S.WOLF SAMPLER
By
S.Wolf
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
S.Wolf on Smashwords
S.Wolf Sampler
Copyright © 2011 by S.Wolf
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
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The Touch of Isis
Sarah and Matt are fledgling archeologists who find a mysterious artifact in an Egyptian tomb. Exploring its secrets together, they soon discover they can’t control the passion it unleashes. Adult erotica. (Winner of the July/August 2010 Erotic Stories and Toys writing contest.)
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Valley of the Queens, Egypt, 1904
Sarah squinted in the low light, generated only by the several gas lanterns spread around the ancient room. Had she already inventoried this piece or not? She could barely read her own writing, and a frustrated sigh escaped her lips.
“You ok Sarah?” asked Matt, her fellow intern and inventory partner. They were both here after winning highly competitive summer college internships – her from Vassar and him from Princeton, but their work turned out to be slightly less exotic than they had expected. While the leader of their archeological expedition, Professor Schiaparelli, discovered the tomb and received world-wide accolades, they were here with the mundane task of writing down every single item found in the crypt.
Well, sitting in the lavish antechamber of the tomb of Nefertari, favorite wife of Ramesses the Great, could ever be mundane. She realized she was lucky to be here, being one of only a handful of people to enter these rooms in the last thousand years. But the monotonous paperwork was finally getting to her.
“I’m fine Matt. My eyes are getting tired, that’s all.”
“Same here,” he said, “I’m seeing double. You want to take a break?”
“I’d love to,” she replied, and walked over to the small bench where their knapsacks were sitting. Retrieving her canteen, she sat on one end of the bench.
After getting his water, Matt sat beside her, a bit closer than she would have preferred. Not that she minded, but when he was close she found it hard to concentrate on other things. He had a body built for this rugged life, and sometimes her mind would wander, imagining what it looked like – thoughts a proper lady shouldn’t be having.
Proper lady. Those words reminded her of her father, a wealthy Boston banker who had been dead set against her coming here, claiming that proper ladies didn’t run off to the desert, crawling through the dirt in men’s clothes. But for once, her mother had stepped in and insisted she be allowed to go. Her mother and she were kindred spirits, each sharing a natural curiosity about the world. And while the elder had given up her dreams of adventure to have a family, she wanted her daughter to experience the world before settling down and marrying.
“Ah,” said Matt, after taking a drink, “that hit the spot.” Although he attended a big-city school, he was a farm boy at heart. Originally from Wyoming, he was the first in his family to go to college, attending Princeton on a well-earned academic scholarship. He had caught the Egyptologist bug when he was young, reading every book he could find on the subject. Getting to know him this past month, she knew he was destined for greatness in this field, and she sometimes fantasized about them being married; a team of world-famous archeologist by day, and lovers by night. The lovers part made her blush, and sometimes a warm feeling arose between her legs when she thought of him that way.
He had obviously been raised to respect women, and it showed in how he treated her with courtesy. They spent most of their time together, and he had always been polite to her. There were a few times when she had turned quickly towards him and thought she had caught him admiring her body, but his eyes would look at her with open honesty, and she assumed she must have been imagining things. Wishful thinking, probably.
“Hey, you want to do some exploring?”
She smiled. “Love to.” They weren’t supposed to be doing this. Their job was to inventory, that’s all. The real archeologists would carefully search the tomb by day, lay out what they found on canvas tarps, and Sarah and Matt would spend the night cataloging it. But boredom sometimes overtook them, and they would spend a few minutes inspecting the crypt. After all, they were explorers, weren’t they?
“Want to try the tomb this time?” he asked.
Her smile widened. “Lead the way,” she said. They hadn’t been down there yet, but she had been looking forward to it for a while.
He grinned back and stood, taking one of the lanterns and heading for the dark entrance leading to the tomb room. She followed closely behind.
The stairs leading to the burial chamber angled downward to the right, with colorful paintings on the walls that seemed to come alive in the dancing light of the lantern. The stairs were uneven, and Sarah lost her balance slightly, bumping into his back. His hand took hold of hers for a moment, steadying her. Feeling his touch, she found it difficult to focus on the ancient artwork surrounding her.
At the bottom, the hallway opened up into the burial chamber. Here, the paintings on the wall were even more brilliant, and the roof was painted a dark blue, with white stars sprinkled across it. The floor at the center of the room was higher, with three steps leading up to it, and in the middle was a platform where the sarcophagus had sat.
Grave robbers had long ago stolen the body of the Queen from this room, along with most of its golden treasures. But many artifacts remained, from statues to personal effects of the Queen herself. It fascinated Sarah to think that Nefertari had actually held the objects in this room in her hands. Examining an ivory comb, she imagined it running through the Queen’s long dark hair.
Matt set the lantern in the middle of the room, and they began to look around, each taking an opposite side of the chamber. Sarah was in the middle of examining an ebony statuette, when Matt called to her.
“Sarah, bring the lantern over and take a look at this.”
She lifted the light and went to him, noticing he was peering intently into a shelf built into the wall.
“Look at these things. What do you think they are?”
The shelf was chest high, and she set the lamp on the edge, giving her enough light to examine the contents closely.
It was a collection of cylindrical items, with varying widths and lengths, rounded at one end and flat at the other. Some were made out of smooth wood, others were ivory, and a few smaller ones were jade. She furrowed her brow. What could they be? She could feel an old memory trying to bubble up, and then finally it came to her.
One day when she was twelve, her older sister Gretchen and she were trying on their mother's clothes, and she had discovered an object in the back of her mother's drawer. It was long and cylindrical, made out of smooth marble, and tapered to a rounded point on one end. Her sister blushed when Sarah showed it to her, and the curiosity that would eventually lead her to Egypt took over, and she badgered Gretchen until she explained what it was.
Now she was looking at Nefertari’s collection of those same objects. And just as she had done with the comb, she imagined how the Queen had used these items.
Her face turned a deep red, and even with the dim light from the lamp, Matt noticed.
“What?” he asked.
“Um,” she said, not even close to finding the words.
He could tell there was something she wasn’t telling him. “Sarah, what is it?”
She tried to remember how her sister had explained it to her. “Um, you know how sometimes women are alone?”
He looked at her as if she were speaking Chinese.
“They're alone but they wish they weren't,” she continued, “They wish there was a man around?”
She could tell by his expression that she wasn't getting through. She picked up the nearest object and showed it to him, holding it in one hand and laying it across the palm of her other, curling her fingers slightly around it. “They wish there was a man around?” she repeated, this time emphasizing the word 'man'.
He finally got it. His eyes opened wide and his mouth looked like it was saying “oh” but no sound came out. The flush in his cheeks quickly matched hers.
But what he did next surprised her. Stepping close to her, he said, “Let me see those again.” She moved to the side and stood there as he peered into the shelf, re-examining the objects with his new perspective.
He was close to her, almost touching, and she could feel the heat coming off of his body. She was still holding the object she had shown him, and she realized she was gripping it with both hands, unconsciously running her fingers along its length. Remembering that it was an ancient artifact that she was fondling, she gingerly placed it back in its spot, and the two of them looked down on the collection together.
She wondered if he was doing the same thing she had done; allowing his imagination to paint mental pictures of how the Queen had used these items.
“Hey, what's that?” he said, interrupting her thoughts. She looked to where he was pointing, and could make out a dark object lying against the back wall of the shelf. Adjusting the position of the lantern, she could see that it had a thin wooden handle, with some kind of shapeless mass on one end.
Matt reached in, stretched out his arm, and was barely able to get hold of it. Pulling it out, they both saw what it was. On one end of the handle, a bundle of feathers were attached, their soft ends gently swaying with each movement. If they had found it anywhere else, they would have wondered what it had been used for, but its location made it very clear what its purpose was. It was still in excellent shape for how old it must have been, and Sarah wondered how it would feel caressing her skin.
Matt held the object between them, and they examined it closely. The wooden handle was made of ebony, gleaming black in the flickering light. One end had a hole where a leather strap may have once been, and the other flared out into a holder where the feathers were embedded. The feathers themselves were an odd mixture of red and black, and Sarah wondered what kind of bird they were from.
“Very nice,” said Matt, waving it gently, almost touching her bare arm. The skin there became warm, and almost felt like it was rising up, searching for that touch, like a dog or cat does when you hold your hand close to its head and it presses into you, wanting to be petted.
“It’s beautiful,” she replied, trying to ignore the feeling in her arm, “and in perfect condition.”
“You know,” said Matt, “something about this is familiar, but I can’t place it.”
It struck no familiar chords with Sarah, other than looking like the feather duster their maid had used. But she knew this had a much more sensual purpose.
“And look at the feathers,” he added. “Thousands of years old and they still look as soft as new. Do they feel soft to you?” And with that, he drew them lightly over the skin of her arm, the contact lasting just for a moment.
The burst of sensation bolted through her, lasting only a second but breathtaking in its intensity. For that moment, it felt like her body was being held in a warm strong embrace, and she could feel the muscles of whoever was holding her taut beneath the skin. Strong hands pulled her close, and she could smell his scent, a heady musky aroma of maleness, a mixture of sweat and passion that filled her mind. Something moved between her legs, and she could swear she felt something wet and forceful, like a tongue, sliding between her labia and slithering over her clitoris.
Then it was gone. Completely and without a trace. The only remaining evidence was the wetness between her legs.
She must have had an odd expression, because Matt looked at her and asked, “Are you ok?”
Her eyes took a second to focus on him, but she said, “Sure. I’m fine.” Had she just imagined that? Was it even possible to imagine something like that?
She wanted to try something. “Can I see it?”
“Here you go,” he said, and turned back towards the shelf. “I wonder if there's anything else like that here.”
He leaned into the opening, looking around intently, his hands resting on the ledge and his elbows back. “Wonder if we'll ever see this kind of stuff in a museum?” he said, still rambling on. She looked at the skin of his exposed arm, deciding if she should try it. Making her choice, she brushed the feathers softly against him, just as he had touched her with it.
His head lifted up, and he became silent, as if he had lost track of what he was saying. He turned to face her, wearing an odd look.
“Matt, you ok?”
He blinked and said, “Yeah, just got disoriented there for a moment.” Seeming to come to his senses, he added, “We better get back, our shift is just about over.” As he turned to get the lantern, she quickly glanced down, and could make out the large bulge tenting out the front of his pants.
They were halfway to the steps, when she remembered she was still holding the feathered wand. “Oh, I forgot about this.”
“Here, I'll return it,” he said, taking it from her. She noticed he was very careful not to touch any of the feathers.
After a few moments, he returned to her and they headed back up the stairs.
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Vampire Tanning
A tanning salon for vampires in Beverly Hills? As its owner, Gabby is committed to getting as many vampires into her tanning beds as possible. This story is a tongue-in-cheek (among other places) take on the vampire mania that's sweeping the country. A mixture of comedy, erotica, and horror, it contains graphic sex and violence. Adults only.
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“Is this some kind of joke?”
Gabby looked up from the magazine she was reading, a bit startled because she hadn’t heard him come in. She was going to have to get one of those bells for the door.
“Excuse me sir?”
“I said, is this some kind of joke? The name of this place is Vampire Tanning?” He looked young, around seventeen, and was probably very popular with the girls, the way his smoldering blue eyes peeked out from his long blond hair.
“I can assure you sir, it’s not a joke,” she said, giving him her best innocent look.
“What kind of dumb ass vampire would get a tan?” he asked.
Dumb ass vampires like you, she thought, but said, “Oh, it’s all the rage. It started in Europe last summer, and is spreading like wildfire. All the hottest vampires are getting them.” She had to smirk at her choice of words.
He was beginning to look confused. That was good, and fairly typical. Vampires were known for their handsome looks and their ability to seduce young women, but they didn’t fare too well on IQ tests. That’s why, despite their advanced ages, they liked to hang out in high schools with vapid teenage girls. Made them feel smart.
And, without exception, all vampires were vain. So when she offered them the promise of giving them a healthy tone to their skin, to go along with their killer good looks, most of them couldn’t resist.
“But,” he said, his brow furrowing, “wouldn’t that be lethal to a vampire?”
“Oh no,” she replied, “not with our tanning beds. Normal tanning beds don’t filter out the dangerous UVB rays, the ones that are harmful to vampires. Our beds are certified by OSHA to use only the safe UVA rays, which the FDA has determined to be completely vampire safe. Here, take a look at our brochure, it explains it all in much more detail.” She picked up a pamphlet off the counter and handed it to him.
He took the glossy advertisement and opened it, studying it intently. Oh yeah, Gabby thought, he was hooked. Just a matter of time now.
Her family didn’t believe her when she told them about her plans to open this place. They said it would never work, telling her that vampires were dumb, but not that dumb. But when the Van Helsing clan got together for Christmas last month, they had to admit that she was right and they were wrong. Business was booming. She was averaging around five vampires a day. Or, make that night, since she was only open from sundown to sun up.
Being located on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills didn’t hurt. She also had a fairly large contingent of human clientele also – the Hollywood elite who were attracted to the vampire mania that was sweeping the country. And unlike the vampires, they were repeat customers.
“Do I know any vampires who have had this done?” the boy asked, looking like he needed just a little more convincing.
“Lestat comes in here all the time,” she said, “As a matter of fact, he just stopped by this morning. You should see him now, all brown and healthy looking.”
The kid looked disappointed that he had just missed out on meeting the famous vampire Lestat.
“And the Cullens bring the whole family down from Washington for monthly touch-ups. Although with how much it rains up there, they have to make sure they don’t overdo it, otherwise they’ll stand out for being too dark.”
The boy laughed at this.
“And George Hamilton.”
The boy’s eyes opened wide. “George Hamilton is a vampire? That tanned dude from Dancing with the Stars?”
“Of course,” Gabby replied, using a tone that implied he must be very naïve not to be aware that. “His autographed picture is on the wall over there, take a look.”
He walked over and examined it. Hamilton’s leathery nut-brown face stared out from the photo, smiling with impossibly white teeth. The writing read, “To Gabby, We should go out for a bite. Ha ha. Love, George.”
“Wow,” the kid whispered. He then looked at the other photos on the wall, a large array of the Hollywood famous. “Are these all vampires?”
What an idiot. “No, I have human customers too. But some of them are.”
“Which ones?”
“Sorry, I’m sworn to secrecy,” she said, “but let’s just say that there’s a reason Angelina Jolie only films night scenes.” She gave him a sly wink.
The kid thought for a moment. “Ok, I’m convinced. Let’s do it.”
“Great,” she said, “what’s your name?”
“Alex.”
“Ok Alex, follow me to the back and I’ll get you started.”
On the way there she stopped by her desk and pressed the button that silently locked the front door. With her special customers, she needed complete privacy.
Parting the curtain in the doorway, she led him into the tanning area. From there, there were three doors that led to the individual tanning rooms.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a booth that looked like a shower stall, lined with tiles on the inside.
“That’s the spray on tan booth,” she replied. “Customers go in there and turn the nozzles on, and they’re painted with the dye from all sides at once.”
“Spray on tan huh?” he said, looking interested.
“Not a good idea,” she said. Most people come out looking like an Oompa Loompa instead of a natural tan shade. The only reason I have it is because some of my customers demand it.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed he wasn’t going to get an easy tan.
“Here we go,” said Gabby, opening the door of the first tanning room, allowing him to step inside, and then following him in. The room was dominated by the large clam-shell tanning bed.
“Ok,” she began, “it’s very simple. I’ll leave you alone in here, where you can undress and then get into the tanning bed.”
“Undress huh?” he said, leering at her. “You sure you don’t want to stick around?” He was giving her that vampire eye look, the one that made men lose their will and made girls puddle in their panties. Fortunately, she was immune to it, a trait passed down through her family from her famous great-great-grandfather, Gabriel.
“Whoa there sparky,” she said with a grin, “this is a tanning salon, not a massage parlor. Wait until I leave the room before you release the Kraken.”
He laughed.
“Ok,” she continued, “Once you get in the tanning bed, you'll see two buttons on your left; a green one and a red one. When you're ready, press the green one, and the bed will automatically close, then the tanning lights will come on for fifteen minutes. After that, they'll turn off and the bed will open. Very simple.”
He was nodding, letting her know he understood.
“Now, if anything goes wrong, or you just want to get out, press the red button. That will shut the lights off and open the bed. It will also set off a buzzer out here letting me know something is wrong, and I'll come back and check on you.”
He was still nodding.
“And if you feel like taking a shower afterward, there’s one in the restroom in the back. Towels are right over there. That's pretty much all there is,” she said, reaching for the door. “Any questions?”
“I think I got it,” he said.
“Kewl, so I'll see you in about twenty minutes then,” she said with a smile, stepping through the door and closing it behind her. She'd be seeing him a lot sooner than that, at least what was left of him.
She went to a small closet and pulled out a portable vacuum, and then sat at the refreshment table just outside, listening to the sounds coming from his room. At first it was just the sounds of someone getting undressed, but eventually she heard the soft hum of the tanning bed motor, indicating it was closing. The moment it stopped, a soft light shone from under the door, as the tanning lights kicked on. Immediately, she heard him call out.
“Hey! Something's wrong! Hey!”
The buzzer went off, letting her know he had found the red button. Unfortunately for him, she had disabled the auto-shutoff feature.
“Ahhh! Ahhhhhh!” His words were turning to screams, and she could now see a new whiter light shining under the door, much brighter and increasing in intensity. She had watched one once, and it wasn't a pretty sight; the light melting their skin until it burst into flames, burning with a bright white fire. Plenty of light, but oddly no heat. It reminded her of the sparklers she used to play with as a child on the Fourth of July.
Soon it was all over. She went to the door and opened it, and a strong scent of ozone greeted her nose. The tanning machine was still on, and she pressed the external override switch, causing the lights to go out, and the top shell to lift slowly.
All that was left of Alex was a quarter-inch thick layer of fine white ash, coating the glass of the bed. Plugging in the vacuum, she began sucking him up. The world was a better place with one less blood sucking parasite in it.
A half hour later she was back at the front desk, reading her magazine, when Cher walked in.
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Eternal
Eddie is a WW1 fighter pilot, and Lissette is a French barmaid. The two share a bond that extends far beyond their single night of passion, in this story that is one part erotic romance, and one part Twilight Zone. Adult erotica.
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He opened his eyes and looked around the tavern, desperately searching for her, needing to see her face to know that what he had just gone through had been worth it. He finally found her, and calm came over him. She was here.
She was at a table near the back, talking and laughing with a group of French soldiers, as she filled their mugs with refills of beer from a pitcher that she carried. He had seen her do this before, and as always, he enjoyed her smile.
She was beautiful even when she was pensive, but her smile made her even more so, her brown eyes sparkling and her teeth so white. She looked so alive. That thought reminded him of when he had last seen her, and felt an ache in his heart as he attempted to force that image from his memory. He replaced it with a better one; her looking up at him as she held him in the embrace of her arms and legs, her pleasure apparent on her face. That was much better.
He saw her notice him from across the room, and she began making her way over to his table. Her lovely brown hair was past her shoulders, and her skin was flawless. She wore a long dress that that covered her arms and was high at the neck. It cinched at the waist, flowed over her hips, and almost reached the floor. Looking at her this way, one would never guess about the sensual body she hid under there, nor about the profound sexual passion she had even deeper. Under her outer garments, she wore a simple bra and panties, neither of them fancy with lace. But he could think of nothing more erotic, not for what they were, but for what they covered.
Reaching him, she said, “Pardon me sir, I didn’t see you come in. Can I get you something?”
He looked at her eyes as she talked, watching for it. When she finished speaking, she stared at him intently, as if she was thinking. A look seemed to come to her. Almost a spark of recognition, but not quite.
“A malt ale please,” he answered. He shouldn’t have been drinking since he was officially on duty, and would be required to have his plane in the air within ten minutes if there was a German attack. But he knew there would be no attack tonight. Tomorrow morning would be a different story, but tonight they were safe.
“Be right back with that sir,” she said, giving him one last curious look before she walked away.
He loved the sound of her voice. Soft and sweet. Even more melodious when she was speaking her native French, which she used almost exclusively during sex. She hadn’t had much practice using those phrases in English.
She soon returned with his drink, setting it on the table in front of him. She took a moment to look at him again.
“Excuse me sir,” she said, but have we met before? You look very familiar to me.”
He smiled at her. “I guess it’s possible.”
She continued to look at him. “You’re a pilot, right?”
He was wearing his regulation uniform, with no markings that would indicate that. “Yes,” he replied.
“How long have you been here at Vaucouleurs?” she asked.
He thought about the question, which wasn’t as simple as it sounded. “Three months,” he replied. God, she was beautiful. Even now he couldn’t help staring at her.
She looked at him again and shook her head. “J'aurais juré,” she murmured as she walked away. He just smiled.
He thought about what he had just told her. Three months was what his official service record said. But the truth was nowhere near that. Not even close.
He had volunteered in 1916, even before America joined the war. Because of his flight experience on the farm, he was accepted into the French aeronautics school. Six months later, he saw his first combat action, and within a week he had shot down his first German plane. There were more after that, and he became known as one of the best, and soon became a squadron leader.
After America joined the effort, he was transferred over to the 94th, where he was based out of England. But recently, the Germans had developed a lethal bombing plane, the Gotha G.V., and squadrons of them were terrorizing all of Europe. The allies were particularly concerned about their Vaucouleurs base in France, and saw it as a prime target for the bombers. They assigned several of their top pilots to the duty of protecting the base, where they were on call 24 hours a day. Their job was to get in the air in advance of the bombers’ arrival, and shoot them down before they had a chance to release their payloads.
Three months had passed since his squadron had arrived, and although they had had various battles with German fighter planes, there had been no bombing attacks yet. But tomorrow morning, that would change.
She returned several times to his table to see if he needed a refill, but he explained that he was on duty and had to make this one last. “You don’t want any drunken pilots protecting you, do you?” He joked.
She laughed in response, but her eyes still watched him. She was still trying to figure out where she knew him from. She had done that the very first time he had been in here, and while he had figured out some things, that he had never quite understood.
The tavern was clearing out, and finally she led the only other patron to the door, helping him on his shaky legs, and sent him on his way. He just sat there waiting, sipping his long-warm ale.
She locked the door and turned to him, their eyes meeting. Walking over and sitting in the chair across his table, she continued to watch him.
“My name’s Eddie,” he said.
She looked at him. “Why do I feel I already knew that?”
He smiled. It was coming to her. She would eventually understand.
“I’m Lissette,” she said.
“That’s a beautiful name,” he replied. “Fits you perfectly.”
She blushed. She heard pickup lines all day, but the way he said it seemed so earnest, so matter-of-fact. She had never met anyone like him. His handsome rugged features and his deep blue eyes drew her towards him, but it was the way he looked at her that set him apart. His look was not one of first appreciation – she was very experienced in getting that look from the many soldiers who came here. There was no appraisal of her in his eyes; no sizing her up with obvious thoughts of what might come later. There was only a look of deep affection, the kind only shared between long-time lovers. She had never been looked at that way before, because although she had had a few lovers in her twenty-two years, none of them were with her very long, nor did they mean anything to her.
Coup de foudre. She had always scoffed at those who believed in it. Love does not come at first sight. Love is something that is grown between two people, over time. You must know the person before you can love them, and anything else is just childish fantasies. But as she looked at him, she doubted her convictions. Could she love this man? Then the strange thought occurred to her that she may have loved him before he even walked into her tavern. Love before first sight? Is that even possible?
“Tell me about yourself Eddie,” she said, “How did you end up here in France?”
“Not much to tell,” he replied. “Grew up on a farm in America, in Kansas, and my dad was one of the first to buy a plane for crop dusting. Began flying it when I was fifteen, so I already had five years of flight experience when I came over two years ago to join the war. Served with the Lafayette Escadrille until the rest of America decided to join in, and then moved to the 94th Aero Squadron. A small group of us were assigned here to Vaucouleurs three months ago.”
“The Tornados?” she asked.
He smiled. That was the nickname his squadron had adopted. It was his idea, after having seen the deadly destruction of the real things up close while growing up on the farm. Their planes still carried the famous Hat-in-the-Ring logo of the 94th, but each one of them had an additional logo – a black twister with eyes. Their reputation was getting out, and people were beginning to talk about them. He imagined the Germans were aware of them too. Because just like their real-life namesakes, his Tornados were tearing through anything they met in the skies, with an ease never seen before. All without a single casualty in the three months they’d been here. That would change tomorrow, of course, but he brushed aside those thoughts and concentrated on her.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” he replied, giving her a wink. Some pilots wore their squadron emblems on their jackets, but he refused to allow his men to do so. Not a smart idea, especially when half of the country you’re in is occupied by the enemy. The Germans may decide it’s much easier to kill a Tornado on the ground, than attempt to do so in the air.
She laughed. He watched her as she did, taking all of her in.
“And your story?” he asked.
“Born and raised here in Vaucouleurs, where my family owns a vineyard,” she said, “Trying to do my part for the war cause by assisting the soldiers in forgetting their troubles.”
“And I’m sure it’s appreciated,” he said. “By the way, your English is very proficient.”
“Only when it comes to tavern conversation. I tend to use French away from here.”
This brought back a memory of her embracing him, whispering in his ear.
“How’s your French?” she added.
“It was horrible when I first arrived, but I’ve picked it up.”
“Je ne peux pas vous comprendre Eddie,” she said, “Je pense que j'ai pris soin de vous pendant une longue période.”
He smiled. She just told him that she couldn’t figure him out, and that she feels she has cared about him for a long time.
“Peut-être que l'amour se trouve en attente de deux à le découvrir?” he replied in perfect French.
She looked surprised. “You’ve picked it up very well. And that was in two years?”
“I had a very good teacher,” he replied with a smile, looking at her.
“Do you really believe what you said?” she asked, “That love lays waiting for two to discover it?”
“If you had asked me that yesterday,” he said, “I would have told you that such an idea is silly. But now, I believe it beyond a doubt.”
“And why is that?” she asked, watching him.
“Because yesterday,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers, “I hadn’t met you yet.”
She looked at him for a long moment before speaking. She wanted to tell him that she was feeling the same way about him, but she couldn’t do it. Part of her reminded herself that this was a stranger she had just met, and love doesn’t work like that.
“I have to be going.” she said, “My landlady becomes worried if I get home too late.”
She stood and he stood with her. “Can I walk you there Lissette?”
She had been asked that many times by soldiers, and had always refused. She had seen other girls fall in love with these men, only to have their hearts broken when the men were reassigned, or even worse, killed.
But to her own surprise, she found herself agreeing. “Yes Eddie. I would like that very much.”
She retrieved her coat and he helped her put it on. Turning out the lights, she held the door open for him, and then locked it behind them. He allowed her to lead them in the direction of her apartment. They walked in silence for a while, and then she spoke.
“Do you get scared? Up there?”
“I used to,” he replied, “but not anymore. I haven’t been afraid in a long time.”
This seemed to upset her. “How is that possible?”
He couldn’t explain it to her, and she wouldn’t believe him if he tried. He knew that because he had tried.
“It just is,” he said.
But she wanted to understand. No, she needed to understand before she accepted him into her life.
“Is it because you no longer care about living?”
He stopped and took her hand, pulling her closer to him.
“Never think that Lissette,” he said, “No one cares more about living than I do. Especially now.”
But she just looked at him, still wanting an answer.
Finally he relented. “I don’t fear death because some things are worth dying for. I wouldn’t get in that plane I didn’t believe that.”
She watched his face as he spoke, and she could see the passion in it. As he talked his hands had moved to her waist, holding her, and they felt so natural there. She was sure he was going to pull her into him and kiss her, and she knew that she would welcome his embrace. Instead, he pulled away, and they continued on their way, her hand in his as they walked.
He was the next to speak. “What would make you happy in life?”
“Qu'est-ce?”
“When you think about your life ahead, what do you imagine yourself doing that would make you happy?”
She thought for a moment. “I’m from a large family – three brothers and four sisters – and I’ve always imagined myself with a large family of my own. I think I would be a good mother.”
He smiled at her. “I think so too.”
“Do you want children?” she asked.
“With the war going on, I used to think it wouldn’t be fair to them,” he replied, “But the war will end one day, and when it does, I can think of nothing I’d rather do than return to farming and have a family.” He then added, “Of course, I’ll have to find a good mother first.”
She smiled. “That’s what would make you happy in life?”
“More than you could possibly imagine,” he said. They had arrived at her place, and they both stopped and turned towards each other. They were quiet again, just standing there holding hands.
She knew what he wanted. No, that was the wrong word. She had stood here with other men, and had seen want in their eyes. This man was not looking at her with lust. Again, she realized he was looking at her as if she already belonged to him, and he was just waiting for her to understand that.
“Who are you Eddie?” she said, “La vérité.”
“The truth? I would never lie to you Lissette.”
She waited.
He paused before responding. “I am your eternal love,” he said softly. When she just looked at him, he added, “I am the one who loved you before we met, just as you are the one who loved me. But I don’t have to tell you that, because you already know.”
It was her turn to pause. “I do know. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I think I knew it when I saw you for the first time tonight.”
He stepped close to her, his hands holding her waist again. He looked down into her eyes, and said, “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” she asked, and she could feel her heartbeat racing.
“Tell me what you already knew.” He was leaning down to her now, and their lips were close.
She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. She could feel his warm breath on her face.
“I don’t–” she whispered.
“Tell me.”
She looked at him. “Je t'aime,” she whispered. She couldn’t believe she said it. But she knew it was true. Somehow, however impossible it might be, she loved this man.
He looked at her, and said, “I know. I love you too.” His hands pulled her to him and his lips met hers. Her body arched against him, and her arms came up to hold his shoulders, pulling herself tighter to him.
The kiss was new and familiar to her at the same time. She understood somehow that she had been waiting all her life for this very moment; to be in his arms where she belonged.
She didn’t ask him to come upstairs to her place, nor did he ask for her permission. She was his and he was hers, and they both understood they would be together tonight.
He was sitting on the bed when she came out of the bathroom, and she walked slowly towards him, still wearing the dress. He stood up and took her in his arms, kissing her deeply. She felt the world spin and clung to him, feeling safe in his strong embrace.
He pulled back slightly, and turned her in his arms, so that her back was to him. He undid the top button of her dress, and a shiver went through her. Softly kissing the nape of her neck, he worked his way down through the rest of the buttons. After the last, his hands moved to her shoulders, pushing the dress off of them and then down. Her arms came out of the sleeves, and then he pushed it over her hips, allowing it to drop to the floor.
His arms encircled her stomach and pulled her back against him. He kissed the side of her neck, moving upwards to her ear, where he whispered, “You are so beautiful.”
She relaxed in his arms, leaning her head back and to the side against his shoulder, feeling his desire for her pressing against the small of her back.
His hands moved up and cupped her breasts through her plain white bra, and her breath caught in a small gasp. Her nipples pebbled against his palms, and he moved them in small circles, his fingertips tracing over her soft skin. One hand left her breast and moved to her back, undoing the clasp of her bra with practiced ease. The hand then rejoined the other, and both of them slid under the loose cotton material, cupping the weight of her full breasts, feeling the warmth of her skin.
She groaned softly, arching her back and pressing into his hands. Her rigid nipples invited his touch, and he brought his fingertips to them, teasing them by moving in circles, bumping them gently. She let out a long exhale and pressed back into him, rubbing against his stiff erection, teasing him back.
Removing the bra completely, she turned in his arms and began working on the buttons of his shirt. After she undid the top two, he kissed her again, momentarily interrupting her progress before pulling back and allowing her to continue. She found it hard to concentrate when he took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, and gently squeezed and rolled them. Finally she finished, having to pull his shirt from his pants to get at the last button.
Her hands slipped into the unbuttoned gap, and rested lightly on his chest, feeling his muscles work below the skin. He had the body of a warrior, honed by countless hours of flight, controlling a machine with death-defying precision. As she spread the shirt wider and pushed it off his shoulders, she noticed he also had the scars of a warrior – a long jagged one above his right nipple, and a small round one on his left shoulder. She kissed the one above his nipple, and then let her tongue linger lower, flicking against the circle of darker skin, feeling him respond to her touch.
Emboldened, her hand moved down, tracing over the muscles of his stomach, and then resting on the hard bulge at the front of his pants. She squeezed him through the material, and heard him take a sharp intake of breath. He felt like an iron bar in her hand, and a twinge of wet pleasure quivered between her legs.
Her hand began to move on him, and he responded by pinching her nipples harder, causing her to moan. He pressed himself against her touch, urging her on.
# # #
You’ve just read 3,431 of 8,218 words for Eternal. To buy the ebook and read the complete story, follow this link to Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/17157
* * * * *
Erato
Jacob Penner is a successful best-selling author, who is deeply in love with Rose. The only problem is, Rose happens to be a character from his novels. Adult erotica.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Rose, why are you getting dressed?” said Jacob, lying back on the bed with the sheets up to his waist. “We still have some time before you have to leave for Australia.”
She was pulling up her khaki shorts, and Jacob caught a last glimpse of her pink panties as she tucked in her denim shirt and buttoned the pants around her waist. He had to admire how great her ass looked in those shorts, even though he’d rather have her naked in bed with him.
“We don’t have as much time as you think we do, my love,” she said in her sexy Irish accent, giving him a smile. “If we start something now we’ll just be interrupted.”
“I’ve cleared off my entire schedule for the afternoon, just so we could be together,” he said, patting the empty half bed beside him. Even though they had just finished making love less than a half hour ago, Jacob wanted her again, and with her adventure in Australia coming up, he wasn’t sure when they could get together next.
She accepted his invite and sat on the bed, leaning over to kiss him. His arms encircled her waist and pulled her close, pressing her back onto the bed as their tongues met. Her large warm breasts pressed against his chest through the material of her blouse, and her arms moved around his shoulders, holding him.
“Jacob Penner, you are so naughty,” she said, breaking the kiss to smile at him, her green eyes sparkling. “And I really wish we could do this, but I’m telling you, it’s not going to happen.”
He smiled and ignored her, reaching his hand down between her legs, pressing against her mound through the beige material. She gasped in his ear, and he could feel the heat of her through the heavy fabric.
“You’re so cruel,” she said laughing, “You’re going to get me worked up and then leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he grinned, sliding his fingers up her inner thigh and under the edge of her shorts, finding the silky material of her panties. Hooking his fingers, he let the back of them slide over her mound, feeling the cleft of her lips under the sheer cloth.
She groaned again and held him tighter, pressing her hips against his hand, wanting his touch on her.
Then she gave a small laugh, and he pulled back and stared at her, a questioning look on his face.
She was grinning. “Told ya so.”
“Wha
The phone rang, startling Jacob out of his typing reverie. He wasn’t expecting a call. He had left explicit orders with everyone that he wasn’t to be disturbed this afternoon. Checking the caller ID, he saw it was his lawyer and best friend, Paul Robison.
“Dammit,” he said, pressing save on his word processing program, opening his cell phone, and sitting back in his chair.
“Paul, this better be important,” he said, annoyance in his voice. Paul and him had been friends since they were kids, and were each other’s best man at their weddings.
“Hello to you too,” said his friend, “and yes, it is important. Your future ex-wife is now claiming she wants the vacation house in Vermont.”
“Paul,” he said, trying to keep his voice level, “I told you I don’t care about that. I just want her out of my life.”
“I know,” replied Paul, “but I’m your lawyer too, and part of what you’re paying me for is to look out for you. She’s screwing you man.”
Jacob’s attitude softened. “Ok, if you want to fight her on the Vermont house, feel free.”
“Thanks. Um,” Paul began again, “there’s something else we need to talk about.”
“What’s that?”
Paul was still tentative. “I’m getting word from my sources that Meg has hired a private detective.”
“Why?”
“To investigate you.”
“Investigate me? For what?”
Paul paused again. “Buddy, with the way she’s treated you these past few years, I wouldn’t blame you if you had found someone else. But if you have, you better stay away from her for a while. Because if this P.I. gets hold of any evidence, Meg is going to clean you out.”
Jacob smiled. Meg had spent the last few years of their marriage accusing him of having an affair, even though she was the one he had discovered fucking one of the roofers they had hired to work on their house, when he came home unexpectedly early from a trip.
But Jacob wasn’t in the habit of lying to his friend, and didn’t want to start now, so he chose his words carefully.
“The detective isn’t going to find anything,” he said, “because there isn’t any evidence to find. You can stop worrying about it.”
“So where are you now? You didn’t pick up your home phone.”
He felt a flash of irritation return, but decided to tell Paul the truth. “I’m in a hotel room downtown at the Hyatt.”
“Alone?”
He looked around the empty room from his seat at a table in the corner. The beds were still perfectly made. “Of course I’m alone. I just needed to get some writing in, and Meg still has keys to the house. I can’t concentrate knowing she may pop in at any moment.” And then added, “Which is why I asked that no one call me.”
“Ok ok,” he friend said. “I get the hint. I’ll let you get back to what you do best: making millions with your imagination. I’m heading out of town for a few days, but I’ll give you an update when I get back. Take care Jacob.”
“You too Paul, and tell Bonnie I said hello.” Closing the phone, he stared at the words on the computer screen and wondered if they could pick up where they’d left off. He scanned through what he had written already, trying to will the muse back into his head, but he knew that never worked. Sighing, he clicked the screen closed and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and rubbing them.
Meg was right, there was another woman. A woman he was hopelessly and profoundly in love with, and had been for a while. However, the kind of love he was in, most people would call a mental illness. And in some ways he had to agree with them. Because the truth was, he was in love with a woman who didn’t exist.
Of course, the word ‘exist’ has several shades of meanings. For example, Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet never existed. Yet, despite that fact, millions of readers have shed tears for this pair of doomed lovers. And Bram Stoker’s Dracula has been creating fright in readers for over a hundred years. How can characters that don’t exist cause so much emotion in people?
Rose was like that. Except that she wasn’t an invention of some long-dead writer. She was his creation, brought about as his imagination went into overdrive in the throes of subconscious writing.
A visit from the muse. That’s what writers call the feeling of being in the zone, when the words are just flowing out of them, almost as if they were coming from somewhere else. When this happens, sometimes things occur in the story that weren’t planned, and the writer doesn’t even recall how they thought of it. Plots will turn and twist on their own, and characters will go off in a different direction than what was originally laid out.
It happened with Rose that way. She first appeared as Alvera Torosa in his short story, ‘Blood on the Blade’ (first appearing in Playboy), where she was a cute blonde secretary who flirted shyly with the main character, Jonathan Preston. Jonathan didn’t make it to the end of the book, meeting his demise by a crazed killer who turned out to be his son from a brief affair during spring break, but Alvera stuck in his mind.
In his next book, a novel entitled ‘Dagger in the Heart’, he intended her to be a casual fling for his Milos Dagger character, an adventure hero so popular with his readers, this was the sixth novel to feature him. In this book, she was Rose O’Tare, a beautiful red-haired jewel smuggler with a heart of gold, who spoke with an Irish brogue and loved just as fiercely as she fought. His readers probably didn’t recognize she was the same character as Alvera, but in his mind, he knew she was.
Jacob wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but by the time the book was completed, she was a main character, and had captured the heart of the elusive Dagger. The book ended with the start of their wedding ceremony on a beautiful Greek isle. surrounded by clear blue waters. And at the time, if he was being completely honest with himself, Jacob would have admitted he was a bit jealous of Milos.
When trying to think of what his next novel would be, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He began it as another Dagger opus, picking up where the last one had left off, with a band of rogue Mediterranean pirates attacking the wedding. Out of retribution for a previous run-in, they killed Dagger’s betrothed just before she could say, “I do.”
Jacob wept as he wrote her death scene, tears falling on the keys of his laptop as she died slowly in Dagger’s arms, telling him that she would love him from beyond the grave. Milos hushed her and told her she was going to be fine, as he futilely attempted to staunch the bleeding from the wound in her chest. But when her eyes went glassy and her breathing stopped, he lifted his face to the heavens and screamed in anguish, vowing vengeance upon those who had done this.
That night, after writing that scene, Jacob had gone to bed but couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, his thoughts only about Rose. It was almost as if she had really died, and he was grieving for her. Tears were in his eyes when a seed of an idea came to him, and by the time he woke up the next morning, his plans for the book had changed.
It turned out to be his biggest seller ever. When the advance word for ‘A Rose for a Dagger’ came out, most of his fans were upset to hear that Milos Dagger was going to die early on in this installment. But when they got to the scene where he stepped in front of his beloved, saved her by taking the bullet himself, and then died in her arms, very few readers finished it with a dry eye. And when Rose reacted to this by turning her face to the stormy heavens and screaming in anguish, vowing vengeance upon those who had done this, they knew they had been given a new hero – or in this case a heroine – to love. Rose stepped right into Dagger’s role, globetrotting the world and getting into and out of adventures by the skin of her teeth.
Before meeting Rose, Dagger had always been a ladies’ man, bedding woman casually and often during his adventures. In the one book they were together, they had a passionate love affair, and were only with each other. After Dagger’s death, Rose remained chaste, even though man after man attempted to seduce her.
When asked about this in interviews, Jacob always explained that she was being faithful to her one true love – Milos Dagger – who had given up his life to save hers.
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