Dion never had cause to visit a history professor’s office. While he had to take humanities courses as an undergraduate, they were nothing but rote memorization and regurgitating facts for exams. An easy ‘A’, as one would call it. No real reason to avail himself to the professor’s office hours if he had no questions. None aside from socializing or networking for a career in… whatever history majors did after graduation. Neither of those appealed to him, so he kept well away.
He expected a lot of historical artifacts, books, dust, and leather furniture. Dr. Gilbert had half of those. The leather furniture was there, but only one bookshelf. Even that was not stuffed with books, as one shelf was full of bottled water.
No historical posters or even reproductions on the wall, save for one. This was a framed reproduction of a newspaper article announcing the emancipation proclamation. The rest of the wall was dominated with material about Samantha. Printed online articles about him being the historic first transgender dean of history at Crawford. Press releases and fawning reviews of his book on gender roles in the Civil War (Dion never heard of it, nor saw it in shops or libraries). His PhD in History and honorary PhD in Humanities and Social Justice. Most of the wall was dominated with a flag with so many clashing colors and triangles it gave Dion an odd pressure behind his eyes from the simple act of looking at it. Never got any easier to look at no how often it caught his eye.
A black leather couch large enough to allow two people to lay on it sat against one wall. However, as they entered the room, Samantha gestured at a matching chair situated in front of a mahogany desk. “Have a seat there, Dr. Thade.” He less stated and more ordered.
Dion complied. It was a little close to the desk for comfort, so he scooted back. The fancy computer on top looked expensive. It had a black casing and a flat monitor. Dion never knew the model or make of any computers. They were all gizmos to him. Particularly fragile gizmos prone to detonating if he brushed against them. When he slid back, his chair screeched over the hardwood floor, making an awkward situation all the more awkward.
“Hey!” Samantha snatched the back of Dion’s chair. “Watch the floor! I just had it stained!”
Every muscle in Dion’s body locked up. Eyes big as saucers and staring at Samantha. How much more trouble could he get into? The other professor already had something on him, he knew it. Brought him to his office for who knew what. A vague sense of danger permeated his very essence. Had to try and smooth things over and hope for the best.
“Uh… I um, didn’t want to… damage your computer.” He sputtered, never breaking eye contact with the cat. Sometimes, staring was just as suspicious as looking away.
“Damage my…..” The anger vanished, replaced by a smirk. “It’s not made of porcelain. A little brush couldn’t possibly damage it. Why would you think that?”
Dion did not expect a follow up question. That just made things worse. “Uh, um… no….” Do not say ‘no reason’. That was a lie and even more suspicious. “I’m… clumsy. Might knock it over.”
A short laugh. “Don’t insult both of our intelligences. I assure you, I already know.” He gave Dion a pat on the cheek. It instantly felt dirty and he pulled away.
“So tense….” The cat stepped away. “You really should relax, Dr. Thade. I’m quite easy to get along with. I care for you as I would any of the professors who work under me, even those in different departments.”
Dion did not like that last part. He did not work under him; that is what ‘different departments’ meant.
The cat walked to a cabinet table underneath the garish flag. The wood was dark mahogany, like the rest of the furniture. Probably a set. None of the pieces had a single scratch, clearly new and well cared for. Well, almost none of them. The couch had more than a few scuffs. On top of the cabinet was a small serving tray. A crystal flask full of amber liquid sat atop it, along with a bucket full of ice. Only partially melted ice; Samantha expected company. He took two glasses out of the top drawer.
“May I offer you a drink?” The cat asked. “This is excellent bourbon. The cheap stuff may be the choice of rednecks who want to get blackout drunk, but I assure you this is the good stuff.” Before Dion could answer, he started adding ice to both glasses.
“I… don’t drink.” Mental impairment was the last thing Dion needed. Stay lucid. Stay focused.
“Oh, you’re away for a night. You can cut loose. Just a little.” He poured an equal measure of liquid into both glasses, then added a little more to one. “I doubt your wife will mind if you come home a little drunk. Elizabeth, correct?”
He walked towards Dion with what were meant to be elegant steps. Ladylike clicks of the heels. He had a lot of practice, but still lumbered a bit. As much training as he had, his hips were too narrow. The heavier glass was set before Dion. Samantha took his and had a seat on the opposite side. He crossed his legs, thought better of it, and adjusted himself so his legs were further apart.
He knew who his wife was. That the cat did his homework on him was even more disconcerting. All the more reason not to drink. “No, thank you. I, um… don’t like to lose control….”
Another chuckle. “Oh, you think you’re in control right now? Interesting. What makes you say that?”
Dion winced. “I.. I’m not sure. It’s… just, um… I don’t… and…”
Samantha sighed and took a sip of his booze. A small, red lip-print remained on the rim of the glass. “Word games are getting tiresome. Come out and say it. I already know what you are.”
“I….” Come clean? No, he could not. The skunk looked at a bare spot of wall to the right of the window behind Samantha’s desk. “… don’t know what you mean.”
From the periphery of his vision, he saw Dr. Gilbert’s entire countenance change. Tilting his muzzle down, his voice took on an angry edge. No amount of erudite mannerisms could hide it. “Don’t play dumb with me, Diomedes. You can fool those normal idiots out there, but you can’t fool me. I know exactly what you are!” He put his glass down, but not so gently to keep the ice cubes from rattling. “You may be able to hide your purple hair and eyes, but I’ve dealt with one of your kind before.”
Dion wished he could shrink away. Vanish totally. “Purple… um… how did you know that?” He knew that his purple roots were showing. Sometimes, he got lazy and avoided dying his hair. In a huge lecture hall, who could tell? Paying for it now.
“Doesn’t matter, does it? I just know. Izorian.”
The word was a punch in the gut. Dion wrapped his arms around his midsection and felt his head swim. Found out. Exposed. Dragged into the light. The expensive food consumed rose in his gorge and he swallowed to keep himself from vomiting.
Samantha’s muzzle stretched into a wide grin. Dion’s discomfort was better than the booze; the cat drank it in. “Knew it… just like her. Can’t hide your magical nature. Not from me.”
Her? Dion tilted his head. “Just like… who?”
“You know who I’m talking about…..” He paused, then shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t… never saw another one like her. Heard her talking with that rabbit… better than her kind… left them. No, he wouldn’t know.” Was he monologuing? Maybe Dion could sneak out while he was busy?
No luck. He moved his head back up and locked eyes with Dion. “No, you wouldn’t know her. But she looked a lot like you. Just a… beautiful woman. Stunning, really.” His tail wagged. “Shame she was a sociopath and egomaniac, but what can you do? I have her to thank for this beautiful body.”
The enchantments. That explained them. Altered his body into… that. Would not have been Dion’s first choice, or even in the top 100.
“But… why?” Dion’s curiosity was a moral imperative at that point. He could not fathom why a person would do that to another. Overly obvious it was not his natural form, mixing a confused mess of gender feature. Maybe it was for the best he was so naïve. His brother, Jason, would have had a lot to say on the utility of such a body. “Why would anyone do that to you?”
“Heh, that’s what it gets more interesting.” The cat took another swig of booze. The lipstick stains multiplied. He could have at least put it in the same spot. “Myself and nine other men were her… playthings. Slaves.”
Words had power. Some words more powerful than others. Context was important, as was the audience. Samantha Gilbert, whether on accident or for his own devious purposes, deployed such a word against Dion. All the weight of generations of guilt came down upon his head. The past he tried to run from, the crimes his parents spoke of, the historical ills of his people enclosed him in an instant. Freezing, poisonous water running through his veins. He should have known better. Should have known he could never escape what he was. His mother was right. There were people out there hunting him.
Maybe. Was this one hunting him? Fears gathered in his head. Not just for himself, but for Elizabeth. It did not matter overmuch what happened to him. Well, it did; he was not so pathological he wanted to die. Her? She was innocent. He had to do something, but what could he do? Indecision weighed so heavily he could not move his limbs. One could only guess how long he stared before he got the vague sense Samantha was still talking.
“Dr. Thade…….? Diomedes?” The cat spoke to the catatonic. Irritated with the delay in response, he took the tone of a snappish schoolmarm. “Diomedes Thade, are you even listening to me?!”
Dion snapped back to reality. “Ah!” He missed everything. Now he was in even worse trouble! “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean….”
“Sorry?” The cat cut him off. His expression softened so quickly one would think he slipped on a mask. “Don’t be. I learned much from her. The sex was good. Great, in fact.” Oh, she used him for that too. The gorge rose in Dion’s throat once more. His visible discomfort did not slow the cat’s outpouring of words. “Even if her rabbit was a little… rough sometimes.” His paw went up and rubbed his jaw, traced down the jawline to his chest, then to his belly. Remembering old injuries, he might not have even been aware he did it.
“But, it was worth it… can’t blame her. She didn’t know who I was. Her equal. Not like the rest……” A dry chuckle and head shake. “The other men seemed suitable to the work. They almost seemed to enjoy it. Good maids… even if they hated the sex. Idiots. If they let go, could’ve had more fun….”
“Look… um…” Dion started. “What happened was…..”
“In time, I would’ve convinced her…” Samantha kept talking as though Dion was not there. “…showed her we were equals. That’d show that stupid rabbit, and I’d learn more….” His attention moved to Dion. “But she still treated me like a slave. One of your people. Just like you, thinking you’re great just because your blood gives you magic.”
“I don’t… I’m sorry….it’s…” Dion squirmed backwards in his seat, trying to justify himself. He did not get the chance.
“You may as well’ve held my chains yourself. This is your fault, you and people like you.” He grinned to show his fangs.
He was being crushed. The weight, suffocating. It was too much to bear. His eyes welled with tears. “No, please! I… I didn’t know her… it wasn’t….”
“Don’t try to escape it. Your entire civilization was built on slavery!” Samantha leaned forward on the desk. “All of it! I know your history, so don’t try to hide it!”
Dion winced. He wished the chair would just absorb him. Teleport him away to the safest place imaginable. Or a few kilometers beneath the Earth’s crust. Either was fine. Shame he never learned how to teleport. It would have been easier than trying to deny the accusations.
“Everything she did to me… it wasn’t all butterflies and sex. No, she was still cruel. How she punished us. Might as well have been you.” His tail flicked back and forth; a cat toying with a mouse. “You’re responsible for that too. You and everyone like you.”
Verbal barbs should not have hurt, but they did. He tried to tell himself that he was not responsible for Samantha’s condition. It was not him that wounded him. He did not know the game Samantha was playing. He was at the cat’s mercy, and he knew exactly what to say. A few months ago, he was on his way to shedding the blame from the sins of his people. It happened so long ago. He had the love of a woman who constantly reminded him he was not at fault. He never owned slaves, nor did any of the Izorians he ever met.
Being faced with someone oppressed, objectified, and permanently altered by someone of his bloodline, caused it all to collapse inward like a dying star. How could he forget when the consequences of his evil blood were staring him in the face? This was not theoretical. It was as real as the black and white striped tail behind him.
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“I’m so, so sorry.” Dion felt tears in the corners of his eyes. Pain. The thought that it made him look weak did not occur to him. In that moment, he was Samantha’s persecutor. “Look, I can’t… I can’t begin to… what you went through… it’s…” Dion could not vocalize his thoughts. To his credit, the world’s greatest orator would have been unable to put the cacophonous swirl of shame, guilt, blame, and self-loathing running through his head into words.
Samantha did not look offended.
“You can’t imagine what I went through? That it? No, of course you can’t…” He reached a paw up to finger his necklace. “You powerful people never can. Don’t know what it’s like to be powerless. But you’re in my power now. Don’t even think about trying to magic me away. I’m protected.” He tugged on the necklace, freeing it from under his dress. The charm dangled before Dion. “See?”
As it was thrust into his face, Dion had no trouble noticing. A silver disk with a pentacle etched into it. Each line was a different shade of red. The edges were embellished with intersecting rhombi around the entire rim in a pseudo-tribal pattern. It looked similar to jewelry sold at tourist traps near locations famous for historical witches. Normally, this meant nothing, as any item could serve as a conveyance for powerful enchantments. Dion did not even need to turn on his magical sight, as there was no feeling of magic about it at all. This jewelry was about as magical as an unadorned baked potato.
“Um…what is it?” He asked.
“You can’t tell? Heh, it’s that powerful.” Samantha looked triumphant as he tucked it back between his breasts. “It’s an amulet of magic nullification. The mouse that told me where to get you sold it to me. You can’t imagine how much it cost. But it’s worth it. You came. Fell right into my trap. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Dion could have done something about it. Engulf Samantha in flames. Freeze him solid. A heart-stopping jolt of electricity. A simple bolt of force delivered to the skull, enough to pulverize his gray matter. Were he more adept, a little poison, or boiling his blood, or filling his mind with enough nightmarish hallucinations to cause him to spend the remainder of his days in a padded cell raving at his invisible tormenters.
No, none of that. The amulet may as well have been real, for Dion would never harm him. The thought of hurting someone so oppressed was far from his mind. He truly was in Samantha’s power.
“I… I won’t do anything… just… just tell me what you want. Leave me and my wife alone. Please.”
“Right to the point, then?” Samantha leaned back in his chair, looking like a cat with a bellyful of cream. “Glad you know who’s in charge.”
His paw went to the lower right drawer of his desk. Taken from it was a small glass bottle. It had the appearance of a perfume bottle from a store that sold only designer goods. A spray nozzle with an old-fashioned atomizer on it. The only label was a black silhouette of a lioness in front of a royal purple background. It was about one quarter full of pale orange fluid.
“I’m sure you know what this is…..” The cat sneered. “Strong stuff... don’t want to waste it. Take it in.” He slid it toward Dion.
Dion could tell, even before picking it up, it held potent magical energy. It had the faint scent of bergamot and peony flowers, with a hint of cedar and a white musk finish. He knew nothing about perfume, but the identity of the scents coalesced in his thoughts. Not a good sign.
Magical sight on. The bottle lit up like a lantern with lumens measured in the 100s. Searingly incandescent to the point of causing pain. He dialed the sight back. It only helped a little. The brilliant silver halo around it glowed bright enough to nearly obscure the aura of his paws. Clearly Izorian. Tendrils of energy sublimated from the top of it, billowing like smoke. Throughout the silver, he saw dancing swirls of pink and lavender. The swirls… Dion never saw anything like this before, but his blood recognized it. An Izorian did not have to study any books to know their own magic.
Enchantment upon enchantment layered into the perfume. A chemical signal inlaid into the scent. It was a carnal thing, a debauched thing. Designed to drive the base desires of men and women. The result? Make whoever was wearing it irresistible to anyone who smelled it. A sniff was enough to conjure all manner of sexual thoughts in the sniffer. Loosening restraint and even pushing someone beyond their normal preferences. It was not something that overtly controlled the mind, but would amplify the user’s natural sex drive. The more oversexed, the stronger the effect. On someone reluctant, they would find themselves the victim of lots of unwanted affection. Perhaps even to the point of sexual assault. To someone more unscrupulous and powerful, it would create all the willing victims they could ever want.
In short, a very evil perfume.
“Where did you get this?” Dion asked, locking eyes with the cat.
“Not paying attention?” Samantha sneered. “Hate it when people do that. Try and keep up. The sorceress who made me this way, remember? Your kin? After she died…..”
“She died?” Dion’s muscles tensed. He never met her and did not approve of her methods, but still felt a pang of want. A little, quiet tease in the back of his mind. He would have, maybe, liked to meet her. So much one could learn from someone who practiced magic. Every Izorian was naturally curious about it and she had a lot of talent.
“Well, yes. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” The cat crossed his arms under his breasts, incredulous.
“How did she die?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” He rolled his eyes. “If you must know, some hick found her. Sliced her head off. Hate him almost as much as I do the other maids…”
Inquisitiveness shifted to unease. The intricacy and power of her work were parsecs ahead of anything he ever saw before. If there was someone out there capable of killing that, it meant even his mother underestimated the dangers of the outside world. He could not ruminate on this long; Samantha was still talking and his needling already had the skunk trained to listen.
“I took all the perfume I could carry. Stashed it away in every pocket of my uniform. The others didn’t notice, but I don’t think they would’ve cared.” Samantha put his paws on the table and leaned in. “But, you recognize it, don’t you? You know what it does?”
Something changed in Samantha’s voice. Up until that point, he was confident. There was a crack in his persona. Dion could not quite place it.
“Yes, I do…you should get rid of it right away. No good can come of using that.”
Samantha….laughed. No fear, no surprise. Laughter.
When it cleared, he spoke. “Why would I want to do that? It’s wonderful! I have my pick of the students. Hell, of the faculty too! A few sprays of this, I can get people to do whatever I want. Show a little leg. Wiggle my ass. Blow a kiss. They follow me around like little foxes in heat.” His tail frenetically waved behind him. “Got to be the head of the history department in less than a year after getting back because of this. Just took a few favors…and some blackmail.”
“That’s… not… um… oh…” Dion was nervous to say what he actually thought. Stammer out words and hope that the cat did not call him on it.
“Useful stuff if you’re clever. I know exactly how to leverage it to my advantage, now that I’m not shackled by that collar or at the mercy of those other fools.” He looked away. For just a moment, the mask slipped. Confidence vanished and fear moved in. It came back in half a second.
“But, this is my last bottle. That’s why you’re here.”
Samantha leaned in after locking eyes with Dion. Past the veil, deep inside of them, he saw desire. Not for the skunk, as such. No, something else. Greed and lust and pride mingling together in a manic maelstrom.
“You do know how to make more, right? You’re just like her, so you have to know.”
Could he? Possibly. He never had occasion to make such a thing. Even if he did, why would he? He knew about it from his history lessons. Perfumes used by masters to beguile their slaves when brute force was unwise or ineffective. Used on their sex slaves to make them irresistible to others they wanted money or favors from. An evil thing that turned lust into a weapon. Not exactly advanced, but very specialized. He did not want to try.
But, he also did not want to set Dr. Gilbert off.
“It’s… uh… possible?” Never had reason to study it. Why would he want something designed to garner more attention?
“Then it’s settled.” The cat smiled, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look. “How soon can you get me another bottle?”
He never agreed to this. No. He shook his head.
“It’s… it’s not….” Dion pushed the bottle away. “This stuff’s dangerous. I mean… exposure to this every day… or even every month, um… it’ll mess with your mind. It’s very… uh… well…” How could he explain magical contamination to someone with so little magical knowledge? “… it builds up in your system. Eventually hurts you unless a potent magical source is nearby to heal the damage. And your mind… it’s addictive. Pretty soon, all you can think of is…..”
Dr. Gilbert did not look at all horrified; not even worried. He laughed. Not dainty or feminine. It had a tinge of madness to it. Fixation on unhealthy desires could bring that on. The second boisterous laugh was no less unsettling than the first.
“I don’t care.” Dr. Gilbert said. “It hasn’t hurt me so far. It’s been nearly two years and I’m just as hale as I’ve ever been.” He leaned forward. “And you didn’t answer my question. When can you get me more?”
That was enough for Dion. He never used magic for personal gain. Not for himself, not for Liz. Certainly not for an oversexed professor of something that was not even science related. He shook his head.
“No. No good can come of it. I… I can’t.” He paused. Then added. “I’m sorry.”
Not the answer Samantha was looking for. Eyes blazed. He was not a man used to hearing the word ‘no’ on the best of days. Now, he had the look of a busted junkie. A man whose supply was cut off. Eyes blazing, he slammed both palms on the desk. The bang echoed in the room, causing Dion to jump in his seat with so much force it slid back two feet.
“Listen here! That’s not a request, you pompous bastard!” The cat started strong. “You think you’re so much better than everyone, just because you’re a race of magic using tyrants? I let her push me around, but not now. She’s dead, and you’re in my world now. I have all the power. Power over you. You’ll do what I tell you or you won’t like the fucking consequences!!”
Gone was the veneer of professionalism. Pure desire now. Pure force of will. It worked. Dion shrunk back. Heart racing, he knew he was in trouble.
“Please….” He had to try to appeal for whatever passed for Samantha’s good nature. “I… I don’t want to do this. My conscience…..”
Samantha snorted. “Conscience? Your kind doesn’t have one. It’s useless anyway. Defective. An evolutionary holdover. Helpful for the big stuff, but for this? Nah.” He smiled. “I’m doing those kids a favor. So many come from stuffy, conservative homes. I’m just showing them there’s a whole world out there. Letting them live as their true selves. It’s the only good thing that bitch in the red dress gave me.”
“Forcing yourself on someone isn’t right.” The best the skunk could do.
“No one asked me my opinion on it.” Samantha broke eye contact with the skunk for half a second. Something there, then it was gone. “But it was worth it. Loosened me up……” His forceful demeanor returned like the tide. “And you? You’re going to make me more so I can keep my lifestyle going. If not, your life’s over.”
Dion tilted his head. He did not want to know, but still had to ask. “Um… how?”
“I have a lot of influence. The way I am, they pander to me all the time. Just a word and you’ll never get higher than a professor. No research, no grants, nothing. Just teaching to hordes of entry level students till you retire or die.” He leaned in. “Won’t stop there either. The hospital your Catholic schoolgirl wife works at? Linked to the school. Consider her fired. She won’t even get a job as a dietician in a nursing home by the time I’m through with her.”
Dion shuddered. He could weather the storm, probably. Samantha, those like him, they could not last long like this, right? Liz was another matter. She loved what she did. Truth be told, he hated teaching here. Too many students. Doing that for more than a few years and Dion might not make it.
But it got worse. Samantha licked his lips.
“Might even say you said a bunch of transphobic stuff about me. Called me names, ridiculed me. The small town, bigoted new professor picking on the poor trans professor. I can cry on cue. Might even say you tried to rape me.” The cat chuckled. “Think you could survive jail? I’m sure you’d be real popular there.”
“Who… who would believe you? You’d be lying.” Naïve.
“Who? More people than you’d think.” Samantha’s tail flicked back and forth behind him. He was having fun. “Enough, anyway. Those who don’t know better than to say something. Besides, would it matter? The accusation would be enough. Stuff like that never goes away.” He leaned in. “It’ll follow you for life.”
The walls were not closing in. They fell on Dion, crushing him. Dion did not want to play along with this. What he was asking went amoral and into monstrous territory. Might as well give a flamethrower to an arsonist.
Samantha held all the cards. His position was in jeopardy. Maybe even his life. The only reason he was here in the first place was at the cat’s behest. How could he have been so foolish to take this job? Did not deserve it, not qualified. Not even the right fit. Wanting it so badly disabled his judgement. His entire life could be turned upside down with one word from Dr. Gilbert. What choice did he have? He had to do it.
“Um… hey, um… no need to… get angry. I can do it.” Maybe it would not be so bad? It was not like the stuff actually controlled someone’s mind. Just… loosened their inhibitions. Like a few strong drinks. To teenagers. No! Bad example. No more attempts to rationalize it for the moment. He could do it later when his pulse was not in the 120s.
The cat’s expression changed with the speed of someone peeling off a mask. Corners of his muzzle turned up in a contented smile and he settled in his chair. “I thought so. How long until it’s ready?”
“Uh….” A more onerous question. “Probably… um, with figuring it out… a couple months?”
Samantha rolled his eyes. “No. You have a week.”
“A week?!” Every muscle went taut. “Impossible! No! I don’t know how to do that! It takes time and….”
Samantha put a fingertip to Dion’s lips. Silence was instantaneous, as was the disgust. Where had those fingers been? “Hush. She only took a day to make it. You can figure it out in a week.” He withdrew his paw. “Think of it as a means to show off. Your kind loves showing off.”
Better find a way. The price of failure was too dear to think about. The price of success was also going to be steep, but Dion had to pay either way.
Trapped by a degenerate, at his mercy, no choice. He nodded. “I’ll….I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Satisfied, the cat reached into his desk and pulled out an empty bottle. This one had a picture of a bear with a yellow label. He slid it to Dion. “You can find some of the residue in this. I’ll be keeping the one with some left. I have a few student meetings tomorrow and I want them to go well.” His tail arched up and flicked at the thought.
Dion hid his disgust poorly.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. You can have the same thing if you like. I’m sure you can make as much of this stuff as you want. I could even introduce you to some of the more adventurous ones. I could talk them into any fetish you like. Have before.”
“I’d… prefer not to have contact with you after this.” Dion stated.
A short laugh. “Perish the thought. You’re going to be my source of this in perpetuity.” Samantha licked his lips. “But, don’t feel bad. I treat my underlings well. You’ll be paid. Materials and a little extra. I’ll make sure your name comes up whenever there’s talk of a research project or deanship. Could help you network to get published with as little effort as possible. It’s all about who you know anyway. Help me and I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
“… fine.” Dion looked away.
“Wonderful. I’ll text you later with my contact information. Don’t worry, I already have yours.” He stood up. “You may leave. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do. As do I….” He traced a finger along the partially full bottle of perfume, eyeing it as a thirsty man would a glass of ice water.
Dion swept the empty bottle in his pocket and stood up. He was glad to be out of here. Say your goodbye and get out. “Um, yes sir...” Dion’s body stiffened. Wrong pronoun. Apologize! “Sorry, sorry! Ma’am! It’s… it’s ma’am, right? I mean….”
The cat rolled his eyes. “Whatever you like. I’m not so stupid as to wrap myself up in gender nonsense. It’s all fluid anyway. Whatever one wants, one can make it happen.” He smirked. “But there’s power in playing the offense game and a lot of power in wearing your pronouns on your sleeve. It’s served me well more than once. Hence all the pride regalia.”
Dion did not want to think about it. He just left.