Christie had many reasons for what she had done. But the greatest of them all was that she was a coldhearted manipulator. She knew that – in her perfect clarity of mind – her dearest father was ready to give the world to her after revealing that heavy secret that had weighed him for years. So why bother to eat the world when someone offered it to you?

  Even in this critical moment, Christina Valasela couldn’t help but look at the situation with an analytical mind. She saw statistics and probabilities, and if she really wanted to seize her chance and the love that burned in her heart, this was the best she would ever have.

  So she threw her shot.

  “Agatha of Malachite, do you love me?” This wasn’t a new question for the blonde, but the stage was. There was public, and therefore, now their relationship was no longer a hidden tryst, but an open one.

  Or at least, it would be depending on what the seamstress responded. There were many ways to escape from this situation; Christie was well aware of that. But it wasn’t only her dearest father she was manipulating. After having cried in her chest, the redhead just couldn’t imagine her life without her ladylove. Too soon? Perhaps. They had only been dating for a month now, yet she became aware that her infatuation definitely hadn’t started just a month ago. She had shared with Agatha all her secrets and had showed her not only the worst aspects of herself – both during yesternight and at this gathering – so whatever the petite girl answered, it would be the plain and factual truth.

  Her unveiled feelings.

  “Uh?” Her seductress’ surprise was nothing short of adorable.

  Agatha turned her head to look at the rest of the people in the dining room, and they all professed confusion. Christie knew she was playing a cruel game, but she had to do it. Perhaps it was now or never, so she took the gamble. The petite seamstress gulped saliva down, carefully thinking through her plan of action.

  There was so much hesitation in Agatha’s visage as the pregnant silence lingered that even Christie began to doubt. What if it truly was a tryst? Nothing more than a fling? She would hate it if that were the case. Being messed up and having her whole worldview changed by this seductress, only to be revealed that it was only an ephemeral thing. The redhead would never hate the blonde, but she would definitely be left sour if it were the case. Only if it were the case. She would hate it. Truly hate it.

  I do not want that… Christie’s lower jaw trembled as fear took over her. These last weeks had been the best ones in her life, and she didn’t want them to end. Had she truly misplayed here?

  Out of nowhere, Agatha smiled. It wasn’t the radiant smile that Christie was used to, but a more… frantic one. The only time she recalled such a vicious expression was when the blonde fought one Cristobal Echevarria during the mid terms of the first year. An ecstatic expression of lust. Not toward a person, but toward the battle.

  Agatha wasn’t looking at Christie now, but at the battle she had proposed. That realization made the redhead skip a beat. Before anyone else reacted, the single-agate lithorist summoned her sapphire on her hand and dropped it on the ground. Instead of clinking against the tiled floor like a stone or rolling around, it deformed like water, and a moment later, it was shaped into a familiar platform. The blonde stepped onto it and the lithic platform raised slightly, only to place its summoner at Christie’s eye level.

  The redhead peered into those dual sapphires the seamstress had for eyes. Never before had she had such a clear and perpendicular look at them. Fast and deadly, Agatha locked Christie like a constrictor snake as she stole her lips in front of the whole gathering.

  Ah, Christie moaned both mentally and physically, though the latter was blocked by their conjoined mouths. The nouveau riche melted in the arms of the commoner as she had her mane played with and a thin yet sturdy arm snaking behind her nape. There was no escape for her, and she didn’t want any as she reciprocated that deep kiss, exchanging tongues and saliva with Agatha.

  “Oh my,” someone spoke. It was Miss Diorite. The old maid looked at them with a mixture of surprise and… interest.

  The sound – as innocent as it was, all things considered – was enough to wake up Christie from her stupor. The redhead tried to pull herself away, but the blonde had her well grabbed. And she didn’t let go. So she gave her a slight headbutt.

  Clunk.

  Well, a bit more than a slight.

  “Mock sapphire,” Christie said smugly as the petite girl separated from herself, for otherwise she would have been blushing out of her mind. And judging from the heat on her cheeks, she feared she wasn’t that far away from that point already. “I asked you a yes or no question. Not… this…”

  Mission failed; she was blushing out of her mind.

  Agatha grinned radiantly. “Yes, you dummy doll! I love you with all of my might!” She shouted with no shame at all.

  “Oh my!” Miss Diorite mouthed again, enjoying herself a bit too much.

  Christie sighed. Her fears had been quenched, and that unfortunately meant that her sanity had returned. Which made her realize how violent of a situation she was handling. She cleared her thoughts and recovered her composure before looking at the patriarch of the house.

  “Dearest father, Agatha and I have been dating for a month now.” She announced with all the gravitas she could muster, no shame in her visage either, only the plain truth. “No secrets remain between us – or so I would like to think – so to that end I ask for your thoughts.”

  If you say no, I will run away from this house and you will never see me again. Christie left that part unsaid, yet it somehow felt like everyone present had heard those words.

  The lithe patriarch remained petrified for a moment, his eyes still digesting the previous scene even if the whole act had gone well into the intermission. The kiss had demanded a lot of stamina from the actors, after all.

  “I…” the man pinched the bridge of his nose, “cannot say I expected this.”

  “That is not what I inquired about,” Christie said calmly, but her hands searched for Agatha’s. The petite, no, her ladylove was warm, but the redhead’s hands trembled in the greatest of colds. The theatre metaphor wasn’t unwarranted, for now the nouveau riche boasted a mighty mask. One of a confident woman and not of a scared daughter.

  “I was getting to that,” her dearest father sighed. “Can I be crass with you, Christina?”

  Christie gritted her teeth as she expected the worst. “I-if you need to.”

  “I could not care less about it,” the patriarch admitted nonchalantly. “The only person that would have protested here would have been your mother, as she wanted to make House Valasela into the greatest of Crocheta, but for better or worse, she is no longer with us. The only thing that matters to me is your happiness, and not anything else in the world, so if this makes you happy… I will not intercede.”

  The redhead blinked several times in confusion. “Really?”

  “Really,” the black-haired man nodded.

  “W-what about succession?”

  “I already said that it was your mother who cared about such things. I was born and raised a commoner, dearest daughter, dynasties do not matter to me,” he stopped for the faintest of moments, “to me. And if a successor was ever needed, I know a thing or two about adoption.”

  “How come?”

  “That is a story for later,” Hasel dismissed it. “What matters now, my Christina, is that I just wish the best for you. So be happy.”

  “Oh,” Christie mouthed and her legs finally gave up. Unlike her hands, she hadn’t noticed they were trembling.

  “Christie!” The first one to shout in alarm was Agatha, who she almost brought to the ground with her hijinks.

  The blonde recalled her lithic platform and landed on the ground, but Christie didn’t give her a moment of respite as she pulled on her ladylove’s petite body and locked her into an embrace.

  “I love you, Agatha,” she whispered weakly, containing the tears of happiness because she knew they wouldn’t stop once she started.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “I love you too, Christie,” her ladylove pressed her forehead against her, not for a sneaky headbutt, but just as a byproduct of closing onto her. There was no kiss this time; there wasn’t a need for one. Everything had been stated already. So they just rubbed their noses together with the softest and most casual of ministrations.

  This was it.

  Christie had gotten everything she didn’t know she needed until now, but had deeply and desperately craved for it. She melted in Agatha’s radiance.

  ***

  Days in the Valasela Estate quickly passed by after the mutual public confession. Truth be told, nothing had really changed. Christie and Agatha still slept in different rooms, and it wasn’t like they were kissing in public either beyond that first time, but the redhead still felt a massive weight removed from her shoulders. And there was a more important reason why nothing had changed.

  “Ugh, I am exhausted,” Christie collapsed on an armchair. She couldn’t even recall in what room she was.

  “That is un-ladylike, Miss Christina,” Miss Diorite said behind her.

  A tailor had just left the room after the nouveau riche’s daughter had been presented with more dresses than she would ever need for the whole year. The only saving grace was that she had picked up some for her ladylove.

  “You are worse than your father,” the maid said out of nowhere.

  Christie frowned. “I think I am more ladylike than my dearest father, thank you very much.”

  “I did not mean that,” Miss Diorite snorted. “I meant the dresses. You are getting more dresses for Miss Agatha than Mister Hasel is doing for you.”

  “For starters, Agatha does not have a preexisting wardrobe – or should I say wardrobes – of dresses, whilst I do. And secondly… Is it Miss Agatha now?” She arched a brow.

  “Well, if I have understood the recent developments correctly, she will be my new mistress in the future. So calling her by the name alone is not that appropriate.”

  Christie was well aware of the fact that Miss Diorite meant mistress in a professional sense, but the redhead had called her ladylove that so many times in her mind that her brow just spasmed subconsciously.

  “That does not stop you from calling dearest father by his first name.”

  “Oh, Hasel is a whole another subject altogether. I knew him as a gnat, so my respect for him fluctuates daily.”

  “Yes, I have noticed in my sixteen years living here,” Christie chuckled, but then her laughter instantly stopped and her expression became moody. Sixteen years, she pondered sternly. “Miss Diorite?”

  “Yes, Miss Christina?”

  “When were you going to tell me about menstruation?” She interrogated with animosity.

  “Ah,” the old maid mouthed taciturnly.

  “That is all you have to say in your defense?” Christie frowned and crossed her arms.

  “To be fair, Miss Christina, it has been ages since I have suffered any maladies from my femininity,” Miss Diorite let out an excuse. “And most importantly, you bloomed so late that… well,” she sighed, “these things tend to happen way sooner.”

  “I am not angry at you, Miss Diorite, if that is what you are thinking,” the redhead sighed and let her arms drop. “I am just annoyed. I had the luck of having Agatha at the dormitories, but it could have been a mess if I had not. My cycle is rather painful and long.”

  “I am truly sorry,” the maid bowed and apologized.

  Christie was partially startled by the gesture. If there was even a single instance of Miss Diorite apologizing, it had been a casual effort, not a heartfelt and profound apology. The woman was far too broad, muscled, and old to apologize that way.

  The redhead sighed again. “The damage is done. You need not fret over it.”

  Miss Diorite raised her torso. “It might be too late to teach you how to deal with your bleeding, but I still have some knowledge on femininity I can impart to you,” the old woman softly smiled. “I had been waiting until you were a bit more mature, but after the recent developments with Miss Agatha and your growth spurt, I believe you are more than ready.”

  “Well then, I am ready to hear that knowledge,” Christie said with open arms.

  ***

  She hadn’t been ready to hear that knowledge. Or rather, to experience it.

  “Ouch,” she groaned. Her legs still hurt.

  “Is everything alright?” Her ladylove questioned with a hint of worry in her dual sapphires.

  “Alright? Yes. Perfect? …Not so much,” Christie sighed.

  They were resting on the gazebo of the estate’s garden. Agatha was a bit dirty as she had been practicing all this time with dearest father, whilst Christie had just met with her after getting separated from Miss Diorite. Just thinking about it made her legs hurt again, so she rubbed them.

  “You are rubbing them a lot. Is everything really alright?” Agatha clasped her hand.

  Why are you this cute? Christie thought as she looked downwards at her ladylove, struggling against herself from pouncing on her. Wait, our relationship is public already; there is no need to hold myself any longer, is there? Well, beyond the fact that she is a bit dirty. It was a deterrent, but not a good enough one as that didn’t stop Christie from stealing Agatha’s lips. She softly pinched her upper lip, and her ladylove reciprocated by biting her lower lip.

  It was a passionate kiss, but also a short one. They mutually separated without reaching the point of breathlessness as they usually did. Even if no one had uttered a word, both simultaneously knew that there was no need for those vicious kisses anymore. Before, they felt like a fleeting thing, that their relationship could end at any point, yet now both girls knew that wasn’t the case. This wasn’t going to end any time soon.

  “You should stop doing that,” Agatha said half-sternly, half-softly.

  “What? Kissing you?” Christie chuckled.

  “No,” the blonde swayed her head, her growing mane lagging behind. “Trying to avoid questions by overpowering me.”

  “Oh, sorry. I was not avoiding the question; I just thought that you looked cute and… I could not hold myself back.” The redhead felt like a chastised dog, mostly because she acted no differently than a bitch in heat.

  “Oh.” Any anger that might have remained in Agatha’s petite body instantly vanished as her visage was covered by a massive blush. “Then it is fine…”

  Now this time Christie actually held herself, for she felt that if she pounced on her ladylove her time, they wouldn’t be over for supper.

  “The reason why I am so uncomfortable is because Miss Diorite showed me the awful world of depilation.”

  “Depilation?” Her ladylove frowned in confusion, apparently unbeknownst to the term.

  “In a few words, it is the removal of hair.”

  “Removal of hair?” Christie couldn’t help but giggle as Agatha looked at her head and squinted cluelessly as she found it as always.

  “Not up there, mock sapphire,” the nouveau riche coyly crawled on the gazebo’s bench and lowered her head to whisper in her ladylove’s ear. “But down there.”

  The way Agatha went from a sapphire to a carnelian told Christie enough of her thoughts to basically be able to read her mind.

  “My legs, of course,” Christie added a moment later.

  “Y-yes, of course!” Agatha started chuckling aloud as she did everything but look at the redhead.

  That visage – no different from an open book – made Christie smile. Every moment with her ladylove was an adventure, a passionate one at that. But amusing adventures were not bad ones by any metric. Though it is true that I depilated down there too… Christie didn’t say that aloud, for she feared it might be too much for her Agatha at the time being. She did bow to take things slowly and move at Agatha’s pace after that scene on the riverbed.

  “So,” the blonde did her best to continue her conversation even if she looked like commanded by Heat. “How is it done?”

  “It is surprisingly simple yet complex,” Christie raised her skirt, which made her ladylove jump but promptly relaxed when she noticed the redhead just partially exposed her lower leg. “You apply the Liquify command to an agate, which gives it a slimy structure. Once the agate is set down, you carefully apply the Heat command.”

  “Is that why your leg is so… red?” Agatha pointed at the leg. Christie’s leg was, in fact, very red.

  “No, the Heat command was not that hot. The problem was the final step. After the Heat command has been on for a while and a second Liquify one has been set down, any commands left over are removed, and you pull the agate with all your strength.”

  “Oof,” her ladylove cringed at the imagery.

  “Yes, very much ‘oof’.” Christie sighed. “It is painful, but I cannot deny it is effective. My legs have not been this soft since… perhaps since I was a baby.”

  “And red,” Agatha added.

  “And red,” the redhead giggled.

  “But why would anyone do this? Soft legs do not seem enough of a reason for such mutilation.”

  “Well, I would not go as far as to call it mutilation. People trim their hair and shave all the time.”

  “Shave?” The seamstress frowned. “Do you shave?”

  “Of course?”

  “I, uhhh…” Agatha put her fingers on her temples in bewilderment. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, when I hear ‘shaving’ I think of ‘beard shaving’, right?”

  “Right,” Christie nodded.

  “So you are telling me that you shave?”

  “Yes,” and nodded again.

  “What?” Agatha said in complete disbelief. “How? Why?”

  “Do you not grow facial hair?” Christie interrogated.

  “Women have facial hair?” Dumbfounded could be the only descriptor applied to her ladylove.

  “Yes?” Now it was the redhead’s time to be amazed. “I honestly do not know how you are not aware of bodily hair when you are the one who told me about menstruation.”

  “One, completely different things. Two, I just never saw a girl or a woman with facial hair?”

  “So you do not have any?”

  “No?”

  “Let me see.” Without any shame or hesitation, Christie started caressing Agatha’s face, much to the surprise of the latter. “Oh, you really are smooth like a baby. How have I never noticed before? Well, now I can see why you had those preconceptions.”

  “Yeah,” Agatha replicated in a ‘I told you so’ tone that would have had any weight if she weren’t blushing so violently. “So you can grow a beard?”

  Christie giggled. “No, mock sapphire. I only grow a few thin and short hairs here and there, nothing egregious. Barely noticeable. Except for the moustache hairs, those are more visible.”

  “Then why do you shave?”

  “Because barely is not the same invisible,” the redhead smiled at the petite girl and grabbed her hand to put it against her own cheek. “Do you like how soft my cheeks are?”

  “I…” Agatha blushed, “like everything about you, Christie. Whether you are smooth as an agate or woolly like a sheep.”

  “Okay, there is no need for such superlatives,” Christie smacked her lips in annoyance. “But I get the message,” and then smiled at her ladylove. “But this raises a question: if you do not have facial hair, do you have body hair?”

  “Um…” The blonde looked away.

  “I will take that as a yes,” the redhead grinned in a vulpine manner.

  “Waitwaitwait!” Agatha raised her hands in a panic. “Only occasional ones. Like, barely noticeable at all.”

  Two thoughts arose in Christie’s mind. Either her ladylove panicked because she thought the redhead would be displeased if she realized there was a thick jungle under those clothes – which Christie totally wouldn’t be – or because having body hair would lead to a personal depilation session. Both of those lines of thought were equally delicious.

  “Of course,” the nouveau riche comely smiled at the seamstress. “But, at some point, I will have to check by myself.” She teased her blond squirrel.

  Instead of reacting explosively, Agatha only slightly shrank and then whispered. “At some point.”

  Right there and then, Christie realized that the greatest problem of having unshackled the chains of the privacy of their relationship was that it solely depended on herself to be chained and contained.

  Which she didn’t do a great job at.

  Maybe only soft caresses, but they didn’t make it for supper in time that day.

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