..." he said, giving a full grin and he slowly moved the offending elbow back and forth with a wince. "There are a few advantages to being Third Prince. Healing bones like this normally cost my weight in tung, but aside from being an expert in Dance etiquette, Mrs. h'Zin is a graduate of the Ethereal University back in Aoir and a capable magus. We are very lucky to have her so far away from her family."

Irene wanted to follow up with more questions, but instead she tried the tea to hide her own astonished realization that the most boring faun in the palace was the one with the most information about magic. Instead of Etiquette Irene could be learning magic!

Jeston saw none of this, but he had his own worries on his mind, gulping tea and burning his tongue, though he said nothing. "Lady Weihen..."

"Irene."

"Irene," he said, more firm. "I want to apologize, which I feel is how I'm starting every conversation with you. I'd apologize for that, but, well..." He pleaded with his eyes, then sighed into his cup.

It was adorable, but the earther kept a steady head and moved her shoulder up and down with a presentation of her horns. Continue, I am pleased, she thought she said, though it also displayed flirty connotations she tried to downplay.

"You are picking up the Dance much faster than I estimated," Jeston said, his own motions implying satisfaction or some kind of subtle happiness. Then he ran his hand through that dark mane of hair, which had nothing to do with faun language and more to do with natural anxieties. "I need to tell you I won't have the coinage ready today, like I swore to do. I am told my greatest fault is my impulsiveness, and here I am again proved unable to keep my word. I planned on acting as I said, but when I made the arrangements I realized I would need to move slowly to avoid attracting attention among the servants. A cart of tung arriving at the front gate would tell half the city something fishy happening, and the whole point of getting these funds to you was to keep attention away."

Relief washed through Irene, her smile genuine as tense shoulders relaxed. She thought something else entirely. No idea at all, but what if he was sitting her down to explain he was not providing the money? What if she was to be locked in her room? Lined up in front of a dozen men and told to ride them all or else? Irene didn't think Jeston capable of those choices, but she didn't know all of the politics behind the scenes. He could...he didn't, and that was all that mattered. Forcing down a bubbling laughter, she aimed for serene and nodded, motioning for him to continue.

"You aren't offended by this?" Jeston asked, wary and surprised by her response. "I thought you...this will take some time, but I can make other arrangements still."

"Tell you what: while we work out any small details, I get to spend some time in your study every day?"

Irene would be lying that this library didn't make her itch to bury herself in a book fort and spend all day reading. She had been able to borrow a book now and then, dealing through the intimidating Mr. Nocan who acted as scribe and caretaker of the Prince's collection, but being a part of Jeston's rooms made it off limits to most. Irene could easily see herself loosing days at a time in here, her eyes lifting to thousands of bound volumes, already imagining what treasures they hid.

"Done!" Jeston said, unable to hide his own relaxed posture, leaning back and propping his thumbs into his vest. "And I know you've been through the ringer with the constant tutoring, but if you feel you know enough about your new life, tell me what lessons you still desire and you can spend as many hours as you like in here, reading to your heart's content. We'll work out the details later. My only question then, is: what kind of books do you enjoy reading? I'm partial to pirate adventures."

Irene's smile became feral, it was hungry as she leaned across the table, the promise of more books flipping a lot of switches. "I like pirates. Got anything with a steamy romance in it?"

He also leaned forward and those eyes, like looking into the ocean. "I'm sure I can find something to fill your...time."

Do it!

Irene licked her lips, her breath mingling with his they were so close. Close enough to kiss. She wondered what he tasted like, part of her urging to lean forward. Which was why she leaned back, gulping, and finishing lukewarm tea.

"I look forward to spending many hours here," Irene said, hiding behind an empty cup and reaching back for control of the situation. Of herself. "You have a large collection."

To his credit, Jeston also leaned back and acted as if nothing had almost happened, even turning to look away towards his large collection (and Irene realized she needed to get her head out of the gutter!). "Let me know. I will not mind your company, yet if you require privacy it will not be the slightest bother. The room is yours, along with any book here."

They both sat in silence, cooling down for a long minute before Jeston coughed into his hand and tried for a non sequitur to move into another matter. "I have enjoyed this, being with you. I hope you allow me to make more of an effort." He paused, gaging Irene with his eyes. "My brothers are soon to arrive from Aoir. It is a matter of state, but I find those dry and tedious. When they arrive, I am planning a large party. If you feel...capable? That sounds wrong, you are obviously capable. What I mean is..."

Flustered was a good look on him, made more human. Which, looking at his horns and split nose, took some of the joy away, realizing she was not herself. Internally steeling herself, she thought of how to gain some more ground without suspicion. "So long as the party doesn't become too wild, I see no reason not to attend. I would, though, feel more comfortable if I could obtain some new clothing for the event."

"Is the seamstress not to your liking?" Jeston asked, referring to how all her clothing was currently made to order in the palace.

"It is more a matter of style. A woman cannot know what is currently in fashion without going out and discovering what the boutiques have to offer."

Please, Irene thought, unsure how he would react.

"I see no problem there, so long as you have sufficient protection. Yrlmuh is not a safe place." Already deep in thought, Jeston worked out what needed done. "At least six men, led by my captain Tanpt. You'll also have a small amount of coin, in case something catches your fancy. Hmm...would after Mid Bell work? You can have a meal then not find yourself searching for proper food while out and about."

"Mid Bell is fine," Irene said, suppressing herself from jumping up and down. "I would also like to take Dryn with me, as another woman's opinion would prove helpful."

"Of course," Jeston said absently, standing and (Irene quickly looking away to avoid getting a full frontal) pacing as he thought through everything. "I should assign her your personal Lady In Waiting regardless." He paused, looking back at her and giving a small bow. "Forgive me, nothing distracts me more than a project. If you wish to venture into the city, I have preparations I must make."

"Perfectly alright." Irene also stood, still blushing enough to avoid his eyes and...elsewhere. His chest, that was safe, though it really was such a perfect chest, those muscles...Irene also made a little bow with hoof turned outward, then beating as hasty a retreat as she could make. "I will try to make use of this library when I am finished traversing the city."

Once she was out of the rooms and down the hall, alone, did Irene gain the ability to keep her heartbeat from punching out of her chest. Finding her center, the earther took another turn and headed for the kitchens, where she knew Dryn would be this time in the morning. Irene needed to make plans.

********************

"Welcum to the Sexual Emporium," the troll teenager said in the most monotone voice ever, sitting behind the counter and reading his magazine, "home of the Sexstravaganza. How can I, oh baby oh baby, rock your world?"

"We shouldn't be here," Dryn said, fretting hard, grabbing onto red fur and yanking as if they were a string of pearls. "I still can't...this is absolutely obscene!"

"I'm wearing pants!" Irene replied, giving up three stores ago trying to reason with the woman, gesturing down at navy harem style leggings. The midcalf and belt were lighter blue wrapped scarves, too much custom work required for clothing she could slip into without catching hooves on fabric. Irene wanted pants and she wanted them today! A white blouse tucked into the pants and she was no longer naked. Mostly.

"Pants are deviant behavior!" Dryn waved hands in the air, trying again to convince Irene of her sin. "Other races wear them, but not us! It isn't done! The most perverted thing I've seen before this day was when my flagrant of a sister put on a skirt to grab the attention of that slut Orland. My parents wanted to disown her."

"My lady, we must return to the palace soon," Captain Tanpt said while ignoring the hysterics, holding his hand over a half mooned axe at his waist as he bowed, though his eyes kept on the large crowd milling around the entrance of the sex shop, ram horns twitching back and forth.

Irene waved casually, hoping her nervousness didn't shine through the sweat. Great Googly Moogly, it is hot in this city! No wonder most people walk around wearing swimsuits or less. Sweating, and thinking maybe less clothing might be in her future, Irene instead said, "This will be our last stop, good captain. However, as you might guess, these will be items of a more delicate nature, and I would appreciate your men holding back some distance."

The captain didn't reply, though he motioned with hand and hoof to tell the other guards to take up station around the entrances of the large store. The guards appeared less pleased over doing so, but they moved, marching around the afternoon throng of shoppers.

Turning to her short, redheaded and furred faun friend, Irene resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "I'm trying here, ok? Understand I'm from a different culture and mostly naked is the norm for fauns. For right now, I'm more comfortable wearing clothing. Pants, panties, socks, shoes, shirts, sweaters, these are all normal where I come from. Give me time." Irene didn't explain the real reason, which was a fear that her inexperience with the Dance would lead to accidental rape, but this sounded nicer.

"Please tell me we aren't here for underwear!" Dry pleaded, adjusting her glasses before they slipped from her head and turning all around at the scandalous racks holding panties. "I mean, pants you might explain away as a fetish, but I once heard of a book with a girl wearing a tongue for being too risque!"

"Thong," Irene corrected, trying not to laugh. "Although I could see wearing a tongue would be more weird. And no, underwear is right out: we tried that four stores ago and I don't think I can wear it anymore."

Fur and fabric did not mix. The harem pants she barely tolerated, open as they were and not matting her fur, but the time she tried a snug pair of boyshorts, she lasted fifteen seconds before tearing them off. Had to purchase the ruined panties, but the Prince was obviously filthy rich and what he had called pocket money Irene would call a yearly salary. Maybe a thong...

"Next time," Irene muttered, looking around and seeing signs telling her were to go. Dryn was at her wits end and almost to hysterics over cultural clothing, so Irene clopped her way with the crowd towards the stairs. "I promise, last place, and there's enough coin to get you something if you want."

"I have plenty of clothing, thank you very much!" Dryn said, following with a fast waddle to match Irene's longer strides. "If my sisters even thought I was running around with someone wearing pants, they'd ship me to the Petrimines for having gone bonkers. Not that I think you are bonkers, you are perfect. And, Great Tree willing, I will have a child within a year. Not bonkers at all."

The earther faun followed the crowd up the stairs, body traffic enough to slow them and prevent conversation as they clopped. This last part, Dryn rambling on mostly to herself at this point, had been a weight around Irene since she reasoned it earlier today. Dryn was young, only eighteen years old. Obsessed with history, the largest source of information in the world resided in the various colleges and libraries of Yrlmuh, making it nessisary for Dryn to sail across the world to a foreign land. She couldn't afford coming and attending, so she worked in the kitchen until Jeston asked who could tutor someone about geography.

More than history, though, Dryn wanted children. The Barren Curse of the faun race meant only one in twenty children were born alive, and even that slim amount would diminish in a few years. Even so young, Dryn tried and failed five times, casually mentioned in passing as if it wasn't monumental. Irene couldn't even comprehend that, to spend most of your teenage years pregnant over and over again, only to hold a dead child in your arms over and over again. Marriage wasn't important to the girl, just to hold a baby and have it be alive was her goal. And, if all the magic and prophesies were correct, Irene could make that happen.

Irene was conflicted over this, and while it didn't change her mind over being in control of her own destiny, it was a factor. The saving grace was that, amid all the guilt and expectation that could have been heaped upon Irene, Dryn never once complained or did anything aside from act friendly. It was something to think about.

"Oh good! No more clothing!" Dryn said in relief, gazing around the floor casually. "You just want a dildo."

Irene had no previous life comparisons to describe an open floor the size of a flea market with tens of thousands of dildos in every shape and color propped up and on display. It wasn't a grassy field, it was a forest. Some along the back wall stretched past twenty feet (6 m) and as thick as she was tall. Long ones, skinny ones. Blue ones, red ones. One shaft, two shafts, five shafts. One dildo looked like it have twenty wildly different shaped dildos glued together and stuck on a floppy bouncy spring. A whole section involved dildos that squirted, the display looking like a timed fountain as jizz ejaculated into the air. The center of the room was an open space where craftspeople worked with lathes, anvils, molds and a runic circle to create any custom jobs people ordered.

Irene brushed her hair away from tiny horns, her other hand idly itching where her pants rested on her tail. At least she understood better why fauns didn't wear much clothing if it irritated this much. Wouldn't stop her, she just needed to find the right clothing. She'd never liked skirts before, but maybe she could find some...

"Hi! Looking for something in particular, or do you want to try some of our samples?"

Jerked out of her thoughts, she found herself looking right at an 18 inch (46 cm) bright green octopus tentacle. The lady holding it up was either a mindflayer or cthulhu, but she sounded very chipper. The tentacle dildo was lubed and ready or possibly still wet from the last customer. From the pungent smell slamming through her nostrils, Irene was inclined to think the later.