10 comments/ 64117 views/ 8 favorites Beauty & the Beast By: dchatterly I feel I have to tell my story, to let others know how dangerous it can be to act on a whim, to misinterpret desire and allow events to carry themselves as far as they could possibly go. It began when I spotted an advert for a local photographer in a mainstream adult magazine. I decided that it would be great to posses some personal glamour photographs of Rachel my wife, before time took its toll on her, at present, fabulous body. Pictures that I could keep and remember just how gorgeous she was, how lucky I was, how very lucky. Being a pretty hopeless photographer myself, I decided that it best be done by a professional. I tested her reaction by remarking casually that I imagined she would brush up better than many of the models in the magazine. She laughed at the thought, stating that she doubted she would have the confidence to pose in such a way. I continued comparing her present beauty to those young women in the magazines over the following weeks, trying to build her confidence up as much as possible. Finally I revealed my reasoning; my wish to see her posing in her underwear. "Would it stop you buying those damn magazines?" she asked me outright. "If I were to give you some pictures of your very own, for your eyes only. Would you stop?" I had to nod. If that's what it took to get the pictures I desired, then so be it - I would cease my lifelong love of porn magazines. We had an agreement. After one phone call I arranged a session for the following weekend. I instructed the photographer that it would tasteful shots of Rachel in lingerie, with possibly a few nudes or semi-nudes depending on how comfortable she felt. The rest of the week, Rachel was nervous as hell, I was excited in anticipation. All our spare moments were spent contemplating the event. Rachel even shopped for some especially sexy outfits that she refused show me - making me long for the time to arrive. We drove the thirty odd miles to the photographer's studio in silence. Nerves were apparent, but on arrival calmness came over Rachel and I found it was me who was trembling. Of course Rachel had nothing to be worried about, she posses an excellent figure. Although she is 26 years old, her skin glows like that of an 18-year-old. She has shoulder length blonde hair, the most gorgeous natural pout that is always the recipient of comments. Her breasts, although smallish, exhibit a natural firmness that always ensures they appear prominent - added to the way she carries her small frame - her straight back, neat shoulders, lean shapely legs - I knew she would be a natural behind the camera. Rachel stretched over to the back seat of the car to pick up her clothes bag. She was dressed in tight leggings and a short-cropped waistcoat that lifted to reveal the lightly tanned skin on the small of her back. I marvelled for a moment at the shapeliness of her slim rear as she struggled to lift the bag whilst concealing it's contents from me At the door of his studio, Bill introduced himself to us and immediately added to Rachel's ease by his cool manner. I feel it also helped that Bill was a past-his-best middle aged chap, probably more over weight than he would have liked, but nonetheless easy to converse with. He wore a tight tee shirt over his large paunch that showed a line of sweat down his back and two large dollops in residence within each armpit. I soon understood why he was sweating in such a manner - the studio we were ushered us into was very warm, lit brightly by two large fluorescent lamps. "Your wife is a very sexy looking woman," Bill told me as Rachel popped behind a curtain to change. I smiled in response, watching him set up his equipment in front of a makeshift bed that lay cramped below a floral backdrop. "You two been married long?" "About six years," I told him. He continued some pointless small talk as we waited for the session to begin. He looked at his watch several times, knowing that we had already agreed upon a price despite the time the afternoon would take. When Rachel finally appeared, she looked even better than my over active imagination could have conjured. She wore a purple all-in-one outfit - as short as to be misconstrued as short shorts - but a second glance unveiled that it was a skirt of sort - so tight as to appear almost painted across the contour of her firm buttocks. The top half it was joined onto was just as tight, with two flimsy button straps supporting the whole outfit upon her glorious body. I think the sight equally shocked Bill, but as soon as she appeared he was behind the camera, clicking furiously. I wondered why she had opted for such an outfit instead of the traditional stocking-suspender approach, but as she sat before me on the end of the pretend bed, shoulders back, perfect contours visible and accentuated by the skimpy, clingy material, I didn't mind in the slightest. I think she had intended to show me something different - and show me she did. She posed naturally, well, as natural as you can when dressed in such a way. As she lifted her legs to kneel atop the bed, I caught a glimpse of the soft downy hair that surrounds her pubic area - well how could she have worn panties with the outfit? Bill urged her to press her hands into her breasts - he continued to click the camera as she responded by doing just as he asked. When Bill called for us to take five whilst he changed the film in his camera, Rachel came over and sat on my lap. She kissed me lightly on the cheek. "Well will this do the job?" she asked, giggling as she suddenly felt the stirring of my cock below my trousers. "Do you like watching your wife?" Bill left us alone for a minute and I dared to let my hand poke its way up inside the tightness of material covering her bum. "God Rachel," I whispered. "You look so hot, I have never….." "Shhhh." She whispered and nibbled my ear. "I want you to remember how I am today for rest of your life" "God I will, I will." Here was my wife of six years, simply sitting on my knee, rendering my breathing uncontrollable; making it difficult to contain my desire for her. At last! I was grateful that this was happening now. Our sex life was quite unfruitful - probably my fault I suppose, I expected a lot from her, and didn't give a lot in return. I regarded myself as lucky to be married to such a beauty, and right at this moment I realised again why I was so lucky. Rachel had never had a lover before me, and on a few occasions lately I had ridiculed her due to this, declaring to her that her lack of understanding of the needs of men was becoming obvious. This was a bit unfair I suppose, Rachel, despite her looks is quite insecure about her sexuality and certainly usually conservative about her clothes and attitude - a prude I call her. But on another level I was actually embarrassed by my lack of skill when it came to pleasing her and was using the ridicule as a way of hiding it, to preserve my manliness. S o I chose to abstain from sex as often as possible without losing her respect, making excuses - then turning to my magazines in private and jerking off till my hearts contentment. I knew she was way short of fulfilment, but thankfully perhaps she did not quite realise what she was short of. I was running short of excuses. "End of part one!" She announced and leapt up from my lap. She disappeared from view, leaving me-and-my raging-hard-on eager to witness more of the same in the second part. Bill re-appeared with his film. "She's just changing into something else," I told him, a gleeful expression abundant upon my face. "Fine by me friend," he responded tbrowing me a truly grateful smile, obviously for allowing him this opportunity to observe my wife in such a way. He didn't have to wait long, Rachel appeared before us, dressed - or should I say undressed - in an over tight black and red bàsque that heaved the swell and bulk of her breasts upwards and outwards. All that was 'titillatingly' covered at this point were her nipples, amazingly concealed by the skilful positioning of the thin lacy fabric. The panties that went with the top were minuscule with simple thin straps at each side, precariously holding the matching material in position. Just below this sight were delicate black stockings, connected to the basqùe in such a way as to hold them firmly and highly - not allowing too much outer thigh to be obvious. My mouth hung open - but not our photographer friends - Bill was already taking in the sight by means of the camera lens - and thank God for that, for it was a sight I certainly wished to remember. This time Rachel chose to stand and be pictured - standing taller then I had ever seen her before, peering from the height the high heels she wore afforded her. With every click of the camera her expression made it obvious her confidence was on the upsurge. Her hands took up short residence on her hips, then moved over the tightness of the material on her tummy up to her breasts. She cupped them fully, offering them completely to the camera. With one adept movement of her nimble fingers, she pulled on the tie that kept them from our sight - they were suddenly revealed - escaping from the confines of the fabric as it moved downwards. Her hands disappeared from sight and only reappeared to pull off the flimsy top completely. Her hands were back to her hips, wordlessly saying, 'Now what do you think of that?' Proudly parading the firmness of her body, she went motionless for a moment and allowed me to take in the sight. She tbrew me a completely wicked smile - eyes wide and cheeks flushed heavily. My wife had never before stripped for me in such a way. It was fascinating as well as erotic to see her beasts shown off in this manner. I was struggling to gain comfort in the small wicker chair on which I sat as my cock twitched and stirred unseen. This was better than viewing pictures in any magazine. Bill was the first to break the salacious silence: "Come on love," he chanted. "Keep it going. Don't stop now." His words were hurried and eager to gain the right response. "You're killing me here. Come on. Come on baby." Rachel turned on the spot, letting us now view her rear, bending down, a hand appearing between her legs and pressing into the focal point of our attention. I noticed that Bill was sweating profusely, a large damp patch had appeared across his wide back and his brow was amass of large droplets, hanging precariously below his greasy hairline. This man was excited as hell. He had stopped taking pictures now and stood gawking directly at my wife's beautiful rear. Admittedly I found it quite exciting to see the effect she was having on him. "You lucky bastard," he whispered quietly enough so only I could hear. Pride crept into my now intensifying emotions. "Listen, " he continued. "If you take one picture of me standing next to her, I'll give you all the pictures I have taken today for free. Would you mind that?" "Hell, I don't mind," I answered. "Rachel would you mind that?" "What's that honey?" she replied, having not heard the actual question. "Bill was wondering if I would take a photo of him with you," I told her. "He's going to give us the pictures for nothing." She turned to face us both. "I don't mind, OK then." Bill ushered me to the camera and proceeded to demonstrate how to take the shot. After I was informed of what button to press, he lined up the camera and walked over to where Rachel was waiting. It was amusing to see him fully from the back: the crack of his large backside visible above the waistband of his jeans; the dampness across his shoulders culminating in a thick dark line running down the complete length of his tee shirt; his long-gone waist truly thickened to a point way beyond middle age spread. I smiled to myself by thinking of a title for the shot I was about to take; Beauty and the Beast. Rachel towered over him when they were side by side. Bill offered a smile on turning to face his own camera; a toothless and unsanitary effort. Rachel gave an exaggerated pout. I pressed the button. In that instant I was contemplating how this guy must have been thinking all his birthdays had come at once - how lucky it was for such a brute to be captured forever beside a woman as sexy as Rachel was this afternoon. I understood why he wanted his picture taken like this; a chance to show his mates, and perhaps exaggerate exactly what he'd been up to. With Bill still next to her, Rachel cupped one of her exposed breasts and positioned it close to one of his fat unshaven cheeks. I grinned at the sight and captured the moment on film. 'There you go you sod,' I thought, 'show that one to your drinking buddies'. Her arms encircled his neck and pressed the side of his head into her cleavage. One of his hands found its way around her waist and the position lingered. She turned to him side on, this time allowing him some movement of his face still between her breasts. His tongue protruded and flicked the nipple that was now facing me. "Hey you dirty sod, " I shouted, half expecting Rachel to slap him or shove him away violently. "That's enough of that." I voiced my words in an untbreatening manner, to grant a moment for the situation to be resolved without any conflict. But he continued to revolve his tongue around the same breast. I could now see a trace of saliva remaining where his tongue had persisted. What surprised me most was that Rachel had not yet acted as I'd expected; she'd not lashed out and screamed in frightful disgust. I tried again: "Right then, that's the photo shoot over." But her hands were now firmly on the back of Bill's head, gripping his hair between her fingers, pulling his face - making him swap the licking he'd begun for nibbles and prolonged kisses. His hands suddenly pressed into her chest, one on each breast, burying his face yet deeper between them. I would have, I should have marched over and pulled him away from my wife. Yet something kept me rooted to the spot; my own lust had been provoked. The whole of the afternoon I'd been subjected to a hard on and this was no different. As my heart pounded I silently observed a sight that should have disgusted me. Instead I was transfixed. Rachel did not look in my direction; instead she continued to allow this ruffian to claw her almost naked torso. One of his hands abandoned its commitment to her breasts and struggled to unfasten the belt around his waist. Over the jangle of the buckle unfastening, Rachel's breath was fast and laboured. The sound of a zip was apparent, and in my peripheral vision I could see Bill's trousers and pants dropping to his ankles. My eyes were still on Rachel though, her eyes now closed, her lips, tongue and teeth familiarising themselves with Bill's. Their kissing was intense; Bill's neck now craning back to ensure full on face against face. One of Bill's hands still kept a connection with my wife's breasts, the nipples of which were unusually vertical. His other hand was enterprising a more intended task in pulling forth his cock from the opening in his boxer shorts. My eyes roamed to this area below his fat gut - a similarly fat penis was coming into view, springing out and audibly slapping against one of Rachel's stocking clad legs. It's dark purple head oozed traces of clear liquid over the very top of her black stockings. It's bulk moved along with each of Bill's gyrations, standing proud for a moment then squeezing between them. I couldn't begin to estimate the length of Bill's cock, but it put my own to shame, maybe a couple of inches longer but certainly over twice the girth, amazingly swollen and upright. I always believed the angle ones cock sat at reduced with age, but Bill's thwarted this theory entirely. It may even have managed a few degrees more had it not been for his belly forcing itself in the way. Rachel raised one of her legs and curled it about his podgy rear. I couldn't envisage what might happen next, but Bill took the weight of her leg in one hand and simply pulled aside her small panties with the other. They both balanced on tiptoes, Rachel arching downwards and Bill stretching to his maximum height. Without guidance, Bill's cock muscled forward in-between the parted panties, then located itself at the outer point of my wives visibly grateful cunt lips. I lost sight of their adjoining as she wrapped both her arms strongly about his neck and raised herself off the floor, using her legs as the ultimate gripping force around his bulky middle. She yelled out as the momentum forced their bodies to lock together by the penetration of his massive cock. His leg muscles had no trouble taking her full body weight, but his large hands, idling upon her neat bum - driving himself deeper - alleviated the burden. Burden? What am I saying? Here was a fat ugly middle aged man sending my wi fe into spasms of ecstasy by means of a simply executed fuck - something I had struggled to do since our sex life began. This was the moment our life turned to a point of absolute no return; Rachel's sexual awakening. Paralysed by the sight and sound before me, I succumbed to the power of my own sexual energies and realised, without so much as a finger brushing over my trouser front, that I had come. Despite the awareness of stickiness inside the crotch of my trousers, I still couldn't remove my line of sight from the unremitting fucking that Rachel was the recipient of. She was emitting sounds that were very alien to me, whining to the rhythm of Bills tbrusting. Bill himself began to groan as large dollops of sweat swinging from his brow finally dropped to find rest upon Rachel's palpitating breasts. The groans turned into grunts, finally drowning out the sound of Rachel completely. Bill gave a final prolonged tbrust, still holding her upon him. I knew that his orgasm had sent his seed deeper into Rachel's body than mine had ever ventured. She audibly showed her gratitude as their momentum waned, then her lips moved to his and they kissed. Even though Bill had eased her back down to the ground, his cock still maintained its positioning within her. His belly was no longer stuck to her but I could see his shaft protruding out from below it, the head still planted and gripped between her glistening skin. "That was fantastic," I heard Rachel whisper as she nuzzled into Bill's face. He grinned, displaying teeth that had long since felt a toothbrush against them. Without looking to me, Rachel unclamped herself from him and scurried behind the curtain to change. Bill grabbed his trousers and pants and proceeded to cover himself up. His large white Y fronts were stained yellow at the crotch. He pulled them over his satisfied looking cock and snapped the waistband around his immense belly. "Sorry about that my friend, " he said. "That sometimes happens the first time they pose like this." He walked towards where I sat. "I can see that you didn't mind." He glanced down at the darkened damp patch covering the front of my denim jeans. "Maybe your wife hasn't enjoyed a good fuck for a while," he said to me with a knowing smile. She appeared behind him, dressed again in the clothes she had arrived in. I couldn't find any words to say; the images of moments before were still burned behind my eyes. Rachel offered Bill a lengthy kiss before we departed. Their tongues fought to find each other's mouth. His hands encircled her rear, again pressing her towards him. A damp patch had now appeared on the front underside of her leggings - Bill's sperm finally assisted by gravity slowly saturating between her legs. "Give us a moment honey," Rachel said to me, pointing me towards the door. I shut the door behind me and waited. When they finally appeared, Bill patted me on the shoulders and thanked me for being such a good sport. I noticed that Rachel hadn't bothered to bring the bag her clothes were in. Beauty and the Beast The dripping candle provided just enough light to see the heaps of rubble and ruin that were strewn across the west wing. Crushed chairs and clawed cushions were spread across the floor, while bundles of torn curtains threatened to entangle my feet as I stepped across the dark chamber. The light soon exposes a clawed painting. It shows a man, only in his late teens, smiling confidently. His sharp features and deep blue eyes captivated me, but a glowing light pulls my eyes away from the handsome man. I turn around to see the Beast, standing behind me and staring at the portrait. "You should not have come here, Belle." He remarked, still staring at the painting. "I-I know, I'm so sorry," I mumbled, afraid of facing his anger. Surely his temper would erupt since I disobeyed him. "I was just curio-" "No, no it is fine. I suppose you would learn soon enough." "Learn what?" I said. As I followed his eyes to the portrait, I soon realized that those deep blue eyes were the same as in the man. Disbelief, shock, and wonder passed as I found the truth. "That- that's you isn't it?" I said. "Yes Belle, I used to be human, but I was foolish and now, just look at me! I am a monster." He admitted. "Master, I don't think you are a monster." I told him. At this, his eyes left the painting and looked upon me. His eyes, of that deep blue, made me melt; so soft, yet filled with underlying power and control. A shiver tingled across my spine as I realized how attracted I felt. "Thank you for that, it means a lot to me. No one has ever said anything like that," he said, gratefully. His expression suddenly changed, going from sadness to something else that I could not put my finger on. The deep blue eyes became warmer as they looked over me, resting on my body as he stepped forward slightly, closing the large gap between us with his powerful strides. "No, you are not a monster. You are kind and gentle, but strong. You are very much human. You are powerful and controlling, but not a monster," I said, stepping forward as well until we were only inches apart. His warm, sweet breath surrounded me as he whispered, "You are very beautiful Belle." Slowly, his face lowered to mine and he pressed his lips against mine. His muscular arms wrapped around my body as he forced himself against me. I wrapped my fingers around the fur on his large chest, pulling him closer as my lips were crushed against his in a passionate kiss. Gradually, our mouths moved together, as we intertwined ourselves even more. To gain even more control, he scooped me up in his arms so I could wrap my legs around his strong torso. While kissing, he began to carry me across the room to the nearest wall, where he pressed his body against me, holding me tightly. For a second he broke away, panting as his forehead remained pressed against mine. Gasps escaped from me while our eyes met, reviving the passionate heat that engulfed us once more as we kissed again. This time, his lips parted, and I could taste his tongue as it teased me. I could feel the passion erupting inside of me, urges were exposed and dirty fantasies came to the front of my attention. Still in his arms, I pulled my lips away from his just enough to whisper, "Where is your bed?" He carried me from the wall to the far end of the room, where a four-post bed was set in the corner. Unlike before, he was very delicate as he sat me down on the mattress. Concern filled his eyes as he looked at me and asked if I was sure. To answer his question, I grabbed his paw and placed it on my breast, allowing him to feel me. His eyes widened and I nodded in support. He hesitated before bringing up the other paw, but then he gained confidence and began to squeeze and massage my breasts. I could not suppress the moans that escaped me as he firmly squeezed. Reaching behind my back, I untied my dress and allowed him to pull it off, which resulted in many rips that I would have to mend later. I then loosened my corset, allowing him to slide it off, exposing my bare chest. He began to grab and squeeze even more and soon began to lick my hardened nipples. My moans became even louder as he let his lips trace across my chest. His fangs grazed across my fair skin, leaving me even more aroused as he continued to tease my breasts. Looking up, he brought his lips back to mine in another passionate, powerful kiss. "My turn," I whispered as I pulled off his large shirt and let my hand trace across his chest and stomach, down to his pants. Gently I began to touch across his length, feeling every hard inch beneath my fingertips. I had fantasized about a moment like this for so long. So often I found myself in my chamber, day dreaming about the beast, and having him. Now that it was finally coming true, I could not contain my excitement. I quickly tugged off his pants and wrapped my hands around his member. Nothing could have prepared me for his size. The beast stood at least nine feet tall, and his cock was equally massive. At least 11 inches, it was already incredibly hard when I began to stroke him. I could not contain my anticipation and began to pump up and down quickly, allowing my fingertips to tease him. "Easy Belle, easy," he moaned, "Don't make me cum yet, not yet." Another loud moan escaped him as I began to slow down. I then let him get at the head of the bed while I waited at the foot on my hands and knees. I crawled on top of his legs and slowly lowered my mouth on to his large, hard cock. As it took him in my mouth, he placed his large paw on the back of my head, thrusting himself even further into my throat. I gagged as he got deeper and deeper. "Oh Belle, I'm going to cum, ohh Belle," the Beast moaned. I soon felt his juices hot in my throat. He soon filled my mouth and though I tried my hardest to swallow, it soon began to drip down my chin, onto my breasts. He then sat up to wipe it off and then allowed me to lick it off of his large paw. "I don't want to hurt you. We don't have to do this," He said. "No, I want to master, I want to make you feel like a man." I answered. In this moment, all of my worries faded away. My father, the others in the castle, Gaston, everything was forgotten and all that remained was the desires that I felt. The Beast told me to lie down and spread my legs, and I obeyed, eager to fulfill his desires. He lowered his mouth on to my dripping cunt and began to lick all over me. It felt so good to have his rough, large tongue on my sensitive parts; I could not repress the large moan that grew inside of me. After a few minutes, he brought his head back to mine and kissed me, gentler than before. I slipped my tongue inside of his mouth and could taste my juices still on his tongue. Finally, we broke apart and he sat back and got on top of my fragile body. Heat radiated from him, the smell of his sweat and cum filled me up and the taste of both of our juices was still in my mouth. After giving me a look of anticipation, he slowly penetrated me. It was a good thing that he had licked my cunt before, for he was so large that it was almost impossible for him to maneuver his way in- almost impossibly, but not quite. Slowly he filled me up until I could feel him inside of my stomach, and even then there were still a few inches left. "I want you to fill me up all the way," I breathed as he began to pull out. With another slow thrust, he penetrated me even deeper than before. Soon he was all inside me, and I could not stop a tear from rolling down my cheek as his large cock stretched my young, unexplored pussy. "No, no I've hurt you Belle," he lamented, as he began to pull out of me for good. "No Beast, please keep going. You make me feel so good I never want this to end!" I stated truthfully. The pain was well worth the pleasure that came. With newfound confidence, the Beast began to thrust into me, harder and faster than before. I could feel him getting even harder inside of me as he penetrated. Beads of sweat rolled off of his face as he pounded me, both of us moaning loudly, grateful that no one ever entered the west wing. Even in other parts of the castle, many could probably hear our pleasure. I could feel something welling up inside of me, threatening to burst. The Beast felt this way too, for his cock began to throb and pulse inside of me. Soon we both collapsed in a mutual orgasm, waves of pleasure rolling over our bodies as we exhaled the breath we had been holding captive. Exhausted, I laid upon his soft, furry chest and waiting for the heavy breathing to cease while his arms were wrapped around me. "Oh Belle, you are so good," he breathed. "Mmmhm," was all that I could say. The Beast had left me weak and battered, but I enjoyed every moment of it. After a while, we both regained enough of our lost strength. "Beast?" I asked. "Yes, my beautiful Belle?" "Can we do that again?" I inquired. "Of course, my love." He answered, eager to fulfill our desires. Beauty and the Beast Belle shivered as she walked past the decimated iron gate in front of the old castle. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders and thought back to how she wound up making this trek. The village she'd lived in her whole life had traded her as a sacrifice to the creature that had haunted their hills since she was younger. The Beast and his story had been scaring her to sleep for years as a child. Now as a woman of 18 years, she had lost (or won if you thought about how it was stacked) the lottery the town held to send someone up to deliver the tithe that paid back the Beast for another year of being established on his land. She had never known if the tale was true, how the Beast had been a spoiled prince who was exiled to these hills with his own castle to keep from ruining the king's reputation further. How he'd insulted an old gypsy woman who graced his door trying to find shelter and how she'd cursed him to spend his days as deformed and beastly as she'd seen in his soul. She'd been told the Beast was massive in size and eat raw meat from fresh kills on the grounds. That he'd once eaten a previous messanger for gasping at his appearance (that was never confirmed, just told to everyone who was entered into the drawing). The doors of the castle were large and metal. Rust had built up in the corners and the latch to get in took all of Belle's strength to open. She'd always hate how weak she'd felt. All the men in town called her scrawny and puny. The other girls were all taller and had large breasts and behinds. they'd fill out their bustiers and dresses while she wore sundresses that she felt like she was swimming in. It was like she never hit womanhood. There she was, living alone in that old house of her mothers with no suitors and just old romance literature to keep her company. She was ever so lonely. Once she entered the castle, she shivered again. How could it possibly be colder than the outside? She called out for anyone who might be around and then immediately scolded herself. Why would she want to alert the Beast she was here? The floorboards gave underneath her feet and creaked. Rats scuttled in the shadows and she swore there were bats in the rafters. The rules of the transaction were to bring the tithe into the library and leave it on the table in the center of the room. There, under moonlight, the Beast would find it and be satisfied and the village would spend another year in peace and prosperity. Belle found the library right where she was told it would be and entered. The walls were lined with books, up to the ceiling. there were couches strewn about, some on their sides, some ripped open, some still situated properly. She spotted the table and walked towards it. From inside her cloak she withdrew the tithe and placed it on the table. as she let go of the parcel, she heard the door close shut. she turned around, startled to see a dark shape in front of the door. It was the Beast. His form was enormous. Almost seven feet of massive shoulders and arms, his legs like wolf haunches. She could see his form heaving and hear his breathing like a wild boar. As he walked closer, his features became more prominent. He had horns like a ram and his teeth displayed huge fangs. His snout created a puff of mist from the heat combined with the cold of the castle. He had nothing but a loin cloth across his waist, fashioned from what she assumed used to be his pants. His chest was huge and covered in fur that also covered his arms down to his enormous hands, each with long claw-like nails on the fingers. He snorted with each step, moving closer to her and making her back up to the table until he was right in front of her. He sniffed the air around her face as she stabilized herself on the table. her heart racing in her chest. All of a sudden he took his tongue to her face and licked all the way up her neck to her ear. He seemed to love the taste of her skin because at the end of his tongues trek, he let out a long sigh and seemed to smile a little. She looked deep into his inhumanly green eyes and saw an animal observing his prey. Her fear was palpable. Suddenly, she looked down to see the loincloth moving slightly... the Beast was becoming erect underneath the torn cloth. A noise in his throat like a wolf growl or a territorial cat emanated and he lifted his huge hand near her face and then... quickly tore down the front of her dress, shredding the material. her cloak fell to the floor, and she immediately covered herself and tried to scream. All she could do was cry and close her eyes and prey for it to be quick. Again, though, the Beast just leaned in and licked her neck again, this time though she swore she could hear a "shhhhhh" afterwards, almost like an attempt to soothe her. Before she could process this, she felt his massive hands on her shoulders, spinning her around and then shredding her clothes again like paper. She tried to hold the tatters together but there was almost nothing left of her garments. Her hair was falling out of its bun and she could see in a mirror across the room that it was like a birds nest now. Her shoes had fallen off while she'd tried to back up earlier and she stood there, facing the table, her back to the beast, holding on to the tattered remains of her dress and holding in all her screams. She heard the Beast move behind her and then she felt something huge and long and warm between her legs. It was his massive erection. So big and thick and warm... she shuddered as it rubbed between her thighs and up against her womanhood. How could this be arousing me, she wondered. This is... unnatural but... feels so... she let out a shudder and a breath all at once. the Beast's hands were placed on her shoulders and he leaned in again against her neck, this time the licking was long and felt different... more sensual. Belle turned a little to meet his tongue with the corner of her mouth. The emotions inside of her were building faster... how had this happened? How did she go from being so afraid to being so lost in lust for this creature? The only thing that it could be was... and then he licked her again and the smell of his saliva sent a wave of pleasure through her. His tongue. His wet tongue and its saliva were causing this arousal in her and it was building more and more. The erection moving between her legs was rubbing faster against her sex was making her drip more and more into the material of her undergarments. She slowly, not knowing if this was allowed, moved one hand from the table and to her side to pull down her underwear, just a little... to get a better feeling of the Beast's massive member. She moved the garment to the side, exposing her naked dripping lips to the skin of the Beast. The sensations with that touch made her moan out loud. This aroused the Beast even more and he moved inside her lips, breaking through in a way no man had ever done. Only boys, fumbling for their small manhood had ever gotten inside of Belle's lips and none had ever been nearly as big as the Beast's member. He pushed her body to the limits of its capacity and she felt a mix of pleasure and pain with every slow inch until she knew he'd reached her end. The Beast began pumping and pumping inside her body and her screams of pleasure echoed through the high ceilings of the library. He moved quicker and quicker and she buckled against the table unable to keep her balance against his massive size difference from her. The pleasure was non stop and with each passing second and wave burning through her... she could feel something happening to her. She looked up at the mirror across the way again and noticed something happening to her. Belle's body had always been scrawny. Her breasts small and her hips close together, her hair a ratty mess. Suddenly it was like she was hallucinating and the mirror was playing tricks on her since the reflection was looking less and less like the woman she'd seen before tonight. Her hair had grown longer than before, strewn about below her shoulders and elongating with every thrust. Her breasts were heaving on her chest. They'd grown from the size of small crabapples and were now like the round melons of the other women in the village. Her shoulders were becoming wider as well and thus she was feeling like she was getting taller with each pleasurable thrust from the beast. what tatters were left on her person were straining under these changes, like her being tied up. Her reflection of her face was also different. Her jaw was clenching and she was feeling soreness in her face... gritting her teeth from the strain of the Beast's member... or her teeth moving in her mouth. Her eyes... that was what caught her off guard. they had the same inhuman green as the Beast's. The Beast himself slowly removed his cock from her dripping wet pussy (where were these words coming from in her mind...) and he backed up slowly from her still-evolving form. Her now thick, black nails dug into the wooden table and left scratches on the once varnished surface. She walked on her haunches like she was wearing invisible shoes. She stood and looked out the window into the moonlight and stretched like she'd awoken from a long sleep. She felt bones snap into place and crackling noises in her joins. The moonlight felt so good on her naked body. She removed the last vestiges of her clothing, the remaining tatters and undergarments were strained under her new form. She turned to look at the gorgeous creature that had freed her from her weak former life. He was a pinnacle of beauty. She wanted to repay him for all he had done for her. She slowly descended to her knees and crawled like a cat across the small space of floor between them and approached his now dripping erection. She could smell her juice sticking to his skin and saw little droplets of his own fluids on the tip. She took her tongue slowly up his shaft to the tip. Her tongue felt different than it used to. Thinner and longer. She liked it. She could taste so many new things. She knew talking was pointless. They didn't need words anymore... just the noises and looks in each others eyes. She continued to lick his throbbing cock and then she rose when she'd assumed she'd cleaned him well enough. The Beast looked her over and gave a snort of approval. She would be a fine mate, he thought. He'd wondered if this curse could stretch to others... could it affect someone else like it had him? bring out the beast in them? Would they be like him or... something different? Apparently, he now had the answer to that question and the answer was quite...beautiful. Beauty & The Beast disclaimer: The following story is completely fictional and would obviously never happen in real life. This story is entirely fictional and is in no way connected with the subject. This story contains adult material and is only suitable for people over the age of 18. If you are under 18 please stop reading now. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living, dead, or undead, is purely coincidental. This is fiction, it did NOT happen. Fantasy is legal. ( I always appreciate feedback, let me know what you think in the comments below) Ch. 1 It was the night of The 2014 Oscars, and Anne Hathaway was on her back getting fucked in the mouth. "glug, gluckkk, glug...mmmrffblrrrl.." echoed the slurping mouth of the young actress lewdly. She was having quite a difficult time keeping pace with the cock being aggressively fed to her from above by a very large, heavyset man. He squatted over her gorgeous face, feet planted firmly on either side of Annie's head. Anne had no idea where she was, only that she'd hopped in the first truck that she spotted at a rest stop. "Yeah, that's it. Take it, you slut. Milk this sweaty cock into that famous mouth." Anne whimpered and eagerly thrust her mouth upward on him, working her neck like only the filthiest sluts knew how to in order to accommodate her new lover's demands. The porcine man moaned and shuddered as he dipped his average-sized cock straight down into the mouth of one of Hollywood's most beloved starlets. Anyone else who happened to peek in on this scene would have a right to be offended. Anne Hathaway, one of the most desired and naturally beautiful women on the planet, was getting obnoxiously fucked in the mouth by a man many would consider to be unworthy of her beauty. He was tall, but that was about all he had going for him. He was sweating from his efforts, with flabby breasts and an enormous, bloated stomach covered in black hair. His pale, sweaty ass hovered directly over Anne's face, and each time he squatted down to indulge his cock with the pleasure of her warm, wet mouth, his ass would spread open and Anne was treated to a bird's-eye-view of his filthy, brown asshole. It only made her moan and feel like more of a slut as she choked down his filthy meat, her eyes rolling back in her head every so often. "Mmm, ain't so often I get to use a pretty lil thing like you, baby...." the man groaned. Anne's long, supple legs flailed and kicked each time the corpulent beast thrust himself down into her demure face. His assault on her mouth was relentless, and overall his movement was heavy, clumsy and awkward, but all that mattered to him was that he got his fat little prick deeper into Annie's mouth, to feel more of that million dollar tongue working his prick; to treat her mouth like a cheap pussy. "Oooh, you're a real filthy little bitch, aren't ya?" the lucky man stated arrogantly as Anne reached up and around his fat belly to grab his ass. Anne squeezed his fat, pale cheeks and fondled them, moaning like a bitch in heat against his drooling fuckstick. She used his ample rump as leverage to lift herself and pull her suckling mouth further up into his tool, his cock completely disappearing into her mouth, the head poking against her little throathole and making her gag wretchedly. "Yeah bitch, gag on this cock, do it cunt!! Ahhh yeahhh! My little pussymouth!!" Suddenly, he grabbed her by the sides of her head and began to rock her pretty face into his pubis, carelessly slamming her proud nose into the built-up layer of fat above and around his cock, causing Anne to gag even harder on him. He let his knees collapse and practically laid on top of her, continuing to hump away. Her eyes widened to their limit as his weight pressed down on her and she braced herself, loving the way he used her mouth. Anne began to slap his ass frantically, a signal of their agreed upon safeword (or in the case of being facefucked, safe gesture) "Mffmffmfmmmmmm!!!!" she moaned against his meat, her legs kicking wildly as the man waited 'til the very last second to expend enough energy and lift his cock out of her mouth. Anne gasped for air and choked, sputtering and disoriented from the assault on her mouth. She hadn't truly run out of air, but played up the aspect dramatically the best way she knew how. The man loved it, straightening his back, practically sitting on her head as his cock dripped gooey saliva and pre-cum all over Anne's gasping face. "If only your fans could see you now, slut..." the heaving man said obnoxiously. Anne moaned from deep within her throat at the sheer degradation imposed upon her by the hulking mountain of flesh looming above. Her only response was to rub her pretty face into the man's hot, sweating balls. She tongued and licked them, getting high in the stink of the man as he jerked his spit-covered tool aggressively in her face. "Ugh! Fuck! Your fat balls taste so good, I love sweaty trucker's balls and you've got some of the saltiest and stinkiest of them all! I never meet guys like you in Hollywood." Anne moaned, her voice had a sharp urgency to it, sounding so desperate and horny for more. The man couldn't help but laugh proudly, amused at her passion for his raunchy nether parts. "Git up here and suck this cock, woman. I want you right up here on all fours so I can play with that cute little ass while I fuck your mouth." Anne smiled and obeyed, flipping over onto her knees and arching her back, presenting her pert little ass for her sweaty lover once she assumed his desired position. Her perfect, teardrop breasts hung proudly, swaying to and fro and gleaming with sweat; her pink nipples standing at full attention. Long, gorgeous brown hair flowed down her back in silken, shining waves. Her bright red lips were puckered up and presented respectfully for the fat man's stubby cock - still, it was more than enough to gag her throat and make her feel like a true slut, For Anne, he was truly a perfect fit. Ms. Hathaway resumed her passion, setting her famous mouth back to task on the man's rosy red tool, his prick contrasting beautifully between her bright red lips. The man inhaled, hissed and moaned in a low, guttural voice as he gathered up Anne's hair in a tight fist and casually thrust his hips into her face, pumping his cock in and out of Annie's warm mouth. His other hand found it's prize, slapping her petite ass dominantly. Anne squealed and whimpered against his pervasive manhood, wiggling her ass for him as her left cheek turned a light pink. Smack! Once again his rough, thick hand came crashing down against the firm, yet soft flesh of her petite rump; harder this time. The cracking of the slap resonated loudly over Anne getting her throat poked. This is what the elegant, young actress lived for, and even though she played the wholesome sweetheart in the public eye, she never felt more alive than with a sweaty, out-of-shape man defiling her pure beauty. They continued in this fashion for quite some time, the pace of his desperate thrusting growing to an almost violent rate. He'd been taking his pleasure from her mouth for the better part of an hour, building it up to a peak and pulling back whenever he felt the cum churning to a boil in his swollen, underused testicles. "Oooh, yaa!! I'm gonna fill this sweet mouth with stinking trucker juice!!!" Anne made a face as she slurped purposefully on his dick, the corner of her mouth curling up along with her nostril, making a disgusted face as if she had just caught a whiff of something putrid. Yet, Ms. Hathaway made no effort to stop or slow down her efforts, if anything she hunkered down on his cock, bracing herself for the man's inevitably salty, foul spunk. The man grabbed Anne by the shoulders, flipping her onto her back once more and lying atop her in a 69 position, his fat stomach pressing down heavily on her perfect breasts as he came face-to-face with her shaven cunt. His body had simply been experiencing too much pleasure to continue standing, lost in the undeserved warmth of Anne Hathaway's suckling mouth and caressing throat. Both of his knees were planted firmly on the mattress, resting on either side of Anne's pretty head. Reaching down, he grabbed the back of Anne's head from underneath and shoved her head up into his crotch over and over again as he thrust down to meet her. The result was a piston-like blowjob that was equally desperate and pleasurable for him, and undignified and humiliating for Ms. Hathaway. She completely surrendered control of her neck to him as he used her mouth like a cheap sex toy, her face being mercilessly slammed into him over and over again. Fortunately for Anne, his fat served as a cushion and the worst she would walk away with would be light bruising. "Heh heh, yeeee-heeaaaah!! You're just meat for my pleasure ughhhh!!" Anne's tubby stud was sweating and gasping, throwing his head back in ecstasy as the final pumps of Annie's head on his cock were the sweetest, feeling his orgasm reaching it's pinnacle, holding her still as he felt his fat little mushroom-tipped cock shot forth several ropes of steamy, stinking cum directly into Anne's throat. He could feel his cum forcing it's way through his dick, and the way his fat cockhead swelled and spit a seemingly endless amount of cum into her. After shooting a dozen ropes directly into her stomach, he eased up a bit, withdrawing his cock from her throatsleeve so that he could squirt the cum on Anne's tongue where she could taste it. Immediately Anne gagged, the powerful, potent taste of his trucker cum filling her senses. The man obviously had a poor diet with lots of fatty foods and salt. This what was she wanted, to be disgusted and revulsed. She fought to keep the viscous, molten stench-goo on her tongue as the man continued to ejaculate his seed. Anne held still, her mouth open as more of the pungent slop was drizzled on her tongue. After painting her tongue, he unsheathed himself completely from her mouth. Anne couldn't believe the man was still shooting. Her face was a mess, and he intended to add to it. Holding his cockhead to her forehead, he let the last heavy drippings of his seed drizzle from her hairline to just under her nose, fancying himself an artist as he finished her up with a mustache of his cum that was sure to add to Anne's gagging problem. She was fighting not to puke as she was completely doused in his seed and surrounded by it's heavy stink. The man laughed to himself, leaning back on Anne's face so that his asshole pucker kissed her forehead before standing up and walking confidently to the bathroom, naked as the day he was born. Anne had a moment alone to bask in the filth of it all. She didn't dare move, her body soaring in euphoria as the gamy stench and taste of his cum permeated her very being. Anne lifted a slender hand to her face, gathering up some of the yellowish cum and bringing it to her lips. She sucked the contents clean from her finger and winced, shuddering as she felt the warm, gloppy seed slide down her used throat. She felt the lumpy nutbutter settle in her empty stomach, smiling content as she held the palm of her hand to her flat stomach. Finally, she licked away her cumstache and swallowed the rest of the batch he'd left in her mouth, her body convulsing as her cunt sprang a leak and squirted into the mattress without her even touching it. Anne Hathaway's body was on fire; she could hear the man taking a shit in the bathroom as her eyelids slowly began to close, drifting into an exhausted sleep with the man's smelly cum still splattered over her beautiful face. -- The End - - Beauty and the Beast This is the first story of my life. Being not a native English speaker, the story will have errors. Forgive those, please. *** "Fuck off!! You asshole!" She shouted to Bill. This is one of those numerous times she have said this to this guy. He came to tell her his "brilliant" idea of fucking her, as a compensation of unpaid rents. " Okay, I'm going but you are also leaving this place, YOU HEAR!" He was standing in her doorway, redden with anger. She'd had enough of him. She just took one of her broomsticks and swung it in the air. Go, I said- Before I stick it into your head. I will go away from here in a week. OK! She said with vice. He gave her a grimace of contempt and swept away from the door. She sighed in relief. She have been in this "house" for the last one year. After the death of her parents in accident, She moved from her home in Texas to New York- to start her undergrad here in a university. I'm gonna have her 19th birthday next month. Huh! Birthday, I don't even know how I'm gonna live my life next month. After her parents death only she knows how she passed this one year. She had to do two jobs along with her studies, which was sort of, tough- Business studies. But she sick last month and had to stay home for two weeks. Result, no job, no money and now, no roof over the head. She started thinking what to do now. She had no money to rent a new place. She looked at her place. A room smaller then a cell in jail- crowded with everything. A small bank size bed- old with use; a table beside it- old like its fellow by the side. She bought both of them from a slum woman a year ago. There was also a small cupboard for her few clothing's. That was it. The room was as dirty as it can be- stained everywhere. But still it was a place to live. Now, she has no where to go. I thought maybe bill's idea wasn't that bad. At least she can stay here for free and maybe snare some bucks from him. She shook her head. What am I thinking! I'm not some cheap slut. Her family had strong morality she inherited. She was still a virgin and was quite shy about sexual matters. I think you guys guess I dream of prince charming who would take me in his arms and we will live happily ever after. I would not totally deny it. In her horny nights, I have had dreams of a strong, powerful and handsome guy who would grab me despite her protests and give me the pleasure of a life time. But it was just a dream. I actually wanted a decent, simple man who would be loving, caring and honest. Not needed to be rich. I was just a simple girl looking for a simple, happy life. Ok, enough of her dreams. Now lets concentrate on getting a job some how. I got up to go to college. Maybe I will get some info about a job there. *** Hey! Nicky. I saw her in the cantina. Hey, Jess! What's up! She looked up from a book. I went to her. I sat on the sat chair with a glooher face. What happened? What can happen? That asshole told me to leave... What! How can your landlord do that? I thought he was eager to have you. She giggled. Very funny, I said with bit disgust. Oh, come on Jess, grow up. Look at you. Do you know what you are? She stopped a bit and looked at me with admiration. A Bombshell. You just have to move your ass a bit and guys will fall on your feet. She kept saying, So many guys want you here. Use them, you will get everything. Look at me. Her situation was not so better than you. Now, her three lovers compete to keep me satisfied with gifts, money everything. She giggled; I don't know what would have happen if I were you. Don't start again. You know I'm not like you, you slut, I said with a smile. What, me a slut? yap, I love being a slut. We both laughed. Ok, be serious. I need a job. Fast. Well, you are lucky. I was just looking in paper. There is super job. Home, fat salary and sexy boss, she winked. I was impassive with her joke. I was eager to hear more. What's the job? I asked with interest. A housemaid in the house of..... JAMES PARKER!!! She shouted. I was stunned for a moment. Then shook her head in disappointment I knew about James Parker. He was the newest business celebrity. A self made billionaire at 36. He was famous like Hollywood stars- Known for his muscular, handsome appearance along with aggressive business tactics. But for above all, his anger and fond for women. What? She asked with a bit surprise. Aren't you happy? This is too much for me Nick. He is.....he is....I can't get that job. Oh, come on give a try. Who knows- and if you can get the job....she gave a sly grin, you will live with the most eligible bachelor of this world. Oh! He is so hot. I can do anything to get one night with him. Beauty and the Beast Dominic was a prosperous merchant widower with three daughters. Farrah, the oldest, was as fair as her name in appearance. She resembled her mother with raven dark hair and porcelain skin. Grace, the middle daughter, was graceful as well as lovely taking after her father in coloring. Her golden complexion and auburn hair were the envy of many young women in town. His youngest daughter was named Rose and she was not as well suited to her name as her sisters. Her appearance was an odd mixture of her parents, with an uneven complexion and thick unruly dark brown hair. She was Dominic's favorite daughter, for her disposition was warm as the sun, in that way she took after her mother. Rose was the one who had cared for the house and her mother while sickness stole her mother's vitality. To this day she continued to cook and clean, despite having recently turned eighteen he had no fear of her marrying and leaving him all alone. Although she was beautiful inside the outward beauty of her two older sisters blinded any potential suitor. Those young men were equally blind to the selfishness and vanity of her sisters. Dominic was preparing to go on his last sales trip of the winter. He was saying good bye to his daughters, and sighing as the older two begged for exotic gifts. This was one of many times when he wished his elder daughters would finally marry and move out. Farrah asked for a necklace of rare black pearls that would suit her dark hair and pale skin. He wished she would settle on a suitor, all were from good families, but Farrah always had a reason that she couldn't make up her mind. He listened as she rattled on about the specifications for the necklace. How many pearls should be in the strand, that each one should be hand knotted, and each pearl should not only be perfect in size and shape but there should be little to no variation in color between them. Eventually Grace got bored of listening to her sister and jumped in to tell him what she wanted. A necklace of exotic green Jade, and not to be outdone by her older sister she was equally specific about color and design. Grace had as many suitors as her older sister and while they were close in age no man had been foolish enough to court them both. She enjoyed having her suitors fight for her affections. Their only jealousy was extended to their younger sister, who despite having no suitors was clearly their father's favorite. Rose found their antics amusing when their suitors came to call as she was forced into the role of servant and offered refreshments. She was very nearsighted, and therefore didn't put much stock into how others looked and instead saw others as they really were. Her poor vision also made her quite clumsy and her sisters used this to cause her to trip and fall more often. So that her skin was often marked with bruises. Everyone had hoped she would grow into her name and eventually blossom into a beauty like her sisters. Her sisters had teased her relentlessly as a child, and continued to do so whenever they thought they could get away with it, typically while their father was away on business. So when her father asked if there was anything she wanted, she just asked for him to return safely. When her sisters threw a fit and pestered her to ask for something, she finally gave in and asked for a single rose. He kissed her gently on the nose before he left, promising to find her a dozen perfect roses. She missed him even before the door shut as her sisters immediately tripped her and laughed about her request. The bruises would fade long before her father would return and she quietly accepted the torture. Her sisters continued to pick on her for asking for a flower and made her father's trip seem to take forever. They taunted her about how the rose would be wilted by the time he returned. Their various suitors all tried to use the time without their father around to their advantage. Rose had never felt more alone, especially as she did the lion's share of the household chores. Little did she know that her simple request would put her father's life in danger and drastically change her own life. Winter weather was rapidly worsening when Dominic was caught in a bad storm. He saw a light in the distance and guided his horse towards it in hopes that it meant shelter for the night. The house seemed a little run down, but considering the weather, he didn't have much of a choice. His horse was unnaturally skittish and after calming the animal he took a careful look around. The lights were on, but nobody seemed to be at home. There were beautiful crystalline roses growing wild at the entrance that caught his attention. He had managed to acquire both the jade and black pearl necklaces his older daughters had asked for, but as winter approached he had more trouble locating a rose of any sort. These roses were amazingly beautiful, they seemed to be made of ice, the petals appearing translucent. He reached out to pick one, and was surprised by how cold it felt. He wondered if they had frosted over or something as cold thorns pricked his palm. The wind seemed stronger and suddenly he was confronted by a tall man in a long dark cloak that concealed his face and form. He was so startled that he dropped the rose he had worked so hard to pick and watched it shatter like ice on the ground. "What do you think you are doing?" the stranger's voice was a deep menacing growl that seemed to echo the fury of the storm. He stammered his reply, "I'm picking a rose for my daughter." The stranger was silent and the wind suddenly died down. He reached out his gloved hand and plucked a perfectly formed bloom. He handed it to the man and invited him inside to wait out the storm. Hope flickered for a brief moment inside his cold heart and he wondered what strange trick of fate had brought this man to his home. Dominic's hand shook as he took the rose and reluctantly accepted the stranger's hospitality. Once inside he saw there were several servants scurrying around. It did not seem much warmer, but at least he was out of the icy wind. He was holding tightly onto the icy rose as servants ushered him to a chair in front of a fire and offered him hot food and drink. Dominic felt as if he were being inspected as he drank and ate, glad for the warm food. He suddenly realized his horse had been taken from him and that he was trapped for the night. The master of the house was pacing, wondering what this unwelcome visitor might mean. The manor hadn't had a visitor since before he was cursed and the appearance of a visitor now, who had picked a rose, it had to be a sign. It was an opportunity he could not afford to turn away. He made sure his servants would take care of his guest and the horse, while he thought about the rose further. It seemed so long ago that he had been cursed to live this cold and lonely existence. His curse had spread outward from his cold heart to transform his body into an icy form. His servants were spared the chill of his curse, but were trapped with him to his land. His icy curse had spread to the perfect roses the man had picked for his daughter. They were a painful reminder of the curse, for he had failed to see the beauty in something as simple as a rose. If this man's daughter had asked for a rose, well then perhaps she was the one who could break the curse. He waited until the man had finished eating before approaching him. He made sure his cloak continued to conceal his icy form. "Tell me about your daughter," frost forming with every word from his icy lips. Dominic hesitated, feeling as if he were trapped no matter what he said. "I have three lovely daughters." He took a drink of steamy tea, attempting to see more of his host's face. The firelight failed to reveal anything. "Which one wanted the rose?" Dominic felt as if an ice had wrapped around his heart. He almost wished he was still in the storm, or better yet at home warmed by Rose's smile. "My youngest," he swore that the man was sucking the heat out of the room somehow. "She asks for so little, all she wanted was my safe return, but when pressed asked for a perfect rose." He slowly sipped the tea, trying to regain the warm feeling he had just moments ago. "The rose won't survive for long outside the manor and once your daughter accepts it she will be compelled to return here." The fire held no warmth for him, the dancing flames seemed to mock him. He had walked through fire in the beginning as he had longed for a flicker of heat. The flames had reflected off his body, the result beautiful and horrifying as he had not been destroyed or warmed. It was a desperate act and after that, his servants had further withdrawn as his melancholy had increased. Dominic could not imagine his life without his beloved youngest daughter. He quickly decided he would not offer her the rose, better for her to be disappointed than to leave him. "And if she does not accept?" he timidly asked. "Then you will return in her place." Dominic felt the icy grip tighten around his heart. "If I do not take the rose?" he asked one last feeble attempt to save his daughter and himself. His host laughed and for an instant his crystalline profile was revealed. Dominic was horrified at thought of Rose ending up with a creature so cold as to appear to be made of ice. The man laughed, and shed his cloak revealing his icy form, tattered frosted pants hanging from his slender hips. "Then you shall never leave." His grim cold laugh echoed in the hall long after he had left. Dominic realized he was gripping the rose tightly in his left hand. He opened his hand and noticed the icy thorns were embedded in his palm through his gloves. He tried to remove the thorns, but eventually fatigue overcame him and he fell asleep in front of the fire. He woke up to find a hot breakfast laid out beside him. The rose clutched in his hand was no longer icy white, but a glassy blush pink, as if it had taken his blood into itself. If not for the rose he could have convinced himself that his icy host was a delusion brought about by a fever of some sort. His host and the servants had vanished and Dominic found his own way outside. The storm had abated and his horse was ready and waiting for him. All of the icy roses were a glassy blush pink, and he saw his doom reflected in the many perfect petals. He made good time from there on, the rose cold in his hand as he reached his home. His youngest daughter flung herself at him the instant he was out of the saddle. He cried at thought of being away from her again. He broke the hug long enough to look at her sweet face, and felt the icy pain in his heart grow. Rose spotted the gorgeous rose in her father's hand and her face glowed with joy. "Papa, it's lovely. Thank you." She plucked it easily from his hand, her warm breath infusing the flower with life. He watched stunned as the rose left his hand and transformed from an icy bloom to a real rose. He tried to conceal the horror on his face as he realized what her acceptance of the rose meant. It was made easier by his other daughters clambering for their gifts. He almost forgot the stranger's horrific warning as he unpacked his goods. It wasn't until much later when his daughters were safely in bed and he was staring into the fire that he recalled the cold promise. His lovely daughter was going to be compelled to return to that cold place and be with that monster. He had not asked for how long, as he had feared the answer. Now as he watched the fire die, he wished he had asked. Every moment he had left with her was precious and every day he feared she would pack up and leave. His other daughters sensed something was wrong and even their plethora of suitors could not cheer them up. Every time he looked at the rose he was filled with dread. The rose that was frozen in time, the lush petals just as perfect as the moment she took it from his hand. "Papa, where did you find it?" Rose asked a few days later. She loved the rose in all its beautiful perfection. It smelled divine, the petals were velvety soft, and the color was a sweet baby pink. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation. "It was growing wild along the path on my way home," he casually said. The icy fingers around his heart tightened, and he knew he would continue to feel ill until he told the truth and let her go. He vowed to himself to keep the location a secret and save his daughter from a fate he feared would be worse than his death. Rose sensed her father was being evasive, but figured he had smuggled the rose, or something else that would somehow tarnish the gift. The rose seemed surreal, and as her father grew sicker, her sisters grew more jealous. As the single perfect bloom garnered more attention and interest than their flashy jewelry. They only cared about their father's health to the point that he provided for them. If he died they would be forced to choose a husband and neither of them was ready to give up the power of not making that choice. Rose cared for her father and watched as he grew worse and the petals seemed to vanish from her rose. Little did she know the two were linked, or that it was her ill intentioned sisters that were pulling the petals from her rose and in doing so were killing their father. Rose was beginning to have strange dreams, filled with roses, and a icy cold manor house. She revealed her dreams to her father one day, hoping to get a smile out of him. Dominic stared into his Rose's pretty hazel eyes and knew he had to tell her the truth. In gasping breaths he told her of where he found the rose and the warning of the icy lord of the manor. "Papa, why didn't you tell me?" tears fell from her cute upturned nose. She brought the rose over to him, the few remaining petals forming a small perfect bud. She listened as he finally told her everything. She packed a few things and took the rose with her, leaving a short note for her sisters and hoped his health would improve once she left. She took the same horse he had, and prayed for a swift journey. Winter was in full bloom by then and she struggled against the icy wind as she felt pulled in the right direction. It was exactly as she had seen in her dreams. The roses framing the entryway were like glass as she got off her horse. Tears froze as they rolled down her face as she faced a cold and lonely future. Rose led her horse inside and was surprised as servants quickly took her horse and bags. It was as if they had known exactly when she would arrive. He had been expecting her since her father left, he was a little surprised at how long it had taken. He was also surprised by the girl, he was expecting a beautiful young woman, and instead she was gangly, with uneven skin, and course hair. He watched her from afar wondering how he could have been so very wrong about her. How could she be the one to break the curse he thought. He would wait and see, he had to hold out the hope that she was the one. He watched her from a distance as he wasn't sure how to reveal himself. It had been so long since he had interacted with anyone outside his household. Then he had been human and powerful, he had taken what he wanted. This girl, he would not have looked at twice, other than to perhaps idly wonder about what she might look like naked and writhing underneath him. The servants were silent and she felt as if she was being watched as she ventured into the house. It was a large place and she felt more than a little lost as she sat down to eat her evening meal alone. The food was good and the silence added to the chilly atmosphere of the house. She was shown to a spacious bedroom and she tried to settle in. Everything seemed so cold, so impersonal, and she wondered when her monstrous host would appear. She unpacked the few things she had brought with her, laying the eternal rose on the nightstand. Rose opened the curtains and watched the setting sun. The blur of colors comforted her, as she hoped her father was watching the same sunset. She sat down at an ornate dresser and started to brush her coarse brown hair. Rose undressed quickly and rushed to the bed, cuddling under layers of blankets. It was the largest bed she'd ever slept in, as the youngest child she'd slept in the smallest bed farthest from the warmth of a fire. It all seemed like a dream now, and home and her family seemed so very far away. The main reminder was bruises in all stages of healing up and down her legs from being tripped while her father was away. He snuck into her room as she slept, getting a closer look at his new guest. She looked so peaceful in sleep, her full lips a delicate shade of dark rose, and her upturned nose with smattering of freckles was almost cute. Her eyes were closed, but he had already memorized their strange mix of green and brown. He had no idea what to do next, and his gaze was drawn to the rose on the night stand. He picked it up, surprised that it was no longer the cold crystalline flower he had plucked just a few weeks ago. He could feel the warmth of the flower and he dropped it stunned. It had been so long since he'd felt anything warm. She stirred in her sleep, she felt so cold, as her eyelids barely fluttered open. "Is someone there?" He growled and left her bedroom, his cape swirling around him just enough to briefly define the location of his body. He wasn't ready to talk to her just yet and was upset she had discovered his presence. He'd been alone for so long that having another person in his home was an intrusion he had not been ready for. He felt strange and it troubled him as he watched over her the next couple of days. He was startled by the change in his servants, they were more lively and animated then they had been since before the curse. He felt the stirrings of hope grow as this strange young woman infused life into his household. He used his knowledge of the secret passages to get to her room without her spotting him and to arrive before her. He picked a shadowy corner to watch her from, vowing not to get caught as he watched her get ready for bed night after night. Rose had made the best of things, and the servants were very nice to her. They were reluctant to talk about their master, and considering how her father had described him, she could understand why. They seemed down trodden at first, but she had them laughing and smiling before a week had passed. She even had convinced the cook to let her use the kitchen. Rose was not used to having things done for her, and briefly thought of how envious her sisters would be of this place. She returned to her room late that night, tired and curious as to what secrets the manor held. She stirred the fire, watching the flames flicker to life under her touch. Something seemed off, but she dismissed it as she didn't exactly know what normal was anymore. She slipped off her shoes, enjoying the luxurious feel of the carpet in her room. She quickly undid her hair, brushed it , and braided the stubborn brown locks. Rose washed her face, and shivered. She looked carefully around, and seeing nothing out of place, pulled back the covers on her bed. She took off her dress, carefully placing it over the chair, and quickly removed her corset. She took a deep breath enjoying the freedom of movement, before sliding into bed in her undergarments. He watched her and once she was sleeping he was draw to her in the bed. He could almost feel the warmth of her body radiating outward. His hand reached out to touch her cheek and he was rewarded by feeling the heat of her body. It shocked him, that anything should feel warm anymore, it was a miracle he thought would never come. He brushed back a stray strand of dark hair and leaned over and was compelled to brush his lips lightly against her forehead. He pulled away as she stirred and left before she could respond. He was troubled by his reaction to her, he was drawn to her like a moth to the flame and he wondered if like the moth he would be destroyed by the contact. Beauty and the Beast He continued to watch her, keeping his distance, wondering if his reaction was due to the curse, or if there was more to it than the hope of shedding his icy form. Hope throbbed painfully inside him as he debated what to do now, for how could she ever want to be with someone like him? She was as warm as he was cold, he doubted even were he flesh and blood that she would want to touch him. He longed for her touch and that night he shed his cloak and pants. The moonlight glistened off his bare form, before he joined her in the bed. He'd instructed his servants to add something to her drink to ensure a good nights sleep. He felt guilty even as he laid against her, feeling the warmth of her body. His arm draped over her, listening for her every breath. Since being cursed he had not enjoyed food or drink, gaining no sustenance from either. He had not even considered other physical pleasures, until this moment. He would have cried, if he had been able to produce tears. He longed to be inside her, wrapped in her most intimate of places, to feel the warmth of her body surround him. He doubted such an union possible, his body was as cold and hard as ice, he had not had an erection since before the curse. He had considered it part of the curse, but right now he desperately wished for flesh and blood. A small part of him was glad for his arctic prison, as he probably would have taken her by force before the curse. His nightly visits grew more bold, his fingers softly touching her, desperately wanting what he thought he could never truly have. His cold lips trailing soft light kisses along her neck and shoulders. Frustrated by the limitations of his body and how he'd been brought to this point, and how he'd trapped her with him. By day he watched her, envious of his servants interactions with her. He was feeling more emotions than he had ever felt before, yet his curse was as strong as ever. He longed to speak to her, to feel the touch of her hand, yet he feared her response to him, after all he was her jailor and a monster. However, Rose was having strange dreams, of cool kisses teasing down her neck, each night a little bolder than the one before. Despite the chill of his touch she slept soundly. She felt odd about feeling so desirous of a man she knew only in her dreams. She kept such thoughts to herself, and spent her days exploring the manor and writing letters she could not bear to send to her father. She thought about her strange lord of the manor. The chilly monster her father had described had not yet appeared. Every time she thought of the icy beast, her body grew warm and she found herself thinking of the man in her dreams instead. They couldn't possibly be the same man, she shuddered at the thought. How was it possible for something so cold, distant, and uncaring as her captor to also be the source of the soft cool kisses and touches that tormented her nights? During one of her explorations she discovered a large bathing tub, and by nightfall not only was it in her chamber, but it was filled with hot steamy water and bath salts. Rose glanced around, she still had the strange feeling of being watched, but eventually dismissed it. After all her captor was not invisible. She slipped her dress off and her fingers trembled as she removed her under garments, placing them aside to get laundered. The chill in air raised goose bumps along her arms as she carefully lowered herself into the hot water. Her skin turned pink from the heat as she sat down in the fragrant water. It felt amazing, she rarely got hot water at home. It was too much work to refill and her sisters always left her with tepid bathwater. This was a luxury she could get used to. She hoped her father was okay and decided that she would draft a letter she could send, saying she was okay, and hoped he was doing well. This was the first time he'd seen her naked, and it took a lot of will power to keep from striding over to the tub and taking her like an animal. He stayed as long as he dared, the animal instincts she aroused him in scared him as much as the cold of the curse. He had been driven by his animal lusts as a mortal. He was not sure if it was a good sign that they had returned. He wondered if this was some sort of test as he returned to his own room. He could not sleep, the vision of her body lingered in his mind, and he realized he could not keep her with him forever against her will. Somewhere along the way he had fallen in love, he cared more about her happiness than his own desire to break his curse. He decided that when winter was over he would send her home, even though it might kill him to do so. She soaked in the tub until the water cooled, her fingers and toes delightfully wrinkled. She glanced around, for once feeling alone, it seemed strange as she slipped out of tub and headed straight for bed. She snuggled up under sheets, and wondered if once again she would dream of cold kisses. He wandered along the halls, finding that all paths he took led back to her room. He stopped fighting it and slipped into her room. He glanced around, noticing that her undergarments still lay draped over the chair. He stared at the bed, could she possibly be wearing nothing under those sheets? He had to know. He slipped off his trousers and glided over to the bed, there was no moon to shine on his icy form this night. He slid into bed and moved next to her. He closed his eyes and let his cool fingers explore the bare skin. Traveling slowly along her collar bone, down to the ripe curves of her breasts, feeling her nipples peak under his cold touch. His fingers stroked downward, caressing the soft plane of her stomach, stroking the soft flesh of her thighs, his guilt battling with his lust. When her legs parted for him, he could not resist letting his fingers venture between them. The heat drew him upward, to the soft nest of hair, which he knew to be dark and curly. His cold fingers continued to explore, feeling her body open up to him, unable to leave her, yet knowing he would not be able to stay. It was new territory, and he was struck by the thought that this was new territory for her as well. It had never occurred to him that she might be unschooled in the ways of lust. He had known a great many woman plainer looking who were far more experienced than their pretty counterparts. His fingers moved slowly, not wanting to risk waking her as the heat of her body called out to him. Rose struggled with her dream, she felt so strange, and at the same time it felt so natural. His hands were so cold, but against her heated flesh it was a welcome relief. Her thighs parted and she granted him access to her intimate flesh. She expected probing, and pain as she had heard from married woman. It was nothing like that, it was tender, sweet, and agonizing slow. She was unable to do anything to encourage the cool hands to do more. Rose wished she was able to respond, unsure of what to do but wanting more. His fingers stroked upward seeking out the heat of her body, his fingers drawn to her wet flesh. His cool smooth icy fingers seeking out the small bud of pleasure. He had decided that he would try to please her in the only way he was capable of, as his fingers met no resistance. His fingers strummed against her, teasing her clit into revealing its hiding spot. The tiny bump seemed as innocent as the rest of her, as he played her body like an expert. He took his time in bringing her to pleasure, and the feel of her body as she shuddered against him with both sweet and sour. Her body instantly tightened around him, her legs drawn together. He pulled his hand away to watch her curl into a ball, and she began sobbing. He left her bed, feeling more like a monster than he ever had before. Even in trying to do something for her pleasure, it had been completely about what he wanted. He almost forgot his clothes in his guilt, as he left her room. He wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and left a path of destruction in his wake. He was angry, more angry than he had ever been in his life, and it was directed at himself. He couldn't believe how selfish he had been, if nothing else Rose had taught him a valuable lesson. Even if the curse went on he would be a better man. After destroying a great many items he finally felt tired and ended up resting in the gardens of all places. He was still slumbering when Rose found him the next morning. Rose felt so empty and alone when she woke up, she wasn't sure how to express how desolate the world seemed. She was cold too, and she knew she should never have gone to bed without at least a nightgown on. She dressed warmly for the day and once she left her room she noticed quite a few items knocked over and smashed. The servants were already busy cleaning up. After a light breakfast Rose decided to go to the gardens to stay out of there way. That's when she noticed the dark gray cloak covering a male form on a bench. She was curious and frightened, her heart racing as she neared him. Her hand reached out to remove the cloak and her heart very nearly stopped when he moved. He was dreaming, the same troubled dream that he was alone, and that no one could hear his cries for help. No matter where he turned or ran, he was completely and utterly alone. It was so cold where he was and nothing he did worked to warm him up. His body twitched as he dreamt and for a moment he felt warm, and that feeling woke him. There she was standing so close to him as to almost be touching him. He saw the pure terror on her face as she looked at him. He growled unable to bear the look on her face. He crouched on all fours and raced away, wanting to get as far away as fast as he could. He found himself in a remote tower, howling in pain, how had he ever deluded himself into thinking it was possible she could want to be with him as he was. The sound of his displeasure echoed through the manor, and the servant's nerves were set on edge. They had not seen him in this bad of a mood since the curse began and they did not think it was a good sign now. None of them dared to check on him and Rose was equally shaken. She wound up in the study drafting a letter to her father for what seemed like the thousandth time. The servants brought her food and drink, but the food had lost its flavor. She only managed to finish off the drinks and nibble at the food to keep them from hounding her to eat. Dearest Papa, The roses are beautiful here, and the servants see that my needs are met. I miss you and hope you are feeling better. Spring will hopefully bring some much needed color to the gardens. Send my sisters my love and best wishes. Rose She kept the letter short and simple, fearing anything else would be seized by her host and never sent. She secured it along with the pink rose bud to her horse's saddle bag. The weather was almost spring like today and with a sad smile, she smacked the horse's rear end and sent it home. Home, the word itself seemed foreign, after all she was stuck here for an undetermined amount of time. She feared she would never again see her father. She prayed his health had returned and that she had not left him to die. He spotted her from the tower and within moments found out why she was sending her horse home. He had already destroyed everything in the tower, and eventually the rubble was smashed into tiny pieces. He sat down, unable to piece together the strange emotions that tumbled through him when it came to Rose. He wanted the best for her, but the thought of her leaving was unbearably painful. He knew he loved her, he just never expected it to be so painful. He never thought such joy and pain could exist side by side. As the sunset he considered one last night in her arms, it was worth any risk, even rejection to feel the warmth of her body one last time. He composed himself and made his way secretly to her room. Rose skipped the evening meal completely, she wondered how long it would take for the message to reach home, and if her father might find a way to respond. So when she went to bed she was tired, but not sedated as she had been in previous nights. She was very aware of him as he slipped into bed next to her. She calmed her breath as she realized this was her chance to face him, whoever he might be, even if he were the icy monster. The toughest part was keeping her eyes closed, but she did roll over in his arms so she was at least facing him. He wrapped himself around her and relaxed, breathing in the scent of her hair. It was a perfect moment, he could almost convince himself that she was his willing lover lying in his arms. When she turned towards him, he tensed for a moment, before allowing himself to enjoy the feel of her soft body pressed against him. His hand trailing up and down her back, holding her gently against him. The feel of her mouth as she nuzzled up against his neck was electric. He felt as if every muscle in his body was tensed up, despite the fact that he didn't actually have muscles anymore. He wished this moment could last forever. She was tired and after wriggling him into a position that would be difficult for him to get out of without waking her, she allowed herself to fall asleep. Her face was resting on his shoulder, and her legs were entangled with his and she had him pinned to the bed. He was very tired himself and to wrapped up in enjoying the moment to notice he was trapped beneath her. Eventually he rested, unwilling to leave her any sooner than he absolutely had to. She woke up first, the chill of his body waking her. She slowly opened her eyes, half expecting him to vanish somehow. Her eyes took in his chiseled features, the diffuse sunlight causing a rainbow effect. He was beautiful in his own way and she dared to lean in and kiss him upon the lips. He stirred at the feel of her warm lips upon his own, it was as if she was breathing life into him. She felt so warm, and it was then that he realized that she had brought a part of him to life. He looked down in the vain hope that the curse was broken and that he was flesh and blood again. He was slightly disappointed to see that he was still locked in his icy prison, but glad to see his cock was fully erect. A clear hard rod that retained the size shape and feel of what he had as a man. His mind was clear on what he wanted, and what this new turn meant, but he needed her to be willing. Anything else would merely confirm that he was the monster on the inside that the curse had made him on the outside. He pulled the covers up over their heads, wanting to conceal the monstrous part of him as much as possible. Rose felt the thick hard rod pressed against her, and quickly realized what it was and what it meant. She was surprised that she had not noticed it before, and felt uncertain of what that meant. Had he not been aroused by her before? Had he simply been playing with her? Was she so innocent as to be fooled by a monster? The negative thoughts kept her from fully enjoying the moment when his lips brushed hers. The kiss slowly focused her back onto him as he pulled the covers over them and the sun vanished. It had been a long time since he had kissed a woman, and he had never kissed a woman he cared about. So much was depending on this moment that he was unable to relax. Every cold inch of his body was tense, even the not so cold parts. He pulled her against him, knowing the first move would have to be hers. He would not take her without her permission and he wasn't sure how to ask without sounding like a jerk. Rose felt him shift against her, and she tensed up for a moment before she realized he wasn't going to force her to do anything. He was merely moving her so she was straddling him, she had all the power. She was so inexperienced that she felt powerless, as she rubbed her body against his, feeling a strange rush as his smooth cool rod ended up between her legs. She knew she was missing something, but was unsure of how to proceed. Among animals it just happened, and she was beginning to get a little frustrated at her lack of knowledge. She sighed softly, "Please," she asked her eyes adjusting to the dimness under covers. The grayness softened the icy planes of his face as she stared into his pale icy blue eyes. He ached for her, and with that one soft word, he took the lead. His cool long fingers stroking against her, not wanting to cause her pain. Her body willingly took his finger inside her, and he wished he were flesh and blood for her. He knew in an instant that she had never been touched this way before as her body tensed slightly at the probing of his finger. It was then that he noticed his body's response and for once he wished he wasn't so well endowed, as thoughts for her well being and pleasure filled his mind. Her mouth hungrily explored his neck and he felt the heat of her sink into him completely. He guided his cock to her slick pussy and tried to be gentle as he pressed up against her. The heat of her body was so intense he felt as if he could melt at any moment. The intrusion of his finger was unexpected, but she gradually relaxed and realized what he was doing. The chill of his body was fading to her senses, and when his cock finally pressed inside her she felt a strange calmness. It was as if everything in her life had brought her to this moment, to be with this man. She felt complete in a way that made her realize just how empty her life had been before. The feeling grew as her body tensed up and relaxed, shuddering in small spikes of pleasure rippling along her body. He felt her shiver against him, and held her tight as her body pressed against his, his hips thrusting up against her, his icy hard cock breaking through what little internal resistance there was. He held her, his fingers raking into her back at the glorious feeling of her body gripping his cock. He felt her body go limp and he gently rolled her underneath him. The covers falling back from his body. He no longer cared as he looked upon her face. She was beautiful to him, her skin flushed, her expression one of complete bliss. His hands gently coaxed her legs to wrap around him, unable to give up the feeling of her body just yet. His mouth ventured from her soft breasts up along her neck. He kissed her, feeling her mouth was soft and pliable under his. He made love to her as her hands gripped his back, her legs tightened around him. His every movement timed to the urgency of her kiss. The pure heat of her body driving his pace, he felt as if he were sweating as she gasped, her body gripping him. He moaned the words without thinking, "I love you." In that moment of pleasure her eyes opened and he was surprised to see no fear reflected in them. The warm glow of the rising sun illuminated the room and in that heated moment of pleasure and perfect trust, she saw him as flesh and blood. Then her eyes closed to fully take in the feeling of bliss. She felt safe, protected, and drowsy. She sighed, stretched her legs, and wasn't sure what she said, but he pulled away from her. She felt empty for a moment before she curled up against him and fell asleep again. Rose had the first truly restful sleep since she had arrived. ...and they lived happily fucking after. Beauty and the Beast When Sebastian Beast, the famous photographer and consort of innumerable fashion models and film stars, decided to move into the quiet country town of Lustley it caused quite a stir. Sebastian was tall, thirty-years old, wealthy and exceptionally handsome. He had bought Thrustham Hall, an imposing Victorian mansion on the outskirts of the town, part of which he had transformed into a photographic studio. Sebastian could often be seen driving his Porsche around town, sometimes accompanied by one or other of his models and visiting the more exclusive clubs and bars in the wealthier parts of town. He was not only the talk of the town but the centre of rumour and speculation among the town's local girls, his dark good looks turning their heads and raising hopes that he might look their way. One girl in particular was very taken with Sebastian. Her name was Petronella Pullman; she was a very attractive eighteen-year-old college student who lived with her widowed father in a cottage not far from the local church. The most striking thing about Petronella's appearance, apart from her slender form and perfectly shaped figure, was her pale skin, dark brown eyes and jet black hair which she wore short with a fringe. She was very much a modern miss who had acquired some sexual experience quite soon after reaching puberty and obtained something of a reputation among the boys of her acquaintance because of her enthusiasm for, and her skill at, sucking cock. One summer afternoon Petronella, having alighted from the bus that brought her back from college, was on her way home when Sebastian Beast, driving his red, open-top Porsche, spotted her and pulled up alongside. "Hello", he said, "I'm Sebastian Beast, I don't think we've met". Petronella turned and looked at him. "No, we haven't", she said, "But I do know who you are, is there anyone in Lustley who doesn't?" "I suspect not", he said, smiling and revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "Hey, perhaps we could get to know each other better." Taking her time, Petronella walked up and looked him up and down across the passenger seat. After a moment she said, "Yes, I think perhaps we could", pulled open the door and got in, "where shall we go, your place?" We needn't dwell on the events that took place in the photographic studio at Thrustham Hall during the following hour or so, as they are not directly relevant to this story, but for Petronella it was an experience that she was not likely to forget. And news of that experience she was extremely keen to share with her very best friend, Beauty Bellingham. Beauty Bellingham lived with her parents in a semi-detached, four-bedroom house, part of the suburban fringes built in Lustley around 1930. She was an only child. Both her parents were respectable middle class, her father was a bank manager, her mother a very active member of the Lustley Women's Institute and the family regularly attended church every Sunday morning. Beauty was younger than Petronella and they had become friends at their Secondary School. However, Beauty's upbringing had been very restricted. Her mother seemed determined to keep her looking like little girl for a long as possible. All the clothes she wore needed the approval of Mrs. Bellingham, as did the way she wore her shoulder-length blonde hair. Makeup, if not exactly forbidden, was required to be used with extreme discretion. Mother made the rules and consequently Beauty was not only a naïve virgin but even at eighteen she had had no kind of sexual experience whatsoever. Petronella knew that she could find Beauty at church on Sunday morning and decided she would join the congregation so as to have an opportunity to mention her experience with Sebastian Beast. Beauty's mother didn't really approve of her friendship with Petronella, she said she thought she was flighty and not a good influence. As the parishioners made their way into the church, Petronella, who had decided to wear a black and white striped cotton dress and a little pillbox hat for the occasion, waited for the Bellingham's car to arrive. Beauty was dressed in a very pretty pink, full-skirted summer dress and a straw-hat with a matching pink hatband. She wore little white gloves with lacy cuffs and carried her prayer book and a tiny pink handbag. Beauty's parents led the way into the church giving an opportunity for Petronella to slip in alongside her friend. "I've got something incredible to tell you", she whispered. "What?" "When can we get together? Could we meet after church? "Mummy and daddy will expect me to got back with them". "How about this evening?" Beauty thought about it. "I know, I'll tell mummy that you need some advice, she'll let be go then". Petronella had always been concerned that Beauty, her eighteen-year-old virgin friend, was being seriously over-protected by her mother and, following her shattering experience with Sebastian, she delighted in the idea that she might lure her friend into the hands of this handsome arch-seducer so that she might lose her virginity in the most rewarding possible way. Petronella opened the door and led the way up to her bedroom. Beauty sat next to her on the bed, her eyes sparkling. "Now, tell me, tell me. I've been on tenterhooks all afternoon", she said, excitedly. "Sebastian Beast took me to Thrustham Hall". Beauty's eyes opened wide and he mouth dropped open. "Sebastian Beast! " "He picked me up in his car". Beauty was speechless, then - "Petronella, you're outrageous! What happened?" "Well, it was great fun. He is a very famous photographer, so first he took lots of lovely photographs of me. Then he suggested that it would be fun to take some sexy ones, so I took off my frock and he took some more pictures of me in my underwear." Once again Beauty's eyes popped open and her face was aghast. "Then we did some things together that were very nice indeed". "What kind of things?" "Oh, you know, touching and kissing. It was really exciting being with him. He really is quite a sexy man" "Was it romantic?" "Yes, very, very romantic", said Petronella, lying through he teeth, "It was all very nice indeed". "Oh, Petronella, you're so lucky. I wish something like that would happen to me". "Well", said her friend, "he did ask me if I knew of any other young women of about my age who might be prepared to model for him. If you like I could tell him that you'd quite like to do some as well". And this is why, on the following Tuesday afternoon, Beauty Bellingham found herself tapping discretely on the front door of Thrustham Hall. Sebastian's studio was very spacious with lighting rigs everywhere, computer monitors and digital screens that could give instant displays of photographs as they were taken. There was furniture, in particular a large sofa and a bed. Beauty had dressed in a pretty blue cotton frock and wore a straw hat with matching blue band very similar to the one she'd worn for church. "Can you dance?" said Sebastian. "Yes, but not very well", replied the virgin. "I'd just like you to dance around in a happy way in that white area. Use as much space as you like". Beauty did as she was asked, and she did it very prettily, leaping and twirling, her arms and hand nicely timed with her movements. Sebastian clicked away with his digital camera, using encouraging words, asking her to repeat things, pose in certain positions, and so on. After a while Sebastian stopped taking photos and said, "That's very lovely, thank you". He put down the camera, "Now for some erotic pictures, he said. Beauty didn't know what he meant by erotic pictures. Petronella had said that he had taken photos of her both dressed and partially undressed, but what did "erotic" mean? "Turn around and I'll help you get out of your dress." Beauty suddenly was beginning to wish that she hadn't agreed to do this. Petronella had made it seem fun, a little naughty but fun. And she had said that what Sebastian had done to her was Very Nice Indeed. So nice, that it had been the nicest feeling she had ever had in her life. Sebastian had now come up behind her and begun unbuttoning the back of her frock. Beauty's blue cotton frock had a bow that tied at the back, a boat collar and little puffed sleeves, but to put it on she had to step into it, and someone, invariably her mother, would button it up. Sebastian had by now reached the bottom button and had undone the bow so that it was no longer so tight at the waist. His deft hands then pulled the back apart so that the frock slipped forward revealing her bare back and shoulders. A little shudder of anxiety ran through her. Sebastian was now turning her to face him. Beauty didn't wear a bra. Her mother said she didn't need one because her titties were really not big enough. But Sebastian was pulling the top forward – he would see her tiny titties! As the frock slid off her arms she quickly crossed them so as to cover her front. "Don't do that" said Sebastian, " I need to see your breasts so that I can take pictures. Beauty was very unsure. "But they're not very nice, they're very small." she said in a tiny voice. "I'm sure I will like them no matter how small they are." said Sebastian, turning and picking up his camera. "Now be a good girl, hold your hands behind you and pull your shoulders back." "I'd really rather not," she said. "Didn't Petronella tell you about the pictures that I like to take?" said Sebastian, "If not why did you come?" Beauty didn't quite know what to say to that, so after a moment of indecision slowly did as she was asked. Sebastian suddenly became transfixed, just staring at her naked torso. For a second she thought that she'd been right, that he didn't like them. But then he stepped forward, looked at her face, and then again at her breasts and said, "I think they are absolutely beautiful." Beauty blushed. She knew she was blushing because her cheeks suddenly felt very hot – Sebastian thought her titties were beautiful! Sebastian looked again at her face and smiled a gentle smile. "Now I'll take the photographs," he said, a bit unnecessarily. "Could you just tilt your head slightly forward and look down. Beauty did as she was asked. Sebastian started taking pictures, sometimes bringing the camera very close to her titties. "Now, I want you to hold your breasts from beneath and lift them up", said Sebastian. Beauty wasn't sure that there was very much to lift, bit she did her best. Beauty began to realise that she now quite liked being photographed. Sebastian took pictures of her naked upper body from every angle. He then put the camera down again and came close. "Might I touch?" he asked. Beauty didn't think she could say no. After all Petronella had said that Sebastian had touched her, and that was going to be part of it; part of having a feeling that was going to be Very Nice Indeed. Beauty gave a very quick nod. "Put your hands behind your back again", she did. Sebastian looked at her titties for some time, then he used the tips of his fingers to stroke both of them very gently but firmly, and then he did the same to her nipples. Beauty was a little shocked to realize that she quite liked it. This clearly was one of those feelings that were going to be Very Nice Indeed. Sebastian looked at her face. She knew that he could tell that she liked what he was doing. Suddenly, he put both hands on her waist, pulled her slightly to him and began to kiss her titties. Beauty was shocked, but didn't know what to say. Then she felt his lips and tongue sucking and licking her titties. She tried to step back, but his hands held her waist firmly. "Er, no. Really. I'm not sure . . ." she stuttered. Sebastian stopped. Your breasts are so very pretty, I just have to do that", he said. Now that he'd stopped doing it, Beauty realized with a shock that she had quite liked Sebastian's mouth sucking and licking her titties. "Let's get the rest of this frock off", Sebastian said in a business-like way, and crouched, lowered the blue frock to the floor while allowing his hands to stroke the backs of her legs as he did so. Beauty suddenly realized that she was now standing in front of Sebastian wearing only her knickers, shoes and socks. She felt the blush fill her cheeks again. "Lift your foot", said Sebastian. Beauty complied. "Now the other one". She did as asked and Sebastian deftly tossed the frock onto a nearby chair. He stayed, crouching in front of her, his face inches away from the front of her white cotton knickers and rubbed his nose against them, inhaling deeply. Then, without hesitation, he slipped his thumbs into the waistband and pulled them down to her thighs exposing her Private Place. Beauty, totally taken by surprise, bent a leg across and brought her hands forward, covering herself. "No, please. I don't think . . ." she began. But Sebastian had reached for his camera and was pointing it towards her Private Place. "Nonsense", he said, "put your hands behind your back as I asked. I didn't have this problem with Petronella. Have you come here for the same reason, or not?" With some reluctance Beauty put her arms behind her back. It was just that Petronella hadn't gone into much detail; she'd just said that he would take some photos. Sebastian stood and took some shots, then crouched and brought his camera very close to her Private Place. "Why are you taking pictures there?" she asked. "Because you are very beautiful there", he said. "I'm sure I don't look very beautiful with nothing on and my knickers pulled down", she rejoined with some unexpected spirit. "It's very erotic", he replied, "Now turn round". "You want to photograph my bottom?" "Yes, of course, that's why I want you to turn round", he said irritatedly. "Look, didn't Petronella tell you anything? I thought you wanted to come to see me because you wanted me to do things to you that would be Very Nice Indeed?" "Yes, but I don't think having my bottom photographed is very nice" she said, with a tiny quaver of unhappiness. Sebastian put down the camera, took hold of her upper arms very gently and looked into her eyes. "This is not just for me", he said, "both of us want to enjoy everything that we're going to do, don't we?" He spoke very calmly. "This is just the beginning, just a few erotic photos, that's all. Now be a good girl and do as I ask, then we shall do some wonderful things together that will make you feel Very Nice Indeed." Beauty pondered this, and then turned round a bit sulkily. Sebastian continued taking pictures. "Now, without turning round I want you to bend down and take your knickers off". As Beauty obeyed Sebastian took a burst of pictures. Then as she bent forward to step out of them he crouched behind her, photographing her buttocks and vulva from behind. Beauty stood and turned, her knickers in her hand. Apart from her shoes and white ankle socks she was completely naked. Sebastian took them from her and held them close to his nose before putting then in his pocket. Beauty's eyes widened with surprise. "Why did you do that?" "Because you smell so sweet and I want to keep them as a momento. Now come over here and sit on the sofa". Sebastian took her hand and led the way. Beauty sat with her legs held together and her hands covering her Private Place. "I am now going to do some things to you that will make you feel Very Nice Indeed, just as I did with Petronella. I will need to touch your clitoris and put some fingers into your vagina". Beauty knew what they were. She had seen drawings during one of her sex education classes at school, but because they were part of her Private Place she hadn't liked to touch them much herself. "Now then", Sebastian's voice was very calm, but Beauty thought she could detect a certain breathless quality, "I want you to open your legs wide and put your feet on the edge of the sofa". Beauty was feeling very hesitant. She had never done anything like this, other than when putting in a tampon. But she remembered that Sebastian had said that what he was going to do was the same as he did to Petronella. Very slowly, she did as he had asked and felt herself blushing wildly. Sebastian gazed, enraptured, at the glory of nakedness before him. Beauty's slender body and widely parted thighs, her dimpled navel and expanse of soft, white flesh that lay below, and the gently protruding hipbones framing her sweet pubic mound, delicately covered with fine blonde curls. Sebastian started by stroking the soft flesh on her inner thighs. Beauty decided that she quite liked this; it was a Very Nice Feeling. He then very gently used his fingers to part the lips of her vagina. Beauty felt a confused feeling, it was quite nice but she wasn't sure it was something she should let a man do. Then she felt another feeling, She seemed to be getting a bit wet. Sebastian inserted the tip on his finger between her sweet cunt lips and very delicately began to stroke. Beauty then knew that this was going to be one of those feelings that she would like Very Much Indeed. Sebastian became bolder. Her cunt juices were flowing and he smeared some of them on to her clitoris. As he touched it she gave a little jump. Sebastian then started to enjoy himself, slipping another finger into her vagina while he massaged her clitoris with the finger of his other hand. Beauty was now experiencing feelings that were not only Very Nice Indeed but on the edge of Devastating. Very soon she was having her very first orgasm and making little cries and gasps. Sebastian was going to take her all the way. He now had two fingers inside her and was feeling for the G spot. Then he started to really milk her faster and faster. Beauty was lifting her pelvis off the sofa to meet his thrusting fingers, the flat heels of her shoes thrusting down onto the sofa edge, her hands pushing down onto the seat, her cries getting wilder and louder. She came with a scream and a flood, her cum poring over Sebastian's hand and wrist. He slowed and stopped. He watched her, slumped and panting, a coating of perspiration over the whole of her beautiful young body. After a while she opened her eyes and slowly gave him a cheeky smile. "Did you like that? Beauty gave a quick and very certain nod. "That's just the beginning", he said, "there's more to come – much more". Fascinated, Beauty watched as Sebastian began to undress. He stripped off his T-shirt and for the first time Beauty saw how muscular he was. His broad, tanned chest was covered with fine jet-black hair that ran down to his navel and fanned across he stomach. He kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his jeans. He was wearing boxers, but the bulge in front revealed only too clearly the size of his erect cock. When they fell to his feet Beauty gave a sharp intake of breath as the enormous breadth and length of it was revealed. Beauty thought she knew about the male penis, it had been explained carefully in class as the source of semen that penetrated the ovum in the process of fertilization. But no one told her that it could be that big. Her thoughts turned to her tiny vulva that had at one time nestled protectively in her Private Place. If Sebastian had it in mind to do with it what she had know become certain he was planning to do with it, surely there was no way that it could happen. She involuntarily pushed her thighs tightly together. Sebastian came towards her, his cock bobbing as he walked. "Have you ever seen a man's penis before?" Beauty shook her head. "Sit up, I want you to feel it." Beauty was aghast. " I really don't think.." Sebastian reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her forward and holding her hand close to his cock. "Stroke it with your finger." Gingerly, Beauty extended her finger and touched the smooth head. She was surprised at how warm it felt and so very velvety. She was also surprised to discover that she quite liked touching it, in fact she liked the way it felt and, although she couldn't quite understand why, she was feeling very attracted to, well ... all of it, in fact she decided it was Very Nice Indeed. Beauty and the Beast Sebastian released her wrist. She didn't stop stroking the head. Then suddenly she felt compelled to hold the thickness of it with her hand. She liked its heat and its hardness. It really was very thick; her fingers couldn't grasp it fully. Sebastian placed his hand over hers and gently moved her hand up and down so that she began to wank him. She looked up to his face, "Like this?" "Yes, sweet girl, like that". Beauty discovered that she liked doing what she'd been shown. She decided to get a little bolder and turned her head slightly so as to look down at Sebastian's balls. "Are those testicles?" She had only seen a drawing of these in the sex education class, but these looked much more fascinating. "Yes, why don't you hold them with your other hand". She slowly reached out and cupped them in her palm and fondled them gently. Beauty suddenly realized that she was Very Attracted Indeed to these wondrous male appendages; they made her feel quite excited. Sex education had never prepared her for this. Sebastian observed her fascination with delight. "Now lie back and open your legs wide again, I'm going to do something else that will be Very Nice Indeed. Beauty did exactly as she was asked, eager to discover what this might be. Sebastian knelt on the floor and slowly parted her knees. He loved this moment; it was like discovering treasure. His eyes focused greedily on her exquisite little virgin cunt. He leant forward and began to kiss the soft flesh on the inside of her thighs. Because of the sensitivity of the area, Beauty could feel both the softness of his lips and the slight roughness of his shaven face. She decided that this was another thing she liked Very Much Indeed. In fact she was becoming quite excited by the thought of what Sebastian would do. What he actually did was slide his hands under her buttocks and lift her so that his mouth and tongue would have unrestricted access to all the delightful charms that lay between her legs. Beauty was at first rather shocked. Sebastian Beast was licking and kissing her down there! But the feelings of delight that this was producing quickly overwhelmed any inhibitions of propriety. This was not just Very Nice Indeed it was Heavenly. After many years of practice Sebastian had become extremely good at eating pussy, and before long Beauty was experiencing a series of the most mind- blowing orgasms, each building on the other. Sebastian's tongue, lips, mouth and fingers explored every nook and cranny in a frenzy of lust. Her gasps, her shouts and squeals echoed round the studio as her body shuddered and writhed with pleasure. Eventually she reached a point of satiation where she could take no more. She put her hand on his head, pushed him away and just slumped, almost in a faint. Sebastian lowered her, slid his hands from under her buttocks and sat back. Beauty's eyes were closed, her cheeks bright pink and her soft mouth loosely open. With his thumbs he gently began to stroke the inner hollows either side of Beauty's delectable cunt. The lips were wide open and shone with the moisture that, only moments earlier, he had induced with the passionate use of his tongue and lips. All was now open, primed for entry. Responding to his touch, Beauty opened her eyes and looked at him. He seemed to be in a trance, so wide were his eyes and so soft was his look as he gazed at her Private Place. Beauty felt a sudden thrill as she watched him. He was captivated by that secret place. He needed it, was bewitched by it. And it was her private place, hers to give and hers to keep. In an instant she thought back to the earlier moment, when he started to undress her. He was in the same state then, desperate to see her body, to touch her with his hands, his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. At the time she had been a little scared, feeling that he was in control. But she now knew, he was lost in her from the start. She remembered how he'd looked when he'd first touched her titties, how he just had to bring his mouth to them. And when he'd first pulled down her knickers. She'd felt so unsure, anxious that he would find her Private Place unpleasant. How wrong she'd been. That place between her legs was an obsession for him, a centre of his world. Beauty now knew about Sebastian. She considered his desperate need of her rather empowering. Sebastian's cock was now harder than ever. As he brought the head to touch the lips of Beauty's little cunt, she somehow knew that one of the most memorable moments of her life was about to take place. Everyone remembers their first fuck. This was surely going to be the climax to everything that had gone before. She watched as Sebastian began teasing the opening with the velvety head. Then, as he pushed in, very slowly, she felt the opening widen. It was being stretched but not painfully. It was the most wonderful feeling; she loved being penetrated, being filled. She knew that her Private Place was made for it, and it felt so, so good. Sebastian began stroking in and out when he was only partially in. He knew he could go in the full length, but not yet. The build up was slow but as the pleasure built so did the pace. Both Beauty and Sebastian were now entering a truly shared place and as the joy of it all got bolder it got faster and increasingly more abandoned. For Sebastian, Beauty was a seducers' dream come true. Sure, he had had plenty of beautiful women, in fact they seldom refused him, but the chance to seduce a sweet angelic virgin like Beauty and introduce her to the wondrous delights of lust had never come his way before. As she slowly recovered from an experience that was like nothing she could have possibly imagined, Beauty became aware that things could never be the same again. She knew that, put simply, she was now, and felt like, a real woman and that certain words she was aware of, but had always been told were unspeakable, were now necessary to describe both what had happened and also how she felt. Penis and a vagina were merely names given to illustrations in a book: What had really happened was that Sebastian's wonderful cock had fucked her darling little cunt for the first time and it had been magnificent. She looked across at Sebastian who, breathing hard and covered with sweat, was looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. She saw that his wonderful cock was as rigid as ever, for despite his determination to pleasure her to the ultimate he hadn't wanted to come - not yet. His cock, which had previously been an object of fascination for her, now became the most desirable object in her immediate universe. She sat up and eagerly reached out to take it in her hand. Instinctively, even longingly, she took the head of his cock into her mouth and began to suck. She loved the taste of it, the feel of it, everything about it. At that moment she wanted nothing else but to keep sucking Sebastian's beautiful cock for as long as he'd let her. There is very little point in detailing how the ex-virgin and her seducer spent the next hour. She quickly found rich satisfaction from being fucked from the rear after she had hugely enjoyed Sebastian's eager and extensive pleasuring her from behind with finger, mouth and tongue. Finally, they had moved to the studio bed where the climax of the afternoon, which equaled if not excelled anything that had preceded it, consisted of a furious and relentless fucking, with Beauty on her back and her legs on Sebastian's shoulders. This concluded with Sebastian withdrawing with fine judgment and shooting what seemed like a pint of creamy cum all over her tits and belly. That Beauty was sufficiently overcome with lust that she was eager to discover how it tasted, was perhaps a pleasant surprise for both of them and an indication of the additional pleasures and joys to come during their couplings over the subsequent days and weeks. Beauty's mother was somewhat discomforted by the sudden change in her daughter's approach to life, and although unable to explain it, slowly accepted that her daughter was now grown up and able t make her own choices as to what she wore and whom she saw. Now that Beauty had joined the adult world, she and Petronella were able to swap stories and plan future adventures together. One of which was a threesome with Sebastian that neither young woman would ever forget. Once, their conversations turned to the girls they both used to know at school, and in particular a rather shy and naïve little girl, small with big blue eyes and curly, golden hair that fell in wringlets. They laughed as they remembered that everyone used to call her Goldilocks. "Hey", said Petronella, "maybe we should give her a call". Beauty and the Beast Sittin' here thinkin', like usual, is a bummer. Been doin' a lot of it lately, sittin' on a bar stool. The thinkin's mostly 'bout women. I like women. Hell, who doesn't? Problem for me is they ain't exactly beatin' down my door tryin' to get to me. I'm the beast in the drama, right? So where's my goddamn beauty! Answer, nowhere I know of. But, I'm a realist. Like I'm sayin', pretty I ain't; hell, I got more in common with Quasimodo than Tom Cruise. When I was young, it made a difference; it bothered me, a lot: got me into a lot of fights—won most of them though. Now, in my thirties, it no longer does—bother me that is—well, that's what I keep telling myself. Helluva thing. Who am I? I'm Oscar Church; Ozzie or Oz to my friends: six-two, one ninety, balding, and really-really not pretty. Yeah, and I know it and I deal with it. Long face, pinched nose, gray eyes too close together, and actual scars left over from major bouts with acne when I was young. Girlfriends? None whatsoever, I mean almost never; I mean I really almost never had one. A couple when I was in the army is all, Filipinas, but no more. Last piece of ass cost me a hundred; the one before that sixty-five dollars—hey, it's all I had, and she was an amateur. Career, well, it ain't a career exactly; I clean up, do minor repairs, and occasionally a little bouncing at Santoro's place—uh—bar, seven nights a week. Good money though. Three bills a week tax free and a place to shack up in the back. Hard to beat that if I do say so. Sittin' here thinkin' 'bout women is gettin' me nowhere. What I'd really like to be doin' is gettin' married. Hell yes I would! It'd be nice, I think, maybe, possibly. Anyway, just wanna try it, okay! Just wanna try it, I mean bein' married to a real honest to goodness woman. I'm thinkin' that'd be real good. Yeah, real good. Two tours for Uncle Sam a decade gone made me tough, mean, and evil. Did a buncha stuff in the army, killed me some stinkies; but, learned me no goddamn fancy career—they'd lied to me 'bout that. Really pissed me off too. I wanted to do that computer stuff, but my fucking test scores weren't no good. Oh, they, my scores, were good enough to get me in; but instead of to school to learn computers, they learned me how to shoot and fight—I already knew how to do those—oh yeah, and crawl real quiet in really wet mud. But hey, I did get to travel some: Iraq, Iran, a couple of other places, but none of them were worth a shit. ****** "Oz, you daydreaming again?" said Amos. Amos Carter is my bud and the head barkeep at Santoro's. "Yeah, I guess," I said. "It's either that or spend all night talking to you." I was all but laughing. "Yeah, well you could do worse," he said, throwing his bar towel in my direction. I caught it. "Yeah, I reckon so," I said. "Anyway, I'm gonna be takin' a walk; I gotta get some air." I tossed a five spot down and pushed back from the bar. He waved at me as I slid off the stool and headed out. I shivered; the night air was cold. I'd gone maybe five or six blocks. To my left was a gas station with a combo-convenience store. The cold made me want to pee, so I headed inside to take care of my need—some things won't wait. "Hey guy, where are the heads?" I said. A pasty faced youth looked up. "Out back, across the parking lot," he said. I headed out and around the building. I could see the little out-building housing the station's restrooms across the parking lot. I saw the light go out in one of the rooms; somebody was finishing up. The men's was on the left and I started up the three steps. I heard a noise, like a yelp coming from the women's. I heard it again. I went over and was about to knock. "No!" said a woman's voice. "Please no!" It didn't take no genius to figure out what was going on. I threw open the door. Time stood still. A man holding a switchblade turned to see who was interrupting his business. A woman with torn clothes and with her genitals exposed lay on the toilet floor. "Motherfucker!" said the bladist. He came at me. The knife hand came out and thrust toward me. I grabbed the assailant's wrist, twisted it, bent the arm backward snapping it. I drove the point deep into the man's torso and twisted his wrist; he was dead even if he didn't know it yet. He began to sink floorward. I let loose the man's now dangling arm. I turned my attention to the woman. She'd already been raped, that was clear, and she'd been about to be murdered. She stared at me. Her eyes were open wide and unblinking. "Ma'am?" I said. She had pulled herself into an even tighter fetal ball. "Ma'am, it's okay. He's done." I reached for her hand. I wanted to get her out of the freakin' bathroom. She pulled away from me. I backed away. I pulled my new cell phone; I hoped I still had enough minutes. I punched in 911. As I spoke to the faceless woman on the other end of the line, the victim whimpered. God I felt bad for her! It was tough being a woman, I guess. We were soon surrounded by a mess of local cops. Amazing how a dead body can generate interest on the part of them guys, not to mention the media. I'd stayed with the woman until the arrival of the police and the EMT guys. I was questioned and released. Apparently the bad guy was well known to the uniforms. One policeman actually congratulated me for killing the asshole. I didn't feel all that good about it, but I'd killed enough in the Middle East so that one more stinky made exactly zero difference to me. One night of excitement and then back to the grind. I never did get to talk to the woman, that is, not that night. Didn't know her name, nothin'. The cops and EMTers got her out of there and to the hospital pretty quick. I wondered how she was, but after a couple of days, memory of her began to fade. One Month later: It was Thursday night, 10PM, and I was fixin' an electrical wire in the kitchen. Cal Robey, the main cook at Santoro's was pissed because his refrigerator wasn't cooling like it was supposed to. A looker, that I had never seen before, came into the back where I was working. "The bathrooms are out there and to the right," I said, pointing toward the double doors she'd just come through as she approached me. "Bathrooms? Oh, no, I don't need the restroom," she said. "Okay. I know it ain't me you're looking for," I said. "So whaddya need?" "You," she said. I gave her a look. "Me? What? I mean what would a woman lookin' like you want with a guy who looks like me?" I said. "Hey, you ain't accusin' me of somethin' are yuh?" I said. "I ain't done nothin' wrong." All of a sudden she had a knitted brow, like she'd just figured something out. She looked—what—embarrassed. "Huh? Oh no! No, no. I'm not accusing you of anything. Well, actually, I take that back. I sort of am," she said. "Then what? I said. I know I had suspicion painted all over my face. "Well," she said, now she was smiling. "I'm accusing you of saving my life. And I have a ton of evidence to prove that you're guilty." "Huh?" I said. "A month ago. In back of the Shell station," she said. She smiled, undoubtedly because I was becoming red-faced. "Oh—the girl—in the bathroom—at the station," I said. "You look real different." "Yes, the girl in the bathroom. The girl you saved from the man who was going to kill her. I'm Belinda Shafer," she said, stretching out her hand to shake mine. "Ozzie—uh—Oscar, Oscar Church. Nice to—uh—meet yuh," I said. "I mean we already met, but..." "Same here for sure. And yes, I guess you could say we did kind of meet before, but not formally. Can I ask you a question Ozzie? You don't mind if I call you Ozzie?" She said. "Okay. And no—I mean you can call me Ozzie if you want," I said. "Would you have dinner with me. I feel like—well—like I'd like to get to know my savior a little better," she said. I stared at her. Girls that looked like her made it a point to "not" talk to me. Yeah, I knew this was different: I'd saved her. But, dinner with her? Even if it wasn't a real date, I knew I'd never again have a shot like this one. Hell, I figured, I might even get a pretty good thank you kiss out of it, and I hadn't had a female kiss me in a coon's age. "Okay. Sure—I mean fine," I said. She smiled. "Great. Saturday night?" she said. "Sure, sure, I'll get it off, and we can go someplace nice," I said. "I can afford it. You wouldn't think it, but I make some good bucks here." She frowned. "Ozzie, this dinner, that we're going to have; it's on me. And, you're right; it will be someplace real nice," she said. She was smiling again. I was glad about that, but her payin'? That weren't gonna happen. Ain't no woman ever paid my way. She weren't gonna be the first, not hardly. "Sure. Okay," I said, but I had my fingers crossed behind my back. Now we were both smiling big time. We talked for a few minutes about what time and how dressy and stuff, and then she was gone. ****** I didn't have a car, but I wanted to pick her up. She'd offered to drive, but I had not been goin' for that. So, I picked her up in a cab. She'd argued with me about that—gently—but had finally given in. When she opened the door, she took my breath away. Short purple dress, high heels, fantastic rack and ass, the face of an angel, shoulder length black hair, dark eyes that positively sparkled, full lips clearly capable of destroying a man: everything was perfect. Me on the other hand... I wore my bud Amos' suit. He was my size and I'd bought a new tie and a new pair of shoes to go with the outfit. I looked pretty good, well, for me. I had the cabbie deliver us to the Crescendo, a dinner club that I knew about, heard about, but had never been to. I knew too that it was top of the line price-wise; but this was my chance. My chance to date a star quality woman. McDonald's, much as I loved their burgers, just wouldn't cut it. "Nice choice, Ozzie. I mean real nice," she said. I smiled. "Glad you like it," I said. I was feelin' real good. The place had menus three foot tall. But, at least the damn things were in English. I got a look from the maître d' when we came in; she got a smile. Well, hell, I could relate. We ate, we danced a little, three dances; and yes, I can dance. I'm not totally without social skills: I'd been in the freakin' army. But, not having had any practice in a long while, I was kinda rusty. Still, we got through it okay. We had a little wine, and I was feeling kinda mellow. I guess so was she. "Let's get out of here, Oz. Let's go to my place for a night cap. Okay?" she said. I think my look must've have cued her about what I was thinking. And, it didn't seem to bother her a whit. "Sure," I said. I signaled the waitress, asked for the check and a cab. The check came. It read a hundred and sixty-two bucks. I slipped two C-notes in the little black leather folder the check came in, and smiled the smile of the one who'd won the race. "Ozzie! I can't let you pay for dinner. I invited you. You have to let me pay you back. I mean it," she said. She was reaching into her purse. I reached across and closed it with one hand. "No way, Belinda. This has been the best night of my life. I'm payin' and happy as a pig in...well, real happy that's all," I said. "But..." "No buts. I'm the guy. I pay," I said. She gave me a frustrated look, sighed, and allowed me to help her up from her chair. "Okay, but that means you're definitely getting two night caps tonight, and no arguments!" she said. I spread my hands in a sign of surrender. "Okay," I said. "I could use a little extra eighty proof reinforcement." She gave me a funny look, but I let it slide; I had other things on my mind. The cab pulled up just as we exited the club. She slid over next to me and I put my arm around her; she cuddled up next to me for the ride to her house. I was feelin' fine, fine-fine super fine. Maybe this was gonna work out. The driver got us to her place in twenty minutes. He helped her out of the car; I paid him, and we went inside her apartment building. She led me up the steps, punched in the pass code on the pad at the door and we were in the foyer. Taking me by the hand she led me to the elevator. She hit the tab for the eleventh and top floor and leaned back against me. The smell of her was intoxicating. She reminded me of a summer night in the woods. Arriving on her floor, the elevator door actually opened into her place, not into the hall in front of her place but her place; there was no hall. "Have a seat over there, Ozzie, I'll be back in half a minute." "Okay," I said. I looked around. The place must've cost a fortune to live in. It looked like—no—it was a penthouse. A penthouse! My date had bucks, big bucks. It kinda shook me. Miss Shafer was way out of my class—money-wise. True to her word, she was back in less than a minute. She handed me a stem glass with what was undoubtedly some high class red wine: no dago red for this woman; I'd have to be remembering that one. "Here you go Ozzie. I'll be back in just a few more minutes, okay?" she said. "Sure bet," I said. And she was gone again. This time for maybe five minutes. When she returned, I noticed two things. One, she had a glass of wine for herself. And two, she was wearing a see-thorough teddy with absolutely nothing under it! I gulped my wine, and I mean all of it, and stared. "You like the wine?" she said. I nodded, kinda slow, but I nodded. "Yes. It's very—red," I said. "Almost as red as my face, I'm sure." She giggled. "Well, yes, you are blushing," she said. "No shit!" I said. She came to me, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me oh so gently on the lips. "Take me, Ozzie. Tonight is for you and me. And before you ask, yes, I will gladly fuck any boy who saves my life." We both laughed, me a little hysterically. "Well, then, I'll just have to make sure that I'm around a lot to make sure I'm always the guy saving the damsel in distress," I said. She gave me a serious look, then brightened, and led me down the hallway to what I was sure was going to be the bedroom. It was, and we used it. She moved over to where the bed was and stood beside it with her arms folded smirking. She watched as I disrobed. I didn't exactly hurry, but I wasn't letting any grass grow under my feet either. Maybe a minute later, I was naked and staring at the now also naked most beautiful woman in the world. There was not the slightest doubt in my mind about that. I went to her, bent down some, and kissed her lightly on the lips. As I did, I felt my cock poke into her leg. She responded with such delicate skill that I thought that I might die from happiness right then and there, and that with no complaints whatsoever. She pulled me down and onto the bed, kissed me, and pushed my face onto the nipple of her breast. I suckled for some little time; she mooed as I did so. I slid down her body and looked at the gate to paradise; I kissed her there, then licked her, then sucked on her clit till she howled. Then, I did something that I'd never done with a woman: I turned her over and made love to her anus. She turned her head to try and see me, but that was a no go; so she just relaxed and let me do her. I sucked on her little brown sphincter as I had on her clit; I heard her sigh. Turning her over one more time, I loomed above her and smiled: I hoped reassuring her that I was going to be gentle. I knew I was kind a big at six and a half inches, and the absolutely last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. "It's okay, Ozzie, just put it inside of me; do me; do me now," she said. I lowered myself and I slipped the head of my dick into her easily. I push-pulled a few times finally burying myself deep inside of her. She kicked wildly as I began to climax. "Make me cum, make me cum!" she screamed. Then she shivered; she'd made it; I was sure of it. We lay, if not exactly exhausted, at least mildly out of breath. "That was wonderful, Ozzie. You're pretty good at this stuff aren't you," she said. I rolled onto my side and looked at her. I'd never been so happy. "Good at it?" I said. "Well, it's not like I've had a lot of practice, but I guess I do okay." She gave me a funny look. "It was good for you, right?" she said. Her brow was knitted. "Good for me? No, no, it wasn't that," I said. "Ozzie—I..." I smiled and started to laugh outright. "Belinda, this was the best night I've had in my whole life. Ever!" I said. She relaxed, then put on the knitted brow again; but she didn't say anymore. I didn't want her to cook breakfast, so as soon as the sun interrupted the relatively short span of sleep that we'd enjoyed, I headed for the shower and cleaned up. I didn't have a razor or any other of my man stuff, but I did the best I could. Finished showering, dressed, and fully awake, I sat down on the bed beside my slowly waking beauty. Her beauty to my beast. Belinda was short at maybe five-two, slim, at no more than a hundred pounds, and delicate of movement. Watching her as she became wakeful she reminded me of Tinkerbell in those old Disney flicks. "Howdy, sleepy head," I said, as her eyes fluttered open—those beautiful eyes. "Are you up for going out to breakfast?" She smiled. "Okay, sure, but get outta here, so I can do my morning ritual. Okay?" she said. "Sure bet, I'll wait in the other room," I said. She nodded and made a shooing motion with her arms. I laughed and went out. The light of day exposed a view of the city that was quite—something. I looked around again. I had a little time, so I was able to see a lot more detail. Her place really was a penthouse apartment. A helluva a lot different than my little cubby in the back area of Santoro's bar. I was pretty nearly broke because of what it'd cost me for our evening at the Crescendo. But, I still had maybe fifty bucks left in my wallet, and maybe another five hundred in the ATM. I decided to take us to IHOP. Hope she liked strawberry international. One concession I made to her wanting to do the payin' was that I let her drive us this time, that in her powder-blue Buick; it'd save me twenty for the cab fare. The place was busy, and it was still only a little after eight in the morning when we arrived. As soon as we were seated, the waitress arrived with menus and coffee; you gotta love efficiency. We ordered, and ate. Oh, and we both had strawberry international. We talked about nothing and everything while we were chowing down. Then it was time for our second cup of coffee. I was smiling to beat the band. I'd never gotten a woman without having to lay out the moolah: well, except for that stint in Manila while I was in the army; that'd been good duty. "Busy next Saturday?" I said. "I was thinkin' maybe we could go for a drive or somethin'." Her look suddenly took on a decidedly questioning cast. "Ozzie?" she said. "Yes," I said. "Something wrong? Saturday not good for you?" "Ozzie—let me think about it. Okay?" she said. The smile returned. "I'll call you later in the week. Okay?" "Sure bet," I said. "That'd be good. We talked a little while longer and then it was time to leave. She gave me a kiss, and offered me a ride. I declined. Santoro's was only half mile off, and I figured to burn off a few of those calories. ****** "Sandy Gifford, I did not lead him on. I let him fuck me for goodness sakes. I owed him more than a thank you for damn sure, a lot more." said Belinda. "I—I wanted to reward him." "Right, and a guy like him is right now figuring out how he's gonna be paying for the rings. Trust me. I've been in that bar a hundred times, and I know Ozzie Church real good, not really personally, but pretty good. I'd be surprised if he's had a piece of ass in the last year that he didn't have to pay for! You giving him your twat without so much as a warning that it was just a reward, and not an expression of love eternal, has set him up for a real bad day. I mean it Bell, you gotta tell him and that without dragging things out. The longer you wait the worse it's going to get." Beauty and the Beast "Sandy, you're exaggerating. Sure, he liked it—well—what we did; he's a guy for goodnesssakes. But, we don't know each other at all. He's not going to fall in love with me just because I let him have my ass. That would be stupid." "Stupid? Of course it'd be stupid. He's a guy isn't he!" said Sandy. "I don't know, Sandy. I guess it wouldn't hurt to set things straight with him. You know, kinda cut him off at the pass before it goes too far. But, how?" "I'm thinkin', I'm thinkin'; give me a minute, okay?" said Sandy. Belinda sagged back into the couch she'd been sitting in during the conversation. "Yeah, well take two minutes. I'm desperate here. I mean the guy saved my life. I mean literally saved my life! Now, if you're right, I may have to ruin his dreams. No problem, right. I can just see how the conversation will go... "Hey guy, you saved me. I'm so grateful that I let you do something you'd only dreamed about. Oh what's that, you ask? You're wondering what that is? Well, look here guy. See where I'm pointing? That's my pussy. You got to have it for a night, with no limits. Ain't you the luckiest ugly shit in the whole wide world! "Yeah, girlfriend, he's gonna totally understand. Shit!" said Belinda. "Look," said Sandy, "here's what we're going to do." ****** It was the same IHOP I'd taken her to two days past. I was more nervous than I had ever been. Jesus, I hoped I hadn't done anything to queer my relationship with her. I jumped when she came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. "Hi Oz. You look nice," she said. Well, I had dressed for the occasion. No mistakes, I didn't want to make no mistakes. "Thanks, you look like a million bucks," I said. She smiled. "Thanks," she said. I nodded. "You wanna eat?" I said. It was already three in the afternoon, I figured it would only be coffee, but who knew? Maybe she'd wanna eat somethin'. "No, no, nothing, thank you," she said. I had a bad feeling. Not even coffee? I had a really bad feeling. I took a sip of mine. She took a seat across from me. "Oz, you became one of the most important people in my life a little more than a month ago. If you hadn't—well—been there, I wouldn't be here. The other night, when we did—well—what we did, Oz, it was me rewarding you. I gave myself to a man who will always be a part of me. But, Oz, all it was, well, it was my gratitude to you for what you did. The chance you took. Oz, I am not in love with you. And, you're not in love with me. Heck, we hardly know each other. I sat stock still while she spoke. I know my lips moved, well quivered, but no words came out; I had no words. I'd had the bad feeling that it was gonna be really bad; even worse than I thought, much worse. She was saying that she didn't want to see me no more. She was sayin' it without sayin' it. "Okay," I said. "I understand." She smiled and placed her hand on mine. "Ozzie, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, disappoint you. I should have done things differently. I made a huge mistake..." she saw the look on my face and immediately tried to make me feel better. "No Oz, not that. I do not regret giving myself to you, and you were great. I meant that I should have let you know that I'm kinda, well, in a relationship." I sagged back in my seat. "A relationship? But—I mean—we had sex. Your boyfriend..." "Yes, I know, and I told him—afterwards—about it. Charlie Jensen's his name; well, he understood. He didn't even get mad at me; he understood. He and I—well—we're good. "Oz, what we, you and I did, was kinda crazy. I do like you; hell, how could I not. But..." "Yeah, I know. But, it's not the romantic kind of like," I said. "I'm sorry, Oz. I really am." "I know. Well, have a good life," I said. She nodded, rose, walked a few steps, turned, and mouthed me a kiss. Then she was gone. I had never felt so low in my life. Did I regret making it with her? I think I did. Not sure why, but I didn't feel good about it, so I must've regretted it. Right? Well, it wasn't all bad. I still had my health, a good job, and well...that was about it, I guess. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why was I like I was? Why couldn't I even land a girlfriend? Fucking life! I hated it. ******* "What's the matter, Oz. One day you're up, next day you're down. Talk to me, Oz. This is your 'ole buddy Amos speaking," he said. I just looked at him and took another swig from the glass in front of me. "Nothin'," I said. He looked at me funny. I threw a ten spot down on the bar, got up, and left. I heard him say something as I walked out, but I wasn't listening. I was done with this shit. Done with everything. Fucking done with it. If a body's got nothin' and no one; then, what the hell is it all for? ****** "Were you able to see him?" said Sandy. "Yes—well no. He's in a coma. Charlie went with me. He'll be here in a second; he's parking the car," said Belinda. "A coma? Jesus, what was he thinking?" said Sandy. "And he's busted up pretty bad," said Belinda. "Why?" "Because he thinks I dumped him. That or something like that. I don't know. He left a letter. They say suicides always leave a letter. It was addressed to me. Shit! What did I do, Sandy. What the fuck did I do?" "Bell, you can't blame yourself. What you did was stupid, but not that stupid. There had to be things going on in the guy's head that you had no way to know about." "Yeah, I guess. I mean obviously. But, what I did set him off. Pushed him over the edge. They can't let him die. They just can't. I called dad. He's retiring in a few months, but he's still at the Pentagon. He's made sure that Ozzie'd be getting the best help available. He'll get better; he has to," said Belinda. "You speak to the doctors yet?" said Sandy. "Yes, and so did Charlie," she said. "He says what you said, that he had to have had issues that just came to the surface all of a sudden. Probably didn't know it himself; he just did it—jumped." "Wow." "They promised to let me know if—when—he comes out of the coma." "Bell?" "What?" "If—when—he comes to, are you really going to see him? I mean do you think that that would be wise given everything that's gone on so far?" said Sandy. "Yes, maybe, I don't know. Maybe. What I want to do is kick his high school ass! But—well, I just don't know," said Belinda. "You know, Bell, I didn't want to say it; but, well, I think that is exactly what you should do. Not physically of course. But, well, verbally. Be frank with him. Tell him like it is. Let him know that you will always be grateful, and more than grateful for him risking his life for you, but tell him he needs to grow up." "Yes, I think you have a point. Yes, indeed, a very good point," said Belinda. "Hey Sandy. Bell, where do you want this stuff?" said Charlie, as he shut the door behind himself. ****** A uniform? An army uniform. Hadn't seen one of those in a while, a long while. "Well, you're awake. It was touch and go for a while there," said the uniform. A major. What was a major doing in my cubby? Wait! "Touch and go?" I said. "I'm not at Santoro's, am I?" I repeated. The uniform smiled. "No, you're in Veteran's," he said. "Next time you try to off yourself you might want to do it from a floor or two higher up. The fact that you tried it from the third floor saved you—or not. Depending on your point of view I suppose." "What are you saying?" I said. "You don't remember trying to kill yourself? Three people saw you jump. You know, there are actually laws against attempted suicide?" he said. "Suicide? What..." It was all coming back to me. Belinda—dumping me...the bar...Amos..." "You were pretty liquored up. I figure that, and the fact that you were too lazy to try it from a little higher up saved you. But, as for that," he looked down at the chart he was holding, "a half dozen broken ribs, a punctured lung, broken arm and leg, subdural hematoma, a bunch of other stuff. Well, I guess I should be thanking you. Your act proved to my colleagues that I really can raise somebody from the dead. "But, do me a favor will yuh. Next time you go for it, do it when I'm not on vacation. I'd really appreciate it," he said. "Oh, and in case you care, I'm your doctor, Major Clausen." "How long...?" I said. "You've been in a coma for the past three months. They called me a while ago when your vitals showed you might be coming out of it. I wanted to be here, so they called me. At any rate, you'll be released after we run a few more tests and make sure you're going to be okay. "Most of your broken bones are healed, and the swelling of the brain is gone. But, I still have a few concerns, so you won't be moseying outta here right away. Could be another week or more. Any questions?" he said. I shook my head no. "Oh, and one more thing, you will be seeing a psychologist. Believe it or not the D.A. requires it." Shit! I'd tried to kill myself. And failed! Fucking wonderful! The uniform left me to my thoughts. He was followed by a trio of nurses, one right after the other, to do whatever it was that made their day. The food was bad, the care excellent, and the tests seemingly endless. And on the fourth day of my wakey-uppy I had a visitor. ****** "Hi Oz," said Belinda. "You feeling better?" She was looking around the hospital room, appraising it. I looked at her; my mouth was hanging open. "Belinda!" I looked away. I knew she'd seen my letter. Problem was I was alive. I needed to be dead. I needed to be dead now! But, I wasn't. I was stinkin' alive! Fuckin' alive! I couldn't do anything right. Sure as hell not where women were concerned. "Yes, it's me, Ozzie. And, I have to say I am very angry with you. And, before you say anything else, Oz, you have to promise me never to try something like this again. I've spent these last months hoping and praying that you'd get better. Now, it looks like you will. So, I guess my prayers have been answered. So, don't be messing with God, Oz. Promise me you'll do your damnedest to stay alive. Okay?" she said. I looked away again. I was so ashamed. "Okay," I said, from under the coverlet. I wanted to say more. To say how beautiful she was. How much I loved her. But, I knew, I just knew that she didn't want to hear any of that. So, I just shut up and stayed covered up. Like a little kid, I pulled the sheet over my head to hide form her. I was sobbing under it. She was quiet for a moment or two. Talk about embarrassing and hurtful situations. She came to me and pulled the cover from my hands; I was clearly too weak to do anything about it. She looked concerned, very concerned. "Oscar Church, you made me so mad. And, you made me feel so ashamed. And, Oz, you made me feel so special. But, Oz, I'm not in love with you. I treasure you as a friend. But, as a lifetime partner? Oz, I love another," she said. She was being earnest. "He's a good guy too, Oz. You'd like him. I know it. "Oz, I know you think you love me. We girls, well, we know these things. We pretty ourselves up to make you men adore us, and when you do—sometimes—we go too far. I went too far Oz. I know that now. And, I will never forgive myself for making you do—well—what you did..." "Belinda, please stop. Okay," I said, finally getting myself under control. She nodded, her turn to look away. "Okay, Oz. I just..." "Yeah, I know. Can I just—could you—you know just let me be for a while. I was stupid. I know it. I guess I've always been stupid. I just didn't know it before. I didn't mean to put pressure on you or anything, or hurt your feelings. I'm—I'm just, just an idiot okay. Just go on home, Belinda. Really, I need to be alone. By myself. Okay? Thank you for your concern. It's appreciated," I said. "Oz—okay. I understand. Oh, and you are not stupid. Not hardly," she said. She touched me on my arm, turned, and walked out. She didn't look back; I was glad for that: I'd already proven I was pussy; I didn't need to be adding to the evidence. ****** "That man is the saddest man I've ever seen," said Belinda. "He was doing all he could do to not actually bawl in front of me and failing badly by the way. I had to get out of there before he actually broke loose. His humiliation, if I'd stayed in that hospital room to see him cry, would have been pretty much total. Jesus! What am I going to do?" "Maybe stay the hell away from him?" said Sandy. "You know Charlie is getting a little bit tired of hearing you whine about him all of the time. Charlie's the love of your life, not Oscar Church." "Yes, I know. I've not been fair to him either lately. It's just..." "Yes, I know, you need to close the books on Oscar a little more neatly than you've so far been able to. But, Belinda, sometimes it just isn't in the cards. Sometimes folks get hurt, don't get everything they want or even need. It's the way of the world," said Sandy. "I suppose," said Belinda. "But—but that man needs a woman. I still think that fixing him up with one would be a good thing. We could do it, you and I. I know we could." "I'm not sure it would be a good idea to meddle anymore in the man's affairs, but it would have the benefit of getting Charlie to relax; that is, if we were successful," said Sandy. "Belinda? It just so happens that I know someone who might just do." "What? What did you say?" said Belinda. "Wilma Crosley. She just broke up with her cheating asshole of a fiancé, Mark Dilfer. I know for a fact that she's looking for a replacement," said Sandy. "Wilma? I know her too. But, she's so tall, and..." said Belinda. "She's as tall as Ozzie. Or, maybe a couple of inches shorter. And, yes, I know she's no beauty queen. But, she could be made to look a lot better. I think she's got potential," said Sandy. "Even if what you say is so, Sandy, are you sure she'd go for a guy like Ozzie?" said Belinda. "Pretty sure. But, we'd have to get her up for it. She and I have been friends for a long time. I know she was very in love with Mark Dilfer, but he ran around on her, and she sent him off with a size ten suppository sticking out of his ass. She's hurting right now. "Anyway, we'd just have to figure a way to get them together that doesn't look like we conspired to award him a consolation prize. That would not be good." "No, not good. And, it would be very dangerous if he ever found out!" said Belinda. Her friend nodded. ****** "Yes, Charlie, I did go to see in in the hospital. How could I not. But, now I wish I hadn't," said Belinda. "Charlie, he thinks he loves me. I told him about us, and he understands, but it's hard for him. He needs a woman, and he's decided that I'm the one he needs. I told him that that wasn't going to happen, that I love another, and while he believes me, and understands; he's just unable to accept it," said Belinda. "Bell, you did what you could. Hell you did more than you should have. But, it's done and you, all if us, have to move on. Yes, and that means this Ozzie guy too. I'm grateful to him for saving you that night, but even for something like that there are limits to the gratitude thing, Belinda. You should've known that; you're no dummy. But, what you did was dumb. But, it's done and the water has long since passed under the bridge. "Come here." She came to him and he wrapped his arms around his shoulders. "I need you tonight," he said. "I need you bad." She pushed back from him and smiled. "You got me, big boy," she said. "I need you too." The kiss was long and hot and meaningful. She felt him peel the thread thin straps from her shoulders. Her sundress pooled at her feet. His hand came to her still bra covered breast and played with it. They kissed again. He pulled her to the floor with him and rolled her on top of him. "You're still dressed cowboy," she said, giggling. He smirked in obvious frustration at his own ineptitude. "Yeah, well let me fix that right now," he said. It was another minute before the two of them were as naked as the day they were born. He rolled her onto her tummy and pulled her butt up off of the floor, while at the same time pushing his knee between her legs to spread her open for him to fuck her. She helped by spreading her legs wide and inviting him to do his worst. He aimed his cock expertly at her dripping cunt and slid in unopposed. He screwed her slowly savoring every inch of every stroke. It took him some little time to reach critical mass. She felt him shudder and felt the heat from his semen wash the insides of her vagina. She flattened out against the floor with him still on top of her breathing hard as his cock shrank from her. She hadn't cum, but he had pleasured her. He rolled to his right and off of her. "Fucking wonderful," he said. "Yes, it was good," she said. "I needed you to do that. I really needed it." "Happy to have been of service," he said. "Let's go to bed," she said. "It's late." He nodded. He could smell the bacon from all of the way down the hall. Donning a dressing gown, he headed for the kitchen. He took a seat at the little kitchen table and watched her. The conversation had gone on for some little time. Charlie shook his head dubiously. "I don't know Bell. Match making? And who are you going to match him with? I've seen the guy. I hate to say it, but he ain't no prize," said Charlie. "Charlie, stop being an asshole. The guy saved me. Ain't nobody around here gonna be talking smack about him. Got it!" said Belinda. "Children, children. Lighten up," said Sandy, who'd arrived for breakfast ten minutes earlier. "Yeah, you're right, Bell. I got my big mouth open and my shoe stuck in it. I owe the guy too," said Charlie. He saved you, and killed the asswipe that..." "Yeah, that raped me," said Belinda, starting to tear up. "Look, Bell, I'm willing, like I said, to forget that you spread for the guy. I know you thought that you had to for him doing what he did. That you owed him something special. But, you were wrong to do it. I mean really wrong. I mean what other woman would even think of doing something like that. But, it's done and that's that. I can live with it, get over it, because of the circumstances. But, from now on I want to be in the know if you decide to do anymore of that shit. "That said, Bell, as for finding him a woman, you are on very dangerous ground with that. Especially, since he damn near killed himself over you. I say stay away from any of that shit and let the man find his own chick. Someone more suited to him and to what he is and what he needs." "He wouldn't know we were doing it, Charlie, having anything to do with it," said Sandy, butting in. "I've known a lot of guys like him. Women own him, and so they—men like him—are mostly held in contempt by the women they do try to hook up with. Women don't really cotton to men who act like pussies." "She's right, Charlie. A woman wants to be respected, not worshipped, at least not all of the time. I'm thinking that the problem with Ozzie is that he doesn't know anything about women. We can't exactly give him lessons, but maybe we can find some broad who'd be willing to listen to a proposition," said Belinda. "A proposition?" said Charlie. ****** ****** "A blind date?" said Wilma. "Hmm, yes, I guess that's kinda what it would be. The guy is ultimately shy, and he doesn't know..." started Sandy. "What! You mean he doesn't know that he'd be going on a date with me!" said Wilma. "Calm down, Wilma. "For godssakes calm down. It's not like that," said Sandy. Belinda watched the two of them go at it. They'd been there for but fifteen minutes, and already there was trouble in paradise. "Whoa up everybody, just whoa up," said Belinda. "Wilma, the guy is ex-army. He's a catch—really. He even saved my life, as I know Sandy told you." Wilma looked back and forth between her two friends. Beauty and the Beast "You mean this is the same guy..." started Wilma. "Yes, and I want to do something for him. To do something for him as wonderful as he did for me. Well, I can't exactly save him from dying like he saved me, but I can try and make it so that he has a good life." "And, I'm the something wonderful that is supposed to make his day? Is that what you're saying, Belinda?" said Wilma. "Yes. That is exactly what I am saying. And, no, before you ask again, he has no idea what we are proposing here," said Belinda. "Since he saved your life, as you say, why don't you date him?" said Wilma. "Because she and Charlie are going to get hitched, and you know it," said Sandy. "I told you about that a long time ago." "Hmm, yeah, I guess that makes sense," said Wilma. "Yes," said Sandy. "Look, all you have to do is date the guy once or twice. See if you hit it off. If not then not. But, if you do, well, then it's win-win." Wilma was nodding. Belinda was staring with her brow wrinkled. The silence was deafening. "Okay, a date or two won't kill me, I suppose. Hey—is this guy some short dude that I'm going to look ridiculous with on the dance floor? Does he even know how to dance?" "No—no. He's a big guy. As for the dancing; he's not great, but he can peddle around the floor a little. You can teach him to dance better if this goes anywhere," said Belinda. "Big guy? Big as in fat guy big?" said Wilma. "No-no. he's definitely a hardbody, really. You'll see," said Belinda. "There's something wrong here. If he's a big guy, ex-army hard body, and can dance even a little; and if he's the catch you say he is; then, why is he not already spoken for," said Wilma. Both Sandy and Belinda looked away. "Oh ho! I get it. He's ugly, right? That's it. He's shy because his face is a train wreck," said Wilma. "You two are a trip." "So, no chance. I mean you won't give the dude a sniff?" said Sandy. "Hmm, I didn't say that. You're not foolin' me, you two. I'm no prize in the face either. Yeah, I'll give the guy a shot. But, if he's shorter than me, you two better start runnin', and I ain't kiddin' about that," said Wilma. There was hugging and squealing all around as the three women partied. "So, where do we go from here? How do I meet the dude," said Wilma. "First, young lady, we go to the beauty parlor," said Belinda, smiling like the thief that got away with the jewels. ****** I saw them enter together, the three of them. They took seats and looked around. The barmaid brought them menus and asked if they wanted drinks. She returned, smiled at me. Yeah it's your girlfriend and her friends," said Cherry. "She's not my girlfriend. Not that I'd send her packing if she wanted the job," I said, smiling back at her. I could see the tall one staring at me. Not bad looking, but there was something about her. Belinda, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to not look at me. I had to wonder at that. The other one, the shortest one, was talking animatedly to tall-girl. I decided to just keep washing glasses. If they wanted to talk to me, they'd let me know. "He's seen us," said Sandy. "He's seen us and he isn't coming over. I think he's planning on letting us be, ignoring us." Belinda nodded. "That's not going to work. We have to..." started Belinda. "Look he's heading into the back room," said Sandy. "Shit! I guess, I'll just have to go in the back and drag him out," said Belinda. Wilma placed her hand on her friends arm as she started to get up. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Belinda," said Wilma. "Maybe the guy just needs to be by himself. Maybe he's a loner or something." "No. He's not a loner, but he is lonely. I'll take care of this," said Belinda. Wilma dropped her hand from the other's arm. I saw her in the reflection from the window in front of me. "Hello, Belinda. I saw you out there. This remind you of anything," I said. "Huh?" "The first time I met you. We were actually standing in just about the same places that we are now. I mean the first time we met more or less formally," I said. She knitted her brow, and smiled. "Yes, I think you're right," she said. "But, Oz, why did you avoid me—us—out there? I wanted to introduce you to my friends. Really." "No. No. Being around you is kinda hard for me. No offense. I'd still walk over a field of hot coals just to get a smile from you. But, well, let's just say that I'm not into torturing myself. Okay?" I said. She frowned and knitted her brow. "And I know the short one; the one that's even shorter than you. She's in here sometimes with this or that guy." "Oz, You have got to get by it. Really. I love another, a guy named Charlie Jensen. And Oz, he loves me. I'm more than flattered that you find me attractive. What girl wouldn't be. But, Oz, I am not for you, I can't be. "Tonight Oz—no—I'm going to be straight with you. Tonight, Oz, I—well I—I was going to set you up with another lady. A nice lady. A lady whose boyfriend just cheated on her, and well, she kicked him to the curb. So, she's a lady who's unattached. Like you, Oz. "But, like my friend Sandy keeps telling me to do, I am going to butt out of your life. Like you said. I'll be going then." She turned and started walking toward the door. "Belinda." I said, my voice just above a whisper. She stopped but didn't turn around to look at me. "Yes?" she said, still looking completely away from me; like she was afraid of what I might say. "The girl you were going to set me up with, is she pretty?" I said. She finally turned to look at me. "Huh?" she said. "Is she pretty? You know like you?" I said. She looked down. She looked up at me, "She's a good girl, Oz. You'd be lucky to have her if she decided that she wanted to be with you." "I see," I said. "Not pretty. Well, what the hell. Guys like me. Ugly guys. I guess we can't really be—well—choosey. Will you still—I mean will you still introduce me." "Oz, I don't know..." "Belinda, I hope you won't repeat what I'm about to say. But, Belinda, I'm desperate. I mean really desperate. I need a woman so bad. And, well, except for you that one time. Well, it's been forever, actually never... Know what I mean," I said. "Oz? Oh my God! Okay. But, Oz, you have to promise that you won't hurt her. Not ever. I mean ever," she said. I nodded. She came to me and took my hand and led me out and into the bar. ****** I sat across from her. She was actually okay looking. I was no expert for damn sure, but I thought a little makeup, nicer clothes, and Wilma would look pretty damn nice—pretty damn nice! "So, do I pass muster?" I said. She smiled. "You'll do for the moment," she said. "Do I?" "You know you do," I said. I was bein' real careful with this lady. No mistakes-no mistakes-no mistakes I kept repeating in my head. She might not be Belinda, but she was a woman. Man, if I could only make a go of it with her. "You're not comfortable around girls are you?" she said. "I don't know. I'm not shy, really. I just, well, I haven't had a ton of experience. No, that's not being honest. It's not experience that I'm short of, well, not only that; it's getting lucky. I never get lucky," I said. Fuck! A mistake! I made a stupid mistake. Now she was gonna think that the only reason I'm with her, want to be with her, is so that I can get lucky. I tried to cover myself. "So, no, I guess I'm not all that comfortable around girls," I said. I was white knuckling the arms of my chair waiting for the put down. I was sure it'd be a gentle put down, but a put down it would most surely be. "How old are you, Oscar?" she said, seeming to ignore my stupidity. "Call me Oz or Ozzie," I said. "And I'm thirty-three." She nodded. "And you've had some difficulty getting lucky? You mean getting women to spread their legs for you?" she said. I stared. I think my mouth was hangin' open, and hangin' open real wide. "Oscar?" "Uh-uh—kinda, I guess," I said. "But you laid Belinda; doesn't that count?" said Wilma. "Well, yes, I guess so. But, that was kinda different," I said. I was feelin' real uncomfortable now. "Hmm," she said. "Yes, her way of saying mucho-thanko, I would think." I looked at her and had one of those moments when things become real clear. Yes, Belinda had let me have her as a way of saying thank you. She'd said as much before, but it hadn't registered until Wilma'd said it. Why? Maybe it was Wilma's tone more than her words. Like Belinda fucking me out of gratitude made perfect sense, at least to Wilma. Yeah maybe, I thought. The waitress arrived and saved me from making an even bigger fool of myself than I already had. We ordered and then we were alone again. The iced teas that the waitress had delivered some little while before were refilled by a touring waiter with a pitcher. I nodded my thanks. "Yes, that would be about it, I guess," I said. "She let me have her to say thank you. Sure." She smiled. I took my shot. "So, Wilma, you said I would do for the moment. Should I put in my request for a second date with you while you're still thinking good thoughts?" "Yes, Oz, I'll go out with you again. I'd love to," she said. I didn't just feel good. I was feeling real good! "Excellent," I said. A nd we date we did, for six months, and the sex was fantastic. I rolled off of her. It had been a long night, but without much doubt the best night I'd ever had better even, if possible, than my time with Belinda. Oh, Wilma was no Belinda, but she liked me for me; that made up for a lot of stuff. No woman had ever treated me like she did. I was pretty sure I was falling in love with her. "Good for you? She said. "Oh yeah, the best," I said. I sensed her smile. "I'm glad," she said. "Ozzie?" "Hmm," I said. "Ozzie, I'm afraid this is our last time together," she said. At first I didn't quite hear her. "What?" I said, turning on my elbow, so I could see and hear her. I was smiling. "Oz, A man, a man I used to know—love—Oz, I'm getting back with him. Please don't misunderstand. You're a great guy. Any woman, and I mean any woman, would be proud to be your girl..." she said. I was still supporting myself on my elbow, but the smile was for sure gone. "Any woman, any woman? But not you, huh?" I said. "I rolled off the bed, and started gathering my clothes and dressing. "I'm sorry, Oz—I..." "Save it Wilma. Oh and thanks for the sex. It really was all that, as the teenagers say." Dressed, I was outta there and didn't bother to look in the rearview mirror, as one might say. Well, my luck with women was holding steady. Not getting better, not getting worse; just holding steady. I just had to hope that Belinda wouldn't be hearing about my getting dumped again. I really, really didn't need any more of her pity. ****** "You're kidding, right?" said Belinda. "No, 'fraid not," said Sandy. "Wilma called me last night. She said she broke it off with him last weekend. She let him have her one last time and then laid it on him. She's getting back with the asshole who cheated on her, that Mark Dilfer guy I told you about. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. That poor bastard can't catch a break. Well, I guess for once I'm going to take your advice and stay the hell out of his way. I tried." said Belinda. "I've sure as hell been damn little help to him so far." "Ditto that. And, you are finally making some sense. This match making stuff isn't for amateurs. We need to let him find his own way," said Sandy. "Whaddya have on for this weekend?" ****** Marian Kristoff, stood in front of the restroom's mirror and touched up her makeup. Finishing, she took a step back and appraised her assets. Long, fluffed out, tawny-hair; five-nine; one-twenty-five; green eyes, 36-24-38: Pretty, damn pretty, she thought, and sexy too. Turning she made her way to back into the restaurant proper. Taking her seat across from her three friends, she smiled. "Can't let oneself look drab," she said. "One never knows when opportunity will knock." "You mean customers," said Belinda. "If you really want to catch yourself a man, one that's a keeper; you gotta get out of the business," said Sandy. "Yes," echoed Wilma. "No man's going to want to hang with a woman who's a professional..." "Escort," finished Marian. "Well, a body's got to make a living. And, being a professional escort does pay the bills. I mean what the hell. All of you are college graduates. Me? Let's just say classrooms and me are not compatible." "I told you that my dad would get you a job," said Belinda. "All you have to do is say the word." "Be a secretary? I don't even know how to turn on one of those computer thingys, she said. "You could learn," said Wilma. "Or find me a man," said Marian. "That's what I need. I need a man. Bein' a whore is not all that hard, but it is frustrating. You know, I get a half dozen offers of marriage a month." "Why is that frustrating?" said Belinda. "Because each and every one of the men who ask me are cheating bastards. And, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that even if they did leave their current wives, that they'd be cheating on me within a very short time. Men! Can't trust 'em, can't do without 'em." "Our resident cynic," said Sandy, smirking in the process. "Oh, look at the clock," said Belinda. "I have to be going. I'm supposed to pick up dad at the airport. He's coming in on the midnight flight from D.C. "You should think about that job, Marian. I'm pretty sure you'd meet the kind of guy you're looking for working for the federales." "Yeah, and the men working there would be looking for someone just like me. You know with an arrest record for selling what all of them are no doubt guilty of buying," said Marian. ****** Some say there are no such things as coincidences. Some say the fate's perversely will stuff to happen. Personally, I have never believed in coincidences or the fates, or any of that. That said, I might have to rethink my thinking and my beliefs. Amos was coming in at midnight and had called to have me come and pick him up with his pickup truck; he'd left me the keys for the purpose. Amos always travelled back east with a lot of luggage. I pulled into the parking structure and had just gotten down from the truck when I heard the commotion. It was one level down. I headed down to see what was going on. Three big guys were roughing up a woman and a man: her dress was already ripped and barely hanging from her shoulders. The man was on the ground bleeding big time, and the woman was screaming. "You're going to pay for killing my brother," said one of the three big guys. "But, we're going to have some fun with you first." "Don't touch her," squeaked the man on the ground. I strode toward the group. I wasn't thinking; I was reacting. All three had knives out and were threatening her. One of the three, walked over to the bleeding man and spit on him. "hijo de puta!" he said. I couldn't see the woman very well, but I could hear her voice clearly as she pled with them to let her go. There was no doubt who it was. Also, I didn't have to guess very hard to figure out who her bleeding companion was. "You guys wanna leave the woman alone or would you rather die tonight?" I said, coming at them as fast as I could without actually running. Worse come to worse, I figured, I'd die trying to save her—again. I'd tried to kill myself over her once. Here was another opportunity, I mean to die for her, I mean if I played my cards right—or wrong. Still, living beat the hell outta dyin', so I was going to go all out on this one, and hope to be the last one standin'. I figured, at the least, that if I could entertain them long enough, she could get away and run for help. "You want to not be here, asshole," said the one who was clearly the leader as I got closer. I headed straight for him without breaking stride. His two friends were behind him and smirking. Gaging the distance, I drove the toe of my boot into his knee and followed that a half second later with a thumb at and into his left eye ripping it out in the process. His scream was horrific. He fell to his knees covering his face. A chop to the base of his neck ended his pain and his sentient existence. He never even got to use his blade. I spun and blocked an incoming blade aimed at my throat from the asshole on my right and got ripped pretty good on my left forearm for my trouble, but the guy's momentum committed him past me and I was able to grab the back of his head and his chin and snap his neck as his feet went out from under him; he was dead before I could let his body drop. Two down in less than a dozen seconds. The last of the baddies swayed slowly back and forth in front of me switching his blade from one hand to the other, fear evident in his look. He wasn't going anywhere I was between him and the driveway, his only possible escape route. His only other option would have been to jump from the structure and that was a four story drop: chances of survival less than iffy. "Go for it asshole," I said. "You got the weapon, not me." He did go for it. I'd underestimated him. He drove the blade into my upper pectoral muscle: Jesus it hurt! But, I didn't back up. Instead I drove into him and forced him back. He let go of the blade that was stuck in my chest as he attempted to slow me down and redirect my body to his advantage, but I was too big for him. We hit the wall together. Summoning every ounce of strength I still possessed, I hefted him up and hurled him over the side of the structure to the street below. Leaning over, mainly to keep myself from collapsing, I saw his twisted body on the street, cars skidding this way and that trying to avoid colliding with each other. I looked at the terrified Belinda. I tried to smile. "We gotta stop meetin..." her scream was the last thing I heard. It was dark out when I opened my eyes. The scene around me was a little bit murky. I heard the familiar beep-beep, again. I knew I was in the hospital; I'd survived. It was late at night, maybe the wee smalls, I thought. I heard some commotion outside my door. A middle aged lady in white came in. "Well, good morning, mister Church," she said. "How are we feeling?" "Don't know. You tell me," I said. She smiled. Less than five minutes later I had a doctor nodding over my mortal form. "You'll be fine, now, mister Church. You lost some blood. But, the EMT guys were good. They saved you," he said. "The woman?" I said. "Woman? Oh, yes, the one you saved. She's fine. I hear it wasn't the first time you saved her either. That's a story I'd like to hear sometime," he said. "But, not right now. Rest is the order of the day for the moment. You need it, and I'm here to provide it. He nodded to the nurse who hung another bag on the intravenous tree. ****** She was literally sitting on the edge of her seat, her elbows resting on the edge of the bed, her hands covering her face as she listened to the monitor. Nurse Hilda had allowed her in; actually a no-no in the ICU. But, this was a special case the way she saw it. Every once in a while she'd imagine that he moved, and she'd speak to him, encouraging him. "Charlie, you've got to survive for us, Charlie. I need you. I need you, I need you, I need you, Charlie." ****** The sun was bright. "You have a visitor, mister Church, said the nurse. Belinda, I thought. I nodded. "Please," I said, "let her come in." "Uh, it's a man, sir," said nurse Melba. I know my look must have had her wondering. Another uniform. The uniform of a lieutenant general. I knew who it was. I'd never met him, but I knew who he was. "How are you feeling, mister Church," said the man. "Okay, I guess, General Shafer," I said. He smiled. "You know who I am," he said. Beauty and the Beast "I know Belinda's dad is a general." He nodded. "Mister Church, I have to say, I'm sorry we didn't meet before. I owe you more than I can ever repay. I mean my daughter's life," he said. "Well, thank you sir, but I just happened to be in the right place at the right time—twice. I can't explain it. I don't think anybody can. But..." "Mister Church, if I may," he said. I nodded. "I am told you and my daughter had a brief—thing." "How is Belinda?" I said, changing the subject. "No one has told me anything yet. I hope she's okay," I said. He looked me askance. "She hasn't come to see you?" said general Shafer. "Not yet. I guess she's worried she might lose her fiancé," I said. He nodded, his face clouded over, but he nodded. "She's fine—well—she is worried about him, as you suggest. Her beau..." he started. It occurred to me, I hadn't even thought to ask after—what was his name—Charlie. I did now. "So, does it look like Charlie will make it?" I said, interrupting him. "He's in ICU. It was touch and go. But, the doctors are cautiously optimistic," he said. "For the record, if he survives, he owes you too." I didn't say anything. I knew it was selfish of me, but I would have thought that she would have come to see me too, but not so much as a get well card. I guess, I understood where her heart was at. Her fiancé was in tough, tougher than me. Even though the knife had penetrated deep inside my upper torso; by some miracle, it had majorly only cut into muscle. The pain killers and antibiotics were taking care of my problem. I guess I was low on her priority list. "Well, good. I hope he comes out of it all right," I said. "Mister Church, if you ever need anything that I can perhaps help with, all you'll have to do as ask, and I'll be there. You can get word to me through Belinda. I'm sure she'll be in to see you before you leave. "Good luck to you young man. And please, remember what I said." "Yes, sir, I will," I said. ****** "Ready to get out of here," said nurse Melba. "Guess so," I said. I was dressing and getting ready for the mandated wheelchair ride to the front door. I'd been in for but three days. I was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for the chair which for some reason was delayed. I looked over at nurse Melba. "Happen to know how Charles Jensen is doing?" I said. She Smiled. "He'll survive, thanks to you. And yes, she's still with him there. Hasn't left his side hardly to pee. She's even been sleeping in there. I think she's scared." she said. I snorted and smirked. "Not much you don't pick up on, huh, Melba," I said. "Not much," she said. "Mister Church?" "What?" "She's not snubbing you. She did enquire about your status, but her boyfriend is in pretty rough shape..." And then the chair arrived and I was wheeled out and a new chapter in my life began." ****** Well, what the hell. I damn near die for the woman—twice—and not so much as a thank you the second time around. Helluva romance by any standard. Well, it was only a romance from my side of the deal. From hers not so much. Oh, I know she probably appreciated my being conveniently around when she got in trouble, but nothing, not a word? Helluva note. Anyway, nothing to do for it. She doesn't love me; I do love her, and never the twain shall meet. I knew I'd have to write her off. I would hope she'd be happy and everything; I really would. And, him too I guess. I just wished that I could find me a little happiness for myself. Wouldn't that be a kick. Just a woman, damn near any woman, to give a damn whether I lived or died. Fuck it! Women weren't the only things worth living for. My problem is that I can't remember—if I ever knew—what the other things are! Back at Santoro's it was work-work-work. Well, there was sleeping and eating of course. Maybe those were the other things. "What's a matter sad sack, bored?" said Cherry. "Yeah, I guess," I said. "Nothing much to do." I noticed a woman watching me from one of the tables near the front door. From the look of her, a hooker. A nice looking chickee though: middle aged, slim, tallish. I had a little dough, maybe I'd indulge myself. God knows I was needing relief. I saw a man approach her: probably a john. She smiled and shook her head. He persisted. I kept my eyes open. I wasn't on duty, but I was there, and Amos, who wasn't there, did not like trouble in the place. "Come on whore. I need it. You got it for sale, so I wanna buy," said the man. I appraised the situation he was about my size, maybe a little bigger, but not enough to cause me worry. I moseyed over in their direction. I saw him reach for her arm to pull her out of her seat. "Just let the lady go, okay guy?" I said. "Shut the fuck up asswipe. This isn't any of your business," he said, turning back to the object of his desire. I came up on his right and spun him way from her. "I said let her be, man. No need for this to involve the cops," I said. I was hoping to avoid any trouble, but the guy was a little under the weather, so I surmised, and he wasn't into being rational. He took a swing at me, missed, and my counter to his xiphoid put him down and breathless. "You're kind of a tough guy, huh?" said the woman, looking at me. "No ma'am, not really. I just get paid to do a little bouncing around here, and sometimes it can get a little exciting." The offender was rolling onto his knees trying to get his breath and regain his feet. "Just go home, guy. We don't want no trouble 'round here," I said. He finally staggered to his feet and made to leave. He flipped me the bird on his way out. I just had to smile. "My name is Marian," said the woman. "Thank you for rescuing me." "You're welcome. Glad to be of service," I said. "Haven't seen you around here before, I don't think." "No, this is my first time here," she said. I nodded. "For the record mister Church..." "You know my name?" "Yes, yes I do," she said. "You are kind of famous around these parts whether you know it or not." "Famous? No, I didn't know it," I said. "Well, you saved some woman twice from some gang or other, the way I hear it. You're kind of perceived as some kind of guardian angel—or—maybe the instrument of her guardian angel," she said. I shrugged. "I was just there when the two things happened. I don't know why, and well, I just don't know. The woman..." I didn't know what to say about Belinda. I didn't hate her, but she could have at least said hello, or, something after the second go 'round with those bangers. But, maybe, thinking about it, her not coming to see me at all; well, maybe it was making it easier for me to forget her—maybe. "You know, mister church, you intrigue me," she said. "Really? Enough to go out with a guy who looks like me?" I said. I knew what she was; it was kinda obvious. But, I made to ask her anyway. "What do you do for a living, if I may ask," I said. "I'm a prostitute, and I'm sure you knew that when you asked the question, mister Church," she said. I deflated; this gal was outta my league brain-wise. "Yeah, I guess. But, I'd still like to spend a little time with you. How much would it—you know," I said. "Normally, a hundred an hour. But for you, there's the hero's discount to take into consideration," she said. I looked her askance. "So...?" I started. "So no charge," she said. She took out a small a two-by-three inch filing card and handed it to me. On it was scribbled her name, address, and cell phone number. "You already had this info written down?" I said, kinda surprised. "It saves time if I like a guy. I make one out every time I date a hero," she said. "Wait-wait. Are you saying you figured to go out with me before I even met you?" I said. "Honestly? Yes," she said. I knew I was staring, but there was something about her—no—about the situation that made no sense. I began to get suspicious. Then it dawned on me. "Wait a minute. You know Belinda Shafer don't you. This, you, are one of her—gifts—aren't you! Just go back and tell her thanks but no thanks. I've been down this road before with that woman, but no more," I said. "Mister Church, you've got this all wrong. Belinda Shafer knows nothing about me coming here. Yes, I do know her slightly. Met her twice. Actually, I'm a friend of her friend, Wilma Crosley," said Marian. "And, to answer your so far unasked question; Wilma doesn't know I'm here either. "Mister Church, I heard about the stuff you've done, and yes that from Belinda and a few of her friends. And for that matter, I just witnessed a pretty good example of such. And, I know about your bad luck with women. And well, like I said before; you intrigue me. So, pick me up tomorrow night, sevenish, at the address on that," she said, pointing to the little card that I'd tossed onto the table. I eye'd her. What intrigued me was her forthright honesty. Did I believe that Belinda or Wilma didn't know about this? Yes, I did. "Okay, Marian. But, I do have to say that I'm hoping that this really isn't one of Belinda's set ups. I really-really don't want any part of any of that. Okay?" I said. "It's not, and I wouldn't be party to anything like that anyway," said Marian. I picked up the little card from the tabletop and looked at it: it said Marian Kristoff. "Okay, miss Kristoff. I guess it's a date then," I said. She smiled. "I'm a whore, mister Church, you can call me Marian." And then she left. Cherry came up on my shoulder. "You're gonna date her aren't you?" she said. "Huh?" I said. "The whore, you're going to date her, right?" "Uh, yeah, but I ain't payin'," I said. She nodded. "Just be careful," said Cherry. I nodded. Cherry always had my back. ****** "He was gone, out of there, before I got around to seeing him. I know it was stinky of me, but I was so worried about Charlie that I just couldn't leave his side. He nearly died, Sandy. What would I have done then?" said Belinda. She'd started to cry again. "Stinky of you! It was unconscionable of you! But, well, you can stop the crying; it's water by the bridge now. Charlie gets out of there tomorrow. You can spoon feed him soup for a while or something. You can play momma. "Still, Belinda, Charlie would have been dead if it hadn't been for Oscar. You too if it comes to that," said Sandy. "You need to tell..." "I know, I know. I just can't seem to stop hurting my benefactor. And, he is my benefactor. And, I'll slap anybody silly that talks any smack about him; you can take that to the bank for damn sure. "You know, dad went to see him. Said to name it and he would use his influence to see to it that he got a good job, or whatever it was in his power to help him with," said Belinda. "And my daddy has some influence. I mean real influence. He sees the President regularly. "Yeah, well, ask him if the Prez needs a secretary; I can type," said Sandy. Belinda wiped her eyes on her handkerchief and smirked. "You know, one way I could repay him—I mean Ozzie—would be to get him a better job. Something that paid him maybe twice what he's getting now, even three times maybe. Dad could do it easy. I'll have to think it out. I know Oz wouldn't want to take anything from me directly; he's got too much ego for that. But, if it looked like it came from my dad or by accident. Well, then maybe," said Belinda. "Yeah maybe. But now, since you've essentially snubbed him, he's going to be cutting you out of his life. Our Ozzie is a simple kind of guy. He ain't gonna be thinking real deep about you not comin' to see him even if he does get it that you were committed to Charlie for the duration. He's gonna just think that you don't care enough to even say thanks for him risking his life for you—again. You know most guys would have just got on the cell phone and dialed 911, but not our guy; he just the fuck weighs in and risks his all to save the damsel in distress," said Sandy. Belinda broke out into sobbing again. "What am I going to do!" she howled. "You're going to try and get him a good job that's what. Just like you said. And, yes, it has to be on the sly. He can never know you got it for him; he'd quit it in a New York minute if he knew. You'd be right about that," said Sandy. Her friend nodded. "You know, Sandy, I think that I do love the lug. He's not pretty, and he's kind of a dumbo. But, he's got something. I just can't put words to it." "Yeah, try courage, selflessness, inner strength, and—if it matters worth a damn—a gentle soul," said Sandy. "Hell, I love the guy too. Not sexually, but he's got a helluva lot to offer some female, a helluva lot," said Sandy. "Damn straight," said Belinda. Sandy was wiping her eyes; it was catching. Belinda started wiping hers. "So, what kind of job, girl," said Sandy. "Any ideas?" "Maybe," she said Belinda. ****** I was still wearing my socks, but nothing else. Marian on the other hand was stark naked. I swallowed hard. "Jesus, you're beautiful!" I said. My voice was real low, but my eyes were screaming my lust. "Well, thank you, sir," she said. "I do try to please my fellows." I just nodded my absolute certitude that she was telling it like it really was. I took her in my arms and pulled her close. As filled with desire as I was, I also didn't want to let her go, not even to lie down on the bed. But, she pushed me back. "Whoa, sailor, we have all night. You'll be getting' what you need—me too, I hope," she said. "Yes, ma'am," I said, "whatever you say. I've never seen anything as beautiful as you, nor anything I wanted near as much." "You're just hot to trot. After you've cum a couple of times, you'll see things a little bit differently. I guarantee it," she said. "You're wrong about that, ma'am," I said. "I'm not a virgin. Almost, but not quite. But, this is different. I know..." "Shut up and get over here and fuck me," she said. I want that dick inside of me right now. Got it!" she said. "Yes, ma'am," I said. "Right away, ma'am." "You call me ma'am one more time and I'm going to kick your ass outta here," she said. My name's Marian, or hey you, or lady, or bitch; but, not ma'am under any circumstances. Okay?" she said. "Yes, ma—I mean, dear?" I said. She gave me a look. "Okay, that'll do," she said. I moved down the length of her body and stared at her slit. It was hairless and dark and smelled wonderful. I kissed her mound. I licked her slit and then buried my face in her. My tongue tried to tickle her back bone. I kept it up for a few minutes and all of a sudden she was squirting all over my face. She leaned up and I rolled my eyes up to see her face as I sucked on her clit. She had a wild look in her eyes that was pure animal. She shuddered, uttered a couple of obscenities and collapsed. "Fuck! That was fantastic," she said. "For someone who claims to be a thirty something novice at this stuff you are one fine cunt licker. I just might have to keep you around." "I—I'm glad you liked it," I said. I was already sliding upwards toward where my cock would come in contact with her vagina; the very thing I'd been worshipping for the past little while. She took it in her hands and aimed it. I pushed. I was deep inside her in one thrust. I waited a second to make sure it was all right before I began screwing her. She became impatient. "Fuck me, damn it!" she said. I began seesawing back and forth. I came in what had to be a record for short. I knew that that wasn't good. "I should have sucked you off first, or given you a hand job. No matter, I'll do it now. She switched around and took my cock in her mouth, and began furiously sucking me. She had me hard in maybe three minutes. I felt myself getting ready to cum again. I warned her, but I exploded in her mouth. I was horrified! I was sure she was going to kick me out. "Jesus! You've got more cum in that ball sac of yours than a freakin' sixteen year-old virgin," she said, letting my cock slip from her mouth. She kept stroking me. "Never mind I'll get you hard one more time the easy way, and then you'd better last for the third go 'round." "Yes, ma—dear," I said. She gave a warning look. She began giving me one hot hand job. "Fuck not again!" she said. I squirted a three foot rope just as I spoke my words. "Christ, I ought to make you lick it up," she said. I think I giggled a little. She looked at me as though I were some kind of alien. "Three times in less than an hour; it ain't even possible. Did you cum this easy when you had Belinda?" she said. "No-no, I don't think so. But, we did it several times that night, so I don't really remember how long it took; I mean how long it took each time," I said. She nodded. "Okay, let's give it another go. I want a good fuck and I'm gonna get it even if you have to do it with your foot!" she said. At her direction, we laid down and I began playing with myself. She was afraid that if she did it I might shoot off prematurely again. I was finally hard enough to enter her, and this time I was able to last a good little while. Maybe ten minutes, I thought, but I wasn't sure. When I was done, my cock was still semi-hard. The good news though, was that she was able to get off too. I thanked my lucky stars for that one. "You did good, Oscar. You need a little training, but you did good. How does it feel?" she said. "Feel? Feel what?" I said. "You know, to have a girlfriend, and that a possessive one?" said Marian. I smiled to beat the band. "Real good," I said. "You have no idea—girlfriend." Her turn to smile, big, and she did. "Oh, and especially a possessive one. As of this moment, Marian, well, you own me." "I know," she said. ****** "Dad. I wouldn't be asking; you know that, but I have to do something for the man. Something, anything!" said Belinda. "Belinda, to say I am pissed off at you would not even begin to cover it. Yes, I know your fiancé was in bad shape. I appreciate your concern for him. But nothing, you said nothing, not even a phone call to the man, and I do mean Oscar Church," he said. "No," she squeaked. "No, I didn't get to see him. When I did try, he was already gone. I thought about going to see him at his work, but I guess—well—I guess I was too ashamed after not seeing him while he was in there, I mean in the hospital." He nodded. "Belinda, I can help get him the job you're asking for, but he might not take it. I happen to know he likes what he's doing now. He's a guy who's not especially big on ambition," said general Shafer. "I know," she said, "but he is big on wanting and needing a woman. A better job might help get him to a place where he could attract one. You know, someone who could look past..." "Am I hearing you right, young lady? Are you saying that you are so shallow that you think, that unless this man has a big ass career, that he can't possibly find a woman who could love him for himself or because he's not handsome like your Charlie? Are you saying I raised a daughter that is that unbelievably shallow!" he said. "Daddy, I am at my wits end. I don't know what I think. I guess I am shallow and damn me for it. I am so grateful to that man. On some level I love him myself, and I mean for what he is not any job or anything. That's why..." "Yes, I know. That's why you went to bed with him. Talk about stupid moves," he said. She looked down. "Okay, I'll get him the job. I'll see to it that it's offered to him anyway. Whether he takes it or not is another thing. But, I will see he gets the offer." "Oh, thank you daddy," screamed Belinda. She rushed to him and hugged him. "Yes, yes," he said, slowly shaking his head. "But, girl, you need to get your shit together. You need to go see him, apologize, and beg him to forgive your selfishness. And selfishness is what it was, girl, and nothing else. Jesus! I can't believe that you never said so much as thank you to him for saving your life. I just can't believe it!" Beauty and the Beast "And another thing while I'm at it. Beauty is very definitely only skin deep. This man, Oscar Church, has got it all over most other guys no matter what he looks like physically. Well, never mind, whatever," he said. "Just go see him, and I mean now!" ****** "Oz, some guy's here to see yuh," said Amos, sticking his head into the back where I was getting some cleaning stuff together. "Okay, I'll be out in a minute," I said. I was wiping my hands on my apron when I came out of the back room. A man approached me. "You mister Church?" said the stranger. "Yes," I said. "Well, mister Church, you don't know me, but I know you. You're a hero. You're the kind of man that can be trusted. I want to hire you," he said. "Hire me? What are you talking about," I said. "Mister Church, I have four daughters. All young, all a problem when it comes to the boys, and I need, I want, to ensure their safety. I want to hire you to guarantee that safety," he said. "Huh? What? Hey mister, I'm not a bodyguard. I just happened by a couple of times when..." I started. "Yes, I know the story. I read the papers," he said. "Wait-wait! Who the heck are you? Did Belinda Shafer send you here?" I said. "Oh, yes, I'm Michael Tressler. "Belinda Shafer? The woman you saved. I know the name from the papers. But, no, to answer your question, I never met her, and she didn't send me here. I sent me. I need the services of a good man; a friend of mine suggested I find someone like you, and I decided to go after the original instead of a copy," he said. He was smiling. I was intrigued. "Anyway, that's why I'm here not because of miss Shafer." I nodded. We talked for a while, and made an appointment to meet with his daughters and himself the following day. I wasn't really interested in quitting my present job, but heck, this might be one of those opportunities that hit's a guy between the eyes. A kind of one of a kind chance to make it. The guy said it would be more than worth my while. ****** I was dressed in jeans and a black Henley. The man seated across from me, the man I had met the day before, was dressed in a suit that had to cost a thousand bucks. Cattycorner to the both of us, on an overlong couch sat four girls ranging in age, as I had found out between fourteen and twenty-two. Collectively the man and the four young ladies—Mandy 14, Carol 15, Frances17, and Jane 22—made up the totality of the Tressler clan, the girls' mother having passed on. "So, mister Church, do you have any more questions?" said. Michael Tressler. "No, no sir," I said. I think we've covered about everything. I guess, I'll be moving my things into the guest house tomorrow." "Good, good. You won't regret it," he said. "I had to allow that I wouldn't likely be regretting it. The girls were pretty, the pay was three times what I'd been making at Santoro's, and the duty didn't seem to be much of a deal; I could handle it. I'd be having Wednesday and Friday off. Those two days daddy would be doing the guard duty, if that was how one might have phrased it. Oddly the girls didn't seem to mind the notion that somebody would be watching over them. There'd been a few occasions when they had been put upon by this or that individual, and even one attempted rape that the arrival of the sisters had put an end to; they never did catch the guy who had made good his escape. This last event had been the catalyst that got daddy to looking for a de facto bodyguard. Even so, I kinda wondered, really, why he needed a bodyguard. And, it had been explained to me that he, mister Tressler, was rich and connected and the girls were possible targets because of that, and risking their lives and limbs was not something he was into. I was also informed that the girls would at times be without my services, but not if there were any significant possible vulnerabilities. I wondered who decided what was vulnerable and what was not. The deal for me was nine hundred a week and a place to stay. I was fucking rich! I was going to be able to save money—finally! Maybe even get myself a used car. I had to smile. Maybe even Belinda would have to notice me now, I thought. Well, a guy could dream. Life was good, good for sure. ****** "He took the job?" said Sandy. "Yes, thank heaven, and he doesn't have a clue that dad got it for him. Even the fellow that hired him doesn't realize that dad had something to do with it," said Belinda. Sandy gave her friend a questioning look. "How's that," said Sandy. "A piece of timely coincidence," said Belinda. "Dad's close friend, major general Marshall—you've met him, at our house last Thanksgiving—was telling a story about a guy he knew who does contracting for the military. Seems the friend of a friend was worried about his daughter's safety. Kind of paranoid, actually. Dad let the hint drop that a guy like that fellow in the newspapers that had saved—well you—would be a good candidate. They'd laughed about it, and then the conversation changed to something else. I guess general Marshal had actually told the friend the same thing, and then that guy had told his friend, the paranoid guy; and well the rest is history as they say. "Perfect!" said Sandy. "Yeah, I guess," said Belinda. "But, I still have to see him, Oscar. I have been putting it off way too long. I am so ashamed of myself. I'm going to arrange to see him this week. "I don't want to do it at the place where he's working now. I have to catch him at Santoro's. I'll just have to ask around and see when he might be dropping by there these days. I mean he doesn't work there anymore," said Belinda. "Hmm, yes, I see what you mean, I mean about not stopping by where he is working now. Yes, Santoro's should be good. I figure he probably still has some roots there," said Sandy. ****** I sat drinking soda water with a twist while Jane danced with a couple of local guys, everything was fine, just hunkydory. Well, except they, the local guys, were getting to be a little under the weather, and starting to get a trifle aggressive with Jane. She approached me kind of tentatively. "Ozzie," said Jane, "you can go home. The boys are going to see I get there in a little while. Okay?" "I don't think so, Jane. You don't know them, and they may..." I started. "Oz, it's okay. Just go. I'm over twenty-one, and I can take care of myself," she said. I nodded. It was clear that she wasn't going to change her mind, and she was over twenty-one. But, sure as hell I wasn't the village idiot, and I wasn't letting her out of my sight; she just didn't know it. I smiled. "Have a good time," I said. She looked at me oddly. She stroked my cheek as she left. One minute later I was on their heels. I stayed a good ways back as they headed down the boulevard. They were in no hurry; it was easy to follow them. They pulled into an apartment complex a few miles from the bar. The two cowboys got out and urged Jane to do the same. She seemed reluctant to do so, but eventually got out. I knew the game. I hadn't had a lot of experience making it with the female gender, but that didn't mean I didn't know what dudes like these two had in mind. The boys undoubtedly had a good supply of liquor on hand and planned an exciting evening of seducing the girl. She had no hope whatsoever of warding them off. But, the good news was, she had me. The upshot was, that I couldn't let them get inside of their apartment. I had to nail 'em outside. Like now! "Like, no-no, fellas, it ain't happenin'," I said. All three of them turned to see me striding up to them. "And who the fuck are you?" said the taller of the two cowboys. "Yeah," said his sidekick. Jane was staring at me. "Mister Church, I told you..." started Jane. "Can't help it, Jane, your daddy said I was to watch over you and that's what I'm going to do," I said. "Watch over who, fuckwad? This woman is over twenty-one. You've got nothin' to say about anything," said tall cowboy. "Mister Church, I insist that you leave. If you don't my daddy will hear about this before the day is out," said Jane, but without much conviction. "Good idea, Jane, and the sooner the better," I said. I pulled my cell and hit one of my preset numbers. He was on the line in less than ten seconds; the bad guys were staring at me. I moved a few feet off and talked to her daddy live. Jane was clearly nervous. "Here," I said, handing her the phone, "daddy wants to talk to you." She took it with a pouty look. She talked for less than a minute and threw me back my phone. She stalked off heading for my car. The two cowboys eyed me but headed off toward their apartment building. No need for violence today. He was waiting for us when we arrived back at the house. "Good job, Church, I'm glad you called me," said daddy. "Jane you and I will be talking," he said. "Yes, well you can tell mister Harrelson, that he and that general friend of his to get lost and die. I'm over twenty-one and perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she said. I was suddenly flushed and very upset—general! Jane had made it into the house and mister Tressler was slapping me on the back. "I want to thank..." "Mister Tressler, I asked you in the beginning about Belinda Shafer being the reason I was hired. You said she wasn't," I said, interrupting him. "Belinda Shafer? She wasn't," he said. "Wait a minute. It just came to me. My friend Mack Harrelson knows a general Shafer, an army guy. Related to your Belinda? Yeah, maybe so," he said, answering his own question. My breathing was coming hard. "This Harrelson..." I started. "Yeah, he was the guy who gave the idea to see if you'd be interested in the job I was thinking about giving to somebody," said Michael Tressler. I nodded. "But, I've never met this general Shafer, if indeed that's who it is, or this Belinda—his daughter maybe?" I had a lot to think about, to decide; but then it came to pass that everything was decided for me. I had a visitor—Belinda Shafer. I was sitting in Santoro's sipping a brew. I was waiting for Marian to show up. I was going to ask her advice when I got the tap on my shoulder. I turned and her beauty almost blinded me. "Belinda!" I said. She sat down without saying a word and stared at me. "Hi, Oz," she said, finally. "Hi to you too," I said. My stomach was doing somersaults. It always seemed to when she was around. God how I loved this woman—wanted her. Marian was good. Wilma'd been good. But, in Belinda's league? Not even. "This is a surprise." "Yes, well, you are looking at a very guilty girl. One that can only say how sorry she is, I mean to you," she said. I guess I'd looked down. I couldn't meet her eyes. "Ozzie?" she said. "It's okay," I said. Of course I knew what she was going to say, or thought I did. "Don't feel guilty about me. I'm cool. She gave me a look that at once chastised me and comforted me. "Ozzie, I feel horrible about not visiting you in the hospital when without a shred of a doubt you'd saved my life—again. And more, that of my love, Charlie. "All I can say is I was selfish and chicken and a fool. Not feel guilty! I'll feel guilty about that one for as long as I live. "All I ever do is hurt you, big guy. I am committing myself to never do anything like that again to anybody, but especially to you. You are the greatest Oz. No question, the greatest. Whatever I can do for you, I promise I will." When she said this last, I looked up at her. She bit her lip, but she didn't qualify her statement. I was sure, that if I'd asked her to spread her legs for me at that moment, she would have. I was also sure that she was hoping that I wouldn't. There were no limits, but that very reality forced me to be the good guy and renounce my hard won reward. "No, no, you don't owe me anything. For you there is nothing I wouldn't do. Helping you out those two times was reward enough. I saved the most beautiful woman in the world," I said. "It was my pleasure." "Ozzie, you're the best. Just remember, I said anything." At that moment it came to me, I remembered the other thing. I had to know for sure. "Belinda, you know I have a new job? I'm planning on getting' a new car soon; well, a new used car I corrected myself," I said. She smiled. "That's wonderful Oz. What kind of work are you doing?" I knew then. Her tone, her over enthusiastic look. I knew she'd arranged my new work for me, or, her dad had. She sensed the situation, but remained silent, waiting for me to say something else. "It was because of you, wasn't it? I got the job 'cause of your influence, or your dad's?" I said. She looked away. I wondered if she'd lie outright. She looked back at me. "Oz, it was the least we could do. Please. I—we—were not being condescending or anything. I know how proud a man you are, and deservedly so. I—well I just owe you so much, especially for saving Charlie. I..." "Like I said before, Belinda, you owe me nothing, and I make my own way. I thank you though for your generosity, and your dad too. Please tell him so. "Anyway, I have to be going. Nice seeing you again. And, really, you don't owe me a thing." I patted her shoulder and left. I think I walked a little faster than I usually did. I had to get away from her; it was too humiliating her doing for me. The call to the Tressler clan was made five minutes after my meet up with Belinda. He understood, didn't like it, I don't think, but he wasn't pushing it. He promised to get my things to me the next day at Santoro's. Amos had rehired me on the spot: he'd been next to me when I'd made the call. My part time thing with Marian was kinda static. It did seem to be going somewhere long term; and, I did like and trust her. She'd been more than a little peeved at me when I hadn't been around at Santoro's when she'd finally arrived for our date; that is to say, the night I'd almost run out of the bar after speaking with Belinda. Frankly, I was so upset that I had forgotten about that good woman. That very fact told me that Marian and I were probably not going to make it long term. ****** "He quit!" she said. Her dad nodded. "Just one of those things, kiddoo," he said. "You tried. We tried. He's just one of those guys who has to be his own man. Can't allow himself to be owing anyone. And there's no give in his attitude; it's who he is." "He doesn't owe me, dad! I—owe—him! Big time! I just want to do for him. Something! Anything!" she said. "Ain't happenin' Bell. Unless you marry him, there isn't anything you can do. I've met guys like him before, in the field, in 'Nam. They'll do anything for their buds, but don't ever insinuate that the ones that they do for owe them. In their minds it cheapens their sacrifice. What they care about is the deed, what they did for someone else. He's one of those. He's selfless and brave and all kinds of emotional about it is our Ozzie. Like I said, he's just one of those kinds of guys." She howled in despair. ****** "Wilma, you have to be kidding!" said Belinda. "No, Bell. She's not kidding. I saw them going into the Red Cap the other night, and it weren't no coincidence; they were together," said Sandy. "Then, maybe..." started Bell. "Yeah maybe they're an item," finished Sandy. "Pretty sure that's the case," said Wilma. "Marian wouldn't come clean, but her demeanor was such that it just screamed love affair." There were smiles of satisfaction all around. "Thank God," said Bell. "I mean thank you Jesus H.Q. Ree-eyst! I really-really-really needed to hear that. I mean I really needed to. I think we should..." "No!" screamed Sandy. "Nothing is what we're going to do! We're staying away from that man and that is all there is to it. He's had enough of us." Bell's visage fell. "I guess you're right, Sandy," said Bell. "For sure," said Wilma. "He needs to get over you, Belinda. Even with a pro like Marian taking up the slack, you're going to be hard to forget. When I dropped him to get back with Mark; I felt like a dirty rotten scoundrel for sure. I want to be free of that bad feeling from now on. I'm stayin' clear of him. You need to stay clear of him too." Belinda sighed. "Okay. I guess that's best," she said. ****** It was Sunday and there was a knock on my door, actually the back door of Santoro's. I made to answer it. Opening the door, I stared. I almost didn't recognize him. "Can I come in," said Charles Jensen. I stepped aside to let him pass. "Homey," he said, "small, but homey." "It's free. And the neighbors don't bother me much," I said. He nodded. "Okay to sit down?" he said. I motioned him over to the twenty-nine dollar plastic utility table, that had served my needs for so long. He plopped down into one of the cheap plastic chairs that came with it: they'd cost an extra fifteen dollars each. I stood leaning against the wall across from him. "Wondering why I'm here, I guess," he said. "That would be a good assumption," I said. "But let me guess. It has something to do with Belinda." He actually snickered. "Yeah, well I can't fool you," he said. "Oh, and she's hurt that she couldn't get you to keep that job she'd had her dad get you. You really should try to be a little more practical." "Whaddya want, mister Jensen," I said. "You may find it hard to believe, but I'm not much into mind games." "I'm here to bring peace to you, and to see if together, you and I can get my future wife to stop crying in her beer about how she's been so ungrateful to you," he said. "I've already told her she didn't owe me anything. Told her I was cool with the situation, I mean her marrying you," I said. "Tell her to lighten up on herself. I'm her hero; that's enough for me. Tell her that." "Oh yeah, she's gonna go for that—not," he said. "Don't you get it she's ashamed of herself. And, I think she'd like to have a relationship with you—make that friendship—on some level. Hell, so would I. I know I'm kinda the forgettable one in this mess, but I owe you too, and that every bit as much as she does. "Frankly, Ozzie—can I call you Ozzie?" he said. I nodded my okay. "Good. Anyway, the reason I'm here is for that very reason. I owe you too much to just let you suffer, and I know you are, suffering that is." "Yeah, well that's my business," I said. "Look, I know you need a woman. I do too. Mine is Belinda. But, trust me, there's a woman out there for you too. In fact, I'm gonna say especially for you. You're a helluva man, not handsome like me," he said, laughing as he said it, "but you have some very serious qualities to sell mister. Trust me on that one. "Oz, you may find this difficult to believe given the circumstances, but I tried to save her too, I mean that day in the parking garage. I just wasn't very successful: I ain't you. Fighting is just not my game. I'm good at business. I'm a stockbroker if it matters," he said. "I leave the mano-y-mano stuff to them as is good at it." I raised hands up to signal him to stop. "Look, Charlie, I have a girl," I waited for his reaction; there was none immediately; I continued. "She's pretty, my new girl; and, like Belinda, way outta my league. But, for some damn reason she seems to like me. Frankly it ain't every woman wants to be around me. And, maybe this one won't want to be either after she gets to know me better. The last one—by the way a gift from Belinda—dumped me as soon as she had a replacement for me. That one hurt a lot. So, my confidence in my current situation ain't all that fucking wonderful; but, who knows maybe God'll intervene and help me out." "Oh, okay-okay. Well, that's good. What's her name if I may ask," he said. "Marian. Marian Kristoff." He gave me a look I could not decipher. I wondered if he knew her, knew about her profession. I let it drop. Beauty and the Beast "Nice name. Hope it works out for you. Anyway, about Belinda. If you could see your way clear to come to a party this week at my place..." he started. "A party? At your place? No, no, I don't think I could do that. I'm trying to get by a couple of things that still kind of bother me, and seeing—well—seeing her again wouldn't be much help in that department," I said. "The reason I'm asking you, Oscar, isn't to be in your face with Belinda, but rather to soothe over the rough edges a little bit, so that you and she could be on a talking level again, a friendship level. You need it, and frankly, she needs it even more than you do. You risked your life for her for godssake; how about risking a little ego; it's deal less dangerous for sure," he said. I looked at him hard, watched him, watched how he moved. He was being straight with me. The problem was, the question was , did it matter. Seeing her was not going to be all that pleasant in the best of situations. And, I hadn't been lying when I told him there were a couple of things that I was trying to get by—to forget. Still, if I could get Marian to go with me, maybe... "I'll go this far, Charlie. I'm prepared to say that I might come. And if I do, I might bring a guest. Would that be all right?" I said. "Of course you can bring a guest. And your maybe is good enough. I just hope it turns into a yes. Here's the address." He handed me a slip of paper with his address and contacts on it. I nodded. We said our goodbyes and he was gone. ****** He sat across the table from her. "If he comes he's bringing Marian Kristoff," said Charlie. "Belinda, I've had her myself. It was a long time ago, but she's a working girl. Is she the kind of woman you want to see him hung with? A whore!" "So what if she is, Charlie. Nobody's perfect. The only real question is whether or not he knows. We won't let him go blind into something like that, but if he knows, and he's okay with it—well, again, so what if she is a prostitute," said Belinda. "Okay, I guess you have a point. And, I mean if you know her, and she's an okay person," he said. She gave him a look that guaranteed she did. ****** I pulled up next to the curb, stared at the house, Charlie's house. Nervous didn't even begin to describe my feelings at that moment. "Well?" said Marian. "Oh—yeah—I guess we ought to get out and go on up," I said. "Ozzie, you're with me, and I'm the best," she said, smiling. I smiled back. I looked at her, my her, my Marian, my girlfriend, with a new sense of appreciation. "Yes, yes you are," I said. We headed up the walk path. The front door opened and Belinda and Charlie came down the path toward us. "Oz—Marian, it is so good to see the two of you. I am so glad you could come," said Belinda. "Ditto that for me," said Charlie. "Come on in, we've got the barbecue going out back." Charlie pulled me away from Marian as we made it to the patio; Belinda did the same with Marian. "Come on Oz, you and I got barbecue duty for the next little while. Let the women gossip for a little bit," said Charlie. We were making good progress with the steaks, that while avoiding talking about the elephant in the room when the two women came back outside; they were not alone. With them were two more couples: Wilma and the guy I was certain was her new-old man, Mark Dilfer, and Sandy and her new boyfriend Curtis Mathews; Marian had given me a heads up about him. Talk about elephants in the room. I looked at Charlie and he just shrugged. I was turning a sirloin over as Marian came up to me and put her arm around my waist. I smiled at her, but it was an uncomfortable smile. She sensed it. "You okay, big guy?" she said. "Gotta be a new one at least for me. Here I am at a civilian barbecue, and my boyfriend is the only guy here that's fucked all of the women; well, all but one. Gotta be a new one." Now my smile was genuine. "Yeah, I'm okay. But, I'm gonna spend the whole lot of time cookin'. Keeps my mind off of things. Gotta tell yuh, this is one confusing scene," I said. "I can relate," she said. "Hello, Oz," said Wilma, hanging on the arm of her boyfriend and interrupting us. I once again put on my uncomfortable smile. She grimaced briefly, but then smiled broadly. "Nice to see you. And you too, Marian." Marian nodded at the new arrivals. "Thanks, nice to see you too, Wilma. This is your new man, right? Mark?" I said. There was but the tiniest flicker of discomfort in her eyes, but she looked away, then up into his eyes, then back at me, and it was gone. "Yes, I wanted to introduce you. Oscar Church, this is Mark Dilfer, my intended," she said. He extended his hand to me. "Nice to meet you," he said. "Same here," I said. "Steaks ready up in five minutes, folks," said Charlie, finally entering the lists. Belinda had been missing for the initial set to, but came up now from inside the house talking quietly to Sandy; I hadn't seen them go back inside, but they had to have. They were followed a few steps behind by Sandy's date. Soon, introductions in the books; steaks, baked potatoes, sauerkraut salad consumed; everyone was relaxing around the patio's periphery. I was holding tightly to my old fashioned glass which was currently filled with a seriously medicinal dose of Tennessee Sour Mash; and in my case it was definitely medicinal—psychologically medicinal. Two of the four women in attendance had dumped me for what I am sure they considered better options; not an ego enhancing reality especially for me. The good news was that my Marian was hangin on my arm doing her best to protect me. And I was fully aware of the fact that I needed to be protected. "So, Curtis, what do you do?" I said. It'd been the first time he'd been separated from Sandy long enough for me to talk to him. Marian looked up at me; her look encouraged me. "I'm a heavy equipment operator, road grader mostly. Depends on the job," he said. I nodded. "And you?" he said. I had supposed that he must have known what I did for a living, but maybe not. Maybe the girls hadn't seen the need to tell him what I did. "I work at Santoro's over on Euclid. Kind of all around stuff: bouncing, clean up, security—everything," I said. "Really?" he said. I could tell from his demeanor that he really didn't know anything about me. Maybe my name, but not much more. Interesting. "Yeah, been doin' it forever. Army before Santoro's. It's good for me," I said. He turned his attention to Marian. "And, you little lady?" he said. "I'm his girlfriend," said Marian. He gave her a questioning look. And, in her case it was obvious that he knew what she did for a living, and it was equally obvious that he was dying to ask her about it; but he kept his yap shut. I was beginning to have a serious issue with Sandy's new squeeze. But, he hadn't actually done anything wrong—so far—so I was momentarily inclined to let him live. I didn't see her come up from behind me. "Oz, could we speak with you for a few minutes?" said Belinda. The we were Belinda and Sandy. I nodded, and we strolled over to the block wall fence in the back of the yard. I glanced back toward Marian and she gave me the high sign; it made me feel good—safe maybe. "You okay, Oz," said Belinda. She looked desperate for some reassurance. "I'm good," I said. I didn't elaborate. For once I was going to keep my big mouth shut. But, that said, looking at her, I felt more than a slight tingle in my loins. How I wanted her. Still, the gal I was with wanted me, and I had the good sense to at least "want" to want her too. Yeah, I know it sounds phony of me. Marian wasn't in Belinda's league, at least not in my mind, but chopped liver she wasn't. "Good, good," she said. "Oz, please be my friend. I do so want to be yours. And yes, I know that sounds like I'm trying to let you down easy. But, in this case it's not the case. I want to see you a lot, so does Charlie. You and Marian. I mean that." She looked back over to where we'd come from and nodded toward Charlie and Curtis doing the cleanup thing. "That's a new barbecue pit you and Charlie were cooking on a bit ago. We plan to use it a lot, and you will be invited every time we light it up. I mean it Oz. Romantic love is, well, not in the cards for you and me, Oz; but friendship of the highest order is. Trust me on that one," she said. The fact was I wasn't sure if I did trust her even that far. As she talked, I did a little reality check mentally. I knew I had to let her go, dreams of ever having her again weren't no good; they had to go; but, I wasn't sure I could let them go, the dreams. Helluva thing. I was all but certain that the dreams would always be there. I'd had her once, and it set a standard that other woman could ever measure up to, at least to my mind. I knew myself to be a simple kind of guy, no go-go business type, no star athlete. Just a guy who believed in being honest and straight forward and doing the best he could no matter what. This last served me now. "Belinda, I told you, you don't owe me anything. I did some stuff, and I'm just glad I was able to serve you, help you out. Others would have done the same thing. I got lucky and only had to deal with a collection of pussies that couldn't fight worth a damn—their bad luck. "But, coming to barbecues here?" I hesitated, "Yeah, I guess. Maybe. Not sure. It'll depend. My woman might have something to say about that," I said. "Ozzie, all of the people in this yard right now respect you a lot, especially Belinda," said Sandy, speaking for the first time. "And you evidently have a new squeeze; I mean Marian. She's a doll, and I know she'll make you happy. "We all know you have, had, a crush on Belinda—you and a thousand other guys—but she can only be with one guy, and I know you know that her guy is a good guy. "Anyway, you earned the right to demand respect from Belinda and all of her friends—not to mention Charlie. But, a lifelong marriage—well—that, my good man, requires that both partners be not just grateful to each other, or one to the other, but soulmates. If the marriage is going to last, you have to be that tight; I mean both partners do. Am I making any sense, Oz?" said Sandy. I nodded. She was. I knew it. Everybody there knew it. "Yeah, I guess," I said. Belinda came to me, planted a scorcher on my lips, and smiled brilliantly. I did too, smile that is. I began to think that I could make it, get by it. Marian had come up just then. She'd heard me, not sure who else. Sandy? Belinda? "Thank you, Oz. I mean for every damn thing you've done for me," said my eternal crush. "And for being who you are." ****** EPILOG We did marry, Marian and I. She told me much later that there had been issues that I had not been privy to. The two women: Belinda and Sandy, had closeted Marian to find out if I knew what I was getting into. They'd been assured by her that I did. Also, there was the issue of Marian not being sure if she wanted to commit to a man who had been, and most likely still was, madly in love with someone else—Belinda. The other women had made it their business to convince her, that as strong as her boyfriend's feelings for Belinda were, and likely still were, that they were confident that she—Marian—could make Belinda not but a fleeting memory of times gone by. They had, essentially, appealed to her ego as a professional. That night, after the barbecue, I learned things about sex, kinky sex, that would absolutely never past muster with anyone's grandmother! Some of them, the things we did Marian and I, would most definitely require more than the usual five Our Fathers and five Hail Marys. We did attend any number of parties at Charlie and Belinda's place and they at ours. The little clan of Wilma and Sandy and their new husbands, Belinda and Charlie, and me and Marian grew. A herd of children grew up together. In addition, it was not uncommon to have several individuals in uniform—generals uniforms—attend as well. Life was going good. Helluva thing. Beauty And The Beast ***Written at the request of my kindred spirit, Kristine. May you enjoy this version as much as the numerous other ones that line your bookshelf. *HUGS* *** Once upon a time... A merchant lived in a forest. His only daughter, Kristiana, had been a nursemaid to a wealthy family until the children became of age and the family no longer needed her services. Deciding to take some time for herself, she returned to live with her father. One morning, before he left for the market, he said to her, "Kristiana, if you could have one thing that would make you happy, what would it be?" "Finally being here with you makes me happy. I need nothing more." Kristiana hugged her father and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Then she waved as he mounted his horse and headed off toward town. His mind still troubled him on his journey. He wanted to get something special for his daughter, but he no longer knew what she liked. And she hadn't been much help with answers herself. She'd grown into such a beautiful woman while she'd been away. She was at least five-foot-five now, her brunette hair cascading down her back in soft waves. He remembered her mother pulling it back into pigtails not too long ago. And then Kristiana had hid it all twisted up on her head under a cap when she'd left to work for that family. That was all before his lovely wife had passed away after the terrible accident. No one had known where the beastly dogs had come from. Mariel had been tending the garden out back when they'd run out of the woods and attacked her in broad daylight. If only he'd been home at the time... He sniffed and urged his horse on. Throughout the morning as he gathered the items on his list, he focused on Kristiana. On the present. And he kept an eye out for her gift, but nothing seemed right. When he had finished his business, the merchant set off for home. The day had grown long, and the sun was already setting behind the trees of the woods. The wind grew colder, whipping his jacket about. With one hand, he struggled to hold onto the reins of the horse, his other hand clutching the satchel of merchandise tightly against his body. The sky darkened, and soon rain pelted down, soaking through his clothes. A streak of lightning spooked the horse, and then they were racing through the trees, wispy branches stinging his cheeks. Once the horse had calmed down, the merchant paused and glanced around. But under the thick cover of leaves over him, he couldn't see the moon or tell which way to go. His only hope was that they could find some shelter and wait out the storm. His hope dwindled, though, as he led the horse among the maze of trees. He was completely lost, even in the woods he'd known most of his life. Just when he was ready to give up, he noticed a dull light shining off to his right, and steered the horse toward it. As he drew near, he saw that the light belonged to a building. An inn! Lightning lit up the sky, and the merchant gasped, tightening his grip on the reins as the horse reared up. The inn was actually a massive castle! Stone walls stretched out in either direction beyond a looming gate, and towers disappeared into the night sky above him. No lights were burning in any of the windows, but a lantern swung on a post over the front door. Sliding down from his horse, the merchant pushed open the gate and entered the courtyard. The horse whinnied at another crack of lightning, but it followed behind, pawing at the ground when he tied off the reins on a metal loop in the castle wall. When he reached the door, he saw that it was open. Though he shouted, no one came to greet him. Gathering his courage, he went inside, still calling out to attract attention. On a table in the front hall, a splendid dinner lay already served. He lingered, still shouting for the owner of the castle. But no one came, and so after eyeing the food and listening to his growling stomach, the starving merchant sat down to a hearty meal. His hunger satisfied, curiosity now plagued him. Why had no one met him at the door? Who had lit the lantern? Who had prepared the meal? He called again for any acknowledgement of his arrival. Upon receiving none, he ventured through the main room. At the far end was a grand staircase. He ascended, in awe of the paintings in elaborate gold frames adorning the walls. From the landing, a corridor led off in either direction with several closed doors on each side. However, the first door on his left was open. A fire crackled in a massive stone fireplace that was taller than he was. Directly across from it sat a four-poster bed piled high with blankets and pillows. It was now late, and he could not resist the invitation before him once again. He lay down on the bed and fell fast asleep. When he woke next morning, someone had placed a mug of steaming coffee and some fruit by his bedside. The merchant had breakfast and after tidying himself up, went downstairs to thank his generous host. But, as on the evening before, there was no one in sight. Shaking his head in wonder at the strangeness of it all, he went towards the courtyard where he had left his horse. To his continual surprise, his horse was no longer tethered to the castle wall but grazing beneath a tree in the sunshine. Next to the tree were several rose bushes. Dotting the green leaves, glistening with the remnants of last night's rain, were the largest red flowers he'd ever seen in full bloom. Thinking of his parting question to his daughter, he whispered, "It's perfect!" And then he carefully plucked a dewy rose from its bed. No sooner had he reached for the horse's reins than a man sprang up from behind the rose garden. He wore a dark jacket over his tunic and pants that all looked of the finest material. His thick mane of hair was mostly gray with subtle streaks of blond, and it flowed down to his shoulders. But his brown eyes were bloodshot and gleamed with fire; his mouth was curled into a snarl. His wide shoulders towered over the merchant, and his large hands reached out to him. "Ungrateful man! I gave you shelter, fed you from my table, and gave you a bed to sleep in! But now all the thanks I get is the theft of my favorite flowers!" "Forgive me! Please, do not kill me! I'll do anything you say! The rose wasn't for me but for my daughter, Kristiana. I wanted to bring her a special present from my journey." "I care not why you stole from me." The man whistled, and two large dogs, drooling and growling, appeared from around the side of the castle. "I shall put you to death for this slight!" Trembling with fear, the merchant fell on his knees before the beast of a man. "Those dogs! They were your dogs?" "What nonsense do you speak, thief?" "Your dogs killed my wife!" The merchant wanted to scream in anger, but his voice barely came out as a raspy whisper. "They attacked her in our garden. Thankfully, our only child was gone and did not witness it. I returned too late to save my wife, but I saw the dogs before they disappeared into the woods again. All these years..." The man dropped the paw of a hand he had clamped on the distraught merchant, but his voice remained a deep growl. "I shall spare your life, but on one condition. Bring me your daughter! I will not harm her, but she will remain a servant in my castle." The merchant's heart leapt with joy at his own fortune. But then he felt his stomach twist with terror. He'd have to trade his life for his daughter's! They would both still be alive, but... No, she would never forgive him for leaving her alone in the world if he did not obey. With his head hung low, the merchant nodded. "So be it. I will send my daughter to you." "Take the rose. Have her bring it back so that I know it is her. Follow the path south until you get to a clearing, and then head west. This will lead you home." And then the beast of a man disappeared around the side of the castle with the dogs. The journey home seemed shorter than he'd expected. After settling the horse in the barn, he trudged up to the house, his shoulders heavy. Kristiana rushed out to meet him. "Father! Where have you been? I've been so worried!" He fell into his daughter's arms, holding her to him, trying to remember how his grown little girl felt one last time. Then he ushered her into the house and proceeded to tell her of the events of the previous night and this morning. When he'd finished, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the rose. "I'd do anything for you!" Kristiana hugged her father. "Don't worry, you'll be able to keep your promise. I will be fine. We will both return to the castle once you have rested." "I fear what will happen to you. He promised not to harm you, but he said you would be his servant. I pray that he will be kind to you, at least. I will always love you, Kristiana, no matter what." The merchant refrained from telling her what he had learned about the dogs. She need not distress over what she did not know and could not change. ### Prince Dalemond paced the Great Hall, growling out his frustration. Would the old man honor his promise? He should have killed him and been done with it. That was how his own father would have handled a thief. Whether a loaf of bread, a bag of coins, or a rose off a bush, stealing was stealing. But the knowledge that his precious dogs had killed the man's wife, had left his only daughter without a mother... It reminded him of his own loneliness. He had let his emotions overpower justice, and he'd caved in. At least he would have a servant in the house now. He heard horses approaching, and then the squeal of the gate. He stepped into the shadows, waiting. There were voices outside, and then the pounding of the heavy knocker on the door. "Enter!" His voice bellowed and echoed through the empty hall. The wooden door slowly groaned open on its ancient hinges. By the day's dying light creeping through the open doorway, he saw the merchant step inside. A young woman in a dark-green, hooded cloak followed. She carried the red rose from his garden. "You, Sir, have fulfilled your promise. You may leave us." The woman hugged her father without any tears, and then the merchant hustled out the door. Prince Dalemond watched her from the shadows, the candlelight from the wall sconces bathing her in a soft glow. His heart pounded heavily in his chest. He'd never seen anyone so lovely. Her dark brown hair hung in long ringlets on either side of her face. The color of her cloak emphasized the green of her hazel eyes as she slowly took in her surroundings. When she lifted her hand to push back the hood, her arm moved the edge of the cloak aside. He gasped at the tight bodice of her cream-colored gown...at the swell of her breasts rising above the confines of the low neckline. She was truly a beauty. Something clenched in his gut, and he knew he would not be keeping her for a servant as he had planned. He did not want to tarnish one inch of her ivory complexion, flawless except for her cheeks tinged pink from her journey. He had not anticipated such a prize as her. He stepped out of his hiding place. When the candlelight flooded over him, he heard her gasp. "Welcome to my home, Kristiana. You are my guest. Please, may I take your cloak?" Kristiana took a step back, clutching one hand at the clasp at her throat. She stared for a moment, looking him over. She swallowed and then lifted her chin up, keeping her gaze from his. "How shall I address you, Sir?" "My name is Price Dalemond. 'Your Highness' will suffice." He reached out and took her petite hand in his large one. She was shaking, and he gently squeezed her slender fingers. He raised her hand to his lips and placed the lightest kiss across her knuckles. He refrained from closing his eyes and sighing at the lavender scent of her soft skin. "Well, Your Highness, you say I am a guest, but we both know that I am a prisoner." Kristiana pulled free from his grasp and squared her shoulders. "If you would so kindly show me to my chamber, I would like to retire for the evening." She may have been a beauty, but he had never seen such hostility. Especially after he had extended his generosity to both her and her father. She was just as ungrateful as he had been. She should be happy to have her father still alive! With a low growl, he spun around and marched toward the grand staircase. He had prepared a room down the North Hall hear his own chambers. But now...now he led her down to the last room in the South Hall. The furthest room from the only other person in the entire castle. If she felt like a prisoner, he would treat her like one. Once they'd reached her new chamber, she waited until he opened the door, and then she entered with a minute tip of her chin. The room was dark and the air frigid. As angry as he was, he knew he could not leave her to freeze to death. Even his dogs deserved a fire on a cold night such as this. She stood just inside the doorway. He stepped past her, feeling the heat of her through the material of his shirt as his arm brushed against hers. Pushing away the resulting rush of desire to have that warmth against the rest of his body, he crossed the chamber in four long strides. After he had lit a fire, he turned back to her. Kristiana had moved to the window and drawn the curtain aside. He suddenly wanted to go to her, to apologize for his gruffness. But then he remembered the way she'd scorned him. "Dinner will be served shortly." He made sure his tone relayed that it was a command. "I'm not hungry." She kept her back to him. She stared out the window into the darkness instead. A muscle in his clenched jaw twitched. "Suit yourself!" And then he stormed across the room, slamming the door behind him. ### The moment that he was gone, Kristiana collapsed to the floor, her face in her hands. Warm tears wet her already hot cheeks. "I love you, Father! I will stay here to keep your promise, even though I detest the master of the house. I will never be happy here." She glanced at the door, remembering how the prince had towered at least a foot above her. How her hand had disappeared in his when he'd welcomed her. How while she feared him, something inside drew her to him. And that frightened her even more. Her stomach growled, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting she had lied. She removed her cloak and laid it across the winged armchair by the fire instead. Then she crossed to the four-poster bed, climbing up onto the simple mattress covered by a thin quilt. An even thinner blanket lay folded at the footboard. An derisive grunt escaped when she thought of it. Meager accommodations for the prisoner. What else should she have expected? The pillow was soft, though, when she laid her head down. She watched the fire flickering across the small room, thankful for at least that source of heat. Shivers shook her body, and she hugged her arms to her chest, curling into a ball on top of the quilt. Tears trickled down her cheek again as she thought of her predicament. At some point, she must have drifted off because she felt someone watching her and she sat up with a gasp. But there was no one else there. It took her a moment to remember where she was—and why. She looked around at the fire blazing in the fireplace; her cloak on the chair; the plate of food on the table beside the chair; the blanket lying over her body. She may be alone now, but someone had been in the room. Did she dare hope that it had been Prince Dalemond? Who else could it have been? Father had mentioned there had been no one else in the castle the night before. If it had been her host, why did she even care? He was a brute of a man. Only a monster would demand on killing a man for picking a flower...or imprison a young woman as a hostage in his castle. She would be wise to keep her distance from him. Surely, she could find something to do to wile away the days she was being held captive. Because deep down, she just knew he would grow tired of her and this wicked game he was playing. Then he would set her free. Kristiana was halfway across the chamber—no longer able to resist the tray of meats, cheeses, and fruit and the pitcher she hoped contained wine—when the thought occurred to her. What if he did tire of his game...but he left her hidden away, forgetting about her instead of setting her free? She would never see Father again! Fresh tears choked her throat. Somehow, she managed to clean the tray before curling up in the chair. Her eyes felt drowsy from the wine. Pulling her cloak over her, she succumbed to sleep. She dreamed that someone was watching her again. And then a warm body carried her. A disarray of memories followed, mainly of her mother. She woke the next morning to sunlight streaming in the window, the curtains drawn aside. The fire still burned and a new tray of breads and fruit sat on the table. She stretched, yawning and then froze. She was lying in the bed under layers of thick blankets. It had not been a dream. Someone had carried her there. After a quick breakfast, she washed her face at the basin filled with cool water. When she turned back to the bed, she noticed the wardrobe's doors were partially ajar. She slowly pulled the doors open all of the way and gasped. Inside hung dresses in a multitude of colors. She couldn't help wondering why someone so mean he would keep her captive would also show such acts of kindness. 'His Highness' was an enigma. And a small part of her begged to understand him. Choosing a pale yellow dress, she changed her clothes and brushed out her hair. It was time to explore her prison, such as it was. ### Prince Dalemond had searched every room but one by noontime. Kristiana was nowhere to be found. He hoped she had not run away. Despite his frustration at her stubbornness last night, he had enjoyed watching her sleep. She had seemed so peaceful. So innocent. Besides, it wasn't her fault she was here. If her father hadn't stolen the rose... He grunted and thought of her creamy breasts rising and falling in her sleep. How her lips had parted with a soft sigh when he'd moved her from the chair. How light her small body had felt in his arms. He'd wanted to kiss her but had refrained. Now...now he wanted to scream. Where was she? How dare she hide from him! He pushed open the final door, the door to the library, his breath huffing. And then he froze. Kristiana sat in the window seat, the skirts of her yellow dress pooled around her, a small stack of books beside her. Her head rose with a start, and she dropped the book she'd been reading. For the longest moment, they just stared at each other. Her heavy breathing drew his eyes downward. A low moan escaped as his gut tightened. "Was there something you wanted?" Her quiet voice broke the spell over him. He lifted his eyes to hers again, swallowing his honesty. Instead, he forced a smile and said, "It's time for the noon meal. Care to join me in the Great Hall?" She blinked, opened her mouth, and then closed it. She tried again, and said, "Thank you, I shall." When she stood, he felt his jaw drop as the skirt of her dress flowed to the floor. He was amazed that at least one the dresses he'd chosen fit her...and fit her so well. The bodice curved up from her hips, following the delicate lines of her sides and bust as it hugged her torso. The neckline dipped low, and the off-the-shoulder sleeves completed the elegant article of clothing. "Is something wrong, Your Highness?" Her diminutive mouth turned down at the corners. He blinked this time and cleared his throat. "No. Please, I shall escort you when you are ready." ### Kristiana walked beside Prince Dalemond. He had insisted she take his arm. His large hand rested against his broad chest, and her fingers felt the tension in his flexed bicep. Beauty And The Beast "Thank you." She barely heard her own voice. He placed his other hand over hers on his arm as they descended the stairs. "For what?" "The food. The blankets. The dresses." She felt heat rise in her cheeks, remembering how he had moved her to the bed. It was better not to stoke his ego too much. She felt him shrug. "You needed to eat. To stay warm. To be clothed." Once they'd reached the Great Hall, he pulled out a chair for her. She sat, and he took a seat next to her at the head of the table. They were silent throughout the meal, only making gestures to pass a dish. She kept her eyes on her own plate, but she felt the warmth of his gaze on her. It was the same feeling she'd felt last night. But when she looked up, he was staring at his food. After the meal, she excused herself to return to the library. At the landing of the second floor, she glanced over her shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him standing beside the table, his eyes on her back. They rose and met hers. Kristiana lowered her chin and continued on her way, feeling slightly giddy, knowing he was still watching her. ### For the next two weeks, they played the same game. Kristiana would wake each morning to a tray of food on her table, fresh water in the basin, and a stoked fire warming the chamber. She would spend the day reading in the library, joining him for the noon meal in silence, reading throughout the afternoon, and joining him again for a silent dinner. The first couple of nights, she purposefully left the blankets folded at the foot of the bed. Each morning, she'd wake with them tucked in around her. Her heart quivered at the thought of him visiting her in the middle of the night, as strange as it may seem. By the third week, they'd begun exchanging small bits of conversation over their shared meals. Usually, Prince Dalemond would ask her about the current book she was reading. She found herself rambling on and on, blushing when she would look up and catch his earnest gaze on her. As winter set in, he joined her in the library, sitting in the shadows by the fire as she read or worked on the needlepoint she'd found in her chamber one day. Like the midnight voyeurisms, at first she felt uneasy, knowing he was watching her. But after a time, she tuned him out and focused on the story or the handiwork or watching the falling snow outside. And despite their routine and the freedom to move about the castle at will, Kristiana still felt like a prisoner. When spring finally came, it thrilled her to be able to roam the castle grounds. Her favorite pastime was sitting under the large tree in the front yard by the rose garden. At times, she'd linger at the closed gates, staring out into the woods, daydreaming. Never did she attempt to leave and never did he speak to her about it, but on a few occasions she did notice him spying on her from a window. She would act as if she had not seen him and move on to daydream elsewhere. ### Early one day, when the rosebuds were peeking their heads out, Prince Dalemond left a note on her breakfast tray that he had to leave to attend to some business. She glanced out her window to see him leading his horse across the courtyard...and stopping to secure a padlock once he'd closed the gate. Anger bubbled up inside. Surely, by now he knew she wouldn't try to leave! Father had made a promise, and she maintained to keep it for him. Racing downstairs, still clad in the nightdress she'd found in the wardrobe the first morning, she stormed out the front door and gripped the bars of the gate in her hands, shaking them. "How dare you lock me up! I hate you!" Kristiana was sure he'd heard her, as the morning was still, and he had not been too far away. But he did not respond, and he did not turn back. She clung to the gate, pressing her forehead against the cool bars. Her anger turned to sadness, and tears spilled down her cheeks. He had not said how long he would be gone. Was she to feed herself? Tend to her own fire? Who would keep her company while she stitched? Or ask her about the stories she read? Who would check on her tonight while she slept? Returning to her chamber, she flung herself on the bed and sobbed. She had never felt more alone. ### It was late in the day when she finally rose from bed again. A glimpse out the window showed the padlock still on the gate. Her breakfast untouched, she managed a few bites, and then grabbed her cloak, throwing it over her nightdress. The evening air was cool as she walked through the courtyard. She wondered where Prince Dalemond had gone. What he was doing. When he would return. She found she missed him, as much as she despised his controlling behavior. She had not been paying attention to where she was going, and she stumbled on a raised root in the side courtyard, her slippered foot sliding beneath it. Sharp pains bit through her ankle, and she collapsed in the dirt, scuffing her palms on the small rocks at the base of the tree. When she tried to pull her foot free, she cried out when it remained caught. Warm tears filled her eyes, and she whimpered. The sun was disappearing over the tops of the trees in the woods. Shivering, she pulled her cloak tighter around her, raising the hood over her tangled locks. She was glad she had at least thought of wearing the cloak, even if she'd been amiss at getting dressed properly today. Not knowing what else to do, she lay down and curled up against the tree trunk. She hoped Prince Dalemond would still come home this evening...or that it did not rain as it had the past several nights if she had to sleep outdoors. Maybe she could free herself in the morning if she had some light. The night grew darker around her, and for once, she was grateful for the looming walls surrounding the courtyard. While she always thought they were meant to keep her in, tonight they kept out all the wild animals. They kept her safe. ### The sound of a man yelling roused Kristiana from her sleep; her back ached and her cheeks were stiff with dried tears. Her muscles tensed with fear, and then she remembered what had happened and where she was. It took another moment to realize that it was Prince Dalemond yelling. It sounded like her name. But when she tried to call back, her throat was raw and the only sound that came out was a raspy, "Help!" She heard a loud whistle, and then the barking of dogs. By the light of the moon, she saw them running at her, and she screamed. They were not nice-looking dogs, but rather huge and mangy and snarling. She tugged at her foot, but it would not budge. She cringed, preparing for the dogs to attack, and screamed once more for Prince Dalemond. He yelled again, closer this time, and a different whistle cut through the still air. The dogs heeled, but they still growled at her. She could see their large shiny eyes and smell their fetid breath they were so close. Prince Dalemond appeared and dragged the dogs back by their collars, disappearing into the night. Her lungs didn't know how to work properly. Her heart thudded in her head, and she was too scared to even cry. He'd sicked his dogs on her! He'd returned and couldn't find her, so he'd assumed she had fled! She collapsed against the tree again, struggling to think, to breathe. Would he leave her out here all night as punishment for something she hadn't even tried to do? The night was silent again, and she stared up at the moon peering over the treetops. Father was on the other side of those trees. Trees that she could not reach because they were beyond the courtyard. Beyond the walls. Beyond her prison. ### Kristiana was asleep, wrapped up in her cloak, when Prince Dalemond returned. He watched her for a moment, her forehead wrinkled from worry, from a dream, perhaps. His eyes grazed down her body and stopped at her left foot, how it was twisted at an odd angle, trapped under the tree root. He pulled a small dagger from his belt and cut the root away, careful not to nick her skin. She moaned softly when her foot was free, her ankle falling to rest in its natural position. He sheathed the dagger and carefully gathered her in his arms. Her cloak fell away, and he groaned deeply when he saw what she was wearing beneath it. The white gown had a low, square neckline. The front laced up with a satin ribbon that ended with a bow. It hung down over her breasts and moved in time with her breathing. He watched it, mesmerized. The thin material of the long skirt covered her legs, but he felt her shiver. She moaned again, turning into his body as he held her. Once back inside, he removed the cloak and laid her on his bed. She sighed in her sleep, and the creases in her forehead disappeared. He ran a warm cloth over her cheeks, washing the dirt away. And then he turned to her foot. A dark bruise circled her swollen ankle. He carefully ran his hand over her leg and foot, not feeling any broken bones. Certain it was only a bad sprain, he cleaned and wrapped her ankle loosely, and then propped it up on a pillow to reduce the swelling. Before he pulled a blanket over her, he gazed down at her sleeping form. Her lips parted as she breathed evenly once again, her head tilted to the side, exposing the delicate lines of her neck. His eyes traveled downward, following the curves of her torso as the nightdress clung to her, and rested on the dark patch visible through the material at the apex of her legs. His loins burned with fire, and he hardened immediately. Then he threw the blanket over her and forced himself to turn away. He turned the chair to face the fire, and he eased himself down into it, brooding over the day's events. How could he have thought she'd run away? Did he not trust her? She had proven herself to him time and again. But he had jumped to conclusions. He'd almost lost her due to his stupid fears. He made a swift decision: the dogs would be destroyed in the morning. He'd do it right now, but he couldn't bear to leave her side. What if she needed him while he was gone? But they had to go. They'd already caused at least one death. They were a weapon, triggered by his temper. He dozed off eventually, but he woke throughout the night to check on her, adjusting her ankle, watching the swelling, making sure she appeared comfortable. And each time he forced himself to return to the chair when he wanted to sit and watch her sleep. ### A dull throbbing in her ankle woke Kristiana. She opened her eyes to see Prince Dalemond wrapping a cool white cloth around her entire foot. He placed her foot on a pile of pillows and reached for the blanket. When he turned back toward her, he started. "You're awake!" "I am." She stared up at him. At his five o'clock shadow; at his messy mane of hair; at his wrinkled shirt, open at the neck; at the thick muscles in his arms where the sleeves had been rolled up. She swallowed and tried to sit up, propping her elbows behind her. His eyes dropped down to her breasts. She realized they were jutting out in this position and lay back down. But her nipples tightened, painfully. It had been almost a year. How much longer could she go on denying her attraction to him? He obviously felt some himself. Otherwise, he wouldn't be looking at her all the time. "It is late. I did not mean to disturb you." His fingers grazed over her ankle. "How do you feel?" "Sore." She licked her dry lips, refusing to meet his gaze. Instead, she watched his hand on her foot. The heat of his skin was evident against hers even through the bandage. "I'm sorry I overreacted earlier." She flinched, her eyes leaping up to his. "I-I had only gone for an evening stroll. I did not disobey you. I never have. I never will." "I'm sorry about the dogs. They won't bother you again." "Thank you." It was hard to swallow. "Thank you for rescuing me." "You're welcome." Was it her imagination, or was he stroking her ankle? She didn't dare tear her eyes from his; it was a nice feeling. And she didn't want him to stop. She settled back into the pillow and tried to keep her breathing steady when his hand crept up to caress her shin. "Did...did you have a good trip?" He nodded, tilting his head to the side. His chocolate-brown eyes watched her. Watched when her lips parted as his hand moved behind her knee. Watched when she gasped as he slid his fingers up and down her calf. Watched when she moaned as he pushed the hem of her nightdress up her leg. "I didn't mean to be so late. Things took longer than expected." It was her turn to nod, and she licked her lips again when he massaged the top of her thigh. Then her breath hitched when his fingers brushed her inner thigh. "Do you want me to stop, Kristiana?" His voice was a low whisper. She shook her head, unsure of what she was feeling. She'd never been with a man before. It was exciting and scary at the same time. He seemed to know what he was doing. She told herself to relax...and for once be glad he was in control. ### His hand stilled, feeling the tension in her muscles beneath the silkiness of her skin. Prince Dalemond had never seen such a timid woman before. Her soft gasp when he'd first touched her made his chest tighten with anticipation. He was sure this was a new experience for her. He intended to make it memorable. He told himself to go slow. He knew this evening had been frightening for her. He wanted to ease her fears. Regain her trust. Nothing more. He'd bedded many women before, but the inexperienced were the most interesting. He enjoyed their expressions, their sounds at the new sensations he brought alive in their bodies. And once they'd become accustomed to his ways, they were eager to please him again and again. She would be no different. He was a man with needs...she was a beautiful woman. They would both benefit. When he'd tired of her, he would decide what to do at that time. Until then... Kristiana gasped again, and his eyes jumped up to her face. Her gaze was focused on where his thick fingers stroked the inside of her thigh. When he inched them upward, her eyes closed, and then she licked her bottom lip. His breath caught at her reaction. The thin material of her skirt collected at his wrist as he drew closer to the source of heat he could feel against the back of his hand. And then his fingers grazed the bed of curls. She let out a whimper. When he gently pressed his free hand to her other thigh, her legs parted. "Do you want me to stop, now?" For the briefest moment, she said nothing. He prayed she would not resist him. He would not try again with her if she did. There were always the day-trips to find a willing partner—like the one today, and others he'd taken without her knowledge, returning before she'd realized him gone. He would just rather use the opportunity under his own roof. That's why he'd formulated the plan on his return today...aghast with himself for not thinking of it sooner. He could have her whenever he pleased without worry that she would go to the arms of another man. His anger had been renewed, though, when he'd returned to find her missing from the castle, the gates still securely locked. He had not thought it possible for her to escape over the wall, but she was a clever woman. He had underestimated her. And that only deepened his frustration. "No." Her eventual response was the strangest sound, as if she was forcing herself to say it. But he gave it no heed. It was the answer he desired. His index finger swept up through her curls. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth when he felt the gathered slickness beyond. She moaned and her hips moved slightly against his hand. He flicked the tip of his finger at her hidden bud, and she cried out, her eyes flying open to stare at the ceiling. "What a delightful sound from such a beauty as you." He flicked again, receiving the same reaction. He stroked further down into the heat and more wetness. She was as needy of this as he was. The thin fabric of his trousers strained against his own arousal, and he groaned. Several minutes passed as he slowly stroked one and then two fingers through her swollen lips. Her eyes had closed again, fluttering open whenever he moved against her bud. When he felt he'd teased her enough, he gently inserted his finger into the source of her womanhood. Kristiana gripped the sheets beneath her. Her whimpering grew louder as he stroked in and out of the tight opening. And then her hips lifted off the bed with a gentle shudder. Dalemond chuckled. He pressed his left hand against her right thigh, holding her down, and then inserted another finger. That earned him a strangled gasp and another arch of her hips, pushing his digits deeper. When he stroked faster, occasionally rubbing his thumb against her bud, the slickness grew thicker, producing a heady scent that he relished. He kept his eyes on her face, but he couldn't help noticing how her ragged breathing made her now swollen breasts press against the fabric barely encasing them. He moved his left hand up and caressed one mound through her nightdress, mesmerized by the fullness of it and how it felt to finally touch her there after all these months of admiring her from a distance. She moaned, rolling to press into his hand. His fingers continued a steady rhythm below. Above, he sought out and stroked her nipple, which hardened instantly. She felt so good, his hands aching from squeezing and flexing around and within her most intimate parts. He was considering what her breast would feel like—taste like—without the barrier currently hiding it when her muscles tightened around the fingers of his right hand. Her breathing became shallower, and her moans turned into unintelligible mumbling. His focus returned to what he was doing between her legs as he silently urged her on, the pain of his own restraint maddening. But he forgot about himself when she screamed his name, her back lifting off the bed completely. His fingers continued to stroke within as she climaxed, only ceasing when she relaxed again, shuddering. "Shh...shh..." He eased his hand away, pulling the skirt down again. She moaned, pressing her cheek into his touch when he caressed her there. They were both silent except for her small whimpers as aftershocks rolled through her body. He couldn't stop watching her, her cheeks flush, her chest moving in time with the slow tempo of her breathing now. When he realized she'd fallen asleep, he covered her with the heavy quilt, blew out the candlelight, and settled into the chair by the fire for the rest of the night. ### Kristiana opened her eyes and blinked. Sunlight poured in the window...on the wrong side of the room. She sat up with a start, wincing at the dull ache in her left ankle. As she glanced around—noting the expensive tapestries, the oversized ornate furniture—she realized she must be in Prince Dalemond's chambers. But why was she in his bed? Her cheeks burned as she remembered. And the more she thought of last night, the hotter she felt in other places. Had she really let him touch her like that? "Good, you're awake." She screamed and clutched a hand to her throat. "My apologies, my lady. I did not mean to frighten you." Prince Dalemond stepped toward her from where he stood in the doorway. She automatically pulled the quilt up, covering her chest. When his eyes darted down and lingered, her nipples hardened and she wondered what he was thinking. The memory of his hand on her breast made her moan softly. One of his eyebrows shot up, but he only said, "I came to see if you were hungry." She nodded and tried to swallow. "I should check your ankle." And then he proceeded to pull the quilt back, exposing her bare legs where the skirt of her nightdress had ridden up during her sleep. He glanced there briefly but moved on down to remove the cloth bandage he'd applied in the middle of the night. Beauty And The Beast She worried her lower lip while he gently prodded, his hand cool against her heated skin. "The swelling has gone down, but I think you should stay off it today." "If you insist, Your Highness." He seemed to bristle at her formal tone, but he said nothing more. He dipped the cloth in the water basin, wrung it out, and returned to the bed to apply it to her foot. When he was finished, he covered her legs again and stood. "I will bring you your breakfast shortly." She shivered as he left, her heart racing. How did he affect her so with just the simplest of touches? He returned carrying a tray laden with breads, fruits, juice, and three books. She raised her gaze from the latter to his eyes, and he simply said, "To keep you occupied." He helped her sit up, propping pillows around her and under her injured foot, and then he proceeded to sit on the bed facing her. As he picked up a cluster of grapes and plucked one, placing it in his mouth, she realized he intended to eat with her. It did not bother her, it was his house, his bed. However, each time his fingers picked something from the tray or raised the food in his mouth, she thought of what they had done to her last night. Part of her wanted to ask him why he had done it. But she was too embarrassed. Best to pretend it had never happened. When the tray contained only crumbs and rinds of fruit, he placed the books on the bedside table and removed the tray from her lap. "I have matters to attend to, but I will return to check on you." And then he excused himself and closed the door on his way out. Kristiana stared at the decorative brass bars crossing the heavy wooden door. Who was this man? He seemed to change from night to day, mean and beastly one moment, kind and generous the next. Her head hurt after awhile, tired of trying to understand him. She turned to pick up the top book, and soon lost herself in the story. ### Prince Dalemond brought Kristiana a tray for the noon meal, sharing it with her again. He left her reading a book, but she was sleeping when he looked in on her later. At dinnertime, he roused her for the meal, helping her to the chair by the fire before they dined together. Once they were finished, he made her comfortable in bed again before checking her ankle. Satisfied that a day of rest had begun healing it, he rewrapped it. Her gasp of surprise pleased him when he began to repeat the rendezvous from last night. He did not ask permission this time, her moans and writhing body under his ministrations confirming her consent in his mind. He left her satisfied and drowsy, choosing the chair by the fire again for his bed. In the morning, her ankle still seemed too tender to apply weight to it. And so, he ordered another day of rest...and another night of pleasuring her followed. On the third day, she insisted on getting out of bed. When she asked to take a bath, he prepared it for her in her chamber...and he remained outside her closed door. He told himself he was only being cautious—in case she needed anything. But deep down, he wished he were in there, assisting her. Both thoughts bothered him. Surely he wasn't having feelings for this woman...this guest...this prisoner in his home? Once, he had considered letting her leave, to go home to her father. But now...now that she seemed to desire him, and he wouldn't need to travel to find relief for his sexual tensions, he didn't want to let her go. ## Kristiana had convinced him to let her spend the day in the library. Even though her ankle felt better now, he'd brought the noon meal to her and shared it with her. It felt good to have washed and dressed properly for once—a simple red gown with an empire waist today—but she half wished she were still in her nightdress...still in his bed. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she thought of how his eyes would wander down to her breasts while they ate, as if he were hungry for more than just food. At night, after tending to her injury, the nightdress made it easy for him to seduce her. Suddenly, she felt constrained in her gown and undergarments. Her breath caught, remembering how he had not asked for her consent the last two nights. How that aroused her even more than spending the day wondering if he would return and do it again after the evening meal. "You have not turned a page in quite some time, my lady. What thoughts occupy your mind?" She cried out, and heat rushed to her cheeks, as if he had been reading her thoughts. Part of her wanted him to. Wanted him to know she craved for him to do more than just pleasure her with his fingers... ### Prince Dalemond felt his heart beat increase when her cheeks colored, almost matching the shade of her dress. And it was a lovely dress, despite its simplicity, especially on her petite frame. He couldn't resist smiling, knowing he had been correct to presume she had not been reading for the past several minutes. "You seem to enjoy startling me." Kristiana closed her book and set it aside. "Do not blame me for your ignorance of my presence." If possible, her cheeks darkened even more. It occurred to him he might have insulted her. "Maybe your presence does not garner such notice as you presume." He smirked at her bravado. Maybe he would keep her around for enlightening conversations such as this long after she ceased to please him in bed. "Your Highness thinks very mightily of himself." He meant to snap at her retort this time, but she had stood and began to approach him when she stumbled. Instinctively, he rushed her side, catching her before she hit the floor. "Are you all right?" She nodded and winced as he helped her regain her balance. "Too much resting, I think. My ankle is not used to serving its purpose...keeping me upright." For a moment, they stood silently. Then she must have realized his arms were still around her—supporting her—because her eyes shot up to meet his, and she gasped softly. He bit back a groan, enthralled with the feeling of her in his embrace, as loose as it was. His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer, and her eyes widened. She had to tilt her head back now to see his face. Without thinking, he lowered his mouth. She struggled at first, but as his lips moved against hers, her small hands gripped his arms. Soft mewling sounds escaped with her breathing. Her lips parted when his tongue glided over them. He tasted the sweet berries from their recent meal when he swept into her mouth. Her inexperience showed as she tried to copy him, their tongues battling awkwardly. He moved to cup her cheeks in his large palms, holding her still while he deepened the kiss, slowly instructing her what to do. It took several attempts, but she seemed to finally catch on. When she subtly rubbed her breasts against him, he growled and nipped at her lower lip, drawing a startled moan from her. The softness of her body pressing against his hard chest. The taste and smell of her. Her petulant attitude, even. It all made him weak in the knees. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was just another woman. He was supposed to seduce her. And yet, he felt that his plan was backfiring on him. She must have shifted her balance to her injured foot because she suddenly cried out, her grip on his arm tightening as her legs gave out. He realized he wasn't thinking rationally when he picked her up, one arm under her legs, and resumed kissing her, muffling her startled cry. And then he was crossing the room, striding down the hall towards his chambers. Damn his plan. He didn't care anymore who was seducing whom. He wanted her. And he wanted her, now! ### Kristiana flung her arms around Prince Dalemond's thick neck as he carried her down the hall, never ceasing his assault on her now swollen lips. The paintings and tapestries on the walls passed by in a blur of color. Her head felt light, and the dull throbbing of her ankle battled against the pounding of her heart in her chest. She knew this was not going to end like the past three nights. And her body burned with a new heat in anticipation. He set her back on her feet only when he'd reached his bed. Her breath came in deep gasps as she watched him pull back the quilt and sheets beneath it. When he turned to her, his eyes immediately went down to her heaving breasts. But they slowly rose to her face, and there, they locked onto her gaze. Then he swept her into his arms again and settled her on the edge of the bed. His eyes were dark and shiny, as if on fire. His jaw was clenched. If he had not licked his lips and moaned softly, she would have thought him angry. "Your Highness?" Her voice came out as a squeak, and she forced herself to swallow. He did not answer but knelt before her, his face now level with her breasts. For a moment, she held her breath as a myriad of thoughts tumbled through her head of what she hoped he would do. Slowly, he slid his hands over the tops of her thighs, the satin material of the dress slinking across her bare skin lower on her legs. His hands moved up to outline her hips, her waist, following the hourglass curve of her sides up to her breasts. There, they cupped her, stroking her through her dress. She stifled a moan, resting back on her elbows as he moved his hands behind her to lower the zipper on the dress. The front became slack, and she gasped as he tugged the dress down her arms to her waist, finally exposing her to him. He reached out reverently, cupping and caressing her breasts again. The rough texture of his hands grazed over her sensitive skin, and fire shot down to her loins. Her breath hitched when his fingers stroked her now taut nipples. "So beautiful. So, so beautiful." His voice was barely a whisper, and then he lowered his mouth to one breast, his tongue extending to drag across her nipple. "Oh!" She gripped his head, her fingers burying in his hair as he sucked the aching bud into his mouth and flicked his tongue at it repeatedly. He mumbled against her skin, his teeth nipping at her. His hands moved up and down her sides, his thumbs caressing the skin over her ribs. And then they slid around to her back, holding her against his mouth as he kissed and licked and worshipped her some more. She closed her eyes, sighing when he moved to her other breast. She had dreamed of this very moment. And yet, she wanted more. So much more. "Shh, Kristiana," he said when she whimpered. "There will be time for that soon enough." He proceeded to linger at her breasts, his hands massaging her back, her spine, and her shoulderblades. She shivered, his hair brushing against her as he buried his face between her breasts, his tongue darting out to lick at the sweat that had gathered there. And then he rose up and kissed her lips again. She let his mouth guide hers; let his tongue play with hers; let him drive her mad with the control he exuded. He stood, his mouth still on hers, and gently turned her, laying her back on the turned-down sheets. Her eyelids felt heavy, drunk with desire for him. She watched him slide her dress down her legs. The knee-length undergarment followed, exposing her completely. A spasm rippled low within her, and she arched her back, moaning. He echoed her and then proceeded to remove his own garments. She glimpsed the thick length of his erection before he laid down beside her. The spasm rippled through her again as he captured her face in his hands, his mouth covering hers once more. Her body turned into him, seeking his heat, his firmness. Their arms wrapped around each other, and then their legs entwined as he rolled her onto her back again and his body lay atop hers. The dull ache in her ankle was eclipsed by the deeper one in her loins. He licked at her lips as he pulled away slightly, his eyes skimming over her face. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, which closed for the briefest moment. The thought flitted into her mind that he was having second thoughts, but it departed just as quickly when he opened his eyes and she saw the fire flickering deep within them. "Dalemond." She whispered his name, caressing his cheek, encouraging him. If he didn't follow through, she would go mad. Her whole body was burning, throbbing, begging for release. It was more than what she'd felt the past three nights. He'd awakened a monster within her, and it demanded to be appeased. He shifted, causing her breasts to rub against his bare chest. They both moaned, and then she gasped as she felt his erection jerk against the inside of her thigh. So much like his fingers had done. And yet, she knew the pleasure he'd already brought her was nothing compared to what she could experience. She held her breath, not wanting the delicious torture to end, but also wanting to feel that soaring explosion once again, in spades. ### Prince Dalemond watched her strained expression—her tense forehead, the way her eyes silently pleaded—and then brushed his lips against hers once more. His chest ached in a way it never had before. He could deny it no longer. Kristiana was not just another woman he wanted to bed. She was the only woman. Yet, he could not form the words. He would show her instead. Her eyes closed when he moved his fingers down over her breast again, gliding over her hip, and then dipping into the slickness between her thighs. Her hips lifted to meet his hand, and he thrummed her hidden bud. She gasped, her legs parting further. He knew she was ready and wanting. Never had he wanted to take such care to ease an innocent's pain. There would be some, that was a guarantee, although their previous encounters had allowed her body to be accustomed to being penetrated. He would be as gentle as possible, making the final moment quick, distracting her as much as possible so she would feel more pleasure than discomfort. She whimpered, and he realized she was waiting for him. "Shh...shh, Kristiana. Do not worry." He kissed her forehead and then rubbed the head of his erection against her bud. "Oh!" Her body shuddered, and she clutched the back of his shoulders. "I am not worried, Your Highness." She gasped as he rubbed against her again. She licked her lips. "I am delirious with passion. You tease me." He chuckled and then slowly pressed deeper into the heat. They both moaned, and she let out a choked gasp when he entered her. He watched her face for any signs of pain, but he saw only the shininess of her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, and her swollen lips mumbling silent cries. Time seemed to stand still as he sheathed himself within her. His own gasps mingled with hers, the tightness of her womb squeezing around him, milking him. When he reached the barrier, he paused, taking her face in his hands as he kissed her, and then he plunged forward. He swallowed her cries, deepening the kiss, ignoring the sharp stings as her fingers clawed at his back. When he had buried himself within her, he paused to catch his breath. Then he shifted his weight and began the slow retraction, drawing gasps from her again. Her body relaxed under his, only her right leg wrapping around his waist. He suddenly remembered her injured ankle and took care not to put any unnecessary pressure on her left leg and foot. The reentry was smoother as she stretched around his erection, and her arching hips helped drive him along. Her breasts had become firm orbs crushed between them, her nipples hard points digging into his chest as her body rolled in waves under him. It was an extraordinary feeling he never wanted to end. His own hips began a gentle rocking motion, and soon her slickness increased so that he was sliding easily in and out of her. He met her lips again, feeling the hunger in her own mouth as she pressed back against him, mimicking with her tongue what he was doing below. Her fingers lightly grazed his back now, and shivers raced up his spine. He increased his rhythm, her moans growing louder as he felt her muscles tightening around him. He thrust deeper, amazed at the feelings flowing over him. He wanted her to climax first; he strove for it. This was the first time he cared not for his own release when engaging with a woman in this way. He wanted to pleasure her completely, and he wanted it to be perfect. Strange sounds escaped from her now, a mixture of cries and whimpers, and he thought he heard her begging him, calling his name. And then she did scream his name, her body arching up to his and becoming still, her breath stopping for a moment before she was panting again. "Don't resist it, my love. Enjoy it." He continued stroking within her, feeling the tingling pressure of his own release building. Then he was crying out her name, and she joined him as she climaxed again. He rolled onto his side and pulled her against him, covering their naked bodies with the sheet. As her body continued to shudder, he caressed the small of her back. His lips brushed her forehead, and then he froze. He realized what he'd said to her. Wondered if she'd heard...or comprehended it. "Kristiana?" He tilted her chin up, her eyes glossy as they blinked up at him. "Yes, Dalemond?" She gave him a lazy smile, as a sleepy child would. Except on her it was sexy. He groaned and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. "I do not want you to feel like a prisoner anymore. You are free to leave the castle, to return to your father." She blinked again, her eyes becoming clear and bright. But her smile faded. "Are you teasing me now? After you've just seduced me?" "No, I do not jest." He stared into her eyes, feeling a lump rise in his throat, the pain in his chest like a vice. "You are free to go." She sat up, and his hand fell to her hip. She glanced down at it, her breath hitched, and then she slowly raised her eyes to his again. Her breasts heaved as she inhaled and slowly exhaled. "What is it?" She worried her bottom lip, and her fingers clutched the sheet. "It's just..." "You are free to go, Kristiana." He sat up, cupped her cheek, and drew her lips to his. "But I don't want you to." A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and traveled down her cheek. "Why?" "Because I love you." His voice cracked, and for the first time in his life, he felt vulnerable. Afraid of being alone. "Will you stay?" She considered him for the longest time. And then she kissed him back. "I will." "Why?" He brushed his thumb at her damp cheek. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. "Because I love you, too, Your Highness." He pulled her back into his arms, his heart bursting in his chest. "We have much to talk about. We will bring your father to live here, with us, too. But first..." Prince Dalemond proceeded to roll Kristiana onto her back again, his mouth claiming hers as he gently pressed between her legs and sheathed himself in her slick heat. Her soft cries echoed in his head as he brought out the wild beast again in his beauty. ~ H