Daring me to stop. And I didn't.

Brain slugs and their hosts have other, less primary senses, which are also important. It is well attested that the exposed integument of brain slugs is sensitive to microwave emissions, and tend to avoid microwave ovens in use. The electrosensitive structures that helps the brain slug map the host's nervous system also make them uncomfortable near high-energy transformers. Human proprioception increases in brain slug hosts, as the hybrid entity relies on such senses to help navigate the human body.
—How To Talk To Brain Slugs, Chapter 6: Sixth & Seventh Senses

"When you're gone for the night, I tend to stay up with Jordie and Soong," Rachel began. She wiped her palms on her thighs, and her gaze went everywhere except Mel's eyes. "Sometimes we watch TV. Sometimes they like to read or groom each other. You know they read the books you have in your room?"

She took a deep breath. Mel watched her chest rise and fall, the nipples visible through the fabric, then realized he was staring, and tried to focus on her face.

"It gets so quiet sometimes that I just talk to them. To Jordie, to Soong, or just to myself. I think they listen. They turn toward me as if listening, when they're not doing anything else. I was reminiscing about when we were younger, and we were both obsessed with this old Sword & Sorcery character named Jirel of Joiry. A warrior-woman from medieval France who was always ending up in weird magical scenarios and killing people with her sword. We made up our own adventures and took turns playing Jirel or the bad guy—fighting each other with cardboard tubes, you know? Except in the middle of the story, there was a knock at the door, and Jordan got up to answer it. There was a pair of women there, one tall and head shaved bare, the other thin and emaciated, with a cap on her head, and Jordan took their hands and then guided them into the bedroom. I saw they were both brain slug hosts. And when they locked themselves in her room, I started to cry."

Rachel squirmed in her seat. She didn't wear much makeup; there were no lines of runny mascara that would show she had been crying. Yet Mel had seen her cry. He believed her.

"The tears just came out, and I started sputtering. I was on the couch and had my face in my hands, and Soong sat down next to me and put her arm around my shoulders. Like you did, that first time. She didn't do anything, just held me, and I couldn't stop crying because I was talking to Jordie, hoping maybe something of my sister was still in there, and it wasn't just a slug wearing her face. The very first Jirel story, it was called 'Black God's Kiss,' and it was about how Jirel is wronged and descends into this underworld to get her ****, and she kisses this inhuman thing and something transferred to her, some power or energy she carried . . . something about that seemed so sad and poignant to us, it was our favorite story, and I was telling Soong about it when she started nuzzling me. With her cheek. Very careful, very deliberate. Her lips just brushed my hands where they covered my eyes."

Mel could picture that. He had never tried to do anything when he hugged Rachel, but a part of him wondered what might have happened if he had. Taking advantage of someone who was emotionally **** wasn't something Mel was interested in, but he didn't know if the brain slugs had the same understanding. What was a crying woman to them? Someone who needed comfort?

"She started to lick at my tears," Rachel went on. "I didn't stop her. I think I was aware, then, that she was naked. Soong was so warm, but she was this naked woman hugging me, and I didn't know how to respond to that. For a moment, I thought she had misunderstood what I was saying, thought that I was asking for something. I think maybe I kind of understand how you felt. There was no sense of personal space with them. She started moving against me, trying to press her body closer to me. Practically climbed into my lap. Her tongue touched my eyes, and when I took my hands away, I found her staring at me. As if daring me to stop. And I didn't."

Finally, Rachel looked up and stared directly at Mel. She didn't look like she was going to cry now, although Mel could see her eyes were red. Rachel brought her elbows up onto the glass tabletop, her shoulders slumped.

"Maybe I was tired. Or curious. I mean, I never thought about myself as a lesbian or whatever, but when I saw you with them, I wondered how it felt to be on the receiving end of that kind of attention. Soong went slowly. Hands up under my shirt. Then under my bra. Her fingers were cool, but soft, and she went slow. I could have stopped her at any time, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to fight it. Maybe I was just jealous of the kind of relationship you have with them. I thought about how nice it would be to just have someone like that to . . . to do things with. To want me. To need me. Do you understand that? How it feels to need to be needed?"

"Yes," Mel said. He wasn't sure it was the right answer. Or the one she wanted to hear. But he leaned onto the table and held out his hands, and she slid her hands into his. Warm, clammy palms.

"I just went with it. When she undid my bra and pulled it away, I felt this sense of relief and excitement. Then Soong leaned in and pressed her lips against mine. Soft. Tentative. Ready to pull back if I showed alarm. Except I didn't. I hadn't kissed a woman before. You know, our mom always raised us to go for boys; she wasn't . . . she called anyone LGBTQ a pervert. But she was all about us getting married and having babies; I think she wanted us to have the stable relationship that she never had. That was her dream for us. Jordie tried so fucking hard and kept ending up with assholes. But I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about the tongue in my mouth, how she tasted kind of salty and sweet."

Mel felt himself strain against his waistband now, a slimy wet spot on his lower abdomen. Glad now that he'd shifted his shirt to cover himself. He didn't need Rachel to know how hard her story was making him.

"She pushed me down on the couch, my head on the arm. For a little while, I closed my eyes, and I just gave in to it. To the sense of this hot, naked body against mine, our tongues exploring each other, my nipples so stiff as she moved around them in slow circles, like a blind woman reading an erotic passage in braille. I started to feel dizzy as the heat spread throughout my body, the anticipation building, hips moving on their own. I wanted more. I guess I haven't been kissed that way enough in my life. Then I heard the door open."

Rachel looked at him, and Mel let his thumbs rub the back of her hands.

"I'd just gotten home. I saw you there. I didn't want to interrupt. Wasn't . . . wasn't sure if I was intruding. I didn't know how to feel. So I stepped out," he said. "And Anastasia invited me in for tea."

"You must have set Soong off. She broke the kiss. Moved up. None of that weakness, that slowness. Energized. She had one leg up over the arm of the couch, and it was right there, in her face. It was the first time I'd seen another woman's vag up close, and the smell was like . . . their smell. How you smelled yesterday, in the laundry. She started to rub on me, and she was dripping wet, just smearing it around. It came to me that she was doing to me what they had done to you. Soong was marking me."

Rachel took a deep breath. She squeezed his hands.

"And . . . I opened my mouth. I put my tongue out. For the first time in my life, I really wanted to know what another woman tasted like. Told myself that it would be okay, we'd come this far. And it wasn't like it was Jordie. Just her roommate. So excited, I couldn't really think straight. Maybe you don't get it, because you've been getting your rocks off, but being around you, and all three of you are so open about it, seeing all that sex . . . it's been infecting my dreams."

"Anastasia told me," Mel said. "Or started to tell me. You had a dream about me, she was going to interpret."

Her blue eyes went wide, deer in the headlights.

"If it makes you feel any better," he said. "I've been having dreams about you, too. Not that different."

Rachel's mouth opened and closed for a moment, like a mudfish gulping air. Then she drew up her head, straightened her shoulders, and seemed to digest that fact.

"I'll want to hear about that. Later. We can compare notes. But the thing that brought me over here is . . . I actually had my tongue inside her. Licking. I could hear her breathing increase, getting louder. It wasn't quite moaning, but it was audible. Soong was moving, pressing her vag so close against my face I could hardly breathe. I was getting into it, fully committed, I wanted to feel her quiver, I wanted to taste when she . . . but then someone patted at my knee, and Soong pulled herself off me. I looked up, Soong's juices running down my chin, and Jordie was there in front of me, holding my smartphone, and she had typed a message like she was going to send a text:"

She released his hands to pull the phone from a pocket. Swiped at it for a bit, then turned it towards him. Mel looked at the screen.

NEED MEL NOW.

Mel blinked. He read the message again. Jordan typed it. Jordan could text. It felt stupidly obvious in hindsight. Like he'd been trapped in a story from the last century. Because neither of them had a phone. They could have been texting this entire time.

"Okay," he said.

"Do you know what that's about?" Rachel asked.

"I think I do," Mel said, as he stood. "Um. I think I need to go see about that."

"Wait," Rachel said. She reached out and grabbed his arm. "You're not upset, are you? About — everything? "

"No," Mel said and gave a tired smile. "I'm not upset. Why would I be? In the same situation, I'd probably have acted the exact same way. And I think . . . I don't know for sure, but I think Soong was trying to mark you for your own protection. Because the other brain slug hosts were there. Like, telling them you were off limits."

Rachel searched his eyes and seemed satisfied with what she saw there. She nodded.

"We need to talk more, later," she said. "I want to hear about these dreams."

"Deal," Mel agreed.

"Alright," she said, standing up and straightening her shirt. "Let's go."

Mel hesitated.

"If this is what I think it is, it might get intimate," he said. "Are you sure—"

"I'm wetter than Beaver Lake," she said dryly. "And I like to watch. And for future reference? I don't care if you watch either."

The blonde smiled as she said it, as if by putting it into words she had gotten something off of her chest. Mel had nothing to say to that, so they filed out of the apartment, across the hall, where Jordan, Soong, and their guests were waiting to be fed.