2 comments/ 76988 views/ 6 favorites First DP By: Koreangal One day in the middle of August 2002, my younger sister Tina and I were hanging out at the mall. I was adopted so we did not look anything alike. Tina has blue eyes with long dirty blond hair. She had also brought along her ex boyfriend, Chris. Tina met Chris from school back in May. She started to like him when she found out he was in a band, but they only dated about a month, things didn't go well because of Shawn- Tina's other ex boyfriend. He always stood in the way, and she never did anything about it. Anyways, Chris is not the best looking guy. He's about 6ft tall, very skinny, has a lot of acne, and has long brown hair. The day was kind of boring, none of us had any money so we just walked around. I couldn't believe how mean Tina was being to Chris; she was being such a bitch. Then again, Tina was never really nice to him. Tina's the kind of person who knows she's hot, and who can get a lot of boys. She's one of those stuck up snobs. The next day, Tina started telling me how much she hated Chris. "Yeah, I'm only hanging out with him until I can meet Eric." Eric is one of Chris's best friends who lives in Jersey, he's coming down to visit Chris in about a week. I have Eric on my yahoo, Chris and him are pretty much the same, he's a really funny guy too, but the best part is that Eric is sex crazed like me! Eric and I have talked about fucking when he comes down. Chris and Eric are also bisexual. Eric told me so. On Friday, Eric came down. I was talking to him from Chris's house online. I told him my parents were going to be gone all day tomorrow... but there was a problem. That Friday, I had just started my period. So, now I thought the whole thing was off. Then Eric told me he didn't mind, and he would still be up for it. Well... that was a relief. I been waiting for this for a long, long time. I'd be really mad if it wasn't going to happen. The next day Chris and Eric showed up at 7:00pm. Tina and Shawn were home as well. Shawn had answered the door to let them in; I was sitting on the couch kind of nervous. Chris came in first followed by Eric. Eric was much taller than I had expected. He also looked different from the pictures I seen. He looked almost like Chris. They were the same height, very skinny; Eric had short brown hair with less acne then Chris. They both just stood in the middle of the living room. Ever since they came Shawn got really close to Tina, and wouldn't leave her. He was like a dog saying, "Stay away from my toy, or I'll kill you." Well to me that's what it looked like... Tina seemed to be getting very annoyed with Shawn, and like always Shawn and Tina started to argue. Chris and Eric were still standing there talking to each other. I was sitting silent on the couch. Tina had said she wanted to meet Eric so much, but she barely said a word to him... maybe it was because Shawn was with her, I don't know. About 15 minutes later Tina said, "Okay, I'm going to Shawn's house for a while, be back later." We heard them leave on Shawn's motorcycle. I had music playing on my computer, I didn't like the song that was on so I went to change it. Eric came over and sat down on the stool beside me. Then Chris came over. That's when we started talking. We were talking about music, while they went through my songs. Then I said, "Hey, let's look at porn!" "Okay," Eric said, and then started typing in some websites. I was really only joking, but didn't say anything. I was getting a little bit horny from looking at the porn sites. I got up and walked near the stairs, trying to give Eric the hint to follow me. Chris and Eric had stopped looking at porn, but were going through more of my songs.... I guess Eric finally did get the hint, and came very close to me. Eric pulled me toward the couch we sat down; Chris went to sit on the other couch. I was still a bit shy but then I got closer to Eric, and sat on top of him. He pulled off the sweater I was wearing, and we started to make out. Eric was a really good kisser. Not very long before Eric pulled away, then yelled over at Chris. "Hey, come over here." Chris came and sat beside Eric, I got off of him. They both smiled... then they started making out. Damn. I'd never seen that in real life before. It kind of got me exited. It was about 7:30pm. Eric un-zipped his jeans and pulled them down. Chris started rubbing his cock through his boxers. I could see Eric getting hard. I was just sitting back enjoying what I was seeing, when Eric looked at me. "Well get in here." I had never been in this kind of threesome before, and I wasn't really sure what to do. Chris had stopped rubbing his cock, and was sucking on Eric's neck. Eric gave out a low sigh. I then started to rub his cock, then pulled it out. I'd say it was about 6-inches, but was it ever thick. I was jerking him off when he pulled off his gray T-shirt. I leaned down and put Eric's hard cock into my mouth, holding the base of his dick with my hand, and then started sucking him off. I was going as deep as I could, and with a fast motion. Chris and Eric were sucking on each other's necks and making out. I didn't suck off Eric for too long, it was kind of hard because he was so thick. I sat back up, and watched Eric and Chris continue to touch, and kiss each other. Chris now had his shirt off also. Not too long after they stopped Eric looked over at me. "Okay, I'm fucking you now." Chris sat at the end of the couch. While I was un-zipping my jeans, Eric was taking his off, along with his boxers. Eric came over and pulled off my T-shirt. Then he got behind me, so I got onto my hands and knees. Eric pulled my jeans down, I looked down only to see Chris's crotch in front of me. I then felt Eric push his cock inside of me. Oh, it felt great! I moaned loudly. Eric grabbed onto my hips, and pushed his cock in and out with a fast and hard motion. When he was going fast, it hurt a bit. I was loving it though, so I took the pain. I was moaning quite loudly. Still just staring down to see that there was another dick in front of me, I couldn't take it any more, so I tried to un-zip Chris's jeans, but it was a bit difficult with one hand. Chris did the rest and pulled out his cock. It was a bit hard, but not fully. I slid his cock into my mouth. It was a great feeling, sucking cock while being fucked at the same time. Eric put his weight down on me, and started fucking me harder. I heard him moan then say, "God, you're so fucking tight." A few minutes later, Eric told me to get on my back. I took Chris's cock out of my mouth, which was damn hard now! Turned over and lay on my back, now looking up at Chris. Eric grabbed my pants and took them off, I had a bit of blood on them, and Eric had a little bit of blood on his dick. Not a lot, I wasn't bleeding heavy. Eric then swung my legs over his shoulders, pushed his cock inside me, and started fucking me hard. About 3 minutes later, I looked up at Chris and said, "You should fuck my ass." Once I said that, Eric pulled out and looked at Chris waiting for an answer. There was a long pause.... Then Eric said, "I'll do it." Both Eric and Chris had never done anal before, so this was Eric's first time. I turned over on my side, Eric tried putting his cock in. "You do it." So, I grabbed onto his cock and led him to the right spot. He pushed until he finally got it in. It stung going in, but once it was in, it felt awesome! Eric was fucking my ass slow while Chris lay beside me, trying to put his cock into my pussy. It wasn't working- there wasn't enough space for us in the position that we were in. Eric took his cock out, Chris and I both stood up. Eric sat down, and pulled me onto him and pushed his cock into my ass again. Chris put his hands on top of the couch, leaning down a bit, and pushed his cock into my pussy. Eric grabbed my hips, and was pulling me off and pushing me back onto his cock. It was an amazing feeling. I was moaning really loud. There had been no lights on, so now it was dark. Eric and Chris were still fucking me. Chris kept on sliding out, I felt Eric's cock more. Then Eric gave out a loud sigh... I felt the flow of Eric's cum in my ass. "I'm done." Chris pulled out, and stood up. I got up next, and then Eric. I was a bit disappointed, I wanted them to keep going, or at least Chris. Eric was the only one who said he was done. Eric and Chris picked up their clothes, and went into the bathroom. I turned on some lights and looked at the clock, it was 8:40pm. Then I started looking for my clothes. I put on some pj pants since my jeans were full of blood. Then I saw some blood on the couch, so I had to clean that up right away. I gave Chris and Eric rags so they could clean off the blood that was all down their legs... It wasn't a pretty sight. I never had to clean so much after having sex. For the next half an hour, we just ate some food and talked. I gave them both some bus money to get home. They left at 9:15pm. That was my first dp, and I loved it. Although, it could have gone better if I wasn't on my period. First Duel The duel I had with Forgeir Dreamseeker was hard, but fast. He bested me easily, tossing my axe out of my hands with a flick of his blade. "Again," I whispered to him as he helped me up from the floor of the tunnel. We were fighting in the common lands that all races used for their marketing and trading, and we were with friends in the great square-shaped tunnel that slanted out of the cliff face. "We go again," I said, and he looked at me, surprised. Forgeir was a barbarian from the north. He had hair the color of warm mud, and a thick tattooed line of blue that ran under both eyes. He stood probably four feet above me, and his thigh was as thick as my chest. But most striking about Forgeir was the deep scar that ran from his forehead, over his foggy right eye, down to his jawbone. I could only wonder at what beast had caused such a thick wound. Or had it been a man? A woman? "Alright," he said quietly, then he struck up a fighting stance. I ran at him, but he dodged, a maneuver I myself still struggled to learn in training sessions. Forgeir was far ahead of me as a warrior, my superior in all things. I landed against the far wall with a thud, not having been able to stop my quick pace. And up behind me he came, his blade flat against my back, his weight pressing me into the warm stone. "Do ye yield, darkling?" I paused, then finally nodded. And Forgeir chuckled. And he turned his back to me, waving to our friends that he had won yet again. I am Drow. Never turn your back on a Drow you think you have beaten. My hands were about his neck quicker than he could think, and my legs were pulling his strong arms away from his chest, to tuck the elbows with my heels behind his back. He was powerless, gasping in my grasp. I was weak, but I had him effectively pinioned beneath my small agile body. I put my dark lips to his helm, in the vicinity of his ear. "Do ye yield, barbarian?" The whisper was quick and fervent. I knew I had to give no quarter, allow him to time to rethink this. I had to work on surprise and doubt. And it worked. He yielded. And I leapt down from his back, backing away, axe in hand and ready for his retaliation. Forgeir looked at me, and laughed. And the laugh made his one good eye sparkle. His thick lips went up in a smile between his moustache and beard, and I stood straight, staring at him. "You are a wily one, girl! You've so much to learn, but I hope you never forget to be so dominant and determined when it comes to real battle!" Forgeir laughed more, and then invited me to drink with him that evening. As was his habit, the barbarian liked to sit before a crisp, crackling fire until sleep overcame him. He would pick the same lonely fireplace every night, situated in the back most part of the tunnel, in the large common room there. The room was huge, just a cavern really. But I was used to caverns, and to me the vaulted ceilings and great stone walled expanse was the norm. Forgeir seemed at ease, too. I could tell he enjoyed being here, near this fire. He did not worry about all the people passing at his back. I watched as he undressed and tossed aside his armor, smirking at me as if he thought I wouldn't do the same. I did. I took off the few pieces of banded I wore, and placed them to one side. Soon, I wore nothing but my ebony skin and snowy hair. The shocked look in the barbarian's eyes told me that he was not used to seeing naked women sitting at his fire. But what was I, if not a dark elf? My body was my temple, and I worshiped it, cared for it, sculpted it as much as I could in this, my youth. I was proud of it, like any good warrior should be. And being raised among trolls and then humans, I did not ever learn modesty. It is not one of the skills you learn at the feet of a good swords master, at least not where I grew up. Over my shoulder, I glared at the people still passing in the shadows as night began to fall. Would the stream of merchants never end? Would I have to listen to them all night? I wanted to listen to the barbarian, to hear his stories, the tales of a true warrior who had been out in the world. I didn't want to hear the banter and bargaining of filthy trade. "You are a very beautiful woman, Ubique," Forgeir said to me. His voice was soft, husky, and he was watching me. I looked at him, and noticed how the firelight danced against the silvery edges of the scar on his face. I was fascinated with it, and I could not tear my eyes away. "Do you like my scar?" I nodded. I could not speak. "You may touch it, if you like." I could not resist, and so I moved forward. With one dark hand, I reached up to his face. On my knees before him, where he sat, I began to trace the trail that some claw or blade had made on this man's visage. "Does it hurt?" I asked. "When you touch it? No." He took my hand in his, pressing it to his face. And he closed his eyes, leaning his cheek into my palm. "Your touch is so soft, it feels very good, actually." I smiled, and took my hand from his. Then I began to trace the scar again, moving closer to him. It was a magnificent wound, I thought. I hoped that one day, I would bear such proof of my skill or courage. With a fingertip, I traced the silver edges as they flickered orange in the light of the flames. "It is a very admirable scar. I'm surprised it still has any feeling to it." "Only under your touch has it made me respond so..." I didn't know what he meant, but he looked me in the eyes, directly. Then he leaned forward. His lips moved to mine as his hand moved to the small of my back. His fingers could span my spine so easily, and he trailed them up and down over my skin. "You are quite a woman." I looked at him, then. And I wasn't sure what to do next as he pulled me into his lap. I could feel his hardness, his manhood, beneath the red plaid of the skirt barbarians call a kilt. He leaned me against him, wrapping his arms around me. I could feel the fire's heat. Or maybe that was his body. Whatever it was, I was feeling dizzy, lightheaded. I will blame the fire. Forgeir nuzzled my neck with his bearded chin. Then slowly, his mouth moved to my flesh. With great care, his teeth nipped at me, pulling at my skin. I shuddered. It felt very good to have someone giving me this kind of attention. I had not had it like this before. "You are shaking like a child." Slowly, he turned me around until I was looking up into his great face. "Have you never had a man before?" I shook my head 'no'. He seemed taken aback. He seemed shocked, and he even seemed afraid. All of these things I registered in his one good eye. The depths of that eye were immeasurable; it was a pool of shadows I could not enter into. But his feelings were reflected there as if on the surface of a very dark pond. He was concerned for me. "I would love to take you, Ubique. I would love to know your body better. But, I am not the same as other men your body is meant for. I am...bigger." Was he denying me suddenly, when he had not even asked me for anything? What ever had just happened? I didn't know what to say, or how to react. I knew what he had done to me. He had stirred secret parts of me that others had stirred, in other ways, many times. He was bringing out the beast in me, the secret beast I kept sheltered and hidden in dreams and nightmares. And now he was telling me he would do no more, give me no more of this dark pleasure that his lips dropped on my neck so easily. He would not go further -- because of size? "I can handle anything. I am a warrior, and I am Drow." I put my chin up, determinedly, and kissed him. I kissed him hard, showing him the fires and the yearnings he had stirred in me. There would be no way he could deny now that I wanted what ever it was he was going to give. I was not an ignorant fool. I knew what was going on. I knew what would happen. But his manner of saying that he would have to refuse me because I was too small was exactly what he needed to say to make me desire him as much as he obviously desired me. My hand snaked up his leg, and he gasped, pulling away from my lips as I touched on his manhood. His member jumped in my hand, and a drop of moisture lay in my palm as I followed it and caught it up once more. "I am every bit the fighter and the warrior you are, or I shall be soon. Whatever you can dish out, I can take." The challenge was spoken, and he would not back down. This much I knew. Men are very predictable, and warriors especially are easily puppetted into doing things they first said they would not. "So be it," he whispered. Before I knew what was going on, Forgeir had flipped me over onto my hands and knees. I could feel the edges of his kilt brushing against the backs of his thighs as he leaned over me. His breath was hot in my ear. "If I let you see what I have in store for you, you may not be so brave," he said to me. And then, I could feel the broiling tip of him pushing against my folds. As much as I am a warrior, I am also a woman. The same parts of me are tender as they would be on any new woman. I could feel him pressing against them, against those nether lips I had let no one else ever before enter. I could feel the rounded head of him, dripping with that wetness, as he slid that tip of his manhood up and down the small length of me. "You are so small," he whispered, and his voice shook with desire. His every teasing touch was igniting a new want and need inside me. I pressed myself back against him, half fearing he would want to give up once he saw how large he was next to my small and inexperienced body. And I would hate for him to stop now. Suddenly, he took hold of both of my hips in his hands. His grip was so tight; I knew what would come next. He meant to hold me still, incase I tried to get away. I would not try that, I knew. I wanted this. With all the merchants around us, all ignorant of what we two did, he entered me thus. He thrust himself deep into me, as deep as he could. And it is a wonder I lived through that. His lust for me was so strong, I was surprised my head did not tumble off my neck that first time. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out and drawing attention to us. I knew we must not be the only lovers enjoying the respite of the day in the darkness of the tunnel. But I did not want to share this moment with anyone else. Slowly, as yet unsatisfied, he withdrew from me. And the ache and the pain that caused, I cannot describe. It was as if he were burying a brand inside me, then slowly withdrawing it while it was still raging hot. I felt every inch of him, and I knew he may very well have been right. He was so long, so huge, I might have been afraid to watch him plunder me with such a tool. It is only through the grace of being born a magick creature that I live and breath through such things. With magick pulsing in my veins, and as a part of my heredity, such things will never cause me fatal harm. So says the history of the land. And so says the things I have since been a party to. "You are so small, so tight, like a sheath too small for my blade." But again, Forgeir plunged into me, and this time he failed to stifle his own cries of pleasure. He could not stop, now. He had rent me, he had torn the veil of innocence from my eyes, and he had opened me for the first time. First among all men. There was no going back now. His giant thumbs played over my bottom, teasing the buttocks open. And I know he looked down then, at his sun tanned skin as he dove in and out of my midnight blue privacy. I know it because he moaned, groaned deeply, and could not stop for the life of him. He had to have me, and it was that that pushed me over the edge. I moved as much as I could, pressing myself back against him, as much as his tight grip would let me. I wanted him deep inside me. I could feel the rim of his member's mushroom-shaped head as he dragged it viciously out of me. I could feel it pulling at my insides, then I could feel my walls becoming bruised with his ravishing. And I wanted more. We fought, thus, our bodies smashing against each other. His hands loosened, and he pulled me back against him, helped me grind into him. I tilted my head back, too far gone to care if anyone heard or if anyone saw. I screamed, and I orgasmed like I had never thought possible. "Gods!" he cried, watching me as I writhed on his member, squirmed against his thighs and groin. "You are wonderful! Amazing!" Then he fell over me, holding my hands in his above my head, stretching me out on the warm stone floor of the tunnel. "Where do you want me to cum?" I couldn't answer, I couldn't speak or think. "I'm going to cum..." He didn't stop thrusting into me, and even though my own climax was lost in his painful crushing movements, the pleasure welling in him was causing me to experience new ecstasy. This was something I had never felt before, a man caught so desperately in the throes of passion he can't stop for anything. "I...I'm..." And he screamed. And he roared against my neck, biting into my shoulders. I howled in response, and I felt him filling me as never before. Great warmth spilled out of him, washing up against my innermost sanctum. He was inside me, pushed in as deep as he could go. Still pushing, still pulsing, still pouring into me. As I lay beneath him, panting, exhausted, lost in wonderment, I thought many things. I thought of how wonderful it was to know a man. I thought of the amazing intimacy two people could share. I thought of the person to whom I had given this first time to. And I thought of how it had come to be, and what would happen next. Slowly, Forgeir rolled off of me, flopping to his back and laying next to me. I did not look at him. I stared instead at the fire. The flames crackled on and on, no matter who lay with whom here in the tunnel. They did not care, and did not stop. It occurred to me then that it was not a bad thing to be with someone who was not of the same race as myself. I thought of the great pleasure I had felt, both at my own release, and at his. And I wondered how it was to be with others. There were so many out there that had different bodies, different mannerisms. Would it be the same with them? Would I enjoy them as much as I enjoyed this barbarian? Or was he unique? Would others bore me, and would I always want this one? I thought of my little cousin, Moonface, back in the city we called home. I thought of how prim and proper she was. And I thought of how much she deserved joy and pleasure. Then, I decided. I would arrange a marriage for her. She was a beautiful and blooming dark flower, caught up in the nexus that is Drow politics. I would free her from that, and arrange a marriage with this man that I had just given my virginity to. It was the best thing to do, in my eyes! He had taken from me a gift, and I had to repay him for what he had shown me. And my little cousin deserved this kind of pleasure much more than I did. I turned my head, looking at this barbarian. And he was looking at me, both our cheeks pressed to the stone floor. Our eyes met, and we blinked at each other in wonder at what we had just shared. I would have him marry my cousin. One of my downfalls, from that day forward, was my weakness to my own lust. It did not rule me. But I did indulge it as often as I could. And with Forgeir, it was often. It didn't occur to me I should not bed down with the man my cousin was to marry. It did not occur to me to marry him myself. I knew he adored me, and I felt the same for him. But I felt we had a respect between us. We wished to stay so, with each other, because we were well matched. But I didn't expect to marry, ever. And talk of children always fizzled out. I didn't have plans for any. Forgeir taught me so many things. He taught me how to truly wield a large weapon. My axe was the size of my full height, and it was not a common weapon for a dark elf. He taught me the value of a shield, and when to use it. Most were too big for me to carry at the same time as my axe, so I chose to avoid shields. He also taught me about greed and envy. He liked my axe, and he sought one for himself, to no avail. He didn't approve that an unskilled warrior such as I had something he could probably use better. With his fingers twined in my hair, he told me such once as he stood over me on a bed in his summer house. "You don't deserve it!" he hissed as he placed his member against my lips. "Just try to take it from me -- you will not live the night through..." I could not turn my face away from his manhood, his hands were too tight in my long white hair. We came here often to have our little battles of words and bodies. This was his special secret home. The arrangement to marry my cousin had failed, and instead, Forgeir was going to take his own wife, a bloody lightdweller. I knew she did not please him as I did. He could not be so rough with her, so passionate. His fingers tightened in my hair, and he forced my mouth open at last, pushing himself inside. And he groaned, and became weak to me. I clawed at his thighs, dragging my nails up the backs of his legs and then down the front. I tugged and pulled at his privacy, cupping the loose flesh in my hands. He was like a slave when he got like this, when he finally gave in to the pleasure I could give. I pulled him down to the bed, twisting him until I was above him, and he lay on his back in the darkness of the small room. And I drank him, then, and made him mine for but the briefest of moments. Out in the world, we were but warriors, friends, dueling companions. He hunted in lands I could not yet travel to. He learned quickly, and learned more than I sought to learn. I merely wanted to taste the world, in all ways. He wanted to own it, I thought. Inside this little house, we were only two people. Warriors still, constantly fighting with words, or entangling our bodies around each other anxiously and angrily. There were no servants to gossip about what nasty pleasures we indulged in, only silent enchanted beings who cleaned up after us. The fire was always stoked, always roaring. The heat was always there. It was with sadness that one day, he handed me the key to the house, and turned away from me, never to return, I thought. I didn't realize my heart could break for him. But when he walked away in the sunset, it did. The house was mine, utterly and completely. The invisible servants obeyed my command. I owned the house now; I was now its true mistress. But I was Forgeir's mistress no more. First Edition Thanks to the Hip and Knee Doctor for editing assistance. * It was four years since my wife died and three years since my kids started working on me to move. It was their contention that the family home, where they were all raised, was too big for a single man, alone. I held out for as long as I could, but knew that in the end they were right. I had no desire to live with any of my offspring and they didn't really want me any way. I have to admit that as I got older, I got more ornery. Most of the time I was Okay, but I developed a short temper and a lack of tolerance for people who acted like assholes. Hell, why not? I spent my whole life being nice to people I didn't like, just so I could be socially acceptable. It didn't matter any more. After an agreement was finally reached between my children and me, I started to get ready. The hardest thing to do was to get rid of my stuff. You would be amazed at all the junk a person can collect over a lifetime, especially if they spent most of it in the same house. I was a little disappointed that I couldn't pawn more of it off on the kids. My son, Robert, the lawyer, took my Snap-On Tools and my daughter, Marcie, the doctor, agreed to take her mother's china. She was going to hold it for her daughter. Darcy, the teacher and the oldest of the group, took the grandfathers clock that had been my father's. I think they each took something so that I wouldn't feel bad. I had a yard sale every other week, over the summer, and finally had a wholesale, used furniture broker come in and make me a bid on what was left. It was sad to see my whole life gone, with so little fanfare. I was a little depressed and a little pissed. I wasn't mad at my kids, because they were doing the right thing. I was mad at myself for getting old. Black Water Village had a buy-in requirement. The money from the family home covered that. I had a little left over because I opted for a studio apartment type unit. It was only one room and a bath. There was a small kitchen area big enough for a coffee pot and a microwave, but no stove. I wasn't planning on doing much cooking, since meals were included in the exorbitant monthly fees. There was also a small, under the counter, refrigerator that was perfect for my Foster's. Unfortunately, the full-sized bed dominated the room. The kids surprised me with a new HD-TV and a leather recliner. What more could a man want? A computer would have been nice, but there were several with Internet connection in the common area, available for use. It didn't take long to adapt to a routine. Since I was always an early riser, I was able to doing my morning walk with no interruptions. It was usually just one lone lady and myself, circling the perimeter of the facility. She would smile, but avoided making eye contact. I had seen her in the main building several times, but had no idea who she was. She always wore stylish walking suits. Her hair was shoulder length and silky like a shampoo commercial. It was mixed, silver and gray. I was impressed that she was confident enough to do that. Most of the women dyed their hair ridiculous colors, in an attempt to look younger. The minimum age to get into the place was sixty-five, so it seemed stupid to me. I never understood vanity. Eventually, I found out that my walking companion's name was Eleanor. Eleanor was married to Frank Stryker, a retired Air Force Colonel. The Strykers lived in the biggest unit in the whole complex, and he flaunted that fact every chance he got. Just looking at the man, made my blood boil. He was the epitome of arrogance and I got pissed off every time I was around him. From what I could gather, Eleanor was a fine woman and her husband treated her like shit. He didn't abuse her or anything like that, but took her for granted and always talked to her in a demeaning way. If I had said some of the things he said to my departed wife, Emma, I would have gotten a cast iron skillet to the side of my head, and deserved it. Now, you wonder, how did I get all this good information? The ratio of single women to single men in communities such as Black Water was very off-balanced. As soon as an unattached man moved in the vultures descended. I am being a little mean. These women are not vultures by any standard, just lonely widows hoping for a little attention. Metaphorically, circling doves would not work as a descriptive term. I was lucky enough to have a lovely female companion at every meal. It was not hard at all to get them to talk about the other women. Unfortunately, I had to learn a lot about women I didn't care about, in order to learn a little about Eleanor. Frank Stryker liked to brag. He was always ready to expound on his magnificent military career, his great athletic skills, and his collection of fabulous memorabilia. After a few hours on the computer, I discovered he was not a Colonel in the Air Force, but a reserve Lieutenant Colonel. At the completion of twenty years, he was given a free promotion bump to Colonel, but never served in that rank. He never saw combat and spent his entire career as a supply officer. Now, please understand that I am not demeaning his position or his service, but questioning the way he presented himself and his status to other people. If you listened to Frank, you'd soon believed that he single handedly won the war in Viet Nam. I had no trouble at all getting Frank to show me his fabulous collection of expensive crap. He had one whole room set up with display cases and shelves. I got to see his Mickey Mantle baseball card, his signed O.J.Simpson football, and a hundred other pieces of sports collectables. On the wall hung a perfectly framed etching by Whistler, aside of a Peter Max lithograph. Two scrapbooks held pages and pages of autographs and signed pictures. He was obsessed with possessions, and bragged about every one of them. Eleanor sat quietly with a book as Frank methodically escorted me through the whole unit. The most interesting thing I noticed was the double beds. Several weeks passed. Eleanor and I still walked every morning, but never together. There was barely a nod of recognition between us. My relationship with the ladies of the manor was steadily improving, and I used the time to improve my social skills. I also spent a lot of time watching and studying Frank. There were things that he was actually good at. He played a great tennis game and was almost a pro at golf. One night, a large group of us went bowling and I was again amazed at his alley talents. I was looking for a weakness that I could exploit and maybe use it to get closer to Eleanor. I wasn't finding any. Evening time at Black Water was slow. Most of the residents watched television or a movie. There were a few cards games usually underway, and some of the ladies played Mah jongg, which I never understood. Franks seemed to enjoy cribbage and to my surprise, Parcheesi. Emma and I spent many a quiet evening hunched over the Parcheesi board. She was deadly. I never realized how strategic the game was until my wife destroyed me, again and again. It took months, or better yet, years for me to be able to hold my own with her. On two occasions, I got so mad that I actually tore the Parcheesi board in half and threw it across the room. The next day, I would sheepishly bring a new one home and apologize to Emma for being a shit. After the kids left home, we stopped playing for some reason. I don't remember why. The only thing I brought with me of any value was my first edition of Mickey Spillane's The Big Kill. It wasn't worth that much, but I kept it because I had bought it new and it was one of the few books I actually enjoyed reading. The grammar was terrible and it was evident that they didn't have proofreaders back then. It is amazing how many books he sold, considering. After thirty minutes on the computer, I found several autographs of my favorite author for sale. I printed out three of them and spent the rest of the evening practicing my forgery skills. I never did get it right, but hell, Frank wouldn't know that. Now I had a signed first edition. That had to be worth something. The first thing I did was mention, and show, my new prized possession to a few of the cronies that hung around with Frank. It didn't take long for him to approach me. "Stanley. I understand you have a first edition Mike Hammer novel. I was wondering if I could get a look at it?" I hadn't said anything to the other guys about the signature in the front of the book, but I made sure that they saw it. "Be glad to Frank. I've had the book for over forty years and it is my pride and joy." The Colonel spent a good five minutes looking the book over. He checked the spine to see if it was tight and carefully read the publishing info in the front. It's too bad he didn't know more about forged signatures. "That's a nice piece Stanley. Would you consider parting with it?" "Well Frank, I don't need the money, but I might be interested in a trade or something like that. Why don't you think on it, and maybe you can come up with something to titillate me with." I knew I brought that book with me for some reason. It wasn't a great reason, but it added some excitement to an otherwise dull existence. Over the next few days, Frank tried to get me to compete in various activities, all which he clearly excelled in. He was trying to set up a betting situation, but never did mention what he was planning to offer on his side of the wager. I was more interested in games than athletics. Poker was his first choice, but I still didn't respond. I was holding out for Parcheesi. It really didn't matter, because I was planning on losing anyhow. I just felt that I could put on a more convincing show at something I was good at. The day came when he made the offer and I reluctantly accepted. By this time, many of the residents had gotten wind of the bet. I wasn't too keen on having an audience, and agreed to one observer to clarify, or attest to, the terms of the wager, but not to observe the playing of the game. The big day arrived and Frank was cocky as hell. He had no doubt that he would trounce me and was already strutting. We sat ourselves at a secluded table in the common area and reviewed the rules of the game. "Mister Stryker, I am putting up my First Edition Mickey Spillane novel as my side of the bet. What are you offering?" "Mister Clark, I made several proposals to you over the last few weeks and you rejected them all. I assume you have something in mind, so I guess I will have to hear what it is and decide from there." I thought it was pretty neat the way we were addressing each other formally. It added a sort of ceremonial touch to the bet. "I am willing to wager my book against one evening with your wife, Eleanor." That got a definite reaction out of my opponent. Not a violent one, but one of amazement. With out saying a word he was expressing astonishment at my audacity. Franks friend, who was sitting with us to clarify the betting terms, was also taken aback a little. "That's ridiculous. You don't seriously think I would bet my wife against a stupid book do you?" "Charlie, do you mind leaving Mister Stryker and I alone to discuss this like gentlemen?" Charlie got up and left after getting a nod from the Colonel. He walked across the room and was soon in deep conversation with the group of observers that had gathered. My plan was working perfectly. "I didn't mean to get you so upset Frank. What I propose is innocent enough. All I want to do is take Eleanor out to supper. No hanky-panky and no strings attached. I am going nuts in this place and need to get out for an evening. I have eaten meals with every lady in this complex, except Eleanor. She is the only one who could make it special for me." "Just supper, that's all?" "I promise and I'll even let her pick the restaurant. Of course you are going to have to approve this and make sure it is Okay with her." "That's no problem. She will do whatever I tell her." When he made that statement, I knew I was doing the right thing. He didn't care about her. She was just another possession to him. Frank looked over at Charlie, and gave him a thumbs-up. We were ready to start the game. Did you ever play the game when you were kids, where one person would whisper a statement to another one and then it would be passed down the line though ten or twenty people? By the time it reached the end, it was nothing like it started out to be. I was sure that the terms of our bet would get back to Eleanor in the same fashion. Now, all I had to do was wait to see what the results were. I could win or I could lose, but at least I had a chance. The game went as expected. Stryker was good, but not that good. I had two opportunities to block and run to the finish, but passed on both of them. I was able to offer him the same situation, but he didn't even see it. We played twice as long as we should have. After his victory, I handed him the book and congratulated him on a good game. The seed had been planted. I slept well that night. It was a beautiful morning and I never felt better as I started my walk. Before I knew it, a fuming Eleanor Stryker was blocking my way, with her hands on her hips. "Who the hell do you think you are embarrassing me that way?" "I am sorry, but that was not my intention." "Did you really think that I would be willing to have sex with you just because my stupid husband lost a bet?" The rumor chain worked just as I had hoped. "He said you would do anything he told you to do." "What!" That definite got a rise out of the otherwise demure woman. "I wouldn't make something like that up." I couldn't tell her that I sort of took it out of context. When poor Frank said that, he was talking about supper, not sex. It was to my advantage to let her think the way she was. "Why would you bet such a valuable book on something you could never get?" "I would bet everything I had to spend an evening with you. It was a no-brainer." She was still furious but seemed deep in thought. She let out a low growling sound as she turned to leave. "Don't ever humiliate me like that again, you arrogant SOB." As Eleanor Stryker walked away I was wondering why she used the initials SOB instead of just saying son-of-a-bitch. I finally got to meet the new woman of my dreams. Mildred Stubblebine was my breakfast companion for the day. She was not as talkative as normal and had a funny little smile on her face for most of the meal. "You have something on your mind Mildred. What is it?" She leaned over the table and giggled a little. "Stanley, were you really going to do her? If you had won the game, were you going to have sex with her?" "Shame on you. Why would you ask me such a thing?" "We all had our fingers crossed. We were cheering for you to win." "Why?" "We thought it would be good for her. She needs a little attention." "I think you are a bunch of dirty old ladies." I had a big smile on my face when I said that. "Besides, a gentleman never tells." I grabbed the last triangle of toast and winked at Mildred as I left the table. It was nice to have the support of the ladies for my campaign. Mildred was beaming ear to ear as I left. She had enough information now, to monopolize the conversation at Black Water for the whole day. I didn't see much of Frank that morning. I skipped lunch and grabbed the shuttle to Wal-Mart. I needed to pick up a few things and I was trying to avoid any more inquisitions, like I had with Mildred earlier. Things were fine right now, but it would be easy to screw up. I zapped a TV dinner and watch a couple of movies in the room, before turning in. It was eleven o'clock when I heard the faint tapping on the door. Eleanor Stryker was standing in the doorway, with an anxious expression on her face. I stepped aside and let her come in, standing there in my boxer shorts. The only light in the room came from the hallway and the red glow from the clock. I closed the door just as she dropped her bathrobe and climbed into my bed. No words were spoken between us. At three AM, the hallway light hit me in the eyes again. My nighttime visitor left as quietly as she arrived. The four short hours we spent together were magnificent. The fact that we did not say anything during the entire time made it even better. I slept through breakfast, and was surprised by a visit from three of my ladies, with Danish, juice, and hot coffee. They didn't say anything either: just smiled. I was still in my boxers. The relationship that Eleanor and I had was never talked about. She would visit me at least twice a week. My door was never locked. The Colonel seemed to mellow out quite a bit. The bravado was gone. He spent more time on the golf course, sometimes playing two rounds a day. We never talked again. His circle of friends seemed to get smaller and smaller as weeks passed. About six months after our Parcheesi game, Frank Stryker died of a heart attack while playing golf in Bermuda. They took two busloads of us to Indian Town Gap for Colonel Stryker's military funeral. I tried to stay inconspicuous. Eleanor was seated up front with her two sons and a daughter. The sons appeared to be as arrogant as their father. The daughter looked liked she had a broomstick shoved up her ass and sucked lemons for breakfast. It was sad to see that such an elegant lady had such dip-shits for children. I was thankful that I didn't have the same problem. Frank Stryker's sons wasted no time loading his collectables into their cars. The daughter didn't seem to be interested in any of the things. She spent all of her time with Eleanor. All I could do was observe from afar. Eleanor didn't come to the dining room that night. When I heard the knock on the door, I knew it wasn't my lady. She had become accustomed to just walking in. The lemon sucking, broomstick was standing there, and not smiling. "Stanley Clark, I am Norma Stryker, Eleanor's daughter. Can I have a moment of your time?" I was afraid to refuse her. "I am trying to get my mother's affairs in order before I return home. There are just a few loose ends to tie up before I go." "Would you like a beer?" I was amazed when she nodded 'yes.' and more so when she started drinking from the bottle. "My money hungry brothers have hit the road with their booty and I am left to clean up. I have one small problem to resolve before I can go." She swallowed half the beer in one swig. "I don't see how I can be of assistance." "My mother craves companionship, something she has been denied for many years now. I understand you are ready and willing to offer her what she requires and I would like to pay you for your services." "Why would you want to pay me for something that I am more than willing to do for free?" She finished the beer on the second swig. "I feel obligated to protect the estate. My father left a lot of money. It is a life annuity for my mother with a transfer on death clause to each of the children equally." "I don't want Eleanor's money. I don't need it, and I don't see that as a reason to keep us apart." "I don't want to keep you apart. In fact I want you to move in with her. The board of directors says it is Okay and mom would like it." "What is the problem?" "How can we keep the two of you from getting married. If you marry her, things could get very messy and only the lawyers would benefit." "What's your solution?" "I want to hire you as a permanent companion for my mother. You can live together as man and wife but you will actually be an employee, not a husband. You will have a limited power of attorney, so that you can make medical decisions and such, but you will not have legal spousal rights." "What sort of pay are we talking about?" "I'll pay your monthly fees here at Black Water and give you an open credit card so that you can keep mom entertained, you know, for movies, restaurants, and stuff. You can use your pension for whatever you like. You can also sell back your apartment unit. I understand you will get 90% of the original price on the resale." First Edition The whole thing sounded mercenary as hell. I guess it made sense from the financial side but personally it stunk to high heavens. "I'm sorry, Norma. I appreciate the offer, but that is not possible. I love Eleanor and I really want to spend the rest of my time with her. It has been difficult for me since my wife died. I didn't think I would ever find someone to fill in for her. Your mother does that, but I will not have our relationship compromised by money. I will gladly sign a prenuptial agreement or something like that, but I will not be bought off under any circumstances. As far as I am concerned she can give the whole annuity to her kids and we can live very well on what I have. Well, maybe not as well, but nicely. Do you want another beer?" "No more beer, thank you. I have to go back to Chicago. Can I call you later in the week?" "I'll look forward to it. In the mean time, I know a lovely lady who needs someone to hold her hand. I feel obligated, and I intend to fill that obligation until you tell me otherwise." "You do whatever you feel is right, Mister Clark. I think she is waiting for you." Norma did not call me back. Eleanor and I no longer had to hide in the shadows. We spent most of the nights in her unit. Every once in a while, we used mine just for the change. We were accepted as a pair, and we were comfortable with each other's company. Two or three times a month I would have lunch with one of the kids. I never said anything about Eleanor, because I didn't want them to think I was trying to replace their mother. It was easier that way. I prided myself on the fact that I did not lay any guilt trips on my kids about visiting. They had their own lives and families. I felt it was important not to disrupt that. Thanksgiving was coming up and my children made a big deal out of inviting me to Marcie's house to spend it with all of them. I wanted to enjoy the day with Eleanor so I simply told them thanks, but no thanks. Eleanor was getting a little upset with me for not leveling with my family, and not introducing her to them. At one point she inferred that I was ashamed of her. I knew then I had to open the relationship. The first call I made was to Robert. I never took advantage of the fact that Robert was a lawyer. I didn't think that was proper. I decided I had to make an exception. He was ecstatic about Eleanor, and convinced me that his sisters would be also. He thought, as I did, that prenuptial agreements were crass, but in this case necessary. It only took a few days for him to draw up papers to completely protect all of Eleanor's assets against me, no matter what our relationship. Christmas was at Robert's house that year. Eleanor gave me a first edition Mickey Spillane novel and I gave her an engagement ring. Her acceptance into the family was unanimous. We were married that March in the community room at Black Water. Norma came to the wedding, but her brothers did not show. I gave her a copy of the prenuptial agreement and she handed it right back to me, with a wink. First Emperor of Haiti Deep in the underground chamber, the thing smiled. It had been down there for a long time. Sometimes, it sure felt like it had been there forever. It smiled at itself. Surely it hadn't been there forever. Just a really long time. It didn't much care for this new underground prison in which it dwelled. It really preferred the ancient one beneath the Palace. Of course, the Palace crumbled beneath the awesome forces unleashed by the Quake. It smiled even more as it thought of the Quake. Whoever said there is opportunity in disaster was absolutely right... For three glorious days it had wandered through the remnants of the Capital, stalking from ruin to ruin. And it fed on all those it found. Men and women alike. And their blood replenished it. It felt better than it had in centuries. It had been astonished as to how much the world had changed in just a couple hundred years. The humans had all of these amazing machines now. Strange metallic wonders. Things it could never have imagined. For all the good it did them. In the end, nature defeated their machines just like it defeated them. It laughed, knowing nature could never defeat it. For it was above and beyond nature. Beyond life and beyond death. It knew the glorious state of being Undead. Yet it knew that immortality and invincibility were not one and the same. For the cursed humans captured it again, and once more trapped it underground. It screamed in rage, howling at the injustice of it. None of these humans would have a homeland if it weren't the deal they made with it, so long ago. That's why it hated the whole lot of them. Humans were a hypocritical race, but the dark-skinned inhabitants of this cursed island were the worst of all. Their ancestors bargained with it for their freedom, so long ago. They brought it from the depths of Africa, to fight the accursed Europeans who held them in bondage. Had it known they would prove so ungrateful, it never would have left its homeland of Dahomey to protect these imbeciles. At least in Dahomey the humans had known respect for the Gods of Old. They offered it piteous sacrifices to appease its eternal hunger. And the blood of the victims, mostly prisoners of war or vile criminals, gave it strength. Ah, what amazing powers the blood of humans had granted it. Once, it had enough strength to bend steel with its hands. Enough strength to lift a horse clear above its head and hurl it twenty feet through the air. The strength of a beast the likes of which the world hadn't seen in ages. It shuddered with pleasure as it remembered the speed which once was its very own to command. It could run so fast even those tiny balls of metal fired from the pistols of the Europeans could never touch it. Not that they could destroy it if they tried. Its skin was tough, too tough for bullets, blades or even flames to penetrate. Elephant skin was cotton by comparison. Yeah, it was a formidable creature once. God-like. It had lived since before the time of the Pharaohs. It was old enough to remember the Black Pharaohs which once ruled over the Land of Egypt. They came from nearby Nubia, the Land of Gold. A magnificent African kingdom whose people also prayed to its kind. Oh yes. It remembered the Nubians fondly. They respected the Old Ways. In times of war, they summoned it to unleash hell upon their enemies. It had an advantage no army ever had. It was always outnumbered, always outgunned, for lack of a better term. However, it could not die. Even if it took eternity, it would stalk entire armies and slaughter them to the last man no matter how long it took. Yes, those were the days. One of its most glorious campaigns was the lengthy war waged by the African slaves brought to that island in the Caribbean by the Europeans. It had gorged itself full of European blood as it stalked across plains, fields and valleys. It didn't differentiate between the African slaves who summoned it from the depths of the motherland and the pale-skinned ones who enslaved them. To it, blood was blood. The blood of African slaves tasted just as sweet as that of the European men and women who enslaved them. Of course, the shamans among the Africans had known how to control it. Or at least affect it in some way. Oh, yes. Even after being forcibly brought to the Caribbean by the brutal Europeans, they hadn't forgotten the ways of their people. And they had known how to control it in some way. Old methods, which some unwise fool would call magic. It smiled. Did magic really exist? It sometimes pondered that. There were ancient ways of harnessing the power lying within the elements, and communicating with ancient beasts like itself. Ways so old that those who discovered them anew thought them to be magic. Many men and women had sought it over the centuries. Kings and queens, as well as commoners. It had journeyed the earth and seen much of it, from the plains of Europe to the African savannah and the vast lands of the Americas, which it knew by other names of course. Distance meant nothing to it, which was called the Sacred Beast by so many throughout time. Those who sought it often sought to discover the source of its immortality. It laughed in their faces when queried on the subject. It had been around for untold thousands of years. Or perhaps tens of thousands of years. It remembered a time when the humans looked a bit different than they did now. They were more brutish, and actually harder to slay. How funny. Today's humans were easier to kill, even with their technology and their terrible weapons. The brutish humans of the old days had been formidable hunters, and fought fiercely. They had lived in an environment teeming with monsters, from cats with gigantic teeth to woolly mammoths. It remembered those days fondly, though it couldn't tell you how long it had been. Time mattered very little to it, for it was immortal. It thought of all those times it had come close to death. Hurled inside a volcano by the assembled warriors of a primitive tribe in a forgotten land. Hacked to pieces by men and women wielding blades made of a metal which man in his madness had forgotten even existed. Very few weapons could pierce its hide, which was tougher than steel. Oh, yeah. It once thought itself gone, alright. However, it healed. Even after being melted down by the awesome heat of the volcano, it somehow put itself back together. That day, it learned that it could transfer its essence inside a new host. Ah, the supreme irony of it. It transferred its consciousness within the body of the man who killed it. And eventually, that man's body was transformed until it became a suitable vessel for it. Only after being killed could it move to a new body. And it always moved to the nearest body. The process was completely involuntary. Something inside simply would not let it die. Something which was beyond flesh and blood. The last time it had died, it went inside the body of the man within whom it lived now. That man had been a magnificent warrior. Tall, dark-skinned, proud and strong. A former slave on the island of Saint Domingue, he rose up and became a military leader which led the African rebels to absolute victory over the European forces. And in doing so, became the founder and First Emperor of that island nation. Of course, that was before the Great One was betrayed by the very people he had saved. It had been new within the man's body, not yet in full control of its powers. It went through a period of immaturity as it inhabited every new host body after being killed. The Great One was betrayed, and got hacked to pieces and buried. It had taken nearly all of its power to revive its new host. For moving onto another would have been ill-advised. Dying took a lot out of it. Yes, it had dwelled within that man since. The man's soul was long since gone. What remained was a creature of inhuman strength and speed, one all too familiar with the ways of eternity. The body which it inhabited had grown magnificent over the course of two hundred years. It never aged, and it possessed the strength of twenty men and the speed of a gazelle. And like all the others, it hungered for human blood, its only source of nourishment. Yes, it lived within a magnificent host. Too bad it would soon be time to move on. It couldn't remain trapped in this prison forever. It most definitely wouldn't. When the handler came to feed it, it did the unthinkable. It willed itself to die. The handler, a tall, dark-skinned young man in his early twenties, rushed into the room. Too late did he realize his mistake. For as soon as its body crumbled into ash, it willed its consciousness into the handler's body. There was a brief struggle, and it expelled the man's soul. The body died, and was reanimated by its titanic will. Fresh power flowed through the new body, endowing it with amazing strength and speed. It stepped out into the sun. For centuries, many thought its kind loathed to walk in the sun. It laughed at the notion that the sun could kill it, recalling how it hunted men and women in the sun-drenched plains of Africa since time immemorial. Day or night, all that mattered was the hunt. As it stalked out of its prison, it saw a young woman. The handler's mate. Its first victim in ages. It drained the woman, then disposed of the body. Then it stepped out into the street. Everywhere it looked it saw them. These sons and daughters of the African motherland living in this island nation in the Caribbean. It smiled at them, knowing interesting times were upon them. For the Emperor had returned.