Not By Bread Alone

© 2019 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom


Meredith sat back against the grass before biting into her sandwich. Her ears flicked, and she glanced at Fuji in time to see the Komodo monitor turn away. “What?” she asked around a mouthful of bread, vegetables and tofu. She didn’t stop chewing, though.

“Hmm?”

She swallowed the mouthful after chewing it. “Don’t give me ‘Hmm.’ I saw you looking at me.”

Fuji shrugged. “Well, you are very pretty – “

“Thanks.”

“And the way you’re half in and half out of your clothes, you’re taking my mind off my lunch.” He held up his own sandwich, the bread enclosing several strips of tank-grown meat that had been seasoned and cooked to medium-rare.

The mare glanced down at herself. “Do you want me to zip up my jumpsuit?”

“Of course not,” he snorted, “I want you to get the rest of the way out of it. I’m going to get out of my clothes, by the way.” He set his sandwich aside before removing his vest and trousers, placing them nearby before resuming his seat and returning to his lunch. “Mmph, this is good,” he said. “I’ll have to add this to my shopping list for my personal stores aboard the Kiss Me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” the mare said, washing another mouthful down with a swallow of beer. “One of my mothers, Marie, works where that’s grown.”

“Tell her that she and her coworkers do a great job.” He cocked an eye at her as she set her sandwich down and stood up to remove her clothes, taking a few seconds to admire the play of the sunlight on her golden-yellow fur. When she was sitting down again he asked, “Have you ever gone to a meat farm?”

“No, never really had that much interest. You?”

He nodded. “School trip, when I was a boy. It was pretty interesting – at least, when I was twelve.” He took a bite and chewed as a thoughtful look crossed his muzzle. “Rows and rows of tanks, each with a lattice in them to act as a skeleton for the meat to grow on. I’m surprised you don’t eat meat.”

“I can,” Meredith admitted, “but I prefer things grown from cells that might not have been a condemned prisoner somewhere in its cell line, you know?” Fujiwara blinked at her before looking down at his sandwich. He stared at it so long that the mare giggled, and he glanced at her.

She winked. “What’s eating you?”

The monitor huffed at her through his nostrils and looked at his meal again before shrugging and taking another bite. After swallowing it he said, “It was good when I started, and it’s still good now. Want a bite?”

“Sure.” She leaned across the distance between them as he held out the sandwich, and she looked up at him as she took a bite. “Mm,” she said as she sat back and chewed. Taking a drink of her beer she said, “It’s got a lot of pepper on it, but it’s very tasty. So, what did you have planned for the rest of the day?”

Fuji smiled. “I’d thought that we could have lunch out here, because I wanted to show you this beautiful place. And within walking distance from your home, imagine that. I thought that after we get back and get cleaned up . . . dinner and dancing?”

The palomino mare chuckled. “I was nearly dead on my hooves walking out here, Fuji. What makes you think I’ll be in any shape to dance?”

“That’s a problem, yes, but we need to walk at every planet we stop at it.” He smirked. “Get you toughened up.” He laughed as she nearly choked on a mouthful of beer. “Since dancing’s out, how about a concert?” He acted like he was leaning to reach for his padd, avoiding her paw as she tried to slap him. He turned to see her glare at him. “Yes?”

She pointed a finger at him. “Remember I know how to make you pass out.”

“And I told you that it doesn’t happen all the time.”

One ear dipped. “Yeah, you told me. Now that I think about it, you never explained why that happens to you.” She watched as her friend finished his sandwich and drank some beer, content to wait until he was ready to answer.

When the answer came, it was fairly anticlimactic.

“Don’t know, really,” he finally admitted. “After the first time, I went to my doctor. She tested everything, right down to my family’s genetic history, and the only conclusion she could get was ‘because it happens.’ ‘Mid-orgasmic narcolepsy,’ a specialist called it.” Fuji gave her a smile as his tail switched back and forth, batting at his feet. “I’m just careful to tell sex partners – and I’ve had several – that it could happen, and try not to be doing anything dangerous while having sex.”

Meredith cocked her head quizzically, her ears swiveling. “’Dangerous?’”

“Yeah, like piloting a jumpcar, skydiving, things like that.”

She leaned across the gap between them, and this time he met her partway and they shared a kiss. “Let’s not do things like that, then.”

“Deal.” He sat back and unfolded his padd, scrolling through a few schedules. “There’s a concert tonight, Civic Theater, at twenty-one.”

“Oh? Who’s playing?”

“Manlo Ivanov. Interpretations on Kashlanin Themes.” He glanced at her. “Sounds like it’d be interesting.”