They set aside their tea so it would not spill and nodded. Tad wasted no time climbing into their lap and yanking the sheer fabric over their head until their antennas squashed flat to the sides of their face. It was an unpleasant sensation, but they weathered it with poise and grace.
Normally, they did not like being touched, and they would certainly have detested anyone else plopping into their lap uninvited. But they had been friends with Tad for years. In fact, she might have been Zef’s closest friend, now that they had parted ways with Denys on less than positive terms.
So Tad sitting in their lap as she smoothed the netting over their head was not an unwelcome physical interaction. Had she ever taken advantage of their closeness to push Zef’s boundaries, they would have been more leery. But despite the single offer to copulate back when they had first met, she never made inappropriate advances.
Thankfully, that offer had been born of curiosity on the Anura’s part, not actual romantic interest. “I’ve never boned a Mantodea,” she had said, giving Zef a clinical onceover before she pulled an intimidatingly large, silicone phallus from her bag. “You’re not really my type, but… meh, I’m open-minded.”
“Oh, no thank you. I have no interest in such things,” they had said, eyeing the sex toy warily.
Rather than be offended, Tad had shrugged and tucked it back into backpack. “Okay, wanna check out my bone collection instead?”
Since they absolutely adored collections of any kind, they had agreed readily. From there, a beautiful friendship had bloomed between them.Like Zef, Tad was strange. Unlike Zef, she did nothing to try to fit in or cover up her otherness. She embraced it, exaggerated it, even. She was unapologetic and brazen, and she utterly fascinated them, right from the start.
She refused to adhere to social norms and ignored cultural expectations. They were envious of this. They strived so hard to be considered normal, to be understood, even when they did not understand the unspoken social contracts everyone else seemed to. It was one of the reasons they so enjoyed Tad’s company.
She said what she meant and meant what she said, and Zef never had to question where they stood. She never expected them to be anything or anyone but who they were. They could simply be themself, and she accepted them without reservation.
So they offered the same in return. Tad, in all her chaotic otherness, could be Tad, and they would not judge her for it. In fact, they preferred her strangeness over the two-faced “normies” out in the real world. At least she was honest.
“Can’t trust a normie,” Tad would say as she braided Zef’s hair. “They’re all fake. That’s why I like you, Zef. You can’t be fake. It goes against your wiring.”
“And I am wired correctly?” they would ask.
“You’re wired the best way,” she would say, giving their cheek a pat. “Now stop moving. You’re ruining the braid.”
As someone who had spent most of their life feeling like their wires were all wrong, they quite liked that.
So when Tad climbed up their body to sit on their shoulders or took their hand to pull them this way or that, Zef never flinched. She was their dearest friend, after all, so she was allowed to touch them.
“Hold still so I don’t cut your hair,” she instructed as she knotted the pantyhose netting on top of their bun and snipped off the excess material. The tip of her long, sticky tongue poked out between her lips in concentration as she tugged and smoothed the net until she was satisfied.
“Is my head the appropriate size for your measurement?” they asked through the netting.
“Close enough,” she said. “It’ll get the job done.”
Tucking their mug of tea under the pantyhose mask, they took a sip. “What job?”
With a nearly condescending tap to their head, she snickered. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”
Zef did want to know the answer, but Tad was stubborn about some things. They decided not to push the issue. They sat with the Anura in their lap as she made three more masks from their pantyhose, using their head as a mannequin.
“Are you ready to retrieve the duffel bag you left here last month?” They pointed to the closet. “I may need the space if the animal healer has many belongings.”
Tracking a buzzing insect with one eye, she pondered a moment. Her long tongue shot out and captured the poor creature, and she crunched down on it as she said, “There’s still too much heat on me. Can the bag stay here a bit longer?”
“I suppose, though, you should hire a repairman,” they advised, and she cocked her head at them. “The air conditioning in your home has been broken far too long if temperature-sensitive material cannot weather the heat.”
For a moment, humor danced in the Anura’s eyes, and she even released a snort before she schooled her features. “Okay, Zef. I’ll get that air conditioning fixed and pick up the duffel soon.”
“And I still cannot know what is in it?”
“Better if you don’t,” she said with another pat to their head.
Knowing Tad, the duffel was probably full of sex toys or hard-core kink paraphernalia, so perhaps it was better they remain ignorant. Not that they were prudish about such matters. Just because they did not want to participate in those activities did not mean they were not curious.
Their favorite types of documentaries were those that focused on the psychology behind culture and society, sexuality and intimacy, and communities generally considered “outside the norm.” Life was beautiful and diverse, even in regard to activities Zef personally found unappealing.
“I could handle it,” they said, somewhat stiffly, as they fought the urge to pout like a child.
