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You are strong, brave, loyal, and you give great hugs, Scorpia reminded herself. “So, uh, Perfuma?” The petite woman inclined her head in curious attention. “You know how I’ve had to bug out on some plans maybe once a month - oh, uh, pun totally not intended - I’ll, uh, explain later.”
“You’ve always said you’ve had something come up at work,” Perfuma noted. “Are you having an affair?”
“N-no! Definitely not. I mean, our discussion on open relationships and boundaries was very thorough, which I appreciate greatly. Oh, geez, I’m turning red. Again, gods, no pun intended. Hey, did a psychoanalyst wax your floor lately? Cause I am Freudian-slipping all over the place. Geez, that sounded way funnier in my–”
“Scorpia,” Perfuma set a calming hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Just take a couple deep breaths. What’s the matter?”
She did so, and glanced out her window towards the sun, which had completely set. “Shucks, it’ll be easier to show you in a minute,” Scorpia said at last. “Just, uh, promise you won’t freak out,” she continued, pulling off her top and trousers, carefully folding them and setting them aside, standing in front of Perfuma in just a sports bra and a pair of bike shorts. “If you need to leave, I’ll understand,” she finished, dark eyes gazing beseechingly at Perfuma.
“Why would I leave when I’m enjoying the show?” Perfuma suddenly leaned forward in her chair, excited. “Is that the surprise? Are you a stripper? If you are, I totally support–”
“It’s not that,” Scorpia managed as she doubled over, crimson, chitinous plates sprouting along her back, then down her legs and finally her arms, which morphed and swelled into massive, powerful pincers. When she straightened back up to look at Perfuma, it was with eyes of solid black. A stinger-tipped tail hung over her shoulder. “So, uh, yeah, this is me. Yes, I am a were-scorpion named Scorpia; no, I don’t know if this was intentional on my moms’ part; and no, I haven’t stung anyone to death.” She let out a sigh. “So, what’s your fourth question?”
“How many?” Perfuma began, voice a whisper as she stood to run a hand along Scorpia’s arm, repeating her prior gesture with a fresh motive. “How many did you tell and have them turn away?”
Scorpia rubbed a rough patch of her claw against the back of her head. “I, uh, haven’t exactly been keeping count. But it’s been a couple. Not a lot of girls really into arthropods.”
“Lucky me, then,” Perfuma breathed, taking a step closer. “I know you won’t hurt me, Scorpia; it doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside, because your heart hasn’t changed, and that’s still as full of joy, and kindness, and friendship as ever.” She paused and ran an appreciative finger along one lobe of Scorpia’s tail, making the taller woman shiver. “Ooh, sensitive…we can work with that.”
“Just, uh, be careful?” Scorpia offered. “My venom probably won’t kill you, unless you’re allergic, but, um, it is a paralytic.”
Perfuma blinked, pupils suddenly wide with arousal. “Oh, we can definitely work with that.”