Chapter Two #2
Normally, Wrenley wore a matching set of sparkling assless chaps.
They always enhanced her gorgeous ass into the perfect peach that I wanted to bite into.
Tonight though? Her assless chaps were covered with black feathers.
They were holographic, glittering with an oil-slick-inspired iridescence.
My bull howled in my head like a cartoon wolf at the sight of a beautiful woman.
It looked like an upside-down heart. There was something about the feathers that did the impossible: make her ass even more perfect and push me closer to ruin.
I would ask for your mercy, but clearly, the gods don’t have any to spare for me.
Wrenley wore this outfit for her “Hoein’ Down” set, where she danced to her own mix of country bangers while stripping and shifting into her harpy form.
Naturally, it was my favorite routine. I was the stereotypical country girl, after all.
I was raised on a farm just outside of Blackbell, where we also hunted and fished every season.
I owned as many cowgirl hats and boots as I did baseball caps and sneakers.
I knew the rodeo circuit like I did football plays.
My twang was so deep that many thought I bled sweet tea when they heard me speak.
Finding my cowgirl to ride off into the sunset with had always been a hope of mine.
Now, I hoped this cowgirl in front of me would want to ride me from sundown to sunrise for the rest of our lives.
“You know, I would say take a picture so it would last longer, but I’m sure your spank bank is getting full.”
A higher-pitched version of my own southern drawl cut through my thoughts.
I glared at my sister beside me. Ira Mae was almost my twin, aside from a few key differences.
Both of us shared the same chestnut skin, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, and full lips.
She even had the same silver septum piercing since we had gotten them together.
Instead of having mahogany curls, her hair was black and straight.
Just like me, she was plus-size, but she had even more curves than Wrenley.
Ira was a server and bartender at the Den, but that didn’t stop her from wearing revealing outfits, just like she was a dancer for the tips.
Tonight was no different with her form-fitting black bodysuit that left little to the imagination between the mesh cut-outs.
I rolled my eyes. “The last thing I ever need to hear from my sister’s mouth are the words ‘spank bank.’”
Ira Mae snorted. “As if that’s the worst thing you’ve heard come out of my mouth.”
“Oh, it’s definitely not the worst thing I’ve ever heard someone say has gone into or out of your mouth.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and she chuckled in playful offense. “Oh, someone’s spicy today. Now, what jumped your fence and shat in your garden, big sis?”
“You aren’t helping us beat those bumpkin allegations with sayings like that.”
“Oh, now we have some deflection! Something definitely happened.” She tilted her head, causing her curtain of black hair to slide over one shoulder. She studied me with narrowed eyes, holding an almost-predatory delight in them, despite her being a cow-taur. That’s when I knew I was in trouble.
“Nothing happened,” I argued, my eyes trailing back to watch Wrenley add mascara to her naturally long, full lashes.
Ira Mae acted like I hadn’t said anything. “You’re pining more than usual after Wrenley—”
“I am not pining—”
“Yet, Wrenley is chipper as ever. You are tense as fuck right now, which means you are probably bricked up from not getting laid in forever—”
“There are a metric fuck-ton of other reasons why I could be tense right now—”
“Sure, Jan,” Ira snorted again. “There are so many reasons why you are acting like you had a wet dream about Wrenley this morning.”
Before I could stop myself, my wide eyes snapped to Ira. It was a massive mistake that I regretted immediately.
“Holy fucking shit, you did, didn’t you?!”
Heat climbed up my neck so fast and hot that I wondered how I didn’t combust. “Keep your voice down! She has supernatural hearing, too!”
“You dog! I cannot believe it! You know, I was going to tease you about acting like a teenager, but it’s kind of romantic. It’s like she’s literally the woman of your dreams!”
I placed my face in my hands and mumbled into my palms. “I need someone to take me out to pasture…”
Ira’s eyes flicked over to Wrenley, who was now applying her lip liner with her mouth open partially just like it had been when she was moaning on top of me —
“You have to tell me everything. I need to know!”
“You are my sister, Ira.”
“Okay, and? I’m emotionally invested.”
“We are both on shift!”
“Never stopped me before, and you know it.”
“I hate you. Like, a lot. Like, a whole fucking lot.”
“No, you don’t. Now, was it sweet? Oh, I bet it was filthy. Was it both? It was probably like 75% dirty, and the rest was adorable. Please tell me I’m right.”
“Ira—”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “She was riding you, wasn’t she?”
“Ira!” I growled, dragging my hand down my face. I glanced around to make sure no one was actively listening. Most of the room was ignoring us thankfully.
“It’s perfectly natural for a bull to want to be ridden by her mate, Tilly. You have nothing to be embarrassed of.”
“Ignoring my sister telling me about my anatomy as if I didn’t know about it, Wrenley isn’t my mate.”
“Yeah, because you refuse to grow a pair and make a move!”
“I’m pretty sure you can’t say that.”
“If getting my lesbian best friend and my lesbian trans sister together finally gets me cancelled, make me the villain then, but I would argue I’m the greatest ally ever.”
I rolled my eyes.
Ira popped me hard on my arm. “You haven’t answered the question yet, Tilly Rhea Bove!”
“Ouch!” I exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot on my bicep. She was small, but Ira had grown up with me and our seven older brothers. The girl could throw a punch like no other.
“You’re an idiot.”
“It was just a dream, Ira. It doesn’t mean anything—”
“See? You’re a dipshit. Of course, it means something.”
“Are you about to go witchy woo-woo on me?”
“Stop deflecting, bullshit,” Ira said, using her nickname for my brothers and me when we were being dumb. “You like her. She likes you. What’s the hold up?”
“She likes me as a friend—”
“My fucking gods, you are so stupid that if you fell in a bag of titties, you’d come out sucking your thumb, Tilly Bove,” Ira said exasperatedly.
“We both know that girl likes you more than a friend. You would have to be a special kind of dense to not see how you two look at each other. Everyone at the club is talking about when y’all will get together, not if. ”
“I just…” I started before opening and closing my mouth, unsure how to keep going.
If there was anyone I was going to be honest with about this, it was going to be Ira.
We had always been close, even before I transitioned, since we were only eleven months apart.
She was my confidante and the person who would not only call me out on my shit but also give me sound advice.
That didn’t stop my anxiety from slithering in between my ribs and wrapping tightly around my heart.
I finally said quietly. “What if things go wrong, Ira?”
“What if things go right, Tilly?”
“What if I fuck everything up and we lose what we have?”
“What if you fuck her and end up gaining so much more?”
“Ira—”
“Hear me out, okay?” She said, her voice uncharacteristically serious.
“Y’all have already gotten over all the worst parts of starting to date someone.
You’ve met, eaten in front of each other, and discussed all the major stuff.
Hell, you’ve practically moved into your place together.
Y’all have been intimate in the ways that truly matter.
Take life by the literal horns for once.
You know more than anyone that life is a chaotic bull, but it’s time for you to participate in the rodeo.
You won’t know how good you are until you compete.
If you never try, those regrets will mess with your big ass head for the rest of your life. ”
As always, she was right. While it didn’t ease the trepidation in my chest, it did put something else in there: Resolve.
I had decided years ago not to lie to myself or the world because a life of shame wasn’t a life to be lived.
I would go after what I wanted even if it cost me everything because, when I looked back at my life in the end, I would at least be able to say I lived for my own happiness. This was no different from that.
“I don’t want you to miss out on what will be the best thing that ever happened to us.”
I scrunched my eyebrows together. “Us?”
“Uh, my two favorite people getting married? Me being the greatest dual Maid of Honor of all time? It’s an us, for sure.”
I shook my head, yet I couldn’t resist the chuckle that escaped from me.
Suddenly, the door to the dressing room swung open. The manager, a tall, dark-skinned nonbinary fae, poked their head in. Their sharp garnet-toned eyes scanned the room before landing on Wrenley and then me.
“Hey, Cinnamon Skye and Thread Bove, here’s your ten-minute warning!”