Chapter Text
If Camilla’s hotel rewards points had a face, Gideon would make out with it until she couldn’t breathe.
Gideon sprawled herself out on smooth cool bedsheets in an oasis of calm. She couldn’t believe this was going to be the norm for the tour. Apparently, Camilla and Palamedes had to go to so many conferences she’d banked enough points for them to afford 3 hotel rooms every night they had a show. And no motel shitboxes either. Camilla was a double platinum diamond dogs member so hotel concierges cowered in her wake.
She may have to suffer the company of Harrowhark Nonagesimus, but at the end of the day she would have peace, quiet, and privacy.
To Gideon’s understanding: Nona managed the band’s tiktok out of necessity, because while the rest of them had all learned HTML for their Tumblr blogs back in the day, they needed the help to stay relevant. The result of this was obviously the band stopping on tour at record shops in tiny podunk towns, and then being forced against their will to learn about the latest trends and memes in order to promote their shows.
Currently, they were sitting on stacks of milk crates in somebody’s garage arguing about whether or not they should cover Personal Jesus, or some song Harrow had suggested that sounded like medieval monk hymns about crying in your Subaru. Every once in a while someone else would toss along a song idea, only for it to get batted down either because they’d already done it or it wasn’t up to the Reverend Daughter’s standards.
“Well, I’m going to ask the obvious: have y’all done Pink Pony Club yet?-” Gideon’s question was interrupted as Nona whipped out her phone with mach speed to show her a video from last year.
The band in miniature covered the iconic song in a way that Ms. Chappell Roan herself would have been proud of. The Daughters of the Ninth were in a church (???) with Harrow playing chords on the pipe organ over the pop song that would have absolutely lured Christine Diae into the lair of a masked weirdo. Pal and Cam were grooving while the twig thin bassist appeared to be taking a phone call. It was obvious that Harrow hadn’t been the only temperamental musician; Gideon was surprised the band didn’t break up sooner.
Nona’s hand slipped mid video, and a blue-haired woman with an undercut, in a black sports bra and shorts was flexing on screen. “Hey what’s up -
After just a moment too long, Nona swiped away and Gideon, horrified, had three questions. The image of her older cousin explaining her stamina workout routine in detail, including how to ‘improve your strap game’ and showing hand exercises for wrist and hand strength.
Number One: Why was this on Nona’s algorithm?
Number Two: Why was Nona on Hey Mamas tiktok?
And most importantly,
Number Three: How did this actually work for Pash?
Judging by Pyrrha’s complaints about her cousin, she knew that ‘Our Lady of Passion’ (as the username read) wasn’t having any trouble bringing girls home. Even though she didn’t have the skill of keeping a job or a relationship long-term, something about Pash’s performative workout routine/elevated stoner aesthetic was successful. Gideon wasn’t a prude, and she definitely took pride in her personal fitness; the exercises Pash detailed weren’t news to her. She was a little red at the idea of advertising it on social media, like a big neon sign.
Gideon preferred to find women in The Meat Space, letting her body do the talking for her. And thanks to her IRL strategy, she’d had her fair share of dalliances over the years. Yet somehow, she’d never gotten anywhere romantically with these women. Not even with the hot blonde she’d made out with at many a ritzy wedding reception. She was surprised Pash hadn’t ended up on the 6 o’clock news with all the randos she was talking to online.
As the band quabbled around her about song choices, what key to play in, and other trivial matters, Gideon’s eyes were drawn away. Harrow was methodically stretching her hands as they talked, the motions so entrancing to Gideon’s zoned out brain that she was barely registering whatever nagging Harrow was doing. Holding her wrist with her other hand, she rolled her joint back and forth. Alternating between stretching her fingers out and curling them back in, Harrow absentmindedly massaged out the joints of her hand still managing to argue about something inane at the same time. God, Gideon could only imagine what Harrow could really do with her hands when she was giving someone her full attention. Uhhh something, she definitely meant something.
Gideon was shocked out of her stupor as Harrow was turned to her and said something. “-Griddle?”
“Uhhhh, huh?” Gideon approximated the expression of someone who had been listening and absolutely not focusing on thoughts she refused to vocalize even to herself.
“Which one, my pick or Sextus’s? We need a tiebreaker.” She looked at Gideon questioningly; she’d swapped to stretching the other hand out with her palm up, extending and curling her fingers slowly. “You know, if no one likes either pick we could actually play some of the music that I write for us.”
Camilla stopped tuning her guitar, “That’s an unfair assertion; we play your music all the time on tour.”
“Only on tour.” Harrow said irritably.
“Harrow, it’s just that you have such a great stage presence. The music really is something you’ve got to be in the room to really feel.” Palamedes tried to appease Harrow.
“The point of these videos is to show people something light to get them interested in our style. Give them the chance to find the deep cuts on their own.” Nona said.
“Deep cuts?” Harrow’s tone turned from petulance to outrage. Gideon watched the bow of her lips curve as she bit her cheek before her flame of anger turned volcanic.
This was the point in rehearsal where Gideon actively zoned out as much as possible in an effort to maintain the tenuous truce she and Harrow had built. She wasn’t going to let statements like ‘Gideon I don’t pay you to have opinions, I’m paying you to shut up and play bass” ruin this gig for her. She was cool. She was calm. She was an iceberg of neutrality. Gideon was not going to lose out on this just because a tortured artiste couldn’t handle the idea of pandering to their actual audience.
Eventually they decided to cover Mr. Mastodon Farm, because Harrow just wasn’t there anymore. She’d left when Nona tried to make her film a tiktok mid-artistic integrity rant. After that, it didn’t take long to learn, practice, and shoot a minute and a half long video.
Palamedes hunched over the booth, his forehead resting on the table. “I think I’m going to drop out and start a new life off the grid herding sheep and selling my own handspun yarn. Lambs don’t email you to ‘circle back’ and you certainly don’t need to verify they didn’t write their essays with chat gpt.”
“Sad to tell you, but they’ll still come after you for the student loan money. Might even repossess your drop spindle cause I think the indie yarn market is oversaturated with burnt out professionals.”
The waitress made her way over with four mugs and a pot of coffee and expertly filled them.
“Sextus.” Gideon watched as, at Camilla’s prompting, Pal rose. He took a deep sip of his coffee and his bleary eyes came into focus. Had he slept yet on this tour? In every moment they weren’t on stage or rehearsing he had a laptop out and was writing and researching.
“Feeling better there, bud?”
“Much. Damn good coffee.” He’d readjusted his eyeglasses, and he began to work. Their faithful research librarian had set up an array of laptops around him. Hect and Sextus seemed immediately in their own world and set to typing and emailing.
“Sooooo, how did you guys meet Harrow? I assume you were going through the restricted section of the library, read the wrong incantation, and summoned her from whatever circle of hell she’d been residing in.”
“Not far off, it was in my undergraduate O-Chem class. The first day of class while I was responding to a question from the professor, this girl with a shaved head scoffed in the middle and made a remark under breath about the accuracy of my answer. After class, she dropped a copy of her notes in front of me and walked off without a word.” Palamedes said, almost laughing at the memory.
“She was so standoffish otherwise, that we had to trick her into coming over for dinner by insisting Palamedes needed her help studying for the exam.” Camilla remembered something, and it clearly left a bad taste in her mouth as she spoke. “Before that, the only person we’d seen her hanging out with around campus was her girlfriend who sucked.”
“We obviously had a shared interest in music, and so the band just kind of happened. We were trying to get her out of the house more.”
“How did y’all meet your former bassist? Seems like there was a falling out-”
“That’s a non-starter Gideon. All paths of conversation about her never end well.” Camilla slid Palamedes a book across the table, and stopped her work to look at Gideon.
“Cmon, this is obviously some juicy goss. I’m amazed we haven't talked about it sooner. Sharing is caring.” Camilla’s hesitancy did the opposite of assuage her curiosity.
“She has us there, Cam.” Palamedes nodded.
“See Cam, SexPal agrees with me!” At Gideon’s prodding, Camilla and Palamedes shared two seconds of eye contact in which they seemed to have a whole conversation and reach a decision.
“We need to stop talking about this before it gets out of hand. We can’t beat this dead horse again.”
“Camilla I would love to beat a dead horse with you any day. That’s the core of friendship!”
“She’s right, Nav. The whole ordeal was so incredibly banal that it wouldn’t be unlike anything you’ve heard before.”
Their ex-bandmate must’ve been a packhorse for how much crap Gideon was lugging around. She’d gotten stuck toting around a huge bag of books after she’d watched Harrow try to pull a large tote out of the van and almost break her foot when she dropped it.
Gideon had glanced at the covers as she stuck a couple new magazines in there, saving herself the seconds it’d take to unzip her own bag. Every tome seemed to be a medical textbook on anatomy, orthopedics, or taxidermy.
“What do you need all these books for Nonagesimus? I understand Sextus and Hect bringing things along for his research or whatever, but some of these books really look like you just swept your arm across the shelf at the metaphysical shop labeled ‘ominous books for lesbian witches.”
Harrow, the queen of making silence sound like the violin screeches from Psycho, walked ahead of Gideon into the lobby of the hotel.
“Just tell me, what are the anatomy books for anyway you creep? Are you trying to figure out how to put my bones back together after you kill and dissect me?”
“...I’m a doctor, Nav.”
“Harrow, carrying books of bones around and tiny vials of weird powders does not make you a doctor.”
“I went to medical school for four years, I’m a doctor you imbecile."
“Bullshit, prove it.”
“Prove it?”
“Yeah, prove it. Show me your ID or whatever that says you’re a doctor.”
“It doesn’t work like that Griddle!”
“Well, uh show me your hospital badge or something.”
“I’m not in residency yet. I don’t have one.” Harrow grabbed the bag of books from her (rude), and began pulling out volumes of books and stacking them. “Here’s your proof, you oaf.” She produced a heavy book, with a rich black leather cover embossed with gothic scrolling.
“Is this your grimoire?”
“It’s my fucking thesis.” Venom spilled out of her voice. She lifted it to show the cover, reading Harrow’s name and something about orthopedics. There was some paper wedged in between the pages that looked familiar.
“Lemme see that, you’re fucking with me.”
“I don’t think you’d understand it even if you tried.” She sneered.
“Give it here, you nerd.” Gideon tried to pry the book out of her grasp, freeing the dirty magazine concealed within. Pages of boobie pics just scattered all over the floor.
Harrow’s voice pitched up sharply, “Is it 1996? Have you never heard of the internet and a private browser?!”
“I’m reading them for the articles. You know how Fahrenheit 451 was serialized in Playboy?” She reached to pick it up, accidentally opening it to a two page spread of a perky blonde dressed as an impractical chocolatier showing off her goodies with a quiz that flowed around asking the ever important question “Sex and Candy: Are you the sweet or sour type in bed?”
Harrow raised her brow up at Gideon. Gideon pressed her lips into a thin line. “Yeah, I’ll just- here…” She haphazardly scooped up her magazines.
Nona watched raptly as Gideon finished stacking the final peanut butter cup. Kneeled in front of the hotel microwave, they carefully pressed start.
“And now we wait 7 seconds, no more, no less.” She instructed as Nona scribbled notes on a scrap piece of paper. For old times sake, and to fuck with Harrow, she was giving Nona her Ultra Smores recipe. Either Nona would get sticky fingerprints all over Harrow’s stuff, or Gideon would just be obtaining a new friend in her enemy’s cousin, also succeed in pissing Harrow off.
They’d sat on the floor of Gideon’s hotel room for a long while, just shooting the shit about the generational meme gap. Interrupting a beautiful moment where Gideon was telling a tale of Death Note abridged series lore, Harrow pushed open the door with the air of the shinigami who was kicked out of hell for being too dreary.
“Gross, are you getting Nona to eat those monstrosities? That can’t be good for you.”
“Says the girl who never ate a carb, and hates all flavor. You wouldn’t even eat an olive garden bread stick in the apocalypse.”
“Well that’s just because bread makes you fat-” Harrow looked at her with a half smile.
“Wait, bread makes you fat?” Gideon’s mind was blown.
“Well, don’t get an eating disorder about it.” Harrow said wryly.
“Harrow.” Nona looked up, cutting her off before she could say more. “Everything good?”
Harrow blinked and quickly responded, “I’m fine.” Weird.
With no time wasted, Nona fixed an imploring gaze upon Gideon. “Gideon, can I ask of you a great favor? A friend of mine wants to take me out to dinner after the show tonight and I’m afraid I may be out too late to look after Noodle. Can I entrust you with the duty of his care?” Nona held out the tiny plastic toy to Gideon.
“Nona, she might be too busy-” Why was Harrow looking at her and shaking her head. Was she afraid that her cousin would find out what she was really like from even minor contact with Gideon?
“Sure? Should be easy enough.” Gideon watched Harrow’s expression change with finality; something dark had been put into motion.
A dark bundle of cloth was tossed across the room to Gideon. “Your performance black clothes looked fit for a middle school jazz band performance.” Harrow crossed her arms at the lack of reply. “Camilla made them, so you don’t have to worry about my having poisoned them with arsenic. If you want though, I could add a collar made of asbestos for you.”
“Damn, none of my loved ones have been diagnosed with mesothelioma. I could really be the first.” Gideon held out her old button down show shirt in front of her. “You didn’t like the pop punk starter set, the ye olde Gerard Way knockoff kit?”
“no.”
Gideon went to stick the clothes into her suitcase. “Well, give her my thanks then.”
“Nav, I came here to have you try them on. Now.”
“Now?”
“Now, Griddle. She made these without measurements for you, so if they need any alterations, Camilla will need to make them before the show tonight.”
“Ok if you want the gun show, all you had to do was ask.” Gideon pulled off her shirt, summoning the most nonchalance she could muster. No sense in walking somewhere else. If Harrow wanted to be made uncomfortable by Gideon in only a sports bra, she was going to get it.
Finally looking over the clothes in the bundle, she found a sleeveless distressed black western shirt, which obviously was going into her normal clothing rotation after tour, what looked like a jerkin of some type to match one of Palamedes’s outfits, and a weird hooded cowl.
Pulling on just the cyberpunk cowl, she turned to look at Nona and Harrow who was turning a bit pink, predictably from some fit of rage.
“Whose idea was this? I look like an absolute tool.”
Wiping the remaining smudges of greasepaint off of her face, Gideon made her way back into the bar. Over the general noise of the club, she overheard some terrible teens having a crash out.
“So do I just go up and ask for ‘one weed please?’, like do they come in weed cigarettes or something?”
“Jeannemary, we’re going to get in so much trouble if Aunt Abigail finds out!”
Shit. She knew the responsible thing to do would be to track down the plug and tell them to leave if they were going to sell to teens. But she wasn’t a DARE officer, was she? Actually it might be better to sample the product. Maybe smoke a little to relax since she was spending the near (forseeable) future working with the woman who was going to use her bones to make an avant garde art installation about fossil fuel pollution. And then maybe she’d tell them to leave. Maybe.
The teens weren’t being too subtle with their looks toward a corner of the room. Gideon moved surreptitiously,
It couldn’t be.
A wide grin spread across Pash’s face. “Damn, that crap’s really making your skin break out. I thought you got over that kind of acne when you turned 19.”
“And I thought Semper Paratus wasn’t in reference to selling pot. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I just met the most beautiful girl-”
“We both know that’s not what I meant-”
“Okay, okay, you know how Pyrrha has been on my ass about getting a job? Crashing at her place was really harshing my vibe. So I decided you might need some help from your big cousin on your tour! And if I happen to finance that by having some weed in my pocket that someone wants to buy, who am I to not make a dollar or two?”
“Pash, seriously you used to be in the coast guard driving boats and trucks and stuff, what the hell happened? You kept your warehouse job for what, 3 months this time? Why’d you leave the military anyways you loved it.”
“Yeah… I really did love it. Remember that helicopter I told you I flew? They had me maneuver it so we could drop supplies to a submarine. Some real crazy shit.”
“And so what? Working in a warehouse not exciting enough for you? I thought you wanted it because you got to drive a forklift?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, they just didn’t get me. In my time in the service, they never treated me like as much of an idiot as a middle manager with nothing better to do will. It doesn’t help that I threatened to show him where he could put his damn demerits.”
“Pash, your whole job before that was combating an army of idiots on boats-”
“I told Pyrrha I was working for you as a roadie, so she’d stop worrying about me and my life. I know not reenlisting was a mistake…beacuse I literally have no skills for civilian life… but they were going to try to promote me to something where I would get stuck in an office and not get to just drive around sick trucks and do cool shit.”
“You’re lucky she hasn’t called me to ask literally any questions yet. How’d you find out about the tour anyways? I didn’t tell you.”
“I’ve got the surveillance state on your ass.” Pash tapped the side of her nose, “There’s an airtag on that duffel bag you stole from me a couple months ago.”
“So you left home to terrorize me instead of Pyrrha with a parade of women wearing butch bait t-shirts?!”
“Like I was saying, I’ve got a date with the most beautiful girl. I just met her, and-”
“Please save me the details. I really don’t want to learn the name of another girl you won’t be taking on a second date. It’s whatever if you tag along on tour, just don’t start trying to hijack my hotel room.”
“Oh, don’t worry! I’ve got my truck!” Pash’s baby, a Ford F150 she’d bought instead of the typical Dodge Charger, was obsessively maintained. Gideon was surprised Pash ever picked up any girls in it. She was too worried about someone scratching her leather seats. Pash had made her put her boots in a plastic bag in the bed of the truck last time she gave her a ride to a gig.
Gideon signed. Pash was so going to end up freeloading the hotel room that she was freeloading off Cam. Better skip the afterparty and go enjoy it while it lasts.
Door? Locked. Overhead lighting? Off. Moody lamp lighting? On. Pants? On the floor. Magazine? Out.
Gideon settled back into the overly fluffy hotel pillows and turned to the page she’d not dare admit was her go to on especially indulgent nights. After spending a few nights cramped in the van with the others (and not to mention Harrow, the biggest mood killer of them all) she thought she’d treat herself to her guilty pleasure page now that she was alone.
Beep.
Oh, right. Save for the inanimate, yet beloved, object known as Noodle. She’d just tune it out. It would take a lot more than a little digital beeping to put her off. Gideon scooted herself all the way down into the covers and began to read the dirty story that went to her dirty pictures. Though by now she had pretty much memorized every word of this one.
Beep, beep.
Okay, that was annoying actually. Gideon reached over and stuck the complaining pixels in the nightstand drawer. Finally, she could focus on the smut at hand.
Beep!
Gideon slammed her magazine down on her lap.”Ooookay! That’s enough.” She pulled the little heathen out from the nightstand. “We’re going to figure out how to shut you up right now, bucko.”
Bleary-eyed in the twilight sleep of those damned to nanny a tamagotchi that is determined to kill itself, Gideon heard a soft knocking at the door. The neon digits on the hotel clock indicated it was almost 4 in the morning. Usually she would say nothing good could come of this kind of visit, but she had already hit what she was sure the rock bottom for the night was.
Not attempting to even look through the peephole to check for potential murderers, she shambled over to the door and swung it wide open. Oh. Bad choice. She was definitely getting murdered right now because Harrowhark Nonagesimus was standing in the doorway with an expression indicating that someone was going to die tonight.
“Gideon, I -”
“Nonagesimus, if you're going to show up for a 4am booty call, the prerequisites are that A.you send a ‘u up text’, and B. That they actually fucking like you”
“I am not here to seduce you- I couldn’t sleep so-”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s how it always starts, this isn’t my first rodeo. I need to get back to not sleeping myself. Nona’s tamagotchi is driving me insane!” She moved to close the door, and was stopped by Harrow’s foot in the door frame. Reopening it and preparing herself to say something she was going to regret in order to regain some sense of solitude, Gideon watched as Harrow just walked right into her hotel room and picked up the offending toy.
“Oh Noodle, if she didn’t love this guy so much I would have thrown it in the ocean years ago.”
“I didn’t come here to proposition you Nav, I came here because I need your help.”
“Nona made…a friend. And initially they were hanging out in the van until Camilla told them to get a room…and unfortunately they chose my room.”
“Nona, and her friend are in our shared room. And while I usually consider myself a sex-positive person, I’m being surprisingly unevolved about this.”
“You just can’t handle the fact that your little cousin is having sex?”
“No, I just want her to do it somewhere else so I can get at least 4 hours of sleep tonight.”
“And you came to tell me about it because??? Sorry to tell you my sweet, but you aren’t going to get much sympathy here.”
Harrow seemed to think about this for a moment.
“Here’s my proposition for you Nav,”
“Oh no not again-”
“If you remove this person from my room, and make sure that they don’t break Nona’s heart, I will handle your Noodle issue.”
“You’ve known how to stop this-”
“I do know. And I tried to warn you. If you want it to stop, you’ll handle this right now.” She handed Gideon her room key.
“I do this and you’ll end it?”
“Yes.”
“Deal.”
Gideon stood apprehensively outside of the nondescript hotel door trying to hype herself up. She’s a big tough butch, and whoever this random slut is she was gonna throw her out no problemo bucko! And then boom. She’d be free and clear to sink into the oblivion of sleep in that gorgeous gorgeous hotel bed. She hesitated, hotel key in hand, not wanting to put it on the little scanner. Earlier, Harrow had informed her that an asleep Nona was dead to the world. Shit here goes nothing.
Gideon pushed open the door and tried to walk inside quietly, not wanting to get attacked if they heard her dithering outside. She was trying very hard not to get an eyeful of whatever Nona had going on.
“Alright girl, I don't know who you are, but it’s time to put your panties back on and leave. Write the girl a note, cause if you break her heart —” Turning a lamp on cautiously, the shapes on the bed were revealed to Gideon: a lump of blankets, being spooned by a muscular blue haired woman in boxers with her tits fully out.
At the sound of Gideon’s voice, her cousin woke up with a start. “No cleaning service; Come back later-“ She garbled out, brain not yet caught up.
“Pash??!”
“Gideon why the fuck are you here?”
“Never mind. Put a shirt on, jeez!” Gideon turned away as her older cousin shrugged on a tank top. “Let’s talk in the hall, now.”
“You know that’s one of my bandmates, right? And the scary looking keyboard nun is her older cousin.”
Pash hooked her thumb in the direction of the door, “You’ve been touring with that hottie and you didn’t even tell me? I’m your most beloved older cousin. I’ve looked out for you your whole life-”
“Not the point. Also Pyrra definitely has home video footage of you running me over with a dirt bike when I was a toddler.”
“No, I absolutely think it’s relevant. The angelic creature in there is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You know that ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day’ shit? Couldn’t even do that, that baddie has got a body-ody-ody AND she can suck - ” Gideon covered her ears as quickly as possible. Pash continued talking with explanatory hand motions, and Gideon tried to astral project out of her goddamn body to somewhere where her insane cousin could stop giving her psychic damage.
After about thirty seconds of this, she realized that hoping to be somewhere else wasn’t going to do anything and she had to try to talk some sense into Pash.
“You can’t hurt Nona. If you hurt her feelings at all Harrow will kill me. Like actually finish the job this time. Also, do you remember when we talked about boundaries? If Harrow heard you say any of that, she’d kill both of us, and then they’d find us both dead in a mysterious spontaneous combustion of musical equipment. So keep your mouth shut.”
“I would never hurt her-”
“Also Passion, babe-”
“-oh no, not the fully govvy-”
“-you’re almost 30 and this girl can’t even legally drink yet. How am I supposed to explain this??”
Pash looked at Gideon with a solemn voice and truth in her heart. “I think this is the woman that fixes it all.”
“Get the fuck out of here; Shut up with that sappy bullshit.”
Gideon had to refrain from holding her head in her hands as she approached her room. The only thing keeping her from going insane with the knowledge of what her and Harrow’s cousins were up to was the fact that the sanctity of her own fortress of solitude was going to be restored.
“It is done, my dark handmaiden of sorrow.”
“You exorcized the intruder from my room?”
“I also made sure she left a nice note and will call her tomorrow, on pain of death.” Not that it was necessary from the way Pash was enamored with Nona. “...and I disposed of any potentially upsetting evidence of this evening’s activities.”
“Very tactful, Griddle.” Harrow pinched the bridge of her nose. “I really do appreciate it most earnestly. “But that’s not what you helped me for, I didn’t forget.”
Harrow took the tamagotchi off of the table, and bashed it once sharply against the table, caveman style. She watched in horror as Harrow took the back off of the toy and pulled the battery out.
Gideon totally didn’t gasp at this display, no not at all. “Woah, woah, doesn't that kill him? Nona has had this guy forever, she’s going to be devastated."
Harrow looked at Gideon with a flat expression. “Do you really think that one toy made in the 90s can run off of a watch battery for this many years? Nona can’t remember to eat lunch half the time. This isn’t even Son of Noodle, we are on Grandson of Noodle VI.”
“But, she trusted me with him!”
“And when you put the battery back in and hand him back to her in the light of day, she will not notice a thing.”
The peace of Gideon’s hotel room post-tamagotchi invasion was surreal. In her exhausted state upon return, she somehow managed to shrug off her clothes and shower with the hopes of washing away any idea of what her cousin was going to get herself into next. The warmth of the water gave way to the coolness of her sheets; she slipped between them wearing only her boxers.
Gideon closed her eyes and tried to slip away into the dark relief of sleep. Darkness gave way to visions of color as her mind began to wander in the twilight dreams between waking and oblivion. Her mind drifted between visions of women from her magazines beginning with the blonde from the magazine she was harangued over.
Replaying scenes from the spreads of women dressed as firefighters, librarians, cowgirls, and other professions (all impractically dressed, of course) , her dream gave way to a scene she would never admit in daylight hours she had revisited the pages of many times.
Perched delicately on the edge of a large wood desk, a woman sat with her head bowed in prayer. The approximation of a nun’s habit left nothing to the imagination, with its short skirt slit up the sides, gartered white stockings, and low neckline.
The nun dropped her rosary beads at the sound of Gideon’s approach and looked up with dark eyes. “I suppose, you’re here to punish me for my sins. I’ve repented, but I need someone to really make me pay for what I’ve done.“
“I’m not sure I can help unless you tell me what you’re in trouble for, sweetcheeks. “
“The mother superior caught me touching myself, My sin is one of lust.“
“Hmmmm, not sure there’s much to be done for that, but I may have something in mind. You know how if you get caught with cigarettes they make you smoke the whole pack,” Gideon grabbed Harrow by the hair and pulled her to bend over the desk, “Well, I think we should do just the same thing.” She slid her hand over Harrow’s ass, rubbing circles.
Gideon woke suddenly at the sound of a passing police siren. Now she was wide awake again, and wishing the memory of the dream would fade away the image of Harrow in a nun’s habit from her brain. She covered her face with her hand.
She could not even begin to unpack this.