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"Fucking guard duty. Goddammit, we're necromancers! We should have some skeletons or something do this for us," he thought as the night came on in earnest. "Besides, what the hell am I going to do if something dangerous comes along? Throw poison at it? This is stupid."

Dmitri sat down and thought about his life. He'd been doing that a lot lately. He'd been staying here with the other Necromancers ever since they'd been evicted from yet another Mage Guild. Things were really getting tough for his chosen profession these days. He remembered back when he was a young, gangly teenager in mage school, it seemed like such a cool thing to do too. He'd even dyed his black hair blacker and put on eyeshadow back then.

"What could be more cool than being a Necro?", he'd said to himself.

And, let's face it, he hadn't exactly been the most popular kid in school. Aside from the bigger kids picking on him, and the girls ignoring him or worse, it surely couldn't hurt he'd figured. So he put on black robes (cool), studied hard (not cool) and joined the Necro clique. While it didn't help with the girls, it definitely reduced the bullying by the bigger kids. Unfortunately he soon found he'd exchanged one set of bullies for another. But somehow he fit in well enough, finding his own niche in the clan. He still didn't get any girls though. Which was a real pity too. He'd written some fiction and found he had quite an imagination for various... scenarios. Good thing he'd come up with his own secret code for his stories. His Necro-mates would have never let it go had they read them, but when inevitably they did find them, instead they were impressed by his knowledge of 'Draconic'. It was also a good thing no one knew Draconic well enough to realize it wasn't.

But now, years later, here he was, standing guard outside these crypts. He had managed to rise to a decent level in the group at least. He was a middling mage, but that was okay. He was too good to kill but not good enough to attract attention. It suited him, really. But it also made it tough to get out of stupid duties like this. Worst of all, he was still a virgin. That stung. He had such an imagination in that department, but by now he'd realized that it was probably the reason he'd never gotten laid. The few times he'd actually talked to a girl, he would start stammering until he'd get so tongue-tied he would just clam up. And he knew why. His imagination would stray to what lay under her clothing, and that would get in the way of him seeing her as another actual person.

Intellectually he knew all this, but it didn't change anything. He would die an old virgin, he knew, and his own overactive imagination was to blame. But he still had hope even then. If he could ever get enough power to become a Lich upon his death, then he'd get all the girls! Lich lords were really cool!

Then he heard an unusual sound approaching from far away. A steady thump, as of someone running. Or something. The light from the torch was meager at best, and the moon happened to be behind a cloud. He saw nothing, but the sound was getting closer. And then she yelled at him.

"PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENIS!"

"What?! Land? I thought you were down..."

"PEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSS!"

That voice didn't sound like Landorumil actually, he thought. It sounded more like...

And suddenly she was on him. She hit him like a ton of bricks, knocking him back against the wall and toppling the torch to the ground. A cat. A goddamned khajiit gone crazy. He tried to fend her off as best he could, having had no time to prepare any sort of spell. She seemed to be clawing at his robe! Fortunately she was a light little thing. He gave a good shove and she fell back to the ground.

Immediately he chanted a quick summoning spell and his favorite skeleton appeared in a flash.

"Hold her," he commanded, and the skeleton obeyed, picking the scrawny khajiit up off the ground while she flailed at it.

"What the hell are you on about khajiit?" he asked, putting the torch back in it's sconce. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Then he turned back around and saw her clearly for the first time. "Oh my!"

"PENIS!" she said, starting to calm down a little. "You have a penis, right?"

"Um... yeeeees."

"Please, mister, you've got to let me have it! It's my specialty! I'm good at penises!"

Dmitri looked around. Apparently no one had heard the commotion. That was good at least. Then he turned back to the little khajiit. She'd stopped struggling and was now just dangling from the skeleton's hand as it held her by the scruff of her neck. She was kind of cute, actually. Dmitri had always loved cats. He kept quite a few around the crypts, having convinced the Powers that Be that they would be good to keep the rats at bay. He'd seen a few khajiits in his life, of course, but never up close. They didn't tend to hang around Mages Guilds.

"Calm down... Now before we start talking about my penis, how about a little introduction? What's your name, khajiit?"

"Penis?"

"No. That's part of my body. What's your name?"

"Pas... No. NO, that's not my name anymore. I'm... Katia Managan. Katia FUCKING Managan, and it's my middle name!"

"Katia Managan. Okay, we're making progress. What are you doing here, Miss Managan?" Dmitri asked as he looked her over. She smelled faintly of dust and wine, though surely not enough to be this drunk."

"I broke em. I dropped them all."

"You're not making sense, Miss Managan."

"I can't make anything. I can't make a fucking sign."

"What's wrong with you? Are you drunk?" Dmitri asked. She was certainly exhibiting all the signs.

"Drunk? Where?"

"Look. If I have Bones here set you back down, will you promise not to attack my robe again?"

"Bonerman! Well, I'm hornully awf. But if you say so. Say, you got anywhere we can be alone?"

"We are alone, Miss Managan."

"No, I mean alone from you. Just me and Mr. Bonerman!"

"Set her down, Bones."

The skeleton dutifully did it's master's bidding. Dmitri prepared for anything, but the khajiit woman fell to her knees and turned around to face the skeleton's pelvis.

"Lies and Deceit! You got no boner Bonerman!"

"Miss Managan, maybe I should take you home. Can you tell me where you live?"

The khajiit had rolled on her back and was looking up between the skeleton's legs and scratching it as if looking for something. Suddenly she started to cry. "I don't live anywhere. I'm homeless. But my friend in Anvil..."

"Anvil. Okay. That's not far. Come on, get up. Let's get you into the cart..."

With that, Dmitri picked up the scrawny khajiit bodily and carried her to the nearby stable. She wasn't heavy, but she was... warm. Bothersomely warm.

"Now you just wait here, I'll be back in a minute, then I'll take you to your friend's house. Okay?" Dmitri asked.

"Oh! Sure! She's got a great bed. You can rock me all night!"

Dmitri cringed. Cute as hell, but a bit much for him to handle alone he suspected. "Bones, keep her here. And keep her quiet!"

The skeleton sat on the khajiit's head. Dmitri was about to protest when he heard her start to moan.

"Oh yeah! Give me that tailbone Mr. Bonerman!"

Dmitri blinked, then went in search of Landorumil down in the crypts. Both returned to the doorway a short time later, his 'friend' complaining.

"Okay, but you better be back before the boss gets wind of this."

"Look, it's just a few miles away. I'll be back before dawn easy. Your shift was supposed to start in an hour anyway."

"What the hell do you have to do in Anvil anyway?"

"Just have an errand to run. Thanks Land. I owe you one."

"One HOUR!" he said as Dmitri walked back to the stable. Katia was busy sucking on the skeleton's toes so he hitched a horse to the cart quickly and started off. Unfortunately, just as they were pulling away, Katia happened to look up and waved to Landorumil.

"Hi dude! Wanna fuck?" she called.

"What the hell?" Dmitri heard him yell, but he ignored the shouts and got the horse up to speed as he pulled out onto the path.

"BRING HER BACK!" he heard Landorumil shout, but then he was safely out of earshot.

"Aww. You're no fun," Katia pouted.

"Am so. I just... three's a crowd."

The khajiit climbed out of the cart and onto the seat beside him.

"What do you mean? Three's fine! Three's a PARTY!"

"Look, let's just get you home, alright?"

Katia turned instantly morose again. "Don't have a home. I'm a loser. Say, what's your name again?"

"Dmitri. Glad to meet you. How'd you manage to get all the way out here drunk anyway?"

She lay down on the bench, her head in his lap, which was far more contact than he felt comfortable with.

"Demeter. Say Demeter, you got a penis under here?"

"Dammit Katia, leave my robes alone!"

"Oh! You do have one! Did I tell you, they're my specialty?"

"Yes, Katia. You told me. Now leave me alone, please!"

"Told you. You're no fun."

"Look, we can have fun when we get you back, okay?"

That seemed to satisfy her, for a little bit anyway. "Found some wine in some crypt or something. It was good! Say, wanna see something?"

"Not yet."

"Look at this! See this?"

She pulled open her blouse. Literally. Buttons flew and were lost on the path behind them.

"Check it out. I got underwear!"

Before he knew what he was doing, Dmitri looked. Brown bra. But then she took his hand and pressed it to a breast.

"Paint! Isn't it the best idea? I thought it was the best idea."

He yanked his hand away, but the damage was done. He tried to think of his grandmother.

"It was stupid," she said, laying back on his lap, but he couldn't help but notice her blouse remained awfully open.

"I'm a failure, Demeter. Everything I do is stupid. The only thing I know how to do is penises, and that's too easy."

"Oh, I'm sure you can do something else."

The khajiit sat up and looked at him. He looked at her breasts.

"How do you spell Merchandise?" she asked.

"Merchandise?"

"Yeah! How do you spell it?"

"M E R C H A N D I S E"

"You sure I can't play with your penis?" she asked, her eyes tearing up again.

"No!"

"You'd like it. I can't spell, but I can do that."

She put her head back in his lap, but face down this time, nuzzling for it.

"AAAAAAAAA!" he screamed as the cart hit a bump, sending a tooth home.

"Oh! Sorry," she apologized sitting back up.

"Katia, look. It's not that I'm not interested, believe me! But... can I be honest with you?"

She lay her head back on his lap again, sighing but at least keeping her muzzle towards the stars this time. "Not into cats. I know. I've heard it before. You should have seen me a few months ago! I was all skin! Not a stitch of fur! You'd have liked me then."

"What? No. Actually, I love cats. But Katia... I'm a virgin."

"You like boys?"

"NO Katia. I like women! I just... haven't ever..."

"What?"

"Katia, I've never had sex."

She stared up at him, uncomprehending. "What?"

"I've never done it. Until a few minutes ago, I could honestly say I've never even touched a woman."

She snickered. "You still haven't. You touched paint."

"Good point."

"Does it work?"

"Does what work?"

"Your penis. Does it work?"

Now it was Dmitri's turn to be confused. "Yes it works. Why?"

"How do you know if you've never had sex?"

Dmitri's dark skin let him blush without others noticing. That was one small advantage of being his race. It served him well now.

"Just... trust me, okay? It works."

"Do you want to be a virgin?"

"Not really."

"Then... why not?"

"Jeeze Katia, not here. On the road? What are you, some kind of slut?"

"Yup! That's me. Slutcat. I've been called that before. Sometimes I'm a slut. When I'm drunk. When I'm not, I'm a lot... different."

"You know, you don't talk like you're drunk anymore."

"Oh, trust me. I'm drunk. Drunky and Horn. Do you know, I won't even remember you when I wake up? I never do."

"Blackout drunk? Jeeze Katia, how is that even possible? There's no way you're that drunk."

The swaying of the cart and the warmth of her head was beginning to bother him even more. But he tried his best to ignore it. She was awfully pretty though. And that blouse was still open.

She sighed, "You know, after one night my parents sent me to a specialist. He cast some sort of spell on me. Had me watch this medallion. Back and forth, back and forth. When I woke up, he said it wasn't because I was drunk. He said I have a deep problem with my inadequacy. He said when I get drunk, my personality changes to a slut. He said it's just an excuse, and that I do it to prove to myself that I have some value. He said that the only thing I am confident of is my sex, and that I use it as a crutch to carry on when I'm normal. He said I keep it as a way to stay confident even though my best attempts to be of any value are worse than mediocre. Well no, maybe I said that."

"That's... awful," Dmitri said. But he was remembering what that breast felt like.

"And..." she paused. "he said it's the only way I can feel someone else likes me."

"Now that's not true. What about your friend?"

They were nearing the outskirts of Anvil when Katia began to cry again. "She's wonderful. She's a writer, did you know? I bet she never misspells anything!"

"Probably not. It's an easy word," he said

"What?"

"Nevermind," Dmitri said and started stroked her head, trying his best not to look further down, but failing.

"It's okay Katia. Everybody is better at somethings than others. It's no reason to be ashamed of yourself."

"I'm better at penises."

"Well, that's still something, isn't it?"

"She doesn't even like em."

"What?"

"Quill-Weave. She likes other girls."

"Quill-Weave. Odd name."

"Argonian. She's nice. She gave me a hug once. It was awkward."

"Where does she live?"

Katia sat up and looked around. "Over there. Down that street. But she won't be home. She'll be at the bar."

A few minutes later and they stopped, Dmitri guiding the horse to the alley beside the house.

"Well, here you go Katia," Dmitri said.

"Not gonna happen, Demeter," she said, smiling an evil smile.

"What?"

"No way I'm letting you go. I owe you. Come on in, virgin. I'm going to rock your world."

Dmitri started to protest, but he'd been ogling those furry boobs for far too long. His smile was mixed with fear, but...

"I can't! Bones... He can't be seen in town like this."

The slutcat smiled. "PARTY!!!"

She took his hand and drew him into the house and up the stairs, the skeleton dutifully following close behind.

Dmitri didn't protest any longer, though he was fairly sure that, dark skin or no, he was glowing by now. Damn she was pretty, but he was as nervous as a... cat. What if it didn't work? He might have the imagination of an erotica author, but... for real? He wasn't sure how to do anything for real.

The next four hours were the most incredible experience of his life. To say she was wild was an understatement. And he became just as wild eventually. They found a hidden area in the closet, where her friend apparently kept an odd leather outfit as well as numerous exotic toys. They used them all with abandon. By the time it was over, he was exhausted and completely sated. He'd explored every inch of her. Every fantasy he'd conjured up, she was game for, and her competence was justified. She was good with penises. Very good indeed. They'd even found interesting uses for the skeleton, which, oddly, didn't bother him. Bones had been his closest companion save for his cats, and of course it helped that he wasn't really alive. Unlike some sentient skeletons, Bones was just an animatron. In this case, an oversized sex toy. Plus Katia had many ideas of her own. Female ideas that he would never have thought of. She only apologized for not having a large fruit available. They checked the kitchen downstairs, but no - there were no pineapples. There was the kitchen table. And a counter that turned out to be less stable than it first appeared. But no pineapples. The peas were an interesting idea. He found out he really liked peas, if served in certain special ways. They ended up breaking the bowl, but nobody got hurt.

Finally he fell back onto the bed, heaving as if his life were nearly spent. He looked at Katia and she rolled over onto her back.

"Was I good?" she asked.

"The very best," he assured her. "Unbelievably good."

She smiled and closed her eyes. "I have all the friends," she murmured, then she rolled back onto her stomach and began to purr, closing her eyes.

When finally he'd gotten his breath back, she was fast asleep. He got up and put the blanket over her.

"Damn that was fun," he thought. "If I died tomorrow, I wouldn't regret it!"

Then he looked around the room. Slowly sanity returned and he saw the room. Really saw it. It was trashed. The red paint on the walls was particularly obnoxious. He looked down. Yup. He had red underwear now.

"Oh gods, what have I done?"

He turned to Bones and got an idea. After a quick search around downstairs, and a trip to a nearby merchant who was open late, he returned with some cleaning supplies, a box of chocolates, a potion that she might well need, and a pen and paper. Then he gave the skeleton a command that the skeleton immediately began to follow, while Dmitri began to write. He yielded to his baser instincts though and pulled the blanket partially off the sleeping khajiit and used her body as a table, taking care not to break through the paper, but enjoying the concept of using her curves as a table. It made his writing sloppier, but he was going to take advantage of every new opportunity he could think of.

"Who knows when I'll be able to use a woman's ass as a table again?" he thought. "Damned if I'm not going to this time!"

He was halfway through the letter when the door opened. The argonian's eyes went wide and he suddenly realized had taken his robe off in case Katia wanted to go another round. "There's always hope!"

A few minutes later, after some hasty commentary, he found himself downstairs in the author's parlor. She was seething and crying at the same time. He explained as best he could, but he had to leave out some parts. He explained that Bones would continue until the room was as clean as he could make it, but that he had to go. And he saw no reason to mention the somewhat wobblier countertop.

"She's really not like that. All the time," Quill-Weave said as he was preparing to leave. The tears in her eyes belied her protestations that Katia was just a friend. For his part, Dmitri explained that it wasn't just Katia. He was a guilty party too. It had just been too... wild. And that he really did like her. That mollified the Argonian somewhat.

"Look, Dmitri. You seem like a decent sort. For a man anyway. I'm glad you care for her beyond... just that."

"I do. Let me just finish the letter I was writing for her, and I'll be gone."

"You do that," Quill-Weave said. "But use the table here. It's made for writing."

After the experience tonight, Dmitri thought he would be immune to blushing, but he managed to anyway. He started to explain, but realized it was pointless. She probably understood just fine. He was a man, after all. He finished the letter, went upstairs to leave it on the table, and kissed the khajiit. She stirred a little but went back to her purring. He looked around to make sure the door was still closed, and kissed her again, somewhat lower, just for himself. She purred louder. Then he left the room and went back downstairs.

At the door he paused for a minute, Quill-Weave's eyes turned to him, still wet but curious.

"Listen, Quill-Weave..."

"Yes?"

"We... well. We found your toys."

Suddenly the argonian's eyes went wide.

"Yeah. Those. Um... You might want to boil those. Or something."

Her mouth dropped open. The rows of teeth were worrisome, so his last words he said were just before he closed the door on the way out..

"Um... especially the purple one. It has been places that... well, you might just want to burn it."

He heard something hit the door as he closed it quickly. It might have been a shoe. Then he got the hell out of there.