I had come a long way from my first lover, the Duke’s daughter Felicity. We were only together for a week, but it was incredible, not just because I ranked up. The feeling of closeness. She didn’t touch me much, but that made the little she did so special. Something so erotic about the mistress wanting to touch her servant.

But it was only a week. We both knew there wasn’t a future for us, not like we were in love. So we enjoyed ourselves and then broke up before it hurt too much. Fortunately, she gave me a glowing letter of recommendation, easy to get another job as a maid.

That was almost two years ago. My last lover was a princess who helped me reach rank ϛ (six).

Oh but, it wasn’t that I worked myself up through the nobility. After Felicity, well, noble ladies liked massages and Roosa had been right to say my Sapphic mark was good advertising. No affairs, but a couple daughters were perhaps lest chaste and younger widows less lonely for a few nights. None of that had actually improved my rank, though, just helped me improve my skills.

That took up most of my first year in this world. By then, I had enough stats and some money saved and a good grasp of the world to, well, explore. Look for somewhere I liked, for someone I could love. The women I’d been with were all great in their own ways, but they were stuck being a noble. Well, I did sleep with a couple maids, but they were very clear it was stress relief and they wanted to marry someone who could give them a stable life. That wasn’t me.

So I moved on from being a maid. Going from town to town, waitressing was my main job. With good dexterity, I picked up sewing too, good enough to pay for a room and food. I wasn’t so focused on ranks any more, but I still liked having company. Well, being with more experienced women also helped my skills. Maybe I was overthinking it, but I thought the noble ladies probably didn’t need good finger and tongue skills to satisfy them, not knowing better, and that was why my skills barely went up with them.

To cut a long story short, I ran into a few women on my travels who were more challenging to please. The first was a warrior and she was used to being dominant in bed, which gave me a new skill that, based on the very graphic icon, I guessed was called receiving. Because of that or the very enjoyable sex, I ranked up to δ.

The next was a healer. She had a lot of constitution, so I had been pushed to my limits to keep up with her foreplay. Actual “sex” wasn’t important to her. She was a child of Artemis, a gnome, so I guessed she was asexual. Kissing, caressing, but she didn’t want me touching her pussy at all—I didn’t even see it, her underwear staying on. She was fine with touching me, though, so that was my reward for lasting. And my other reward was a rank up, not to mention maxing out those skills.

Oh, speaking of the skills, only I could see them, unlike my stats and class. Considering one icon was a tongue licking a vulva, that was a big relief. I would’ve had to wear gloves in public otherwise.

Also, the skills were only icons, so I came up with names for them. Sometimes, I felt like the names were wrong. Touching was more like caressing, hugging more like cuddling. It didn’t really matter, so I kept it to myself.

Anyway, the Princess. She was from a beastkin kingdom. As a mage, she was travelling towards the frontier—where the blessed lands of the gods met the cursed lands of the devils. I didn’t actually know much about devils or demons or anything, just that everyone said they were evil.

It was nothing to do with me anyway.

The Princess was utterly gorgeous, a lionkin with wild hair like a mane and golden skin, as proud as the queen of the savannah. That pride was what got us together for the couple of weeks she was in town, gathering supplies and stuff—I didn’t need to know what exactly she was doing. As for how, well, I had been in the town for a while, had a reputation, and she wanted to test it.

And she thoroughly tested it.

So I finally broke through to rank ϛ. My stats, other than strength and intelligence, were great, especially charisma. Money was hardly an issue, jobs easy to come by. Easy to make a new acquaintance if I was feeling lonely.

Honestly, I really did feel thankful towards Aphrodite. She had been completely right. I’d spent all my life missing out on what I needed to be happy, and now I knew.

But I also knew I didn’t quite have it. I didn’t have that person who… asked nothing of me. I had lovers, but not a partner—not a wife.

Still, I was young. Kind of. A few years to thirty, and it wasn’t like I planned on having kids. So I didn’t panic, just kept travelling, patient. No need to settle, no need to rush.

In a quiet village by an inland sea, I thought my patience had paid off.

“What can I get ya?” she asked, grinning, eyes squashed by her smile. A jaguarkin, I thought, her ears round and the fur yellow with a black ring, but her tail did have spots. Well, it didn’t really matter if she was a leopardkin or cheetahkan or something.

The important part was the feeling I had when talking to her. How nice her voice sounded, especially when she laughed—and she laughed a lot. I tried to make her laugh a lot. She wasn’t exactly sexy, but I struggled to keep looking her in the eye, shy, but then I looked down and her blouse was a little open, showing off her cleavage, enticing me. I really loved boobs, how they looked and felt. Hers looked like they’d feel amazing.

Hot and giddy, I thankfully had enough charisma to not make a fool out of myself.

Or so I thought.

“Are you single?” I asked nonchalantly between sips of my weak beer—small beer, they called it.

Chasca sighed, her head falling to the side. “I am. My boyfriend cheated on me last month, so I sent him packing,” she said.

My heart soared, but I kept it off my face. I didn’t know about the men, but a lot of women were bisexual. A lot as in, like, a third. There were still pressures to marry a man and have kids, but they were usually open to a fling with me if they were single.

I also felt like she was being a bit flirty, so I thought my odds were good. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, but it’s fine. Better sooner than later with this thing, right?” Chasca said, ending with a chuckle.

I nodded, softly smiling. After a few seconds of silence, I not-so-subtly asked, “And do you have any… ex-girlfriends?”

“Oh no, I’m straight. I’ve had a few too many drinks before and given it a go, but….” Chasca shook her head. “It’s not for me. No shame to those that like it, gods know I’d swear off men if I could, but as the old saying goes: the gash wants what it wants.”

I honestly didn’t know if hearing she was straight hurt more than hearing that horrible euphemism for her pussy.

Well, she wasn’t the first straight woman I’d crushed on. I accepted it, squashed down my feelings, and treated her like a friend. Over the week, we got closer and she eventually told me she lived with her sister here, having left their childhood home after their mother died, father falling into alcoholism and becoming abusive, none of their family willing to step in and help.

“It was hard, but I don’t regret it,” Chasca said, voice soft, fragile. “Whenever I see my sister’s smile, I know it was worth the years of worrying, never knowing if we’d have a safe place to sleep, if we’d have food to eat. It’s worth it.”

I didn’t have any siblings, couldn’t know how she felt. But her voice made my heart ache all the same. “She’s lucky to have such a good big sister,” I said.

She laughed. “Come on, I don’t feel like I deserve that. There were so many things I should’ve done better….”

“Just think about what I heard,” I said, squeezing her hand. “If someone else—a child—managed what you did, would you tell them they could do better?”

After a long second, she shook her head.

“So, don’t tell yourself that, okay?” I said, smiling.

She looked up and returned my smile, then looked down at our joined hands. Looked at my Sapphic mark. But she didn’t look uncomfortable, so I didn’t move.

Eventually, she said, “I’ll bring my sister tomorrow.”

“I’d love to meet her, but… is there a special reason?” I asked.

She let go of my hand, so I didn’t keep holding her, then she patted my hand and looked me in the eye. “She’s also sapphic.”

“Oh?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

She didn’t say any more on it, just gave me a smile.

Sure enough, the next day, her sister was waiting at the bar when I arrived, talking to Chasca. They looked very similar, sounded similar. Even their laughs. Chasca noticed me walking over, so waved and said, “Yew, this is my sister, Pan. Pan, this is Yew.”

“Yew, like the tree?” Pan asked.

“Yup. Pan like for cooking?” I asked back.

Her face scrunched up, cutely smiling, and she nodded. “That’s right.”

Chasca left us to chat and chat we did. What foods we liked, places we’d been, and she was fascinated by my home world, had always wanted to befriend an otherworlder, but had never lived near to the big capitals where the otherworlders came from.

She wasn’t exactly the same as Chasca, but they were very similar. The biggest difference was their age, Chasca just older than me, Pan a few years younger. She was also a scholar, while Chasca was an entertainer—Chasca was very proud of raising a scholar. We didn’t say too much, but we shared some of our history and she wasn’t a virgin either.

We talked all afternoon, all evening, Chasca feeding us and giving us drinks. When those drinks went from small beer to more of an ale, I felt like laughing. She really did want her sister to be happy.

Well, me and Pan, we were adults. Both tipsy, we snuck upstairs to her room when Chasca was in the back. The moment the door closed behind us, we were kissing, caressing each other.

It felt so good. Maybe it was just the alcohol, but I felt so warm, tender. Even through my clothes, her touch felt electric. Her kisses sent tingles down my spine. Sloppy kisses, plenty of tongue.

It felt different.

We spent so long kissing, taking forever to take off our clothes. She looked so beautiful. The purplish skin I’d seen around the region was on the lighter side and she was the same, a soft lavender, but, now she was flushed, more like pink. For some reason, I loved that. Such a pretty colour.

Her dress came off first, my hands moving to her boobs. A little big, soft, her nipples stiff and oh did she like me pinching them, losing her breath the first time and whimpering every time after.

Then off came her underwear, a blonde bush down there. Coarse and thick, but short, maybe she’d shaved a month ago, maybe her natural length. It didn’t matter. I combed through the top of it, just teasing her mound.

That was how we went, slow, dragging out the foreplay. No need to rush, we had all night. I loved it. Ever since the healer, I loved starting slow. To be honest, there wasn’t exactly anything else to do, no Internet or TV or even libraries, so I learned to make the most of sex.

But tonight, it felt different. Emotional. The heat from her kisses lingered in my chest, her touches made me feel so safe. When her lips moved to my nipples, I almost came, so sensitive to her for some reason. I’d done edging and stuff with other women and it hadn’t felt this special.

I was too tipsy, too horny to think about it. All I knew was the feeling in my gut, the tension, was already near my limit.

My mind melting away, I couldn’t focus on her any more. Eyes closed, breaths shuddery, I just accepted her touches, felt the tingles turned to waves, let them crash over me. And when it was too much, I curled up, trembles rolling through me, still feeling her touch, her gentle touch, guiding me through my orgasm, gentle, but firm, my rock in the sea.

I felt so safe, I cried. I’d never cried after sex before. It wasn’t like something hurt or I regretted it or anything. I just… cried. Happy tears.

She didn’t freak out. No, she cradled my head on her lap, stroked my fox ear, and whispered, “Let it all out.”

So I did, crying until I ran out of tears. Once I did, I felt so… freed. Like I’d finally let go of the pain from my last life. I found someone who accepted me, asked for nothing more.

At least, that was what I thought.

That night, I repaid the favour to her, then we cuddled before falling asleep. And for the next few nights, we did the same sort of thing, just that it didn’t feel as intense for me, no crying either.

Gradually, I realised I was still crushing on Chasca and using Pan as a substitute. Once that hit me, I thanked Pan for the company, thanked Chasca for the hospitality, then left.

A little more lonely, a little wiser.

mialbowy

It’s a small thing, but the awkwardness of tables for the stats makes me not want to ever write an actual LitRPG :crying smile: