FAIRYTALES FOR A HUMAN (Lesbian)

Part 29 HUMAN

My eyes are wide open. Her moan has nothing to do with a moan of pleasure. Turning to her, I understand that as much as I want to hear her soft "haaa", I should understand that she is not moaning with a passionate desire to take a sweet possession of me. Doris is lying on her back with her hand over the eyes. Her forehead and upper lip are covered in drops of sweat, and she's breathing hard. The mermaid does not notice when I sit down and reach for her with my hand. She grabs my wrist abruptly, making me flinch: her eyes are black and scary again.

"Doris..."

"I'm sorry!"

"Are you feeling bad? What's wrong with you?"

I stroke her hair. She quickly lets go of my hand, slightly wincing at my touch.

"I'm fine. Go back to sleep." She's breathing heavily.

"No way! I'll call for someone!"

"No, they won't help. I'm fine."

I lean over her not knowing how to help, but then it occurred to me:

"Do you need water? How long since you were a mermaid?" I stroke her damp forehead.

"I'm fine," she says dryly.

"Lie more! Shift immediately."

The mermaid opens her eyes, "I won't."

"But why?" I don't understand anything: on a tropical island she easily shifted before my eyes.

"I don't want to do this. And I never will again.

I want to be a good human for you. My mermaid only brings you trouble. I will not turn into a mermaid, and that's the it!" She stubbornly purses her plump lips.

"Are you crazy? I don't care how you look like or who you are... Come on, I'm waiting!" I purse my lips too, looking expectantly at the mermaid.

Beyond any doubt she is hesitating. Finally, she nods. With a deep moan she's arching her back: a fast wave runs through her body, turning her into the mermaid.

Doris is definitely feeling better now: she slowly sits down, not looking into my eyes.

I listen to the clock ticking steadily; it seems that someone is talking behind the wall, but I know for sure that there is no one there, and I am getting a little scared.

"Doris, maybe we can go out into the garden to get some fresh air. I'm sure that at this late hour there is no one there and no one will see your mermaid form. Hope you don't mind!"

"I don't mind at all," says Doris. I feel some relieve in her voice.

The mermaid turns on the night light. We got dressed quickly: I hurriedly take out Doris's wool knit drawstring trousers and white socks: all my clothes are drying.

The old city garden is closed at night. Only residents of the adjacent elite apartments can go there at any time. We went out the back door so as not to wake anyone, but the house was drowning in sinister, deadly silence; it was so quite there, as if I had gone deaf.

It has become warmer outside: the cold air of past days collided with the warm air, as a result, a thick autumn fog seeped into the garden. It rested on the bare trees, hung over a cold pond that resembled a black mirror, sat on a low wooden bench where Doris sat down too. She was wrapped in a knitted, long cardigan that she had hastily put on her shoulders in the hallway. I modestly leaned against a lamppost, my hands in the pockets of my chubby puffer coat. The light in the street lamp winked at me several times and went out. In the ensuing darkness, when my senses sharpened, it seemed to me again that I could hear someone's whisper, but as soon as I began to listen, it immediately disappeared, extinguished like a weak candle flame.