Chapter 10

What a strange and delicious feeling, all these pupillary dilations, speech difficulties and interruptions of gait and gesture. I bore in mind Auntie’s warning that some of the attention might be other than welcome, or a bit insistent, but it didn’t come to pass during this little walk. One male-appearing individual appeared to divert into my line but another pulled him away. I heard hissing: ‘ ... didn’t you read... ‘ I filed the individual’s appearance.

On entering homeroom there was a barely-perceptible pause in the conversation as I gained my seat. A gentleperson rose ... Uh-oh, Kyche Alara, they/them, socials, seven years ... in the BDSM for minors class ... and with history. “Hi, Kyche.” “Hi, Ash, how are you?” “Well, thanks, and you?” She whispered. “Titillated.” “How kind of you, Kyche.” “Would you ... lunch with me, soon, Ash?” “Certainly, though can it be today or next Tuesday? Tomorrow I have a commitment.” They squirmed. “Today, please?” “Certainly.” They whispered ‘thanks’, turned, and sat just as Mr. Mesrobian walked through the door with the slightest of errors in planting his right foot as he scanned the room. Pupillary dilation. Oh, this is fun!

“Good morning, gentlefolk. The year culminates in seven school days.

“You might note that some of your classmates appear to be imagining Litha jollifications instead of sticking with class work. These people, and I’m commiserating, are doing themselves a mischief. Teachers notice, and while the graded matter may be all but finished, who gets the A? The one sticking with it or the one who isn’t? Teachers are people. They notice things, just as all of us do, and thank spirit for that. There are scales you can tip even now, please consider it.

“Students are reminded that during Litha, School and School Board office staffing is significantly curtailed. Appointments may be needed to access functions otherwise offered continuously. Examples include GCCs, minor medical services and record changes. Taking care of these items while school is in session is often less frustrating than managing an appointment during Litha.

“Anything for the record, comments or questions?”

Not a sound.

“Gentlefolk, just a little bit longer.”

Bang-ja was waiting at the door to o-chem. “Lunch today?” “I’m afraid it’s promised, today. I left tomorrow open.” “Grrr. I’m dying for ... she whispered ‘cock’ in my ear... “and here you are meeting all kinds of tarts and horn-dogs for lunch?” She stared at me for a second, then laughed. “I know you want me, want Beck, want us. It’s just so difficult when I see your ... not high beams ... ah. Landing lights! Your landing lights on!” Fæces. Now they were called landing lights, she’d not let that go so easily. “Ash, they’re so hot, I’m getting wet.” My nipples got harder. “You’re just making it worse!” “Nope. Better. I hope you suffer all the way through class.” She touched my hand, beamed innocently, and we took our seats.

Dr. Dalton entered. “Gentlefolk, I see we are two down already. If you know the people who are missing, I hope you will help them with today’s notes. It is a shame to lose students who have worked hard during a semester for a temporary gain.

“Enantiomers, and I need to go down another rabbit-hole with you. As you have read, enantiomers possess identical thermal and mechanical properties like melting and boiling points, vapor pressures, thermal conductivity and so on, even though they can behave differently in reactions. We will end this semester determining and labeling what is called the absolute configuration of two enantiomers, one of which is denoted R and the other, S.

“But first I must describe polarized light and how we will use it to determine which is which.”

She went on, I’d fiddled with polarized light before in physics, so it would be a refresher.

We left class, I to go to English history and Bang-ja off to what I thought was her own physics class.

On the way to history I encountered more of the little signals people were making and it felt as though I could generalize a bit - even though the signals might have had nothing to do with me I seemed to be understanding what excited different people. By the time I got to class and sat I had a lot of impressions and they were probably not something to deal with right now... “Ash?” “Hi, James.” (Clark, he/him, six years, socials) “You remember that far back?” “Certainly.” “This isn’t my class...” I nodded. “Can I meet you for lunch?” “Prior commitment, James, sorry.” “How about I message you?” “Sure.” He ducked out just before Mx. Gervais entered, and whoop, they’re making sure they don’t look at my chest.

“Good morning, gentlefolk. Today we discuss the hiding of history and its antecedents. George Orwell declared in ‘1984’ that history sets context for society by the single bald statement ‘Who controls the past controls the future; who controls the present controls the past’. Examples abound but they all contain what we now call cancellation. Think of the Albigensian crusade. Think about the rise of dissemination of distorted facts and edited photographs in the rise and consolidation of the Soviet Union. Think about the disappearance of monuments respecting the Confederated States of America. These are all symptoms of controlling the past, and they are all purposeful if one looks carefully. The point is to force context upon the present. Historians view this as wilful damage to words and objects that record what actually was.”

Class discussion was mostly over another statement of Orwell’s about how Salvador Dali was at once a fine artist and a horrid person, but as the class progressed the consensus seemed to be that Orwell himself avoided cancellation because he kept bringing logic into his writing in a way that was difficult to twist.

We left and an individual attempted to join me. “I have not met you and this is not the time for me to be introduced to anyone. Next class, should you wish, please.” They nodded silently and I met Kyche a few meters from the doors. “I am glad you joined me, Ash.” “The same’s true for me, Kyche.” They are just a little over my height, a gymnast, and bewildering to watch because their movements are so fast and unexpected and joyful. Freckled, petite, light brown hair, green-grey eyes and small breasts.

It was not possible in that line to have much in the way of conversation so we simply noticed one another as we were served salad, broccoli, beef goulash, a chunk of baguette and a wedge of Camembert. “They’re trying to paint a rosy face on the food, hoping we’ll forget the meat loaf,” said Kyche. I said “It’s working.” Mugicha and goulash: I didn’t think so, I got plain water and Kyche got iced tea; we sat at a four-placer, and as it happened it was right in front of the window/wall. She affirmed, I echoed, we sat and... “You remember the last time I saw you outside school, Ash?” “Yes. I have amends to make for that. I am sure it upset you ... perhaps we need to head to the glades after?” “I was hopeful you’d ask.”

We ate the meal with little discussion since it was of good quality. Kyche had had a tense moment with an individual who sought to interrupt them, and I stared at the second attempted interruption until they left. “That’s a bit ... much, don’t you think?” “I know, people are suddenly remembering they know me.” I nodded sagely, having no idea what that meant.

We finished, rose, put the trays away and went out into weak sunshine. Rain was probably not a feature of the day but the westerly breeze off the ocean was cool.

Kyche found their preferred spot. We sat, I touched their hand and said “Kyche, as I said I have amends to make. I had no idea what I was doing, and I was terrified to know I was becoming ... what you see now. My head was firmly up and locked. I apologize.” Their eyes were wet. “Ash, I had a massive crush on you! I tried to show it.” “Recalling, you did; and there was nothing in me that knew how to respond. If you had tried that three months ago, it would have been the same. Then, everything changed.”

“What happened?” I sat, timing it... “Puberty.” They whooped. “Oh, that’s ridiculous.” “It did not sneak up on me, instead it jumped in my lap and told me it was staying.”

“Then what?” “I was petrified. This body doesn’t - well, didn’t, here and there - work as most doctors, books, and ‘what everyone knows’ think it’s supposed to. I was afraid to act on it, until one day it just happened.” “Too strange. I guess you had your reasons.” “I clung to them until I couldn’t, then I found out whatever my differences, they were all right with my friends.”

“That tall girl on Neeps?” “That was taken on the very first date of my life.” They shook their head. “You two looked like hungry sexy animals, even in bad light and from the back.” I merely nodded.

“Therefore...” Now they were glowing. “Sales pitch. Would that animal hang out with me, soon?” “Sure. I will admit I am not positive what I can do and what I can’t, so if you want to try it, be forewarned. I’ll stop at any point you like, OK?” They nodded. “Next point, here ... wait a sec ... aaah. I have to show you a graphic-only schedule.”

“You sure that’s a schedule? It’s a mess.” “I know. I’ve been looking forward to Litha, so much less in the core school stuff, but I still have two classes that are year around and three Litha ones.” “I have BDSM for minors, TIG welding and fashion design.” “Applied fashion, jewelry, and BDSM for minors.” “Fashion’s a ... fun one, I had it last year. Don’t try to change the topic. I would like Monday afternoon.” “OK, I have a short errand to do right after school, let’s say 1600?” “1630. Bring a couple different kinds of clothes, our housekeeper will greet you, so you can change at my place and I won’t see you until you’re dressed.” “Sounds good.”

“Ash, kiss me.” We both looked around. “Ash, I would like you to touch me intimately. Please touch me intimately.” “Kyche, I would like you to touch me intimately. Please touch me intimately.”

We had a kiss and they mewed and breathed fast and twitched ... She pulled away. “No more, I can’t stand it.” My face must have dropped. “No, no, not like that! It’s ... so intense!” “I know. Check it out.” My nipples were straining - she was staring, licking her lips. “Not now, but I want those lips on my nipples.” “Oh, yes, Ash!” Then she blushed. “I mean, certainly, Ash.” Kyche had an aroma I liked.

I verified their digits and coordinates were in my tablet. “Now I know why I never get rid of a contact entry.” “I did, I was so sad.” “Ah, Kyche, I didn’t...” They put a finger across my lips. “I didn’t either. We’ve both changed. I wouldn’t erase everything, I still know why I had that crush on you.” I sent them my info.

We walked back. I said “today it’s cooking for me.” “Then if not before, Monday.” We touched hands briefly and I headed down to the kitchen.

I got there and looked at the instructions. There were lots. I hadn’t cooked with fennel before and...

Paul arrived. “Hi... “ “Hi, Paul.” “Um. Hi, Ash.” He fidgeted. “Paul, relax. It’s a complicated recipe but it reminds me of basketball - just throw it in.” He sat. “What about saffron?” “Good. Let’s use plenty.”

At that moment it occurred to me he might be nervous about our planned play, and I thought and thought about what to do about it, drew a blank and then ‘treat it as any old class’. “Ever use fennel?” I asked. “I’ve made a pasta dish with fennel and anchovies.” “I have never cooked anything with fennel in it.” “Not difficult but it seems to fall apart all at once so the timing can be a surprise.”

Chef Bardy strolled in. “Bonjour, gentlefolk.” He looked around. “We are lacking one. What a misfortune, please gather that person and bring them back next time, yes?”

“Alors. Bouillabaisse. What is bouillabaisse, you ask?” He looked around again. No hands. “Bouillabaisse is a fish stew from the port city of Marseille, in France, that began with women throwing things left from their husbands’ fishing catch into a pot, with a few vegetables, and then - as things in France will - it became an obsession. Be not surprised, the French have turned white beans, duck gizzards, and cow noses into obsessions so why not scraps of fish?”

“As this dish’s flavors do not last even under refrigeration for more than a day, we will be making smaller quantities than the optimal. You are encouraged to exchange notes and tastes of your food. It is easy to make bouillabaisse poorly. Assisting the shellfish, the fish, the squid and the vegetable stock to exchange flavors takes art and one’s first attempt is good enough if you will have three bites.

“Rouille sauce. ‘Rouille’ means ‘rusty’ and you will see what I mean. We have some honest French bread with which to sample it. I suggest you make the sauce after the fish are in the pot.

“I further suggest you strive to slice the onion, fennel and leeks such that, when they lose their cohesiveness in the cooking, the strands are equal in cross-section size. Slice slowly if it helps. When the root vegetables meld well it is a flavor not to be missed.

“Sample the dish frequently, please.

“Please consult your partner on the division of your considerable labor on this dish, and start when you are agreed.”

Paul wanted to slice the root vegetables and with his drive for precision I saw the wisdom. “I’ll make the rouille sauce, Paul, and if you like, do the tomatoes and garlic...” He nodded and we got busy.

It was 1430 by the time we were done, had the bowls with the toasted bread and rouille sauce ready, and were about to serve when Chef Bardy arrived and asked for a taste, so I served it and the bread and rouille sauce. He sampled it, then again, then he asked “This isn’t new to you?” Paul said “never tried to make it.” “Neither have I.” “Apart from asking of you another two minutes’ simmering at this moment, I find myself unable to assist you further. Très bien.” When he walked off Paul and I did a quiet high-five.

We, after the requested two minutes, ladled up half a dozen bowls and, having more rouille sauce than expected, we used it up on more slices of bread.

The exchanges began; the bouillabaisse disappeared, we set out on our rounds and tried some others. The uniformity of the root vegetables certainly helped ours, when it wasn’t right there were annoying threads or acrid overtones. When we returned to our station there was a bit more than a bowl still in the pot. I looked him in the eyes. “Paul, eat up, you’ll need it.” He blushed, and ate. I had what was left.

I gave Paul a decidedly non-PDA-acceptable kiss on the cheek. “I’m headed for yoga, after that I’m coming in your direction, remember?” He nodded. “Good. I don’t want to miss out on a bit.” I left him blushing.

A shower before yoga because I’d been in the kitchen, and I was still five minutes early. I’d got into a tough arm-balance, shoulders rolled back and hands by my hips and managed to hold it a while. I started, apparently without thought, a spanda going through the recruit-able muscles and tendons and came out of it surprisingly invigorated. There was time for me to do a forward fold ahead of Maya’s appearance at front center.

We settled onto our blankets and waited for Maya to begin. “Gentlefolk, welcome, today we do the work to bring equilibrium among us, our fellow beings and our environment.”

We were headed for stress reduction which for Maya is inversions. Downward dog counts, and she called for a few variations but it was the comfort of down dog that set them as not challenging, rather almost playful.

I showered, cleaned up and changed at the yoga studio. Yes, I’d sent a little transit to Paul’s but I had been anticipating this for a while and I had a Plan. I didn’t put on dating clothing but under what I would now call ‘moderate’ clothing I had a couple of pieces that were keeping me hot, and I had the stretchiest halter I owned on, along with a pair of small booty shorts and 75mm heels, with which I was coping - at least for now.