The Accidental Necromancer
Skirts are More Practical

I woke up first, as the early morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains. Kathy had rolled over, and I was able to slip out and get dressed. I shook her gently awake.

“Hey,” I said. “Don’t know what time you need to be up for work.”

“Work,” she said, sticking out her tongue as her eyes fluttered open.

“I’ll let you sleep in, if you tell me what time you need to get up.”

She shook her head. “I was having the loveliest dream,” she said. “But it’s too late now. Don’t worry, I wasn’t so drunk that I don’t remember what a gentleman you were. Do you want to turn your head before I get out of bed?”

I shook my head. “Hell no.”

She grinned. “Good. Can I come back tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure of my schedule,” I said honestly. “I think I’m busy tomorrow. But I’d be happy to keep getting to know you better.”

“Well,” she said. “I’m at home most nights. So come knocking. I know a don’t-call-me-I’ll-call-you when I hear one.”

“But I really will call you.”

“Really?”

“Promise.”

She held her fingers close. “I might be just this much insecure.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Kathy. With your clothes on or off. And there are lots of fish in the sea.”

“I scare the fish. Or the fish scare me. I was really hitting it off with this guy, once, and then I did some Googling and looked at some court records and – well, nothing like a few charges for domestic violence to make a guy go from hero to zero. And then this other time, I told a guy he came up clean, and he accused me of being a cyber stalker.”

She was definitely inquisitive. I could understand why she felt it was important to have all the information to protect herself, and I could easily imagine someone feeling their privacy had been invaded, too. “Well,” I said. “Google away.” My dark deep secrets weren’t on the internet.

“Thank you, Abel.” She looked about. “I left my shirt downstairs, didn’t I?”

“Yep.”

She went downstairs, and I followed her, and watched as she covered up her chest again. “Well, I should be getting home. Roxy and Rover will be worrying, and hungry.”

I nodded.

She took a couple of steps toward the door, and hesitated. I waited for her to say something, and she looked like she was trying to figure out what to say, or how to say it, and coming up empty.

I took a stab. “Would you like a goodbye-for-now kiss?”

From the way her eyes lit up, I had scored a bullseye. “Yes, please.” She tilted her head up and waited.

I kissed her. She was a good kisser. Not too aggressive, not too much tongue, but she got really into it. I wondered if I was making a mistake, but it all felt good.

“See you soon, I hope.”

I nodded. “Soon.”

“Goodnight, Abel. And thank you.”

“Goodnight, Kathy,” I replied, even though it was morning. “My pleasure.”

And then she left.

A lot of people with more than one partner lived two lives. They had a spouse, and someone they cheated with. What I loved about being openly polyamorous is that it let me have just one life, one of openness and honesty.

But I had two lives anyway, almost literally, and that made it hard to be as open and honest with everyone as I liked. Maybe I could explain my relationship to Sandra to Gren, but explaining to Sandra that I was a futa in my relationship with Xyla would just generate some blank stares.

Sometimes even honesty wasn’t simple and clearcut.

I heard the Roxy’s and Rover’s joyful yips from next door as Kathy got home, and then I locked the door, threw the bolt, and took a shower. The easiest solution was just to treat the two worlds as separate. What happened in one, stayed there, like people say about Vegas. I couldn’t imagine I’d be completely happy with that solution. People had a right to know things, particularly as they were getting emotionally involved.

I didn’t bother to put clothes on, just a robe. I ate a quick bowl of breakfast cereal, washed it down with some orange juice, and realized I’d left my coffee maker in the other world. I should probably get two. I could certainly afford it now. I ordered one online.

I went down to the basement, carrying all the booze I could carry in my backpack, with a one foot length of 2x4 in my hand, and then I went through the portal.

I started the coffee first, and then the usual problem confronted me. Should I dress sexy, or practical? I compromised by putting on some jeans, which were practical, and a tight red tank-top, which was probably less so, over a lacy blue thong and bra set. While I dressed, I looked at my security cameras. No Xyla, but there was a little squirrel who was scampering back and forth for no apparent reason. Could a squirrel pace?

I’d forgotten the nuts upstairs. Off went the clothes, and the process of getting in and out of them gave me a bit of a buzz. I didn’t want to change out of my futa form, but I didn’t want to give my favorite squirrel a heart attack, either.

Take ‘em on and off as much as you like. Don’t you want to stroke that big girl cock of yours?

I climbed the ladder quickly, ran naked through the house, got the nuts, and ran right back again, before getting dressed all over again while Enash made rude comments. Then I put the bag of nuts, the liquor, and my backpack in the bag of holding, tied the latter to a belt loop, and walked outside.

“Nutty?” I asked. I’d love to say I recognized him, but all squirrels look alike.

He hopped over, and I pulled out the bag of nuts. He stared.

It was a clear plastic bag, and he’d probably never seen so many nuts in one place before in his life. Well, he wasn’t getting them all at once. I reached in, extracted a handful, and let him nibble them out of my hand. While he was eating, I put the bag away. He seemed pretty happy with unsalted nuts. When he was finished, he looked around, and even ran behind me, probably trying to figure out where the bag went. Finally, he scampered off, moving too fast for me to follow, so I didn’t.

Just as well, I hadn’t had my coffee. I went back into the crypt, poured myself a cup, and drank. The stone walls were foreboding. They made the place look like, well, what it was. I could cover them up with wood veneer and make the place homey. Big screens showing the security camera footage would not only make me more instantly aware of what was going on, but they would substitute for windows without reducing the tomb’s fortress-like qualities. Maybe some sanding and then a coat of paint for the doors. A few pictures here and there.

As if I didn’t have enough projects I was behind on.

I just finished my morning cup when Xyla came into the clearing out front, and I went out to greet her.

Most of the bandages were off, but it looked like most of the skin beneath had come a long way. She gave me a kiss, and I didn’t have to hold her quite so gingerly. I enjoyed the way our bodies felt together.

“You have coffee breath,” she said, making a face.

“And you smell like lavender and honeysuckle.”

“Yay! I win. But you’re still super sexy. We have a little problem, though.”

“Yeah?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“Your zombies are still working away, and there really isn’t anything more for them to do. First they picked up the big stuff, which was great. Then the things I could lift. Then smaller things, and then every twig, and now I think they’re scrabbling in the dirt trying to find slivers. You told them to pick up everything loose in the area, and they are doing it. One of them spent an hour chasing a young squirrel and trying to pick it up.”

“Oops, sorry.”

“Well, it entertained the squirrel, anyway. Oh, and you’re making Nutty fat with all those nuts. I told him to go make a zombie play chase for a while, so he could get some more exercise.”

“He likes the nuts. He doesn’t have to eat them.”

“Of course he does. He’s a squirrel. You’ve just personified him, that’s all.”

“You were the one who told me he had a name,” I replied. “Let’s go find the zombies. How’s the forest recovery going?”

“As well as can be expected. Thank you. The zombies helped, even if they are a bit single-minded in their thoroughness.”

I handed her a chocolate bar. “I have some things I’d like to talk about.”

“I love to hear your voice, Abby.” After she got the wrapper open, she put her free hand in mine, holding the bar with the other.

I started by telling her a bit about how I made a living, and how not being able to sell my house had put me in a bit of a bind.

“Oh dear,” she said. “I never meant to cause you such problems.”

“It doesn’t matter, because I’ve also solved them, I think.” I told her about Varek, and taking his bracer, and how much it was worth on Earth. It was a little hard to convey, because of course dollars meant nothing to her, but she could grasp that it paid for all the other things I had bought and then some.

“It makes no sense that a bunch of baubles would be worth more than chocolate bars. Sure they are pretty, but they don’t taste or smell as good. And they aren’t as pretty as Gren. Or me. Or you.”

I liked being pretty. And I saw her point. Gemstones appealed to just one sense, really. They weren’t practical in any way. They were valuable because they were beautiful, but also because they were rare.

I moved on. “Well, and on another note. You know I have girlfriends in the other world, right?” I told her about Sandra, and I also told her about Kathy coming over, and how Kathy had seen her in the window the one time.

“She thinks this skin is paint?” She grabbed my hand and put it on her breast. “It doesn’t come off. Even if you really rub it. What is so hard to believe about green skin?”

Mmm, so soft. I bet she’d yelp nicely if you pinched and twisted, too.

“It just doesn’t happen on Earth. Like magic, that way.” I didn’t buy that the reason why Xyla was making me grope her was to prove it wasn’t paint. I knew that, and she knew that I knew it, and I knew that – well, you get the idea. I also noticed that she was far more concerned about the notion that anyone would think that her skin was painted than that I was sleeping, figuratively, with Sandra, or sleeping, literally, with Kathy.

“Well, that’s fine. It can happen here. I’m glad they like your male body, because I like this one.” She squeezed my tits and looked up at me. “But we should take care of the zombies before getting too involved, no matter how horny you are.”

It seemed to me that she’d been the one initiating everything, but of course now I was aroused. The sight of the first zombie, however, was better than a cold shower for fixing that “problem.”

I sent them all back to guard the crypt, since Xyla had no further use for them that didn’t involve me standing over them and supervising all day.

“Do you have to go back right away?” Xyla asked.

“No. I was thinking I’d like to get to the troll village and talk to Gavabar though, so we can work out a deal. Do you have any use for some slightly more intelligent help?”

“I can always use your help, Abby.” Xyla moved up close, so our chests touched.

“I meant some trolls.” I was increasingly aware of how valuable my time was. There were so many things only I could take care of, whether it be home repair, moving goods between worlds, or ordering zombies. Wait, did she just imply I was “slightly” more intelligent than the zombies?

“Hmf. I don’t trust them.” Xyla’s hands roamed my body, with more than a little special attention to my breasts and thighs. “They don’t smell as nice. They aren’t as fun to look at. They don’t get all hard when I touch them.”

“Do you want them to?”

“Well, no. And I don’t want to touch them either. Their skin isn’t so nice and smooth.” She rubbed the bulge that had developed in my jeans. “I just like making it happen to you.”

Having slept chastely next to an attractive woman all night, I wasn’t difficult to tease. “I’m not in a rush,” I told Xyla, and kissed her.

“I am,” Xyla said, and slipped out of my grasp. But not because she was being a tease. She went to her knees and unzipped my jeans. “Really,” she said. “Those skirts you sometimes wear are much more practical.”

Viewed from her priorities, I suppose they were.