Centaur Aisle by Piers Anthony
“It’ll come out bare-naked!” she exclaimed, laughing.
“That bee may not be smart, but it wasn’t happy about having to work for its letters. Oh, are you ever in trouble, Dor! Wait’ll Cherie Centaur reads that paper!”
“Oh, forget it!” he snapped, disgruntled. How many homonyms had he used?
“Bear, bare!” she cried, swimming close and tugging at his clothing. The material, not intended for water, tore readily, exposing half his chest.
“Bare, bare, bare!” he retorted furiously, hooking two fingers into the top of her suit and ripping it down. This material, too, came apart with surprising ease, showing that her body was fully as developed as suggested by the contours of her clothing. Her mother the Queen often made herself pretty through illusion; Irene needed no such enhancement.
“Eeeeek!” she screamed enthusiastically. “I’ll get you!” And she ripped more of his clothing off, not stopping at his shirt. Dor retaliated, his anger mitigated by his intrigue with the flashes of her that showed between splashes. In a moment they were both thoroughly bare and laughing. It was as if they had done in anger something they had not dared to do by agreement but had nevertheless wanted to do.
At this point, Cherie Centaur trotted up. She had the forepart of a remarkably full-figured woman and the rear part of a beautiful horse. It was said that Mundania was the land of beautiful women and fast horses, or maybe vice versa on the adjectives; Xanth was the land where the two were one. Cherie’s brown human hair trailed back to rest against her brown equine coat, with her lovely tail matching. She wore no clothing, as centaurs did not believe in such affectations, and she was old, despite her appearance, of Dor’s father’s generation. Such things made her far less interesting than Irene. “About this paper, Dor—” Cherie began.
Dor and Irene froze in place, both suddenly conscious of their condition. They were naked, half embraced in the water. Weedles was idly playing with fragments of their clothing. This was definitely not proper behavior and was bound to be misunderstood.
But Cherie was intent on the paper. She shook her head so that her hair fell down along her breasts—a mannerism that signaled something serious. “If you can interrupt your sexplay a moment,” she said, “I would like to review the spelling in this essay.” Centaurs did not really care what human beings did with each other in the water; to them, such interaction was natural. But if Cherie reported it to the Queen—
“Uh, well—” Dor said, wishing he could sink under the water.
“But before I go into detailed analysis, let’s obtain another opinion.” Cherie held the paper down so Irene could see it. Irene was fully as embarrassed by her condition as Dor was about his. She exhaled to decrease her buoyancy and lower herself in the water, but in a moment she was gasping and had to breathe again—which caused her to rise once more, especially since her most prominent attributes tended to float anyway.
Anthony, Piers. Centaur Aisle (Xanth Book 4) (p. 10). Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
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So, unfortunately, did Tandy's clothes, such as remained; they were not constructed for hurricane winds. She swung in dainty ****** by her hair. "Go get him, ogre!" she cried, and kicked the demon in the nose.
Ogre, Ogre by Anthony, Piers Google Books
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