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Bridget's Days Ch. 01

By: patricia51



I studied the woman in front of me. White hair. Wrinkles. Posture somewhat stooped. Glasses with what seemed like half a dozen different lenses in them. The only thing that seemed to be the same anymore were the eyes. They were still green, still alive and interested. The rest of her... when did she get so old?

I sighed and turned away from the mirror. I settled back into my chair, looking out of the back of the house though the open French doors. It was green and beautiful. Spring was here and I drank in the sounds and the smells and the sights of it.

"Grandmother!" a laughing voice broke my thoughts. "You know you're not supposed to have the doors open. Its too cool for you." The smiling woman closed the doors and mock-shook her finger at my nose. "The doctor says you have to be careful of drafts." 

"That old quack is a draft himself," I grumbled. "I know what he said, but damn, I mean darn, it Lori, that felt so good. I never have liked being cooped up."

"I know," my youngest grandchild said softly, as she took my hand in hers and squeezed it. "You've been a ball of energy since I can recall." She knelt and smiled. My heart melted. Her smile and her eyes were just like her grandfather's, warm and full of light and love. "I swear I don't know how we kept up with you rather than the other way around."

She rose. "Speaking of keeping up, I'll be a bit late this afternoon. The kids have a birthday party to attend." 

"Oh good. I hope they have a wonderful time." Lisa's twins, Mary and Daniel were thought by some in the family to be little hellions. I had noticed the ones that seemed to think that the most were the ones who's bottoms I had laid a switch over more than once when THEY were little. To me, they were the same angels as my other great grandchildren.

"Would you like a book to read or the TV on?"

"Just put the remote here Lisa. As for a book, hmmm, I don't know."

"Well, how about your book then? Do you feel like writing?" Lisa crossed to the bookcase and pulled out a large leather bound volume. She brought it to me.

"That sounds good, honey." I checked to make sure the box of pens was tucked in the pocket of the recliner. "Even if I don't write anything new maybe it will give me some thoughts for later."

Lisa sat on the arm of the chair and leaned against me. "I've always loved your book. The stories you've told us out of it over the years have always been wonderful. And there are so many of them." She laughed as she touched the cover. "At this rate you'll need a second volume."

"Well, you never know Lisa."

"So many stories," Lori mussed. "How long have you been writing these, Grandmother?"

"Oh my, dear. Since your mother was young. I used to tell them to her and your aunt and your uncles. I really started writing them down when your Uncle Sean was born. He was a surprise to your grandfather and me. The scamp came along 10 years after your mother was born and we had thought she would be our last." 

"Well, they're amazing. How you come up with them I don't know." Lisa stood, kissed me on the forehead and went to the kitchen. I heard her rummaging around in there and called out.

"They're on top of the refrigerator Lori." A strangled giggle answered her.

"How did you know what I was looking for and more important, where they would be?"

"You're leaving, sweetie. You always forget where you put your keys and when you came home today you had groceries. You always start by putting away the milk." I affected an English accent. "Elementary."

"You are something else. I'll be back in a few hours." The door closed.

I leaned back in the chair and fingered the book in my lap. How I came up with them indeed. I thought for a moment. Lori was 27. Therefore it would be 8 more years before she was let in on the family secret. Then she would be shown the secret cache of my diaries, the hidden souvenirs of my life, the bank accounts that held the trust funds. Well, you have to wait until you're sure someone can accept the truth, that your grandmother isn't 87. I stopped to do the math. Let's see, I was born in 1552, died in 1573, came back to life in 2020 and now it was 2091. So I would be 539 in May. 

I guess you have to count the years I was a vampire, even though I wasn't technically "alive" then. The only aging that had taken place was during my two periods as a mortal. Maybe the other 447 years didn't count. I certainly don't have trouble lying about my age. I've been doing it for centuries after all.

I tugged the chain from around my neck. Along with the locket that held a tiny picture of Mike, it supported the key to the lock that securely fastened the covers of my book. After all, it wouldn't do to have anyone read what was actually in there if they weren't already in on the family secret. When I related the stories in here I pretended they were about ancestors of ours. I certainly didn't go on about vampires and sex. They would learn at the proper age the real story behind the book.

I'd been fortunate. Well, that was the understatement of the last half-millennium. I'd been extraordinarily blessed, particularly since I had been given back my life in that graveyard in Ireland, almost exactly where I had lost it. I flipped the pages. I hadn't written that story down. I hadn't needed to. For 65 years it had remained fresh in my mind. I closed my eyes, remembering the astonishment of the sun warming my face even before I discovered that my withered heart was beating again.

(Ireland 2020)

I don't know what that young man thought when I bounced back onto my feet, hugged him so hard I felt him gasp for breath and then kissed him right on the mouth. Who cared? Not me as I scooped up my pocketbook. I had laid it down next to where I had fully expected it to be found next to the pile of ashes that would be left when the morning sun bathed my undead body. I plucked the keys to my rental car from it, suppressing a wild whoop to match my unbelieving smile as I scampered to open the driver's door.

I stopped, my eyes fixed on the doors of the small chapel I had arranged to have constructed some 200 years ago. Raising my gaze to the cross on top, I whispered "Thank you." 

For just a moment I thought I heard that old man's voice reply "You're welcome. I asked, it was given. Now, get your ass in gear woman. You've got someone to go to." With that I did indeed give out a startlingly loud yell of happiness, cranked the engine and took off down the grassy track. 

I had never driven a car in daylight. It was going to take some getting used to. There was so much to see. All the colors, the people, places and things shooting by as I attempted to take it all in and still not scare too many other drivers as I wobbled back and forth across the road. Twice on the way to the Dublin Airport the police stopped me on suspicion of drunk driving. Fortunately, to borrow an old chestnut that fit very well, I was only intoxicated by life. After the second time though, I tried to sober down. That would be a fine how-do-you-do, have a car accident now and kill myself when I had finally been given a second chance at life.

I bounced up and down the entire time I was waiting for the plane. I would have done the same during the cross-Atlantic flight except they kept making me sit down. Finally the head stewardess asked me what in the world was going on. Well, I didn't think I could explain everything so I settled for telling her I was in a hurry to get back to someone I loved. She looked just a bit wistful. Even in my euphoria I noticed that she had a soft hand and a very attractive rear end, which she made a point of pressing against me more than once. Just a month ago I would have already been locked in one of the washrooms with her but things were different now. Besides, I had joined the mile-high club before WWII.

I finally got to Dulles International. I jumped in the waiting rental car and then hesitated. While every fiber in me urged me to go south as fast as the car and my CIA credentials would allow me, at the same time I wanted to appraise Robert of what had happened.

I temporized. Sitting in the rental parking lot I called his 24 hour number.

"What is it Bridget?" His groggy voice answered. Of course. It was 10 in the morning and he had probably been asleep for only an hour or two. I could almost see him shake the sleep from himself. "Is everything alright? Where are you calling from?"

"I'm back in D.C." I waffled. I wasn't sure how to spring my new condition on him. I knew I didn't want to do it on the phone. "I need to come see you, right now if possible."

Now he was really awake. "Of course, Bridget. I'm at home. You know where I live. But how will you get here?"

I didn't answer that question. I simply said, "I'll be there in an hour."

I parked the car in the complex garage and rode the elevator to the 14th floor. There were only four huge apartments on this level and I went to Robert's and knocked on the door. He must have been waiting because he opened the door immediately and shooed me in.

The black windows of reinforced glass were of course all closed. I almost made for one of the ones that led to the living room balcony. Now that I had the sun, I was jealous of losing even an hour of it.

"Now," Robert interrupted my thoughts. "What in the world couldn't wait?" Before I could answer he continued, "And what happened to you? Did you get too close to the stove or something. Your skin looks a bit pink."

"Probably sunburn," I replied without thinking. "Well, you know, there wasn't sunblock the last time I could stand in the daylight. So I think I can be forgiven for letting myself get a little cooked."

Robert snorted, "Sure, and I'm the last of the Stuart's and rightful heir to the British throne." Now that's serious with Robert. He may have been in the US for a century or so but he still reveres the Royal Family.

I walked to him and took his hand. His eyes widened, I'm sure from the warmth of my hand. Without giving him time to take it in, I lifted his fingers to my throat. He gasped as I pressed them to my pulse.

"Sunburn." I repeated.

Robert swayed and almost fell. "How?" he croaked.

I pulled him to the nearest couch and gave a summary of the events in Ireland. He regained his composure quickly. No one and nothing fazed Robert for long, at least in the 200 odd years I had known him.

"Wow, the doctors are going to have a field day with you Bridget. Its not often they get to examine a vampire brought back to life." Since then I have often wondered what Robert wasn't telling me. "Not often?" I didn't know it had ever happened.

Right then I didn't care. "Robert, I know they will and I know its part of my contract with the Agency to get poked and prodded every so often." I caught up his hand again. "But not now, not yet."

Robert smiled and touched my face. "But first you have to go South for a bit don't you?" He shook himself. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it all. I've got a lot of things to get going anyway. You're going to need a permanent identity now. After all, you're not going to be moving around every 20 or 25 years anymore. I need to get you a birth certificate and oh, speaking of that," he dashed for the room he kept as an office and emerged with a pad and pen, "Do you want to still be 'Bridget O'Brien'?"

"Robert!" Laughter bubbled up from me and I stopped his babbling with a quick kiss. I looked at him. My oldest friend. We had shared much since we had met, not the least of which was each other's beds throughout the years. It was just like him to leap with enthusiasm into helping me again. "Robert," I repeated. "That will all have to wait."

"Yes, of course," he replied, rather sheepishly. "You go on. I'll start drawing up the list of things I need to do and get cracking on them this evening." He set the pad and pen down and took me in his arms and hugged me. Then he kissed me, almost like a sister, albeit on the lips.

"Go on," he ordered. I did, closing the door behind me and pondering. Had I seen a trace of a tear in the corner of his eye? 

When I got to Jackson County I didn't stop and call anyone. I didn't stop at the Sheriff's Department, nor at the precinct where I knew Mikie worked. Instead, I drove straight to his apartment building. I sat in my car for minute after minute, debating just how I was going to tell him what had happened. Would it change things? Was he in love with ME, with Bridget the person, or was it just fascination with the mysterious other-worldly creature that I had been?

Still thinking that, I got out of the car and walked towards the front door. I didn't see either his squad car or his Ford Mustang. Without pausing I giggled. Well, at least now I could enjoy the fact it was a convertible.

I started to sit down on the step when I realized the door was slightly ajar. I froze. Mikie would never do that. I examined the door for signs of forced entry and didn't find any. I tried to remind myself that I was just as vulnerable as any other human now but I pushed on the door anyway. It silently opened and I stepped inside, moving quickly to the side to avoid being silhouetted in the doorway.

My eyes adjusted. It was dark in the apartment. I did see flickering light on one wall, apparently reflected from down the hallway. I peeked around the corner. The light was coming from the bedroom, the door there also just barely cracked. I tiptoed down the hallway, holding my breath. Even in the moment I marveled at having to actually breathe now.

I strained my ears. Nothing. Or was that breathing? Maybe that was mine. I wasn't used to having to hold my breath damnit, it was something else I had to grow accustomed to.

I shrugged. Ex-vampire or not, I had practiced martial arts since my visit to China in the mid 1600's. I managed to remember to take a deep breath to get oxygen into my lungs, threw open the door and sprang into the room.

I covered my mouth, smothering a cry. The flickering light came from candles. Dozens of them, all shapes and sizes, all over the room. They threw a beautiful illumination over the bed, shimmering off the pale silk sheets, reflecting from the silvery champagne bucket. And most of all, they lit the firm, muscular body of the man in front of me, his eyes shinning and his arms open.

I know I cried. But this time the tears were for nothing but happiness and relief and thanksgiving. I threw myself into Mike's arms, my face lifted to his and my mouth urgently seeking his.

When I could break the kiss that seemed to go on for hours, I pulled back just enough to look at him. "DAMN that Robert," I snuffled. "He set me up again."

Mike drew me to the bed. He sat on the edge, with me snuggled in his lap and my head on his chest. He tipped my head up and brushed the remaining tears from the corners of my eyes with a gentle thumb. "Shhhhh, don't cry Bridget. There will be happiness and sadness ahead of us, but tonight there is only you and I and the first night of the rest of our lives."

"Oh dear god, I love you Mike."

He kissed me again. Softly at first, then his lips pulled on mine. His tongue slipped inside my mouth and his arms tightened around me. By the time he lifted his lips from mine I was moaning from the power of that kiss. "I love you too Bridget." There was a teasing sparkle in his eyes and he added. "Now then, don't you think you're a little overdressed for this reunion?" I realized he was wearing only a pair of dark blue boxers and they were doing nothing to stifle the swelling I felt against my bottom.

Deliberately I wiggled my ass against him. He laughed and pushed me off his lap. "You've got until I get the champagne open, missy." 

I love a challenge. By the time the cork shot from the bottle and he poured two glasses I was standing by him in nothing but my panties. He winked and handed me a glass. "Good job, honey." We touched glasses and drank. He turned and refilled his glass. I shoved at him with both hands.

"Hey, I didn't come here to drink, although this is very good champagne."

"I know," Mike smiled. Then I was caught by his by his free arm and pulled down to the bed. Even as he held the glass up, ensuring he didn't spill a drop he pinned me on my back under him. I possibly could have escaped, but good lord, why would I have wanted to?

I was on my back with him pressed against me resting on his side. He kissed me again, a long deep kiss, full of passion and promise. Then he grinned at me again. Holding the glass over me he carefully tipped it.

"Oh God, Mike," I moaned as the chilled fluid trickled over my breasts. The careful splashes onto my nipples made them harden to diamond hard points. Rising over me, he slowly emptied the contents between my breasts and then down along my stomach. I lifted my hips just enough for to push my panties down my legs as the glass reached my mound and the already soaking hair of my pussy. Then he tossed the glass aside and straddled me. His head lowered and he began to lick the bubbles off my skin.

Slowly he worked down my body. His tongue started on one nipple and danced around and around my breast in circles. He moved to the other, repeating the tongue strokes and then gently sucking my small breast into his mouth. Drinking it clean he switched back to the first one and then plunged his face between my breasts.

Down he went, lapping the fluid from me. I could do nothing but lay there and moan under the ministrations of his mouth and tongue. He slowed to drink from my navel. My stomach muscles quivered and spasmed. Then he was between my legs and his tongue was snaking inside me and his hands caressed my thighs and held me up like a vessel for him to drink from. His tongue seemed to be everywhere, on my puffy lips, between them opening my slit, wiggling inside of me, then finally sliding over my clit.

I could stand no more. My body was on fire from head to toe. I reached down and caught his shoulders. I begged, I pleaded, I demanded. And then he was sliding up my body and I felt his weight on top of me. Now his mouth was locked onto mine and now his shorts were gone. Now he was thrusting inside me and now my legs were around him and now I was screaming and he was screaming with me. And now I was arching to him and now I felt his body tense and now he was flooding me and now I was cumming with him.

(The Present)

My oh my. Maybe I better not write that one down. I touched the book. The adventures in there were not children's fables as I had written them down. When I told parts of them to the younger children I skipped some very graphic descriptions.

It certainly was a good thing that we were both Catholic and that among the many other papers Robert came up for me were Baptismal and confirmation certificates, along with a letter from an Irish priest certifying Mike and I had undergone pre-marriage counseling. How Robert knew... but he did. The Department Chaplain, Father Cunningham, who had married Mike's parents, didn't even blink and within a week we were married. It was a good thing because, nine months and a week after that night, Michael Gibson the Third was born, to the great satisfaction of his parents, aunts, uncles, cousins and paternal grandparents. And Mike and I were off on an adventure that was more wonderful and exciting than any I ever wrote in my book or diaries.

My eyes blurred. Damn glasses. I wiped them off. I couldn't imagine how they got wet. I put them back on and focused on the picture over on the bookcase where Lori had placed it so I could always look at it. Oh Mike, sixty years weren't enough. Modern medicine has advanced so far, but even it couldn't stop the massive heart-attack that took you away from me without even a chance to say goodbye. These last few years have been the longest ones I've ever known. You better be waiting for me, buster.


Bridget's Days Ch. 01



I wondered if there was any mail. I know its all electronic now and the great-grandchildren think grammie is so peculiar because she prints it out. I looked at yesterday's. Well, my pension check had been deposited. I often wondered how they figured that. After all, I had started on the government payroll in 1861 with Allan Pinkerton. That's a LOT of years of government service.

I picked up the book and started flipping pages. Where was that story? Oh yes. Here we go.

(To Be Continued)



Bridget's Days Ch. 02



(Washington, D.C. 1862)

"Oh crap, crap, CRAP," I muttered under my breath as I saw the hooded figures pass the alleyway where I was precariously balanced on a stack of wooden crates. I redoubled my efforts with the pick head I was using to chip the cement from around a pair of steel bars.

"What is it?" replied a soft Southern voice from inside the tiny room I was trying to open.

"They're here. They're here now." I said. "I thought we had more time." I put the pick aside, its tip blunted from hammering the stone window frame and grasped the two bars in my hands. "Stand back." I exerted my stronger than human strength. The time for subtlety was gone.

In the back of my mind I thought, "This is a fine mess you've got yourself in Bridget. An agent of Allan Pinkerton's Secret Service and a trusted one at that, breaking a notorious female Rebel spy out of jail. Well, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

This had all started prior to the war. I had been living, so to speak, in Chicago for several years, having moved from Charleston in South Carolina when it once again had become a little too obvious to acquaintances that I didn't seem to be getting any older. I had made that move many times before and was certain I would do it again. With the increasing tensions between the areas of the country, I expected by the time I ran into anyone who knew me, well, they'd be too old to remember me.

Once there I looked for a job. I didn't need the money, having carefully invested the proceeds from a large number of jewels that unexpectedly had come into my possession about 70 years prior. However I could only lay around so long, snacking on the occasional salesperson and reading lurid romances. I guess it was my upbringing. Mother and Father taught me to work. Some lessons aren't forgotten even after 250 years.

However since I didn't HAVE to work, I was able to look around for something that fit my wants and needs. Something exciting, interesting and most importantly, something that could be done at night. I was amazed that I found it. Allan Pinkerton had an amazingly advanced opinion of the capabilities of females and hesitated not at all in hiring me. Nor did he have a problem with my desire to be a nocturnal detective. In fact he told me that he preferred that, he had plenty of daylight operatives.

One line of questioning that he pursued in great depth had to do with my having lived in Charleston and before that in Savannah (although I certainly didn't tell him just how long I had been there). He wanted to know where my loyalties were and I was able to reassure him that as an immigrant from Ireland I owed my allegiance to the Federal government. He was very intrigued as to my ability to speak with an upper class Southern accent.

I worked in the capacity of a private detective until the events of January 1861. One night I was ordered to report to a certain passenger rail car. I was also instructed to come armed, something I generally did not do. Clutching my Navy Colt, which I had never actually fired, I became one of the agents who surrounded president-elect Lincoln as Allan brought him safely past the attempted assassination in Baltimore.

Following this, I was one of the agents who followed Allan into his new position as President Lincoln's personal intelligence chief. When the war broke out arrangements were made to smuggle me into Richmond, along with a considerable sum of money and enough dresses and accessories to allow me to masquerade as a Southern woman of independent means. 

I didn't go crawling through tunnels and sneak into the Confederate Headquarters to steal secret documents. I attended and hosted parties. I danced and batted my eyes and stared dreamily at various Southern officers. I held supper parties and listened to women talk about their husbands or boyfriends, or sometimes both. I kept the information in my head, writing it down only when I sent a report to Allan via the channels he had arranged.

Generally I found that although they were every bit as hot-blooded as I had known them before, most of the officers were susceptible to a kiss and a caress. After all, they were fighting for Southern Womanhood to begin with. I actually was getting a bit frustrated when I couldn't get any of them to do more than daringly brush a hand over my breast. I was taking care of my other needs by slipping around the city late at night, careful to never visit the same place twice, nor to take too much blood from any one person. But damn, I was getting horny.

Then I met someone my match. He was a ship captain, a dashing rake of a man. He was dark and handsome, if not tall enough to satisfy the requirement for the third factor in the old prophecy. He was suave and his interest went far beyond a kiss or a casual touch.

The friends I had made warned me that I should be careful, that he would pursue me and even, they shuddered, attempt to debauch me. Well about time I could tell you that! I needed a good debauching. Female vampires do not live, so to speak, by blood alone.

Now I certainly led him a merry chase. Several nights he thought he had me cornered but I slipped away. Finally, one night after a particularly successful party I "inadvertently" dismissed the hired help and found myself alone with him.

He strolled out of the drawing room with two glasses and a bottle of port. He extended one glass to me.

"A taste before, Mistress Smith?" If "Smith" sounds absurd, I couldn't go by "O'Brien" and move in society circles. The Irish were SO not acceptable.

"Before what, Captain Butler?" I inquired. My tone was innocent but I knew the devilish amusement that flashed in his eyes was matched by mine. I sipped the wine. Good port. 

As I placed the glass on the end table he came up behind me. His arms slipped around my waist and his lips nuzzled the side of my neck. For just a moment the thought flashed through my mind, "Could he be?" The common sense took over. I had heard enough to know he wasn't a vampire.

"Why Captain Butler." I purred, reaching behind me to where the front of his trousers strained against me. My nimble fingers began to free him as I continued, "This seems so sudden." His hands rose to pluck the shawl from my shoulders. Since my long dress was both strapless and sleeveless, the downward motion of his hands pushed my dress top down to my waist. He took my breasts in his hands and squeezed them. I gasped and responded by pulling his cock free.

"Oh perhaps I am too forward, Mistress Smith," he replied. One hand pressed me forward over the edge of the table. The other hoisted my flowing skirts up, bunching my dress around my waist. In defiance of fashion, I had neither innumerable petticoats nor pantaloons under my dress. "I would hate to think that you consider me hasty in my actions." He emphasized his last point by leaning against me, the length of his cock filling the cleft of my ass.

"I am sure the thought never would cross my mind to consider you 'hasty', my dear captain." I answered him as I grasped the far side of the table. I stood on my toes, bowing my back and presenting myself to him. He moved back slightly, until the head of his cock slipped over my dark hole, causing me to gasp deeply, and then it slid along my pussy. "Indeed," I managed to say between clenched teeth as he rubbed the head back and forth in my wetness. "I would hope that 'hasty' is anything but what you have in mind."

"Certainly, my dear lady." I moaned deep in my throat as the thoroughly wet tip of his shaft slipped back to my ass. "In fact, I plan to take all the time to properly express my appreciation at your hospitality that you would desire." His hips pinned mine against the table. I felt my anal ring slowly giving way as his weight opened me until, with a satisfied grunt, his cock head slid inside my ass.

"Mmmm, Captain, I feel your thanks." I gave a louder moan as he proceeded to fill me with the remainder of his cock. "In fact, I feel them quite deeply." 

"I do so want to please." He grasped my hips and with a gentle rocking motion commenced to fuck me. His hand reached around and slid down my belly and between my legs. One finger dipped inside me while his thumb found my clit. His other hand rested on the nape of my neck, gently massaging it as his thrusts began to pick up speed. I felt his groin slap against my ass cheeks as he buried himself in me. He withdrew until the head was straining at my ring. Then he drove deep back into me.

All the motions combined. His finger inside my pussy, his thumb rubbing faster and faster on my hard clit, even the motion on his fingers on my neck as he held me steady, all those complimented the building sensations his cock was stirring. I closed my eyes as I felt him groan and swell in my ass, stretching me even further. The hot spurt of cum in my ass was matched by the nectar I released onto his hand as we shared an orgasm.

"Mmmm," I laughed as I felt him pull out from me. "Captain, I must bow to the power of your thanks." I turned and made a mock curtsey. Since my dress was still gathered at my waist I'm sure it looked ridiculous. "Perhaps we could continue this upstairs in a more suitable position?"

I was immediately alarmed when he smiled at neither my curtsey nor at my suggestion. He shook his head. "I'm afraid, Mistress 'Smith'," and I could hear the quotes around the name I was using, "That it would be a good idea for us to skip that, although," and he smiled happily, "I will regret losing the opportunity to know you better." He became serious again.

"The fact is, dear lady, that certain elements of the government have been taking a great deal of interest in you lately. I don't think they have arrived at any firm conclusions, but that may only be a matter of time. I suggest that you go, and go now." When I visibly hesitated, he added, "I am not trying to stampede you into revealing yourself. I'm already quite certain that you are a member of the Union Secret Service. I have no intentions of turning you in."

I sensed the truth in his words. I scampered into a back room and emerged in a few minutes dressed in male clothing. I unlocked a hidden drawer, pulling my final reports and stuffing them inside my shirt.

"Why, Captain? Why risk yourself for me?"

"Because, my dear lady, I know that the South cannot win this war. Her sons are brave and determined, but the overwhelming numbers and industrial might of the North will prevail. Perhaps when it is all over I will need a friend. Besides," his face lit in a roughish grin, "You are too lovely to be decorating a gibbet."

Suddenly there were noises out front. "Hasten," he commanded. "Out the back. I will delay them." I took one precious moment and kissed him. Then I was out and running into the darkness behind the house.

I made it safely to the Union lines. I knew any pursuit would expect me to go North to the Army of the Potomac. Instead I slipped away to the east and the Army of the James. My identity confirmed by telegraph, I returned to the Capitol. Allan debriefed me and immediately handed me another assignment.

"Bridget, high society here is riddled with Southern sympathizers. I want you to pose again as a Southern Belle. Just keep your eyes and ears open and note who expresses Secessionist opinions. Most of them are just talkers, but we're concerned about an underground organization called 'The Knights of the Golden Circle'. We suspect they are aiding Southern agents and still plotting the assassination of the President and other key officials. I also suspect it was through their actions that you were identified in Richmond."

I returned to the drudgery of fancy balls and dinner parties. I flirted. I listened. I danced and I drank champagne. I did as Allan instructed and took mental notes on who seemed to be merely shooting their mouths off and those who had determination in their faces.

One man I wasn't sure of. He seemed openly a Southerner in his remarks but I didn't catch actual hatred or willingness to act in his comments. Knowing we were short-handed to watch everyone I elected to report him as a sympathizer only. How I could have changed history if I had looked deeper. His name was John Wilkes Booth.

However in my own defense I was intent on bigger game. I had heard whispers of who might be actual agents of the Rebel Government. In particular my suspicions centered on a woman named Belle Boyd. She moved as I had in Richmond, listening far more than talking. I sensed a quick and decisive mind behind the facade of being a vacuous woman.

I was reasonably sure I wasn't fooling her either. Behind smiles and faces hidden by more than hand fans, we dueled with each other in drawing rooms, libraries and dining rooms. Finally one night I walked, unannounced and uninvited, into a meeting she was attending with several upper members of the Knights.

"Good evening. gentlemen," I nodded at the men and turned my attention to Belle. "Good evening Mistress Boyd."

"Good evening, Mistress Hamilton," she replied. Then demonstrating she was well aware of who I actually was, she added "Or should I be formal and address you as Agent O'Brien?"

"Actually, 'Bridget' will do nicely. Now then." I surveyed the room. Hands were slipping into jacket pockets and bodies were tensing, except for Belle, who remained cool and watchful. "It is my duty to inform you that all of you are under arrest."

One of the men laughed harshly and pulled a pepper-box pistol from his coat pocket. "You're a fool. This house is surrounded by men loyal to the Cause and you walk in here alone?"

Windows crashed open. The men spun to face a squad of leveled rifles. The door burst open and Allan himself entered, along with several Army officers. "Actually," Allan pointed out dryly, "She brought an entire troop of cavalry."

The men were hustled out. Allan faced Belle and removed his hat. "Mistress Boyd, I assure you no harm will come to you. You will be held until you can be returned to Richmond, by which time I expect the information you have gathered will be quite stale and useless."

She curtsied in reply. "Thank you, Mister Pinkerton." She turned her attention to me and smiled. "And thank you, Bridget, for your opposition. I trust you will not be offended when I tell you that without you, I would never have been caught,"

"Allow me to return the compliment, Belle. If you had been in Richmond I would have taken the first opportunity to skip town."

The Knights went to a military run prison camp. Belle was placed into a small, but comfortably furnished jail cell, to be held until her exchange could be worked out. I formed the habit of dropping by most evenings to visit with her. I was happy to discover she bore me as little animosity as I bore her. Our positions could have easily been reversed. Although we both believed in our causes, part of the reason we did what we did was the thrill of being women succeeding in what was considered a man's world. I respected her and liked her, and felt those feelings were returned.

One evening I was late. As I hurried in Belle rose from the chair in her cell and smiled. The smile faded when she saw the look on my face.

"What is it Bridget?"

"Belle, I've gathered some very upsetting rumors. It seems someone is not in favor of you being simply released back to your lines. I honestly don't know if its Union fanatics, or disappointed Knights, or hell, a combination of both. But I'm worried your life is in danger." I hesitated. "Belle, I want your word on something."

"If its honorable," she replied. I motioned her to the cell door. Casually I laid my hand on the bars. As quick-witted as she was, she instantly placed her hand on mine. Not by any sound nor sign did she reveal I had passed her a derringer.

"I want your promise you will use this only in self-defense, not to escape."

"I promise Bridget."

"I'll be back soon. I need to see Allan and tell him what's going on." I hastily left. It wasn't two hours later I was standing on that pile of boxes in the alley.

"Pssssttt, Belle." I whispered.

"Bridget!" Her face appeared in the barred window. "Bridget, something is really wrong. The guards are gone. I think the building is deserted."

I nodded grimly. "Allan is out of town. People aren't talking to me. I think this runs deep. I looked out front and it appears the front of the building is being watched. I have no idea if I have this authority but I'm placing you in my custody. I'm going to get you out of here, but once again, I ask you to promise not to escape."

"I promise," was all she said, but I knew I could trust those words better than sworn oaths. 

"Get down from the window." I began to chip away at the stone holding the bars. I had considered trying to take out the watchers but the odds weren't good and I still couldn't swear they were the bad guys. 

I froze when I saw the group slinking down the street. Anyone wearing hoods is up to no good and a coward to boot. The instant they disappeared I grasped the two bars I had loosened and pulled. They came free. Unfortunately I pulled too hard and the boxes went out from under me, dumping me to the street with a loud crash.

"Fuck!" I cursed. "Belle, come on!" She leaped to the opening and wiggled through. I heard yelling from inside the jail. I grasped her hand and pulled her as we ran down the alleyway, away from the gang I hoped.

I hoped wrong. Several figures sprang out as we neared the end of the alley. Most of them scattered when I fired the shotgun I had brought along. Three didn't. I threw two of them over the fence. The third one had brought a shotgun of his own. With a scream of rage he pointed it at Belle. Frantically, I sprang in front of her as it went off. I staggered and fell. Of course it couldn't kill me, but it hurt like hell and threw me off balance. Then I heard the click of the other hammer being pulled back. He wavered just for a moment, uncertain who to shoot. A sharp crack settled the matter as Belle fired the derringer point blank.

As the man fell, she grasped me under the arms. "Oh GOD, Bridget. Why did you do that?"

"Never mind," I grunted. "Run, damnit." I rose to my feet, grasped her hand again and we took off. Ten minutes later I closed and locked a door behind us and lit a lantern. Its light showed we were in a small, windowless apartment. The furnishing were simple, a table and chairs, a bed and a sideboard with glasses and a pitcher on water on it.

"We're safe here," I assured Belle. "Nobody, but NOBODY knows about this place. Its my..."

"Lair?"

"What are you talking about Belle?"

"Bridget, I'm not a fool. I saw you throw two grown men through the air like dolls." She nodded at the front of the shirt I was wearing. "And you can claim that guy missed you, but he didn't. You should be dead in that alleyway, but you're not."

The silence stretched out for long minutes. Finally, taking a deep breath I faced Belle. "I'm not dead back in that alleyway because I've been dead for nearly three hundred years already." I noted the derringer in her hand. As frightened as I knew she must be, her hand shook not at all. "If I meant you harm Belle, do you think that pistol ball would stop me? I just took an entire load of buckshot at point-blank range."

"Pretty lively for a dead woman." Belle lowered the pistol and placed it on the sideboard.

"Well, the official term is 'Undead' I believe." My face slipped for a moment. "I'm a vampire."

Belle nodded. "I can see I will have to revise my opinion of the species. Take that shirt off," she ordered me. I looked at her in surprise. "Regardless of whether that gunshot could kill you or not, its obvious that it hurt you. We need to clean you up and maybe get the shot out of you."

I took off the remnants of my shirt and held my arms up. For the next few minutes Belle gently cleaned the powder burns and lodged cloth remnants from me. We talked. I told her some of my life history and she told me hers. She decided not to probe for the balls from the shotgun, once I had explained my body would treat them like splinters and eventually simply push them to the surface. 




Bridget's Days Ch. 02



When we were finished, I noticed that Belle's hands had begun to shake slightly. I turned away from her. "Belle, you don't need to be afraid. I promise you are completely safe from me."

Belle placed her hand on my shoulder and turned me around. "No Bridget, I'm not afraid of you. I'm not trembling because of fear." She put her hands on my shoulders. She took two slow, short steps until her eyes were looking into mine from a distance of inches. Then her hands moved down. My eyes widened with the surprise a gasp when those hands covered my bare breasts. "I'm trembling for another reason." With that, she kissed me.

I closed my eyes as I felt her soft lips on mine. She ran her tongue over my lips as they parted for her. Her fingers caressed my breasts, gently stroking my rapidly stiffening nipples. Her hands were soft, comforting, exciting me as only another woman can.

Her tongue tip darted between my lips. Her hands left my breasts for a moment and I moaned with dismay. There was a rustle of cloth and then two hard points touched mine. My eyes opened. Belle's dress pooled at her feet. She wore only silk pantaloons. Above the waist she was nude. Her full, firm breasts pressed against mine, our nipples now jammed against one another's. Her tongue snaked deeply into my mouth, twirling with mine.

My hands touched her hips. Irresistibly my palms covered her bottom, rubbing the fine silk against her ass cheeks. Her arms were around me and she gasped as she pulled me tightly against her body. Her hands roamed as wildly over my back as her tongue did in my mouth.

Belle took two steps back to the bed. She broke our kiss and dragged her tongue down my throat and between my breasts. Holding me upright, she sat on the bed, her lips on my belly. Her hands fumbled at the men's trousers I had worn that night. She pushed them down my hips.

"Naughty, naughty Bridget," she mock scolded me. "You have nothing on under these pants. What if the material scratched something precious?"

I tried to reply. I couldn't. For without a further pause her head dipped between my legs and her tongue ran the length of my wet slit. All I could do was murmur her name over and over and touch her head. She lapped my pussy, her tongue sliding up and down in quick repeated strokes. Then she changed her motion, rolling her tongue and darting it inside my vagina.

For someone who didn't need to breath I was gasping in loud pants. My hand was on the back of her head, urging her on. I looked down to see she had slipped off her pantaloons and one hand was busy between her own legs, furiously rubbing herself. I raised myself on my toes, rocking back and forth onto her stabbing tongue. I stiffened. The first spasm ran through my body.

Belle sensed my build. Her legs splayed and she plunged her fingers inside herself, her thumb blurring on her clit. Her head raised ever so slightly and her lips found my own stiff nubbin and captured it A squeeze of her lips and I fell over the edge, flooding her face with a muffled cry of delight. She cried out herself, her mouth closing over me and drinking me as she bounced up and down on the bed in her own release.

We stayed in the room for 48 hours, sleeping in each other's arms. I woke her the first time with my head between her legs. The second time I woke to find her on top of me, with her strong legs already driving herself against me.

At dusk on the second day I slipped out of the building. I discovered Allan had returned and was cleaning up the remnants of the attempted murder. I was indeed correct, it had been a twisted alliance of Unionist and Southerners, the former determined to exact "vengeance" for some reason or other, and the latter trying to create a martyr to rally foreign support against a nation so lost to civility as to murder a female already promised her freedom.

Belle went back to the South a week after we showed up in Allan's office. We had nothing more than one fleeting moment together and we never saw each other again. But I've never forgotten her.

Three nights after Belle's departure I was back in Allan's office. He was talking to a well-built man of medium height who's back was turned to me. 

"Bridget O'Brien, please meet Robert Dale." The man turned and offered me his hand. Hidden from Allan's view, his right eye dropped in a massive wink."

"How nice, Mister...Dale was it?" I replied with a straight face, which was harder to keep than usual as he pursed his lips and blew me a kiss.

"Yes," filled in Allan, who did not seem to have any idea of the undercurrents in the office. "I'd like you two to work together. I think you'll be a good match."

"I'm sure we will," we both replied almost together. Robert offered me his arm and we took out leave.

As we went down the hallway, I glanced at Robert. He was looking at me with that little smile on his face. I punched him.

"What was THAT?"

"You know perfectly well why. You're thinking of the last time you saw me about 40 years ago."

He sighed. "And you were lovely then too. Of course," he continued thoughtfully, "You were naked and in bed at the time too."

(To Be Continued)

(Historical Note: Bridget's actions and adventures in this chapter are based on the exploits of Kate Warne, one of Allan Pinkerton's most trusted and valuable agents. She did indeed act as one of Lincoln's bodyguards, worked undercover in both Virginia and Tennessee, and also served as a counter-spy in Washington. There is no evidence that she actually crossed paths with Belle Boyd, but she did indeed meet John Wilkes Booth. She is a little-known but fascinating woman.)



Bridget's Days Ch. 03



(Cadiz, Spain, 1805) 

In today's movies, and in the romantic tales before them running all the way back to Homer, the hero or heroine never spends hours in the dripping rain. Cold, wet and miserable are simply glossed over in favor of thrills and romance. Just because I'm a vampire doesn't mean I WANT to be out in the cold and damp instead of toasting in front of a nice, warm fire with my feet up. I pulled my cloak closer around me, waiting for whoever, or whatever was going to show up for this little assignation I was waiting for.

I had been lurking in the shadows of the wharfs of this old port city for months now. Life had not been completely uncomfortable during my wait. Months before, I had found an old deserted pier with a ramshackle warehouse that was secure enough for me to use as a base of operations as well as a refuge from the sun. The docks alone held such a transit and busy population that I could feed as needed without having to take undue risks or worry about seriously harming anyone.

So why was I stuck here, now, tonight? Well, that was a long story. Following the encounter I had with a sadistic, insane Countess I had fled Paris. When the revolution broke out, I kept a close eye on it. Originally I was sympathetic. What I had observed over the years of the political and economic situation in France, all I could think about was "it was about damn time". Besides, I'm Irish. Rebellion lurks in our hearts.

When "The Terror" commenced in Paris I changed my mind. No matter what the ruling classes of France had done, and I had enough personal experience to know how corrupted they were, they didn't deserve what happened to them. Nor did the innumerable common folk who were swept up and sent to their deaths on nothing more than secret accusations. 

By the time Robespierre went to the guillotine, I had already made arrangements to get out of France into Spain. Of course eventually the French army caught up to me again when they occupied Spain. A few years later Napoleon even named his brother King. Must be nice. Of course I've outlived pretty much any monarch I've ever seen. Its better now, but at one time it was a pretty unsafe profession.

I had been making plans to get to America, but the outbreak of the continent wide war stifled any chance of that. Even when the French were masters of Europe, the English fleet's blockade kept their ships in port. An occasional blockade runner might slip back and forth to the West Indies and other locations, but I didn't intend to take the chance of being dragged on deck on a beautiful sunny day for inspection as contraband. So I settled down to wait things out, slowly moving farther south until I reached my present location.

I'm Irish, Irish to the core of my soul. I had been raised to consider the English as brutal invaders of my beloved country, bent only on the subjugation of my race and the extermination of my religion. Well, I hadn't found the Catholic countries any more tolerant. I'd seen too many people butchered in the name of God and his son. I still prayed for the freedom of my homeland, but I no longer hated England. In fact, the more I saw of first the Directorate and then the Empire, the more I felt my sympathy lean towards Britain.

How and where I must have given this away I don't know to this day. Obviously I had though, because one rainy evening I discovered a note had been tucked into my cloak when I left a tavern I frequented. I did like Spanish brandy.

For once in my "life" I had been coming as a customer rather than as an employee to a tavern. I had cut my hair shorter and was dressing as a male, something I did frequently over the centuries. My breasts aren't very big, but I am endowed enough that I strapped them flat. I'm not equipped to grow a beard so I was passing as a young fisherman or dockworker using the name of "Brian". Inwardly I was amused to find that this passing didn't cut down in the slightest the number of sexual offers I was receiving. Apparently cute boys were in great demand with a certain percentage of the sailors. One ship's captain was so enamored of me as a young man he offered me a sizable bonus to ship aboard his next voyage. The sizable bonus he pressed against my ass was rather tempting too. However I wasn't sure he would react happily to the discovery I was a female. Once again, it was not something I was willing to risk.

Sometime I must have blurted something that a British agent overheard. That evening when I took off my cloak in my hidden quarters my hand found a folded piece of paper. Wondering if it was another offer from Captain Ramirez, I opened it.

The first surprise was that it was written in English rather than Spanish. The second was its contents. It read: "I know who, and what you are. I propose you meet me on the southernmost wharf at midnight on Saturday night."

Well THAT got my attention alright. I was sorely tempted to see if Captain Ramirez was indeed willing to pay a cabin boy as much as he had offered, which offer included the feather bed in his quarters. If the note was serious, if someone really knew "what" I was, than Spain was not the place I wanted to be. They had lots of experience burning humans at the stake, much less vampires.

For some reason though, I was more intrigued than worried. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because the note didn't sound threatening. There was no "or else". Call me curious. When you live forever you tend to seize on unusual incidents. It breaks the monotony. So that Saturday night I was lurking where an old grounded hulk threw shadows over the splintered lumber of an abandoned dock, secure in the knowledge no one could sneak up on me.

I do so get tired of being wrong about those things. A firm touch on my right shoulder almost sent me out of my skin. I cast off my cloak in preparation for a fight. My preternatural night vision revealed one figure. As startled as I was, my fangs dropped and my eyes glowed as I shed my human appearance.

"Oh stop hissing at me like that," a calm male voice with an English accent remarked. "I can do that too if I want. As far as I can sense, no one else is watching but let's not be too obvious as to exactly who you are, Bridget O'Brien. I don't see you wanting to be the guest of honor at an auto-da-fe."

"Who, I mean, what," I hate stammering, but I had been caught completely off guard. I tried to pull myself together. I took a deep breath. I know its unnecessary, but the psychological influence of doing that is even calming to the undead. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I am Robert, Roberto if you want to remain in character. And what I want is you. Come on." He turned and glided away.

I shook my head, breaking the paralysis that gripped me. I scurried down the dock after him, following him. After catching up to him, I walked by his side without any additional discussion. We wound our ways through the old streets until we reached a non-descript inn. Passing through the common room without stopping we mounted the stair on the wall and finally emerged in a well-appointed and comfortable room.

Robert tossed his cloak on a chair. He walked to a sideboard and returned with two glasses and a bottle. "I understand you like brandy." He half-filled the glasses and handed me one. "Please, sit down," he invited as he returned the bottle to its place and settled himself on a couch, warming the brandy with the friction of his hands.

I swirled the liqueur in my own glass, enjoying the aroma before I took a sip. I took the opportunity to study my new companion over the rim of the glass. He was over six feet, much taller than most men of that period were. His fashionable dress did nothing to hide the fact that he was well-muscled and his movements hinted at speed and strength. Of course, if he was indeed what he claimed to be, like me, he would be fast and strong beyond human abilities.

"Very good," I tried to be casual as I took a second sip of my drink.

"The brandy? or me?" Robert leaned back, obviously well aware of my scrutiny.

"Both actually." I was determined to be as relaxed as he was. Then I gave in. "Okay, so I'm a little too volatile to make clever repartee. As nice as all this, including you, is, I would like to know what is going on."

He sighed. "Your first two hundred years haven't taught you patience it seems. Oh well, hopefully you will learn it eventually. I was much too headstrong and rash when I was that young myself."

I was tempted to give him the "I don't know what you're talking about" speech. To Hell with it. Verbal fencing was something I enjoyed at times but right now I wanted to cut to the chase. "That's great. I'm sure you were really something at that young age. Now then, assuming that we are alone here, and I don't smell any humans, lets be frank. I'm a vampire, you're a vampire and what do you want?"

"I already told you," he returned impatiently. "I want YOU. Not sexually," he raised his hand to cut off any rejoinder I was about to make, "But as a fellow agent for the British crown. Now before you protest how much you hate England, I know better. You might not love it, but you know that Ireland under English rule, as bad as I must acknowledge that is has been at times, is better off than it would be under the Corsican."

I shrugged, acknowledging his point without agreeing with it. "And if I don't? What happens then?"

"Nothing." He returned my surprised look with one of his own. "Do you expect consequences? Why? I don't expect you to go to authorities you don't care for and turn me in as an English spy. Forcing you is hardly an option. You'd simply slip away one night."

"Well then, what's in it for me? I really don't need money, although I have no objections to getting paid."

Robert stood up and walked up to me. "How about something exciting, something adventurous, to pass the time? Something that needs doing? And how about I add the promise of a safe passage to America aboard a British warship at the end of this war?" He grinned at my surprise. "I've been watching you for sometime Bridget. I know that's where you want to go. I know quite a lot about you."

"Oh, what the hell. Why not?"

"I cannot tell you of the thrill I receive at your excitement. My heart could almost beat at the fervor, the passion, you demonstrate."

I rolled my eyes. I was to learn that Robert often talked like that. Eventually I was to finally decide that he did it just to drive me up a wall. Nothing like starting a two hundred year habit off right.

"So what is it you want me to do?" I inquired. Then, as a vagrant thought struck me, "And what do you mean you don't want me sexually?"

"I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. That's all. Listen to the gossip about shipping and blockade runners. Listen to the officers and the crewman from the Spanish ships. Back in April I received word the French fleet had sortied from Toulon. Sooner or later they are going to try to meet with the Spanish fleet. It may be here. I want to know all about that. I can get information to the inshore British frigate watching the harbor and it can get word to Lord Nelson."

He turned away and walked back to the sideboard. "As for your undoubtable sexual charms, I'm attracted to women only, 'Brian'. If you're going to continue to pass as a cabin boy than you need to stick with ass buggerers." He turned around. "You look like a fish, your mouth is opening and closing but no words are coming out. Your fangs are showing too. And not just the ones we have."

I closed my mouth, which had indeed been flapping in the breeze while I struggled for a crushing reply. That reply, of course, occurred to me about 5 weeks later, by which time it was pretty useless. Instead, I hammered out an agreement with him on how to contact him and how I was going to get paid. He gave probably more than he intended, being, I suspected, a bit embarrassed by his remarks. 

I snooped, I pried. I sat on Captain Ramirez's lap, wiggled some and still managed to escape being bent over the chests in his cabin. He had recently moved ashore and received a promotion. He was now in charge of arranging for the resupplying of ships. That didn't keep him too busy. I was able to pick up a lot of information and pass it to Robert. 

The climax began one evening I woke up to discover the harbor was full of ships. The combined French and Spanish fleet had anchored. I was sure Robert was able to see that himself so I didn't rush to him with the information. Instead I worked my usual haunts. I gathered what I could from the crowds of sailors before I slipped away to Robert's rooms.

"What do you have, Bridget?"

"The fleet is in sorry condition, Robert. The ships have suffered a lot of storm damage from their trek to the West Indies and then to the Channel. The crews are riddled with sickness. Even with this last voyage, Admiral Villeneuve is aware the state of training is very poor and his ships are no match for the British fleet. Still, from what I understand, he would give battle if cornered. He would have no choice. Napoleon apparently believes he can win a sea battle."

Robert snorted. "Thank you Bridget. Keep watching. And be careful."

The night of October 20th was the breaking point. Too absorbed in gathering information, I allowed myself to end up alone with Captain Ramirez. I had been plying him with wine in an attempt to loosen his tongue. He had been plying me with brandy in an attempt to loosen my britches. Tipsy or not, when I made one more attempt to avoid him, he turned angry.

"You cock teaser. I've had enough of your ways. You've been leading me on for months. Well, tonight I will have that little ass of yours." He back-handed me across the face, with a force and now unsuppressed lust that even stunned me for an instant. Then he was on me, attempting to tear off my clothes and free himself from his britches. He shoved his raging cock between my ass cheeks and ground it savagely against me, meanwhile pounding my head against the wall and grunting incoherently.

I almost, almost, gave in. I've never been a prick tease and I HAD really come on to him a lot. But the final line is; I don't like being raped. It angers me. And at a certain point, my anger overcomes me. I lost control of myself.

With one thrust of my arms I threw him across the room. I should have fled then. But I was overcome with rage and I launched myself on him in full vampire fury. He didn't even have time to scream before I had sunk my fangs in his neck. Before I could regain the slightest semblance of self control, he was dead.

I didn't often kill, not like that. Over 400 years of unlife, I killed more than I want to remember, but generally I didn't take pleasure in it. Under other circumstances, I might have let the guilt wash over me and paralyze my actions. Tonight I couldn't afford that luxury. I scampered to get Ramirez's body covered and the floor cleaned up. Before I lowered his body through the window I went to darken the room. My eyes fell on the papers on his desk and I rapidly read through them before snuffing the lanterns.

After winding a handy piece of chain-shot around the body and then dropping it off the end of a quiet pier, I hurried to Robert's. I knocked frantically on the door until he opened it, allowing me to stagger inside.

"Villeneuve is planning to sortie in the morning," I quickly gasped out what had happened that night and what I had read in the papers on the desk.

"Are you sure?" When I nodded, he continued. "Stay here. They may be looking for you. I trust you were careful coming here." He snatched a cloak from a hook and wrapped himself in it. "I have to go out. If someone does come looking for you, hide here." He showed me a tiny secret room behind the fireplace. He paused for a moment and suddenly squeezed my shoulder. "I'll be back." Then he was gone.

I stood in the room for uncounted minutes, my mind attempting to keep itself blank. Finally I moved to fire up the stove and heat water for a bath. I stripped and washed myself, carefully cleansing my body, paying particular attention to my face and hands. Finished, I dried myself off. I didn't want to put my old outfit back on, and a quick search of Robert's closets failed to produce any woman's clothing. I finally pulled a long-sleeved silk shirt over my head and tugged it down. Given Robert's height, it sufficed to cover the parts of me that needed covering.

Morning had almost arrived before he returned. I had sat looking at the dead ashes in the fireplace since my bath. I held a glass of brandy in my hands. He sat next to me on the couch, not speaking at first.

"That won't solve anything Bridget." he finally said quietly.

"Oh, I know. This is still the first glass I poured myself. I thought about getting drunk, really drunk, but I decided that would lessen the guilt I feel and I don't want that."

"What guilt?" Robert looked at me with an expression that combined sympathy and exasperation.

"Robert, I KILLED him. Deliberately. I was so filled with rage that all I wanted to do was rip his throat out. I can't even hide behind the fact that I was hungry. I just wanted him dead. Feeding was an unconscious afterthought."

"So what? Bridget, he tried to rape you."

"But I led him on. I gave him unspoken but implied hints that I wanted to have sex with him. And I might have except for the fact he thought I was a young man. I enticed him and then I turned him down. I deserved to have been raped."

Robert uttered a deep, very pungent comment. I sat up in surprise. "You didn't 'deserve' to be raped, be it as Brian or Bridget. You were foolish, perhaps, to put yourself in that position, but when a maid or a young man says 'NO', then the answer is 'no'. I realize you may have led him on but that doesn't change the fact that he attacked you and you defended yourself."

I heard Robert's words and understood them. But that was only a part of what troubled me. I faced Robert.

"Its not just that. From the night I awoke in that tomb after the change I have struggled to control myself. Damnit, I'm still ME, Bridget the daughter of Michael and Mary O'Brien. Or at least I want to be. I'm terrified that I'll become what all the legends describe us as, a cold-blooded killer, indifferent to the sufferings I cause. I've lost myself in vengeance before." I could not stop the tears that burst forth as I recalled the killing of Ramirez. "I don't want to be a murderer."

Robert's arms were around me and he gently rocked me. "Bridget, I understand." When I had cried myself out, he stroked my hair and continued. "Bridget, I've been a vampire for 500 years. Sometimes I've killed. I am capable of it and so are you. You are a killer, but," he shushed my protests, "You are not a murderer. Killing in defense of yourself or someone else is not murder.' He tipped my face up and kissed me, very gently. "Now," he slipped out of my arms and helped me stretch out on the couch, "Go to sleep." He covered me and kissed me again, on the cheek this time.

When I awoke, it was dark again. Robert was at the table, his head bowed over a pile of papers. He must have sensed my stirring, for he turned around and looked at me. He rose and left the room, returning with a cup of steaming tea.

"You look rather pleased with yourself."

"Its been a very good day," he replied. "Lord Nelson destroyed the combined French and Spanish fleets. The ships that were not taken have fled into the harbor here. There will no longer be a threat of invasion for Britain itself."

"Well, I'd say that sounds like a good thing." I accepted the tea and rose from the couch, discarding the blanket I had been sleeping under as I walked to the sideboard. I proceeded to spike the tea with a generous dollop of brandy and downed it in one gulp. I turned as I heard Robert laugh.




Bridget's Days Ch. 03



"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"I'm sorry. But with your legs showing under that shirt, for the first time you really look like a woman."

"Well, I'm glad you think so. And if I might add, its about time." I walked in front of him. In one motion I caught the hem of the shirt and pulled it over my head. Tossing it on the couch behind me, I looked defiantly at him. "See? I AM a woman."

"Yes you are." Robert didn't stir from his chair, but I noticed that something else had stirred. That encouraged me. I stepped right up to him. His eyes remained locked on mine at first, but then they slid down my body. The way he was seated in his chair put those eyes at level with my breasts.

His hands, as cool as my own skin, touched my hips. They ran down the outside of my legs and then back up again. He leaned forward in his chair and his lips touched my nipple. I shivered and closed my eyes for a moment as his tongue circled my rapidly hardening nub. He shifted and repeated the wet caress on my other breast. His hands were on my ass now, the fingers tracing the creases and the cleft.

He engulfed one breast. Unlike a human lover, his mouth was not warm. I shivered as he released it, the cool air meeting the equally cool wetness he left on me. Fleetingly I remembered Dominic and my body tensed. But Robert's fangs didn't fall, he didn't bite. Instead he continued to move back and forth between my breasts, delving into the valley between them and then back up and over each one in turn.

I struggled to reach down and unfasten his tunic. He laughed, his lips vibrating against my skin, and avoided my fumbling attempts to undress him. His hands made one more pass up and down my legs and then settled firmly on my butt. He drew his tongue down over my belly and then he pulled me firmly against his face.

Robert's tongue was dancing in me. First he licked rapidly up and down my open slit. The he burrowed inside me. Then he was back to my slit, but in long slow strokes of his tongue. The more I whimpered and thrust my hips against his face, the slower, though stronger and deeper, his tongue became.

His hands clutched my ass tightly, holding me in a grip I couldn't break. His tongue slid up along me once more, delicately lifting the hood over my clit. He blew over it, then urged it to full engorgement with his tongue tip. Finally, holding me as steady as possible, his teeth grazed it, and then more than his teeth.

I locked my hands on his shoulders as I felt the tip of one of Robert's fangs touch me. He pressed down, slowly, gently, the needle tip incredibly sharp against my clit. My mind emptied of everything except that one incredible point of pressure. My hands tightened on his shoulders with a force that would have broken the bones of a human. Then he bit.

I went wild. Only his inhumanly strong grip kept me from impaling my clit on his fang. I literally screamed aloud in the force of my orgasm. I all but lost control of my body. I would have completely collapsed had Robert not caught me in his arms and carried me to the bed. It took only seconds for him to rip his clothing from himself and to cover me with his body. 

Although I could feel his cock against my leg, he made no move to penetrate me. He held me and let me shake and recover my wits. When my eyes managed to regain their focus I saw he was grinning. I wrapped my still shaking arms around him and gasped.

"Where did you learn that? Oh my god."

"What? You never made love with another vampire before? A certain Italian woman of my acquaintance taught me that technique a couple hundred years ago." A look of sadness crossed his face. "Unfortunately she was caught by the Inquisition here and burned at the stake."

I shivered, having come very close to that same fate not even a hundred years ago. I decided not to discuss my sex life with Robert. Encounters between vampires are actually quite rare, as there really aren't that many of us. However he wasn't the first vampire after Dominic I had made love with. The last one had been a charming Chinese female though.

Instead of responding verbally, I let my body do the talking for me. Catching him off guard I pulled his mouth to mine and kissed him. At the same time I spread my legs and slid sideways and down, until the head of his cock pressed against my wet pussy.

He grunted happily and thrust with his hips. His cock went right up inside me and I moaned happily into his mouth. I firmly locked him into place with my ankles around his legs and he proceeded to pound me into the depths of the feather bed. We kissed deeply and continuously, since neither of us needed to come up for air. With our strength and endurance we kept at it long after two humans would have fainted, or heavens, had heart attacks.

All good things must come to an end. I had already had my second orgasm and was approaching my third when Robert groaned wildly and tensed. Realizing he was about to cum, I wrapped both arms and legs around him and held on for dear unlife as he hammered me with powerful hip thrusts. He came first, but being the gentleman he was, he continued to fuck me until I peaked too.

We continued to work together and sleep together until Wellington surged over the Pyrenees into France. We had come to a quiet understanding. We cared for each other. We worried about each other. We had the lovely, imaginative sex one would expect of partners with over 700 years of experience. We never fell in love though. So when the day came that Robert announced his work in Spain was through and he was returning to England I knew that I would miss him but my attention turned towards where I would be going next.

"Bridget, I have arranged for a Royal Navy sloop to carry you as a passenger to America, at least as far as Barbados. Since, to put it mildly, tensions are high between Britain and the United States, you will have to find your own way from there."

I nodded. We spent the morning packing and the afternoon making love one more time. Then I kissed him and headed for the ship. There was no long parting, after all, we expected we would cross paths again in the upcoming years.

I boarded the ship and was introduced to the Captain and the officers, all of whom understood that I required to remain below decks during daylight, although they didn't know why. At supper the Captain told me they would be delivering dispatches all along the route and therefore would be stopping quite frequently. That was fine with me as it would give me the opportunity to leave the ship for feeding, when needed.

"Our first stops will be on the African coast, M'Lady," the Captain told me. "Have you ever been there?"

"Yes, Captain, but it was a very long time ago..."

(To Be Continued)



Bridget's Days Ch. 04



(The West Coast of Africa, 1684)

I frantically dug into the soft floor of the jungle, one eye fixed on the growing light appearing in the Eastern sky. My hands scooped dirt, rotted vegetation, fallen branches and anything else they encountered, flinging it in a pile beside the shallow trench I knelt in. The triple canopy overhead was thick enough to filter most of the day's sunlight. I just prayed it would filter enough.

I was out of time. I took the woven mat of branches and leaves I had constructed and placed it over the trench I had dug. I covered it as much as possible with the dirt I had dug from the hole. Then I wiggled into the trench and pulled the mat up over my head and grimly settled down to wait. Come nightfall I would continue the pursuit I was engaged in, or I would be a pile of ashes.

As I waited for whichever outcome would take place, I shook my head ruefully. The moment I relax always seems the moment I end up falling deep into shit.

Just weeks before things had seemed perfect. I had been returning from an extended trip to the Orient following my hasty departure from Budapest. "Extended" fits well, since it had been about 60 years. Because I had traveled overland on my way there, I had decided to return by boat, on several of the numerous Arab ships that plied their way all the way from China back to the Middle-East. I had not had trouble even with exposure. It was considered natural for a female to remain below decks in her cabin, and since we stopped quite frequently I had been able to slip ashore to obtain food. No point in panicking the crew when you're out at sea.

After reaching Alexandria I had decided to skirt the coast of Africa, rather than attempt to pass through Southern Europe, since that whole area was in upheaval, again. I was contemplating trying to reach France and Paris from the Atlantic side when once again my luck ran thin. The crew of the last small boat I had charted decided that they would keep the cargo, mostly consisting of what I had brought back from the Far East. Having me to sell on the coast of Africa as a slave was merely a bonus. So when we passed what would be called the Straits Of Gibraltar they simply locked me in and sailed south.

Someone might ask why I didn't just break out. Well, two reasons. First, because of where I was in the hold I wasn't sure when it was day or night. Second, they had placed a timber across the door that even I couldn't break. So I waited. Besides, its not as if I HAD to get to France. Africa might be interesting too. When you're immortal you go where you're blown sometimes. I was getting tired of getting just a little water and bread through a small hatchway though.

Finally I heard the anchor fall one evening. I knew it was evening because I heard the crew discussing the "night's feast" they were about to go to. So when the hatch was opened later I pulled the man through and fed from him. He had given one squawk before becoming a late night snack for me. When another man came running to see what was wrong I had two for dinner. With the strength that gave me I was able to break the hatch cover and finish off the other three crew members.

Once that was accomplished and the bodies had been all tied to a heavy piece of chain and dumped overboard I decided to go ashore. I was wearing an open shirt and trousers and added a pair of boots. There were a couple of muskets on board but I decided to stick with the katana I had brought back from the Orient. After all, a sword never jams, doesn't take two minutes to reload and works just fine when its wet.

I sculled a small dingy ashore, happy that the oar arrangement allowed me to face where I was going. Something about approaching an unknown place with my back turned seems to make me grumpy. The shore was lined with dark skinned people, outlined in the glow of fire built on the beach. They looked friendly enough, given that every male was holding a weapon of some kind. They weren't pointed at me though, which is always a comforting sign. Instead everyone was waving. As the boat touched land eager hands pulled it on to the sand. 

I hopped out, my hands carefully held to the side. I had never met any African people before, so my mind was filled with nothing but fifth-hand comments and rumors. Contrary to so much that I had heard, they simply looked like people. But then I had heard silly rumors about the peoples of the Far East until I got there.

All the men, and some of the women, were armed. However no arrows were fixed to the strings of the bows and I noted the spears seemed to be held in the left hands and were not presented in a threatening manner. Since both spears and arrows were wooden shafted I was glad of that. Its funny how as weapons became more sophisticated they also became less dangerous to my kind.

My eyes fixed on the tall man standing in the center of the gathering. He carried himself with pride. Alone among the others, he held a shinning steel axe. His broad forehead was topped by a magnificent headdress which included bright feathers of unusual size. Centuries later, I still wondered how the peoples of that village had come to possess ostrich feathers. 

I stood on the sand in front of all of them, waiting for whatever was going to happen. The powerfully built man in the lead stepped forward and indicated himself. "T'shombe," he announced with a ringing voice. 

"Bridget," I replied, touching myself on the chest. He turned and walked towards the village proper and the fire in its center. I could smell roasting meat. With a gesture he indicated I should follow him. I did and the rest of the villagers fell in behind me. I sensed no threat from them.

T'shombe laid his weapon against a frame by the central hut. Instinctively I doffed the baldric supporting my katana and leaned it beside the axe. From the nod and grunts of approval around me I knew I had done the right thing. Peace had been offered and peace had been accepted.

T'shombe and I and a young warrior I took to be his son sat on a bench that appeared to be the only place other than the sand to rest. The three of us strove to talk. We discovered that we shared a number of Arabic words and managed to make ourselves understood to each other in a broken version of that tongue. I learned that Arabic traders often stopped here. They had thought the boat was another of those itinerants and were surprised to discover a woman, especially one alone. 

As we conversed, the party apparently already planned had got underway. Food and drink were served all around. The home brewed wine was quite good, and quite powerful. I made the offer of a cask of red wine I had found on the sloop and eager hands used my skiff to fetch it. Then we all sat down to a good old fashioned feast.

Songs that I could not understand were sung and the villagers all enjoyed themselves, as did I. From my conversations with T'shombe and his son I gathered that the village had been here for as long as anyone knew. The people were a mixture of farmers and fishermen. There was only one other village anywhere nearby, farther up the river. They had peaceable relations with those others, although a word that I didn't understand was used in reference to them, or possibly to certain members of the other tribe. When the word was used, the people shivered slightly.

They had seen a number of Arabs and Arab traders but they had never met a European before. My red hair and pale skin fascinated them. Even more so, T'shombe himself seemed taken with my green eyes and spent quite some time starring into them.

For my own part, I found the entire village charming and the people both friendly and attractive. T'shombe himself, although not classically handsome, was muscular and I thought quite good looking. Never having been one to deny myself a new experience, I was rather attracted to him, as I certainly could tell he was to me.

I would never know what would have happened next. Suddenly the night was shattered by war-cries and screams and a large party of unfamiliar men flooded the village. They must have been lurking in the jungle for some time, waiting for the village's guard to be lowered, as it had been for the feast. 

The fight was a blur. I saw T'shombe seize his axe and try to rally the warriors but they were caught unaware and half-drunk. A pile of invaders swarmed over him. I screamed in anger and launched myself into them, hoping that if I could get him clear we could at least get some of the women and children to safety.

There were too many for even me to deal with. I was just about drunk myself and my speed and coordination were affected. I broke one's neck and tore the jugular out of another with my fangs. My vampire instincts overcame me for once and I stopped to drink his blood. That was when a vicious blow caught my head and I fell senseless.

My vampiric constitution brought me back to consciouscness after probably no more than three or four hours. I searched the village, finding only dead bodies among the half-burned ruins. I was thankful the flames had not spread to where I had been. I dug through a pile of bodies to where I had last seen T'shombe. He was dead of course. I wanted to take time to bury him decently but I couldn't. I had too much to do.

From the number of missing villagers, most everyone had been taken away. I had found the tracks of many people walking in a line, suggesting they had been tied or chained together. I realized this had not been a surprise battle between warring peoples. This had been a slaving expedition, pure and simple.

I don't like slaving. You don't own people, often enough though I have seen it over the years. I had been received in friendship by the village here. I thought of the children and of the men and women who had treated me kindly. I was pissed. Most of the legends are true on that fact. Don't piss off the vampire.

I found enough torn cloth to wrap around my midsection. I was glad they had left my soft boots on my feet. From the condition of the rest of my clothing and what I could feel on and in my body, the raiders hadn't cared that I was apparently dead. I really don't like being raped. It upsets me. And I was already upset enough that I didn't plan on taking anyone alive. At least for long.

I debated going out to the boat. From a quick look it appeared that she had not been touched. I could retrieve better clothing and one of my spare swords from her, since the raiders had carried off my favorite. But time was a'wasting. What if my new friends were only being carried off a short distance to an already waiting ship? I started in pursuit, running down the easily marked trail until I had to stop for the sun.

All day long I waited inside my make-shift shelter. Twice I was burned by stray sunbeams that penetrated chinks in my coverings. The canopy above diffused the sunlight but what reached me was enough to cause me great discomfort. My skin tightened until every slight movement was agony. I trembled, gasping for air that I didn't need. The only thing that kept me from bursting from my shelter was the knowledge that I wouldn't get 10 steps before I was reduced to a pile of ashes. And that might be only the beginning. I really don't want to go to Hell.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, I dimly realized the sun was going down. Exercising all the patience I could, I managed to wait until I was sure darkness had overtaken the jungle. Pushing my coverings aside, I knelt at the edge of what had come close to being my grave until I was able to regain control of myself and stand up.

I still hurt all over. Only one thing was going to help me now. I half-staggered to the trail at the far end of the clearing. I could still smell blood, mingled with the aroma of fear and pain. I started after the slavers, moving slowly at first until my body loosened. Then I was running, accepting the occasional fall as the price I had to pay for speed.

The aches and the pains paid off. I saw a flickering light through the jungle long before I actually came on the slavers. I slowed and then left the trail, moving as silently as I could through the jungle, letting my ability to smell blood keep me oriented. I crouched where I could see the entire encampment.

"Yes!" I thought exhaultantly. I recognized the faces of my new friends, including T'shombe's son. I also noted there were other, unfamiliar people locked in the slavers' chains. Not that I could possibly know everyone from the village, but mingled with them were a number of slender, shorter blacks. My guess was that the raiding party had hit the other village first.

I crept closer. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I was determined to do something. Fortunately it seemed a lot of the raiders were missing, probably gone ahead to wherever the rendezvous was set up with the Arabs or Europeans the prisoners were to be sold to. Still, there were too many guards for even me to handle.

Then the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I turned, just my head, and got one of the biggest shocks of my undead life. Crouched almost directly behind me was a huge, black panther. Its yellow eyes bored into me and its teeth were bared.

All I could think of was to demonstrate that I might not be as easy to eat as I appeared. My eyes glowed and I matched the panther's teeth with my fangs. 

The panther never budged. However, her, and somehow I knew it was a "her", mouth closed and the hunting light in her eyes was replaced by a look that almost seemed questioning. In response, I let my face return to its human form. She slipped closer, her eyes fixed on the chained people. I thought for a moment I saw sorrow in those eyes and then determination. The intelligence in them was staggering. I knew I was side-by-side with no ordinary animal.

Moved by an impulse, I pointed to the guard to our right. I indicated myself and swept my hand in an arc in that direction. I pointed at her and then at the other side of the encampment. The great head dipped and with barely a rustle she was gone. Now I had an ally, whatever and whomever she was.

It seemed to take no time at all to get behind the guard. He was leaning against a tree, a musket propped beside him. He never sensed me rise up behind him. Then my hand was around his mouth and my fangs were in his neck. I carefully laid his body down. As I did, I heard a faint rustle only my ears could have picked up. Looking to my left, I saw only quivering bushes where a guard had been moments before.

I felt better. The blood I had drained from the slaver was already knitting my injuries. The next man I took helped even more. Now I was strong again, and one of a pair of silent killers slipping through the jungle.

The two of us had almost eliminated the entire circle of sentries when finally someone noticed. A hawk-faced man came out of a tent in the middle of the camp. His eyes swept the perimeter and his face filled with alarm. He shouted something and ducked back inside the tent. As the remaining slavers rose from where they were sleeping, he reemerged, fastening a bright sash around himself that supported two pistols and a sword. MY sword.

Knowing the time for stealth was past, I burst from the trees. At the same time the panther, her jaws bloody, bounded from the site of her last kill. She scattered the dazed men, sending them scattering in fear. I heard the hawk-faced man I took to be the leader screaming and then he fired one pistol. The heavy ball took the panther in the leg, crumpling her to the ground. He ran towards her, drawing my katana and raising it over his head for a stroke. 

The stroke never fell because I had caught him before he could strike. I spun him around, having recognized his scent as matching that of some of the semen left on my body. In full vampire fury and appearance, I tore my sword from his hand. Before he do anything more than start to scream, his head bounced along the ground.

You would have thought those slavers had never seen a vampire with a sword before, or a killer jungle creature as her partner. They scattered to the winds, running in all directions. I took a ring of keys from the body in front of me and began to unlock the chains holding the villagers. I freed the first of the unfamiliar people from the shackles and they darted past me. I almost had everyone unchained when I remembered to look for the panther. There was no sight of her, although a number of the other villagers were over where I had last seen her. I shrugged. Wouldn't be the first time something happened I couldn't explain.

T'shombe's son, who's name, T'shombu, I finally managed to get straight hugged me and then began to organize the villagers. He had the help of a slender woman whom I did not recognize, obviously from the other tribe. He treated her with great deference. After a quick discussion he came to me and I lost sight of her.

With a bit of uncertainty but growing understanding he made me understand that the two villages had decided to combine and move to a new location. He searched my face, anxiously, with a hint of fear. I sighed to myself, sure that I would be asked, politely hopefully, to go elsewhere. I was quite sure he had either seen me or heard reports of my actions.

Instead, he made it clear I was being asked to join them for however long I wanted to stay with them. I happily accepted and then helped them strip the corpses of the slavers and plunder the camp for anything useful. I did convince him to let me have the tent, explaining that I would need to rest and would catch up to them. He drew a map in the dirt before the tent flap, showing where they would be headed. I noted the distance and thought I could probably cover it in a single night.

I slept, comfortably this time, through the day and then followed my friends after nightfall. During the trip, I caught up with one of the slavers, wandering through the jungle after fleeing the encampment. After feeding on him, I knew I would be able to go for a long period of time without human blood if I supplemented with animal blood. Its not the same, but it would keep me going.

I reached the combined villagers before morning and accompanied them to the new site, It was a strong position, at the base of a steep hill, which would allow for both security and for a place to escape. Then we all pitched in, raising huts and a palisade and clearing plots to plant for crops. No one seemed to care at all that I was only around at night. I came to have many friends and learned their language.

After the days, and nights, of rebuilding work, the time had come for a feast. That night a huge bonfire roared in the center of the new, combined village. Food was everywhere, well, except for me but that I understood, and was thankful. They knew I wasn't some demon that had to be placated or sacrificed to. Drink flowed and songs filled the night air. The lilt of reed pipes meshed with the low rumble of the drums. Men and women danced around the fire, moving sinuously. It was definitely my kind of party.

Several times I was drawn into the circle of dancers. I didn't stay long each time though, as I was enjoying watching more than dancing. I drank enough to be relaxed, but remembering what happened last time I got drunk, I kept my head clear. Therefore I was still awake when most of the others had slipped away and the fire ring was left to a single dancer.

The pipes had stopped. One by one the drums faded out until there was only one beating slowly. Then it fell silent. The woman standing in front of the flames stood as still as though she had been craved from ebony. I realized that it was the woman I had first seen talking with T'shombu the night of the battle, whom I had not seen since. Then the single drum started and she began to move.

She moved with a grace that the great ballet dancers I would see in the future could have only envied. The beat quickened, the other drums joining in. She blurred in the speed of her dancing, her feet almost spurning the ground. At times it seemed even the shadows cast by the firelight could not match her.




Bridget's Days Ch. 04



My mouth was dry. I could not take my eyes from her as she whirled by. Clad only in a brief silk skirt around her waist she mesmerized me. I was on my feet before I even realized it. Then she suddenly paused in front of me. Only her feet were still, her body still swaying to the driving beat. My eyes traveled over her body. With a jolt I saw a recent scar on her thigh, looking as though a bullet had struck her. Then she held her hand out to me and I forgot everything but her. 

I had been wearing nothing more than a pair of breeches torn off at the knee and a shirt knotted around me under my bosom. I was barefoot and danced along the firm packed sand with her. As best I could I tried to match her movements. I pursued her around the fire, the beat of the drums echoing through my soul. She was ever in front of me, not fleeing but always just beyond arms reach. I felt a pounding in my temples as though my unbeating heart was hammering the blood I didn't have in my veins.

The dance was reaching its crescendo, how I knew I have no idea. As the rhythm of the drums reached a point just short of maddening me, the woman spun around to face me. Her body touched mine, her bare breasts touching the thin material covering mine. She looked into my eyes and a thrill ran deep through my body as her eyes changed, becoming for an instant the brooding yellow eyes of the panther I had met in the forest. Completely spellbound, all I could do was stand motionless as her fingernail touched the side of her neck. The drums peaked and she dug her nail into her black polished skin enough to draw a single drop of ruby blood. Then the drums crashed and she was gone as I reeled in the sudden silence.

I couldn't see her, but I could follow her. The scent of that single drop of blood filled my nostrils. A single bound carried me out of the circle and into the darkness. I followed her unerringly, knowing that she was ahead of me and that if I could follow her fast enough and far enough...

I broke out into a small glade, where she stood. Her arms were lifted over her head and her eyes smoldered. Her silk girdle was at her feet, her slender but powerful body stretched so I could gaze on her. Choking back a cry, I stopped, tore away my shirt and breeches and then froze myself, my arms thrown out. The moonlight bathed the two of us, two statutes, one of ivory, one of ebony. 

The she moved. she slipped sideways, her eyes on me. My feet moved, crossing each other as I moved to the other side of the glade. Neither of us spoke. Slowly we circled each other. For brief seconds I would see her in her panther form, stalking me as I stalked her. I felt each time her appearance shifted that mine did also, from human to vampire and back.

The circle tightened with each revolution we made of the glade. Our hands were outstretched as though we were prepared to wrestle each other. Then we were face to face. A deep rumble came from her throat, matched by a snarl from me. 

The we were in each other's arms and our mouths locked in a kiss that admitted nothing of restraint or civilization. We fell to the soft jungle floor, rolling over and over. Our breasts were crushed together, our nipples biting into each other's. Strong legs slid in-between muscular ones. Her thigh slammed between my legs and mine between hers. Our arms tightened until our bodies were so close together not a single jungle leaf could have come between.

She ground her leg against my pussy and I thrust mine against hers. Back and forth we rolled, each striving to take command of the other. But we were too evenly matched. First she would be on top, savagely forcing herself against me. Then I would be on top, grinding my leg into her open pussy with all the vampiric strength in me. But her rippling muscles would take control for a minute again and pin me under her.

Our kisses were wild fire. Like our scissors fucking of each other, they were as much about animal domination as about passion. My hands seized her ass, my fingers trying to lock onto the sculpted cheeks while she raked my back like the wild cat she was, drawing bloody scratches that healed almost instantly.

Something had to give. With a powerful thrust not even I could contain she drove her leg against me, giving a heave that crushed my clit. I finally uttered the first noise of our coupling, a wild scream. I sank my fingers into her ass and pulled her in with all my strength. I heaved with my hips and then she was screaming too and we were clinging to each other as we both came.

When finally reason returned we were facing each other on our sides. Now we kissed gently, exploring each other's bodies with gentle touches, questing fingers and soft caresses. Silence and screams were replaced by murmured words of endearment. Although her tongue was not the same as T'Shombu's tribe, it was close enough that I had also learned it during the reconstruction.

Her name was Mobuta. She told me of the legend of how a distant ancestor of hers had been granted the power to become a panther by an old wizard who had witnessed her valor in facing the enemies of her tribe. The power was passed from mother to daughter, but only one in each generation. Different generations could hold it at the same time, when she came into her power her mother had retained the ability also.

"But you Bridget. How did this power, and this curse, come to you? And how did you get here? And so able to defend us not only with yourself but with your weapons." She kissed me again. "I am very glad that you did for more that one reason. We have seen weapons somewhat like the one you carry before. They are called 'swords' are they not? But not one like your's. How did you come by it?" I told her what had happened long ago in Ireland. "As for my sword and how I got HERE, well, some sixty years ago I made my first attempt to reach a far distant land known as China, where I would meet the woman who would teach me swordplay, and other things. But I didn't think at times I'd ever get there."

(To Be Continued)



Bridget's Days Ch. 05



(Buda, 1620)

I leaned back into the padded wooden chair I was slumped in and drank another swallow of mulled wine. The thick fog from the night air seemed to linger in my lungs, non-functional though they were. It had masked my silent passage through the night, slipping out after dusk and returning a few hours later having carefully fed. By "carefully" I mean that no one had seen me and that I had left everyone alive, just a bit woozy from the loss of a pint or so of blood.

I took another sip of wine. Officially, of course, alcohol was prohibited throughout the city by Moslem law. However, as long as things remained quiet, the Turkish Governor ruled with a fairly light hand. Buda had been under Turkish occupation for some 80 years and a "live and let live" attitude had sprung up. Another sixty years would see the city in ruins when Charles of Lorraine recaptured it for the Hapsburgs, but tonight it was full of merriment.

I propped my feet up on the stool in front of me and watched the party swirl on around me. I had been in the city for a couple of months, having worked my way here from Paris via Italy and Austria. I had moved several times since I had arrived, having taken rooms here some ten days earlier.

Right now I was enjoying a romantic comedy. Susanna, a dark-eyed, dark-haired serving girl I thought was of Gypsy origin was flirting with Yusef, a young merchant guard. He was handsome, tall and of all thing had brilliant blue eyes in his dark face, showing a probable dash of Alexander's Greeks who had surged across Asia Minor centuries before. 

Right now he was blushing so hard it was evident through his tanned face. Susanna was teasing him, bending over so the loose bodice she wore fell away from her firm breasts. Yusef was trying to look and turn his head at the same time. Susanna said something and shook her finger in his face in mock reproof. She turned, flounced her skirts and came towards me.

I admired her as she came. Susanna and I had been engaged in some subtle flirtation and I was looking forward to whatever evening would finally find us in bed together. In the meantime, I was enjoying the interaction between the two youngsters, both of whom were barely out of their teens.

"More wine, Bridget?" Susanna asked. I held out my glass and she leaned over to fill it. I, having no qualms about flirting back, took the opportunity to look at Susanna's breasts, her top loose enough that I could see the tops of her nipples. She gave a little grin, knowing what I was up to and appreciating it. Then she sighed.

"Bridget?" I met her eyes. "Whatever am I going to do with Yusef? I think the more I try to let him know I'm interested in him, the more skittish he gets."

I smiled. "You really do like him don't you?" She nodded. "He really likes you too, Susanna. That's why he gets so embarrassed when you pay attention to him."

"I know. I really want to trip him up, but at the same time, I think there might be more between us than just a romp in the hay." She sounded wistful and frustrated at the same time.

I smiled, recalling the memory of Seamus and I in the hay so many years ago in Ireland when I still drew breath. "I think we may have to lay a trap for him." I leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear. She giggled, nodded and went back to her chores. 

At closing time, Susanna made one final sweep past Yusef, slowing to brush her hip against him before disappearing through the doorway leading to the rooming wing. I made my way towards him, having noted the deep gulp he made when she touched him, and also noting the very large bulge tenting the front of his garb. He almost jumped out of his skin when I touched him on the shoulder.

"Oh Bridget, you startled me." His eyes flickered back and forth from me to the doorway Susanna had gone through.

I suppressed a smile. Ah, young love. "Yusef, I would like to speak to you about engaging your services as a guard for a short period of time. I have something important that needs looking after." 

"Ah, yes, of course," he stammered.

"Good. Would you come with me please? I want to show you what I have in mind." I struggled to keep a solemn expression on my face as he rose and followed me up to my rooms.

I made a production of unlocking the door to my rooms and ushering him inside. I closed the door after us and quietly locked it. Then, I yanked the ties holding my top and flowing skirt on. They dropped to the floor. I was wearing nothing under them. I removed my slippers, leaned against the door and quietly called Yusef by name.

The poor darling turned and his eyes bugged out. He turned completely red. I continued to recline against the door as he stuttered and stammered and tried to tear his eyes away from me. My smile, broad at first, grew bigger. Susanna had slipped from the bedroom doorway and was slowly approaching Yusef from behind. She too, was nude. Her large full breasts, tipped with big brown aureole bobbed gently and the dark bushy triangle covering her womanhood already held tiny droplets of her nectar.

Before Yusef could react to my looking past his shoulder, Susanna covered the remaining distance and put her hands over his eyes. "Guess who, Yusef," she giggled. At the same time she pressed her body against him.

The results were all we had hoped for. Yusef, realizing perfectly well who was behind him, turned around. When he saw Susanna's nude body, I thought for one moment he was going to faint. His head swiveled back and forth, trying to watch both of us. I really was happy that he was drinking in Susanna's lush curves more than my own much more slender body. They were going to make a great couple. And I was going to enjoy my "finder's fee" for bringing them together.

The two of us stripped Yusef and drug him to the bed. He was kissing Susanna wildly as we toppled to the bed. Susanna pushed him on his back and knelt over him. With the same mischievous grin on her face she began to lick his cock. And what a lovely cock it was too. Nice and long, good and fat, and hard as a pikestaff. Susanna wasn't trying to take it all in her mouth, but rather was happily licking the shaft up and down and then sucking the bulbous head.

Well, one good lick deserves another I've always said. Susanna was crouched on her hands and knees, so I laid on my back and wiggled under her. I reached up, grasped her full rounded ass and pulled her already dripping pussy down to my mouth. She gave a cry, muffled by her mouthful of Yusef, as I ground my face in her wet slit.

I suspected Susanna had been playing with herself tonight in anticipation. Her pussy lips were swollen already and her black bush was soaked. I sucked on her wetness and slipped my tongue right up inside of her. Her hips were bucking in short order. I added a finger to my tongue, wetting it thoroughly before tracing the sensitive crease back to her dark puckered hole. I toyed with Susanna, tapping the fingertip on her anal opening, then slipping away. All the while I continued to tongue her sweet Gypsy pussy.

The impasse was broken by Yusef. He gave a strangled cry and I felt the bed shift. Tipping my head to look up Susanna's body I could see his hands on the sides of her head and his back arching to feed his cock to her. I actually could see Susanna's cheeks expand from the force of his cumming. With that, I drove my finger all the way into Susanna's ass, ramming it in until my hand stopped any further penetration. 

She couldn't scream, but I opened my own mouth onto her just in time to catch the release of her juices. She crushed my face under the weight of her body, rubbing and grinding back and forth as she orgasmed. Its a damn good thing I didn't need to breathe. 

With barely a pause, Yusef's muscles flex and he had flipped Susanna onto her back. His cock was dripping cum, but was showing no signs of deflating. He grasped her ankles, lifted them to his shoulders and gave one volcanic heave to bury himself in her freshly eaten pussy.

This time she was able to cry out. She did, her face ecstatic. She wasn't able to yell more than twice, because by then I was sitting on her face. She responded immediately, lapping my open slit with her tongue. 

Yusef had Susanna's hips right off the bed and was pounding his cock all the way into her. I leaned forward and kissed him. He reached out and grasped my breasts. I decided that was a lovely idea and reach down to take Susanna's fuller tits in my own hands.

Yusef was as lost in lust as I've ever seen anyone. He seemed determined to drive his cock up Susanna until it reached the throat it had just been in from the other end. Unconsciously I'm sure, his grip on my breasts was so tight I might have protested, had not the mingled pain and pleasure felt so good. I was pulling and twisting Susanna's long, dark nipples and her tongue was flailing my clit. 

I came and the three of us never slowed down. Now Yusef had hold of Susanna's breasts and her hands were on mine. She grasped each nipple and jerked them, pulling my small breasts into stiff cones as she squeezed my clit in her lips. Then Yusef gave an enormous bellow, held himself deep in Susanna and came so hard he all but fell over as he spent himself in her. Both Susanna and I followed.

I have only vague recollections of the rest of the night. We drank a lot of wine, from cups and off each other. I do remember being on my hands and knees with Yusef taking me from behind while Susanna knelt in front of me, her ass shoved in my face. She masturbated while I dug my fingers into her full cheeks and tongue fucked her ass. 

The combination of alcohol and sexual satiation put me to sleep so deep I didn't think anything could wake me. I should have known better, because every time I do that, things happen. This was no exception.

I suppose I really couldn't blame the zeal of the unprecedented Moslem/Christian/Jewish hunters who burst through the door in the wee hours of the morning. I managed to get untangled from Susanna and Yusef and made for the door. Even though my undead reflexes were dulled by too much wine, I was throwing men left and right.

As I neared the exit, I heard a scream from Susanna. A hunter had seized her. Two others held Yusef, who was madly struggling to reach her. Two others were advancing towards my companions, meaning to thrust the stakes they were armed with into the prisoners' hearts. 

"STOP!" I screamed, in my best Turkish. "Don't hurt them! They have done nothing wrong." The hunters hesitated. "They're human. Examine them, for Allah's sake."

I remained motionless, my hands lifted as the men holding my bed partners shifted their grip. One, then the other, showed surprise as they touched the captives' throats. They nodded at a tall, burly man I assumed was the leader.

"Do not kill them, but do not release them," he commanded. Turning to me he asked "Will you surrender?"

"If you promise not to harm them. Whatever you might think of me, I promise you they have done no harm to anyone."

He inclined his head in acceptance. I was shackled in chains I couldn't break and taken to the castle prison, where I expected to be summarily reduced to dust. Instead, the hunters dumped me into the deepest, darkest cell they could find. I'm not particularly fond of cold, seeping water and rats, but the lack of daylight was a definite plus. 

So there I bided for, well I have no idea, until the Turkish Governor of the city showed up. accompanied by an Imam, a Rabbi and an Orthodox Priest. He fixed me with a very steady stare and said nothing.

The clerics, on the other hand were quite vocal. The imam glared at me with pure hatred. "Forgotten of God," he hissed. "A fire waits for you in the courtyard of this prison. After that, hellfire waits for you as well."

"Patience, my friend." the Governor never turned his gaze away from me. "The weather is calm, the wood is dry and will remain so. We need not rush." His attention returned to me. "We know what you are and what you have done. Even an unholy creature like you deserves to confess its sins before meeting eternity."

I shrugged as much as the load of chains would allow. "I appreciate your concern, but my sins are between God and myself."

"Blasphemer!" This time it was the priest. "You are damned by your very existence. Your crimes only compound your condemnation."

I really wondered why all this babbling and yelling was going on. Why didn't they just drag me to the stake? I repressed a shudder and instead looked back at the Governor. "What crimes?"

All three clerics began shouting. I had no idea what I was being accused of but it sounded terrible. The Governor cut them off with a wave of his hand.

"There has been a series of murders, gruesome murders. The victims have been tortured and their blood drained."

"Well, that's horrible, but I didn't do it."

The rabbi almost choked on his indignation. "Are we supposed to believe you? Do you deny that you are an undead creature from the pits of hell?"

"Believe me or not, its the truth. As for denial, if you are asking if I'm a vampire, the answer is 'Yes'. However, I'm not from the pits of hell. I'm from Ireland." The last part must have non-plussed him as he shut up. I continued. "I am undead, but I wasn't always. I'm not a demon. I survive by drinking blood but I do NOT murder for it and I am repulsed by torture."

There was murmuring among the holy men, but it seemed more subdued. I Governor studied me carefully.

"I believe you." He said calmly. "None the less, your life is forfeit for what you are, unless..." He let his words trail off and raised an eyebrow.

"I accept." I was pretty sure I knew what he wanted, but regardless, better the doom delayed than the doom at hand.

Now there was a loud babble of protests from the holy men. The imam overrode the other two. "Lord, how can you trust her?"

A slight smile flickered across the Governor's face. "I can trust her because I hold something she has shown she values. Two some things in fact." I opened my mouth to protest and then shut it, a rare thing for me. His smile broadened. "You were promised they would not be killed. They have not, nor have they been injured. However, their remaining that way depends on you." He gestured and the burly leader of the vampire hunters entered the cell. "Captain Alafdal and another will accompany you. Should you fail to return to me within two days, your two friends will replace you at the fire."

After the chains were removed I bowed to the Governor. I had to admire him. He had read my character pretty well and stuck me with the responsibility of coming back to him win, lose or draw. Because of me Susanna and Yusef's lives were in jeopardy. I could no more run off and leave them than I could fly. Sometimes that conscience my parents and the church gave me is a big fat pain.

Captain Alafdal had been joined by the third member of our party. A slender, black haired stripling named Hassan, he was supposed to be some version of a "witch smeller". He claimed that he could actually pick up the scent of evildoers and follow the trail left by them. He smugly informed me that he was the reason the hunters had found me. When I pointed out that he had picked up on the wrong vampire, he grumbled a lot under his breath and then fell silent.

Alafdal took me to the scene of the latest murder. What had finally decided in favor of my possible innocence was that the latest outrage had occurred the night before, when I was safely locked up. That's a hell of a way to establish an alibi I can tell you.

The last victim had been left in the crumbling building where she had been found. Even nearly a century of ugly sights didn't prepare me for this. She had been strapped to a wooden frame and brutally beaten before being killed. Flies buzzed around the body, settling in the pool of blood beneath her.

I carefully examined her, fighting the nausea that threatened to overcome me. I finished with her and then looked carefully over the room. A certainty grew as I took in the entire scene. Then I knelt beside the remains of the woman, crossed myself and said a prayer for her soul, with an addendum that asked I be granted a meeting with the person who had done this and the strength to tear him limb from limb.

Both hunters had looks of surprise on their faces when I rose. Although oftimes Christianity and Islam clashed in desperate struggles, with Judaism caught between them both, there were periods of tolerance for "People of the Book" as Christians and Jews were acknowledged by Moslems. The obvious horror I had shown, along with my praying and the expression of anger that I now had was making me somehow "human" in their eyes.

"Alafdal, were all the victims similar to this?"

"Yes."

"No wonder you came up with me, Hassan." Noting his surprise, I continued, my eyes fixed on him. "You didn't follow me to the inn from the last scene, did you? You probably made widening circles around the area until you pick up my scent."

Hassan's eyes widened. "How did you know?" he whispered.

"Because this wasn't done by a vampire."

"What do you mean?" Alafdal's question surprised me. Not because of what he asked, but how he asked it. His tone was curious, asking for information instead of denying my statement.

"First, the bruises. They were inflicted by something, possibly by either that piece of wood over there or maybe that iron bar." I took the bar in my hands and bent it in a curve. "A vampire who wanted to do something like this wouldn't need anything but his hands." I squatted by the body. "Then there are these puncture wounds on her throat, look at them, and this." I hesitated and then let my fangs fall and place my mouth near the marks. "I'm a petite woman, pretty damn small as vampires go in fact. My fangs span these wounds with plenty to spare."

"Two last things. There is this." Both men had been nodding but now they looked puzzled. "The BLOOD. It's all here in this puddle, splashed on these walls. None of it has been drunk. And finally, I gingerly parted her legs and pointed. "She bled to death from here, not from her neck."

"Allah," gasped Hassan, "Then no monster did this but a man."

I shook my head. "It was a monster alright, just one with a beating heart." I sensed the coming of the dawn. "Okay, its time to return to my rooms at the inn. I need to rest, safely out of the sun, and then we need to talk things over and determine our next move. Also, I need to stop at a butcher shop if there's one not too far out of our way."

"Why?" asked Hassan. When both Alafdal and I rolled our eyes, the young man blushed and simply said "Oh."

When we were settled back at my windowless set of rooms, Alafdal simply deposited himself in a chair, propped his feet up and fell asleep. Hassan, perhaps wanting to make up for his earlier remarks, perhaps simply curious, wanted to talk.

I wanted to know about his "witch smelling" myself, so we traded information for several hours. I explained the differences between the myths and the realities of vampirism.

"Vampires are indeed undead, Hassan. My heart doesn't beat and I don't breathe. I am nourished only by blood. I can survive for a period of time on blood other than human, but not indefinitely. Direct sunlight will kill me, indirect sunlight will make me weak and ill. Most of the other ways to kill a vampire do work; decapitation, fire, a stake through the heart."

"However, some myths are not true. I do not fear crosses, or the Koran or any kind of holy item. In most ways, I am still the same woman who was born on the green isle of Eire about 70 years ago. I have the same beliefs, the same wants, the same feelings." I looked moodily around the room. "And some of the same longings, which I know I won't ever satisfy."

"Bridget," he had finally become comfortable enough to use my name. "How does one become a vampire?" I must have stared at him in shock because he held both hands in front of him. "I'm just asking! I don't WANT to be one. I," he stumbled over the words, "I have never spoken to a vampire before and I doubt I ever will again." 




Bridget's Days Ch. 05



"I'm afraid I am going to disappoint you, Hassan. I don't KNOW." I explained the events that led up to the changing of a innocent Irish barmaid into a member of the undead. "Dominic never explained just how he turned me. I know you do have to be bitten and you do have to die. Beyond that, there IS more but what all it involves I don't know and don't want to know."

I brooded for a minute. "I will tell you that to be safe, if ever I kill someone in any fashion that involves my biting them, I burn the body if at all possible, just in case."

"Then you DO kill."

I looked at Hassan in exasperation. "Many, many people kill. But I do not kill for sport nor for blood alone. I leave that to mortals." I paused, lost in my thoughts for a moment. "Hassan," he blinked as I changed both the tone of my voice and the subject, "When you 'smell', is it an actual scent? How exactly were you led here?"

Hassan spent the next hour attempting to describe his gift. It was not an actual "smell" in the air that came to his senses when he was attempting to track someone, but smell was as close as he could come to describing the sensation he felt.

"When I picked up your 'scent' the other night Bridget, what it told me was that you were not human. I assumed that meant you were evil and had to be the killer." The look in his eyes sufficed for the unspoken "I'm sorry".

"Until then, though, you had not picked up anything?" He shook his head and I continued. Then that means the killer IS human, and not any kind of sorcerer or you would have followed him or her from the scene of the murder."

"Yes," he agreed. A thoughtful look matching mine crossed his face and he added. "There was something, something different that I felt, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. Then I lost it when I scented you."

Sometime during our discussion I fell asleep. I was roused by Alafdal.

"Hurry, Bridget. Another woman has been taken." 

I sprang from the chair I had been sleeping in and pulled on my boots. Hassan was still fastening his shirt as the three of us pounded down the stairs and into the night. 

We rushed through the streets as Alafdal gasped out what he had been told. A pair of beggars had seen a man throw a cloak or bag over a woman's head and drag her away. They had attempted to interfere because the woman was well known to both of them because she had more than once fed them when they were down on their luck. However the man had proven to be more than a match for them and had disappeared with his victim. The men had notified the watch, who had dispatched a runner to us.

We reached the scene. Alafdal questioned the members of the watch and the beggars while Hassan and I circled the scene. I paused, and took a deep and generally unneeded breath.

"What is it, Bridget?"

"I smell blood." I closed my eyes and followed the faint scent. It led away from the scene and down an alley. "Alafdal! Hassan! This way!" I shouted and the three of us were off.

The scent was fading fast. I hurried as fast as I could. Thankfully the moon was full. Then the alley emptied into a street and I stopped. I must have looked like some wild animal as I all but snuffled the cobblestones in my frustration.

"Either the bleeding stopped or he has bandaged the wound." I looked at Hassan. "Its up to you now."

"I'm, I'm not sure," stammered the young man. "I think I can sense something but I can't tell for sure."

Alafdal, flustered and angry, opened his mouth. I waved down the shout I was sure he was about to let loose with and stepped to Hassan. I placed my hands on his shoulders.

"Hassan, close your eyes and relax," I instructed him. "Don't try too hard. Let it come on its own." Breaking contact I went behind him but continued to sooth him with my voice. "Breathe slowly. I'm going to be behind you so ignore the feeling of me. Just reach out in front of you. You can do it Hassan. You found me. Find the evil that is in front of us."

Hassan trembled for a moment and then his eyes opened wide. "This way," he commanded and we were running once more. With no hesitation he led us up and down several streets and alley ways until he turned into an old building. He stopped before a door at the end of the dim passageway. "Here. He's here."

Alafdal drew his scimitar and hurled his heavy set body against the door. In one powerful smash he splintered the barred door and the three of us tumbled into the room, to a scene out of a nightmare.

A woman was tied to a wooden "X". Her clothing had been savagely ripped from her. A man stood before her, a club in one hand and a metal fork with two tines in the other. He spun around at our entrance and I saw the madness in his eyes.

"Stand back!" he screamed. "I will be immortal, a child of the night. You will all be my pawns and my feed. This time it will work."

Alafdal aimed a blow at the madman. With a strength impossible for a normal human, the smaller man grasped Alafdal's arm and halted the blow. He pushed the Guard Captain to one side and sprang for the doorway, backhanding Hassan. All that seemed to stand in the way of his escape was a short, skinny redheaded woman.

Well, I hadn't escaped and he wasn't going to either. I met him in midair and slammed him to the floor. His insanity gave him strength, but I was both stronger and seriously pissed. I pounded his head against the floor until he lost consciousness. And I didn't stop, until Hassan grabbed my shoulder.

"Bridget! Stop! In Allah's name don't kill him. He needs to be brought to justice, if for no other reason than to clear you." 

Alafdal bound the senseless man and then went outside and blew on his horn to summon the nearest watch patrol. Hassan untied the woman and he and I tried to see to her wounds. Fortunately we had arrived before the madman had progressed very far in his demented plan.

A dozen members of the guard arrived. Alafdal told off two men to take the woman to the Palace and have a hakim see to her. They improvised a litter and carried her hastily away. The rest assisted him in binding the madman even tighter and gagging him to stop his ravings as he regained consciousness. Then we all made our way to the palace.

Just before we arrived, Alafdal drew Hassan and me to the side. 

"Bridget, this was well done, but perhaps you should leave now. You have done what was asked of you. Gratitude you have, mine and others', but the Governor will be under pressure to have you burned because of what you are. He swore no safety to you."

"I know," I took and squeezed his hand. "But I promised I would return. Upon that promise lies the lives of two innocent people."

He nodded and let me precede himself and Hassan into the Governor's audience chamber. It was simply the four of us, plus a scribe seated on a cushion to the side of the Governor's grand chair.

"You have returned."

"I have, and with the task that you set me to accomplished. I ask that you release my friends."

"Done." He gestured and the scribe rose, bowed and left. "He goes now to order their freedom." He studied me. "And you, what do you think I should do with you?"

I shrugged. "I am pretty well in your power. You could whistle for a horde of soldiers and eventually they would overcome me. You know you need not even do that." I waved behind me. "You could order Alafdal and Hassan to take me. You read people well, you know that I could not make myself injure them."

There was a long pause. The man on the almost throne and I locked eyes. Then he smiled.

"Alafdal and Hassan will escort you from the city after dark tomorrow. You may go where you wish, but I would suggest going back to the West. Things are unsettled to the East."

I bowed to the Governor and we all took our leave, returning to the inn before sunrise. That evening I reined in my horse on a rise and looked back at the twin cities separated by the river flowing between them.

I hoped one day I might come back here. It certainly had left some vivid impressions and memories. I grinned. Not the least of those was the fond memory of being on my hands and knees on my bed there, with Alafdal kneeling behind me, his broad hands gripping my hips while he pounded his fat cock deep in my pussy. I would remember Hassan sprawled at the head of the bed, a silly grin on his face and his more slender dick in my mouth. My, I had forgotten how much fun two guys could be at one time.

I touched the purse at my belt. The Governor had surprised me again, rewarding me in gold coins for the capture of the madman. I had arranged for half of the coins to be given to Susanna and Yusef, along with my apologies and my hopes for a long happy life together. I had split the remainder into three parts, leaving a third each beside the sleeping bodies of Alafdal and Hassan. I laughed and clapped my heels to my horse. She snorted and we were off. Maybe next time I would make it all the way to China. In the meantime I would take what life gave me and try to enjoy what I could.

(To be continued) 



Bridget's Days Ch. 06



(Beijing, 1665)

CLANG!

I frantically hopped back, a move that was becoming tiresomely common. No matter how I tried to dodge or block, the razor sharp sword edge wove closer and closer to me. It danced like lightning, first threatening my head, then my body. It dipped towards my leg and I sprang sideways, only to have it curl around from the other direction. It hinted at my hand and then swept back at my neck. Grasping the hilt of my own blade with both hands I managed to block the blow. I leaped forward as I tried to bind the other blade with mine and then spin around to launch my own attack.

My blade hissed through the air, meeting nothing. Then a cold edge was laid on the nape of my neck as I stumbled with the wasted force of my own swing.

"Bridget, you're dead." A woman's tinkling laughter floated through the air as the two of us lowered our swords. "And it won't do any good to remark that you already are. A headless vampire is as dead as a headless mortal."

"I have no intention of arguing with you, Ling." I smiled at the incredibly graceful Oriental woman I knew to be a vampire at least a hundred years older than me. "I'm just grateful for you taking the time to teach me. My knowledge of sword-fighting has always relied more on our greater strength rather than any sort of finesse."

"I know that well." She laughed again and I would have blushed had I been capable of it. "No, no," she went on, sensing my embarrassment. "You are getting better each time we spar." Her eyes twinkled "You should just practice more rather than wander the city at night. I have an idea that a large number of men, and women too, find you fascinating with your green eyes and red hair and white skin. But pleasure needs to be balanced with work, even for us. Now, spend the next few nights following the movements that you have learned, while I am gone. Master them, Bridget."

I carefully saluted her and then bowed my head. "I will, Ling." She returned the bow, gathered her things together and left. If she was conscious of my eyes following her, just enjoying the sight, she gave no indication of it.

I gave a little sigh. Oh well. As attracted as I was to her, I wasn't going to risk the friendship that had sprung up between us just for a roll in the hay, or the silk perhaps. Beside, the interest I had in her became all the more keen for being delayed. After all, it wasn't like either of us was going anywhere. I hoped. 

I dutifully followed Ling's instructions and exercised as she had taught me for another couple of hours. Then I scampered inside, cleaned up and changed from cotton trousers and shirt to a "giapo". Translated as "long dress", it was a high collared and tight waisted dress with a long slit up the side allowing the legs to be shown off. One day it would be known as a cheongsam. I buttoned it up the right side, luxuriating in the feel of the silk fabric. Silk had been exported to Europe for centuries but the quantities involved didn't allow it to filter down to the masses, like me. I marveled at the sensual feel of the fabric. 

I ran my hands slowly over my body. I had planned to wander out into what remained of the night. Beijing was a tumultuous and exciting city and Ling was right, I had no trouble attracting companionship, either male, female or both. But now I decided that I wanted no lover other than myself.

I laid down on the sleeping couch and stretched, feeling cat-like in my comfort. The cushions were soft and the silk weave caressed my body. I brought my hands down from over my head and slid them down my sides. Deliberately, I tensed, arching my body slightly. I tightened my leg muscles, pointing my toes as my fingers slipped down my legs. 

My palms retraced their down sweep, moving slowly up the front of my thighs. My extended thumbs pulled the silk taut for an instant between my legs. My fingers paused to stroke my flat stomach and then resumed their trek. Finally I relaxed against the cushions as my hands cupped my breasts, rubbing the silk against the skin and over my nipples. 

I closed my eyes and lost myself in the sensations. I squeezed my breasts gently, then my fingers crept to the now erect nipples. Taking them firmly between forefingers and thumbs I began to roll them, then pinch them as they grew hard. The silk slipping over my stiffening nubbins felt incredible, bringing an involuntary moan to my lips.

I continued to play with my breasts, pressing them together as though offering them to a lover's mouth. I twisted and turned on the couch. I bent my right leg, shifting so the slit skirt fell away from it. I ran my foot up and down the inside of my other leg. The silk caressed the inside of my left leg as well as the bottom of my foot and I shivered.

I bit my lip. I could feel my fangs struggling to drop from the sheer excitement of the moment. In fact, I could feel my body trembling already as I built towards a climax just from my breast play. Almost hastily I slide my right hand down my side. 

I hesitated for a second when my fingers brushed my thigh and started to slip through the slit in my gown. If the silk felt like this against my breasts, I wondered how would it feel against my pussy. 

I parted my legs, one bare, the other covered to my ankle. Using the tip of one finger, I delicately rubbed the material against me. My eyes opened wide at the feeling of the silk slipping between my swollen lips. I added two fingers and began to stroke up and down my open, wet slit.

Faster and faster I rubbed. My legs strained to part further, hampered by the gown bunching around my hips. I tightened my grip on my left nipple, pulling and twisting it. I jammed my silk covered hand inside of me and sought my clit with my thumb. The very first scrape against my clit set me off. My fangs dropped all the way and I pinched my nipple so hard that it would have bled had I been human. I barely managed to swallow the scream I so wanted to vocalize.

As the shudders of my body calmed, I slumped back against the couch. Now I felt deliciously weary from both the vigorous sword practice and from my orgasm. I started to drift off to sleep as I considered how I had ended such a long way from my native Ireland.

After my first attempt to reach the Orient had been checked in Budapest, I had returned first to France and then to Ireland. Always I found myself drawn back to the green country of my birth, and my death. But the countryside that was my home was could only be visited briefly. Vampires by necessity are creatures of the cities of man. We are solitary and secretive. We do not band together, lest we be noticed. We glide through the shadows. Our greatest safety lies in that we are a superstition, that we do not exist.

I had, along with all of Ireland, fought and been defeated, indeed crushed, by Cromwell in 1649 and 1650. Great cruelties incite horrible vengeance. I still strive to forget not only the horrors the Ironsides inflicted on my people, but the inhuman things I did trying to stop them. The nightmare still rides me sometimes, reminding me of what I did to save the village of my birth. For a long time I hated England. I know that it was not England, nor the English as a people who deserved my hate, but it took a century and more for me to come to terms with it.

So I began wandering again. Across Northern Europe and then down to the Middle East (carefully avoiding Hungary). I would have loved to have visited the Holy Land but that region was in turmoil. Had I known then what I know now, I would have gone. Its not as if its ever got better.

Finally I arrived in Baghdad, a major city on the route that would one day be called "The Silk Road". Although its importance had declined, the caravans still plodded from East to West. It takes more than revolution and the fall of empires and dynasties to stop merchants from trading. I would see what could have been almost the same caravans still moving across the ancient route centuries later when I was back in China watching the struggle between the Nationalists and the Communists.

I made an arrangement with one of the caravan masters to travel with his company. He attempted to enlist my services as a cook. This was something so beyond my ability as to be mind-boggling. I was not to learn the difference between a pot and a pan for 350 years, and only then mastered that art when my darling Mike casually mentioned he had found a loophole in church law that allowed for annulment in cases where the wife attempted to poison her husband.

I had contracted to have a special wagon built for me. I had remembered Susanna telling me of the wagons her Gypsy tribe used for travel and had one of those houses-on-wheels constructed. I hired a driver and spent the long days of travel across the rocky deserts comfortably inside. Whenever I touched the gaily painted wagon I thought of her and Yusef and hoped that they were still happy together and were doting grandparents at least. 

Slowly we made our way East. When the ancient road forked, we took the northern route looping up through Mongolia and down through the Great Wall. I concentrated on what I could see of the passing scenery by night and learning enough to get by of a couple of the major dialects of Chinese. During the journey, various travelers joined and left the caravan as intermediate stops were reached. We were already in China when another closed wagon joined the caravan.

I, of course, was only out of my wagon at night. It was on one of those nights that I observed a group of men slip into camp and attempt to steal that other wagon. I had leaped among them and scattered them even as they were carrying off two mysterious passengers I had never seen.

It turned out the twosome were the young son and daughter of one of the influential noble advisors at the Imperial Court. Rather than make a big production of bringing his children to Beijing, he had sought to bring them there in secret.

His gratitude, and the worry that someone within the court itself was supplying information to rebels and outlaws, led to my introduction to Ling. She was a complex and fascinating woman. Slender and smaller even than myself, she possessed a speed and agility that took my breath away. And her prowess with the imported Japanese sword known as the katana was simply astounding.

As a favor to the nobleman, she took me as a student. She worked me mercilessly, without criticism but without praise. I was therefore floored one day when she presented me with a sword similar to her own. 

"Its about time you learned to use a civilized weapon Bridget. I don't think we can progress any further with that sword of yours."

I was slightly offended by the description of my Italian rapier, but at the same time was grateful that she thought me worthy to continue to train. I took the offered sword with thanks. It was because of that I made a discovery.

One night we were engaged in a long practice bout. She had never questioned why I only was around after dark, and the thought didn't even cross my mind that I never heard from her except at night. She was showing me an intricate movement. As I went through the steps with her beside me, her attention was momentarily diverted just as I slipped. I wavered, trying to regain my balance. I flung my hands out and the edge of my sword gashed Ling's arm.

I gasped and tore off a piece of my loose fitting shirt to bandage her arm. Then I gasped even deeper. Her arm was not bleeding. As I watched, the wound began to knit itself.

"Oh my GOD." I covered my mouth with my free hand. "You too?"

For the first and only time I saw Ling surprised. Then she laughed.

"I wondered why you never seemed to offer any arguments about training at night. I thought you were being polite. I never realized that you were like me."

"A vampire." I stated. Might as well get it out in the open.

"Yes, a vampire," she replied. She went on to explain a bit about her history. She never told me the circumstances of her turning, that is a subject that vampires rarely share with each other. But I found out that the Emperor, and his predecessors were aware of her nature. She remained loyal to the Throne and they to her.

For some time the only result that I could tell of our mutual discovery was that Ling pushed me harder and longer than any human could have tolerated. That was why after practice that night I had elected to forego a visit to the city proper and instead satisfy myself s I had. Now all I wanted to do was sleep. 

Had I not been what I was, I doubt that I would have heard the stealthy footsteps in my chamber. As quietly and as naturally as I could, I rolled onto my side, my hand questing for the sword tucked under my sleeping couch. My fingers curled around the hilt. I did not draw it from its sheath, but tensed myself, my eyes straining through the darkness.

This was an unsettled time in China. The Qing Dynasty of the invading Manchu's had just completed the conquest of the country. They had captured Beijing in 1644 and the last rebel Ming prince had been seized and executed only three years previously. K'ang Hsi had become Emperor that same year, following Shunzhi. Ling had told me he was consolidating the Manchu power throughout China and had his eye on conquering Tibet. He would eventually do that. At the same time, he was promoting science and the arts were beginning to flourish under his encouragement, stifled as they had been under the last Mings.

I felt more than heard the intruder draw nearer. I did hear a whisper of sound that I realized was a sword being stealthily drawn. I rolled from my sleeping couch, the hilt of my katana in both hands, poised to strike. Barely did I glimpse a shadowy figure dart across the room and out the door. I sprang to the window, ducking under the thick curtains that hung there, my eyes straining through the gloom. Was that someone or was it only a trick of my eyes that seemed to flow from the tree in the courtyard to the wall and into the night?

I carefully barred the door and waited until I knew the sun was up. Then I laid back down and returned to a fitful sleep. From that night on I slept all day as usual, but spent almost every waking moment practicing. Somehow, something was up. I was sure the intruder had been in my chamber because I was Ling's pupil. 

Finally one night Ling was back. I could see exhaustion in her face. Even vampires can wear themselves out with lack of sleep and too much work and worry. As soon as possible I drew her to my side. She listened to my tale without comment until I finished. Then she sighed.

"Bridget, among other things, I serve as a bodyguard to the Emperor. I also prowl among the people at night, listening to them. Most of the populace doesn't care who occupies the throne, they simply want to be left alone to live their own lives. Of the remainder, the majority are in favor of the Manchus. But some are not. There is a group of Ming nobles that aches for their restoration to favor and power. I suspect they have hired a group of nin-sha assassins to kill the Emperor and the Manchu Royal Family. I am determined to prevent this."

She looked into the distance. "I am not Manchu but Han. Never-the-less, peace, safety and stability mixed with more freedom than generations have seen are spreading through my land. I will do whatever I must to keep things as they are."

She turned to me. "You are perceived as a threat because of your closeness to me. Perhaps you should go. I have no right to put you in danger."

"NO!" I exclaimed involuntarily. "I don't want to leave you."

Ling looked sharply at me. I stood firm under her gaze. Something flickered through her eyes and I felt my heart surge up in my chest for a moment.

"Then we must make you a match for them, Bridget. We must train."

So we trained. I was determined to show Ling that I could be a valuable companion. It also gave me the opportunity to spend lots of time with a woman that I realized was enthralling me. The shape of her body, the slight twist of her eyebrow when she was surprised, the way she would nibble her lower lip when she was in deep thought.

I accompanied her on occasions when she slipped through the night to seek information. These were training sessions too. Sometimes she threw up her hands at my blundering through shadows that she moved noiselessly through. I never came close to her grace of movement, not her lightning speed with a sword, but I grew much more adept at both than I ever thought I could. And every progression, every word of praise, drew me closer to Ling and made me crave her even more.

Things came to a head one night when she had gone out on her own. I had nervously waited for her, walking the floor well passed the midnight hour. When she finally returned I was struck by the look of worry on her face.

"Bridget, events are overtaking us. Whatever attempt the plotters are going to make is coming soon. You are not safe here. I want you to leave Beijing now."

"No," was all I replied.

"Bridget, listen to me! These assassins are deadly. I have done my best to prepare you but you are still no match for them. Perhaps if we had more time..." Her words trailed off as I shook my head.

"Ling, I am not leaving. I am not running away from here, from YOU." I searched her face, looking for a hint of what I thought I had seen before. "Don't you understand Ling? I love you."

The silence stretched out between us for what seemed like hours. Then Ling's hand rose.

"Oh Bridget," she touched my face with her fingertips. Her eyes misted. "Its been so long. I always thought I feared nothing. But I fear losing you. I love you too."

I turned my head and kissed each finger. Her hand ran gently down my body before she interlaced her fingers with mine.

"Come with me." She led me through corridors and doorways until we reached rooms that must have been her own chambers. We faced each other beside her sleeping couch, holding hands and staring at each other.

Finally I managed to lean forward and kiss her. Our lips clung to each others, sharing a thousand tiny kisses. Our fingers unlaced in order to run down arms and over hips, to brush over hidden breasts and trace the curves of legs and bottoms.

"Close your eyes," whispered Ling.

I stood motionless, my arms outstretched as Ling slowly stripped me. Her touch was a light as a feather. I felt her move away from me and yearned to follow but I resisted, remaining where I was although I trembled with desire.

"Open your eyes Bridget."

I did, and if I could have fainted I would have. Ling stood in a square of moonlight. She lifted her arms over her head and let the pale light wash over her slender, nude body. The long black hair tumbling around her shoulders was all her body possessed. She raised herself on her toes and stood motionless, an exquisite statue formed in porcelain.

I took one faltering step after another, afraid that this vision of Oriental beauty would somehow prove to be an illusion. She moved not until I reached her. Even then, she simply lowered herself to the balls of her feet and slid her feet slightly apart.

I could not stop. I could not stand before her. In one motion I fell to my knees. I wanted to worship every inch of this woman. I managed to hold myself back from diving into her. Instead, I touched her legs. My hands crept around to the back of her thighs and then slowly I followed the curves of her legs, down to the back of the knees and then over the smooth, slender calves. She shivered. Her bare womanhood glistened with a single drop of nectar. My hands rose up the sides of those wonderful legs, feeling the muscles bunch. Then I brushed over her tight, taut ass and I could resist no longer.

I placed a soft kiss on her bare pussy. Oh so slowly, I dragged my tongue over her, exploring the folds and creases and hidden places of her. I dipped down to run my tongue over the inside of her thighs and then up over her to kiss her firm, flat belly. I reached up to her breasts. Even smaller than mine, they were works of art as delightful as any that I have ever seen, or touched. My hands cupped them, holding them, feeling the nipples poking into my palms even as I slipped my tongue inside Ling.




Bridget's Days Ch. 06



She was every bit as sweet as I had hoped. My head moved slightly, up and down, back and forth, helping my tongue and lips explore her. My fingers danced across the curves of her ass, slipping between the cheeks and fleetingly touching her rose.

Ling ran her fingers through my hair. Low, soft moans drifted down to my ears. Then she suddenly caught my shoulders and lifted me up until her mouth could seize mine again.

"Oh no Bridget," she moaned as she pulled me tight against her. "You don't get to have all the fun yourself." She all but carried me to the couch, falling with me until we were locked in tangle of arms and legs and questing fingers and lips. She rolled me onto my back and kissed down my body. I feebly protested as her lips swept over my breasts and my quaking stomach.

"Ling, oh my, ohhh, Ling, please, you said, please let me." My stammerings were cut short as she flipped her lithe form around and settled herself down on me, effectively shutting my mouth so it could reopen for something more delightful than talk.

Her breath was cool on my thighs as she parted them. She giggled suddenly. "Bridget! All this hair. You better hope I can find you amidst this jungle.

She could. As my head tipped back and my tongue reentered her she wormed her way through my "forest" and found my already throbbing, unhooded clit. It only took a few gentle strokes from my Chinese lover and I was falling over the edge. A firm grasp on her ass, a deep thrust of my tongue inside her and she was falling with me.

We made love through the rest of the night until even we lay helpless in exhaustion. We slept the day around wrapped in each others' arms. I didn't want to ever leave hers.

The next night I moved my belongings into Ling's apartment. We trained even harder as she pushed me along as fast as she could. Hours of sparring were followed by hours of passion. Occasionally we slipped from the Palace to feed. Ling was as careful and as concerned to cause no lasting harm to anyone as I was. I knew she would be like that. Every night I fell deeper and deeper in love with this wise and erotic woman.

I was in my favorite position, nestled against Ling's body, the night that the assassins struck. Only vampire ears could have detected the sound of their entrance in time for us to both spring from our couch. Ling's sword leaped into her hands while I hurled the table beside the bed through the doorway and the window beyond, letting the torchlight from the hallway and the garden into our chambers.

There were 6 of them. They were clad in loose fitting clothing and felt slippers, with masking cloths wound around their heads. Only their eyes could be seen. I dodged the blows that two of them aimed at me. In doing so I lost my balance and sprawled on the floor. I tried to crawl to my sword as Ling attacked, driving all but the last man before her.

The last nin-sha sprang for me. I abandoned my attempt to reach my sword, instead rolling under the thrust of his blade. My hand and arm made a straight line from my shoulder as I came up on my knees. Nin-sha or not, when my fist slammed into his balls, the assassin screamed.

He doubled over as I rolled again to come to my feet. A snap kick to his jaw stretched him out. Three frantic steps brought me to my katana and I tore it from the sheath. Then I stood there for an moment in complete awe of my lover.

Unbelievably Ling was facing the five masked fighters and driving them all before her. The incredibly graceful form that I adored bent, twisted and slipped from one foe to another without pause. Her sword was a blur of lightning that even my eye couldn't follow. The assassins might have had a lifetime each of training, but Ling had decades of experience for every year of theirs.

Then I was beside her. As a human I would have been no match for any of them, but my greater strength and speed made me almost their equal. And with Ling it was no contest. One by one the attackers fell. I killed one and Ling handled the others. She reached down and tore the hood from the head of the one who had appeared to be the leader and grunted in satisfaction.

"This is the one, Bridget. His name was Loung Sho and he was the ringleader. With his death this threat is ended. The plotters who arranged this will not dare to move again."

Our arms went around each other and we kissed. We smiled in each others' eyes and this time I was the one who touched her cheek in happiness. The Emperor was safe and so were we.

Suddenly Ling's eyes opened wide in shock as something seemed to burst from her breast. The impact threw me from her arms and I staggered back, staring at the point of the stake protruding from her body. Then she exploded into ashes. Behind where she had been stood the last man, the one I had knocked down, and failed to finish.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed and leaped forward. My sword whistled through the air driven by every ounce of my inhuman strength and the killer torso fell one way and his legs another. Then my katana dropped from my hands and I collapsed to my knees, weeping so hard I couldn't see.

The noise of the fight had finally aroused the palace and the room was flooded with guards and servants. I allowed them to take the bodies of the attackers away but fended off every attempt to touch me or disturb where I knelt.

Had we been human I could have held Ling's body. God, I could have gone to the grave with her. But I had nothing, just a scattering of dust that was all that remained of my beloved. Wildly I managed to gather up what I could. Casting my eyes about the room, I snatched a delicate vase and deposited in it what of Ling's remains I could grasp. Then I rocked back and forth, keening as I remembered from my homeland.

Nights passed while I remained prostrate with grief. Finally I rose and sought out certain court advisors. They gave me the names of those disgruntled nobles who were believed to be behind the plot.

I left Beijing two nights later, after a final night that I will not speak about even today. Let it be remembered as a night of blood and rage that left the city quaking, and me shaken as I was once again reminded of the demon that lurked deep inside me. I took nothing with me except for a certain silk gown and Ling's sword.

(The Present)

I closed my book with a heavy sigh. From my chair I could not see the Ming Vase that rested on a stand in my bedroom. I had buried it and Ling on a hilltop overlooking the city. Centuries later I had recovered it and given Ling's ashes to the wind of her beloved country.

I almost gave up after that. I had never been in love like that before. What I had imagined I had felt for Dominic was a pale shade of what Ling had made me feel. For so long after that, I couldn't give my heart. Even when I found other lovers I always held a piece of me back. If even two immortals were doomed to be parted, what was love but an illusion that would not, could not last?

Oh Mike. Thank you for that too. Thank you for freeing my soul to love again without condition, without regard for the possible consequences. I had always known better. I had seen lovers meet and cling to each other through everything. I just hadn't been able to make myself follow them.

I suddenly slapped the book's ornate cover. "Enough, Bridget," I scolded myself. You would think I had never laughed again or had fun. Ling's memory had become something to cherish, not avoid. I had been able to enjoy life again and had for many, many years. Why it wasn't long before I embarked on the quest for Thorfinn that ended with my gift of life that I had... well ... perhaps I should write that down.

(To Be Continued)



Bridget's Days Ch. 07



(The Pacific Ocean, 1998)

(This chapter is just for fun. I think Bridget deserves it.)

This was impossible. This was ridiculous. This could not be happening. It had never happened before, not in 400 plus years. But it was! 

Frantically I rushed for the bathroom, my hands clasped over my mouth. I barely made it there before my stomach gave a heave, bringing up nothing at all. I knelt there, my head spinning as the deck gave another lurch under me. I debated crawling back to the bed and decided to stay right where I was.

I suppose in one way its funny. Had I been able to get on my feet though, anyone laughing at me would have run a serious risk of having their limbs permanently rearranged. I mean, whoever heard of a sea-sick vampire?

What made it worse, assuming it could have gotten worse, was that I had covered pretty much all the seven seas over my centuries of unlife. I had crisscrossed the Atlantic a number of times since my first voyage to America. I'd sailed the Indian Ocean and the Mediterranean. I'd gone around the Horn during the California Gold Rush and, well, to make a long story a bit less tedious, I had never suffered a queasy moment in a storm-tossed sailing ship. Yet here I was on a modern, carefully appointed cruise ship, designed specifically to be stable, and I was contemplating crawling up to the pool and sunbathing for the 30 seconds or so it would take to turn me into a pile of ashes. 

Of course I blamed Robert for my misfortune. I had tried to turn him down when he called to offer me this all-expense paid (by the tax-payers anyway) trip. I should have known something was going to go amiss when an FBI agent, even one I had known for a couple of hundred years, gives something free to an Agency employee. 

"Come on, Bridget, you'll love it," he had insisted. "You've been working hard, the Deputy Director here at the Bureau and your Deputy Director for Operations at Langley are both pleased as punch about the recent coup you pulled off. Not only did you intercept a huge arms shipment from a certain unfriendly foreign power but you also enabled us to nail several top members of the Five Families.

"Couldn't I just stay here in DC and work on my golf game?" I tried to plead. Okay, maybe "whined" was a better word. "Or maybe get some writing done. I'm never going to win a Pulitzer Prize at 'Rolling Stone' if I don't do something spectacular."

"First, you can't pay golf at night. I know, I've tried. Your exercise routine is martial arts, which you generally do in private because you can't take your sword to the YWCA. Second, your biography to the Pulitzer Committee would be a little unusual to say the least. Just go Bridget. Eat some nice spicy food, drink some good whiskey. Find someone to dance with, vertically or horizontally." He peered at me. "My lord, did you just try to blush?"

I mumbled something unprintable under my breath. As if vampires can blush. Just because he's one or two hundred years older than me, he thinks he has me pegged. Booze, music and sex. Damn, he DOES know me pretty well at that. 

So I had accepted. I flew to the West Coast and boarded the ship the night of her first stop. I had a nice interior cabin which meant no portholes. I skipped throwing streamers into the water as the ship pulled away. Instead I concentrated on dressing for the first night's dinner. I wanted to keep an eye out for, well, whoever I might spot. "Cherchez la femme et le homme" as somebody once said, or should have. "Keep a lookout for the gals and the guys". Hey, its not my fault I enjoy the company of both sexes.

That first night I simply surveyed the passengers. I was not looking for someone to snack on. A locked container in my stateroom that plugged into a wall outlet kept my donated blood refrigerated until I microwaved it. There was a good deal more than I needed to survive, since I could go comfortably for several days at a time without feeding but after all, I was on vacation. Most people on a cruise eat too much so why shouldn't I indulge myself?

The assistant purser who was seated at my table was cute but its hard to take someone seriously who's named after a burrowing animal. I met the Captain during the after-dinner mingling. I have always found men in authority very sexy, and he was no exception. From the other women surrounding him I knew I wasn't the only woman who felt that way though. I hate standing in line.

I did notice two attractive older women at the table next to mine who appeared to be single. Both were in their late forties I judged, but still very nice looking. Both brunettes, one had a splendid set of breast-works that made me green with envy, as well as making my mouth water. I listened with half an ear to the other, more slender, woman talking. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but her soft Southern accent was a delight to listen to. For a moment my thoughts drifted to Belle Boyd and the nights we had spent together during the American Civil War. I sighed. She had been dead for over a century by now. The years run by so fast and yet so slow when you live forever.

Enough melancholy I scolded myself as the band began to play and some guy asked me for a dance. I spent the rest of the evening doing exactly what Robert had suggested, except that all my dancing was accomplished standing up. I didn't want to start out the cruise with a bang, so to speak, before I had a chance to look everyone over. Besides, both those women at the other table had excellent legs, always one of my weaknesses. Maybe I would get a chance to meet one of them. Or, and a wicked smile tugged at my lips, perhaps both?

I had sampled the food available, most of which was bland enough be completely tasteless to me. Subtle shadings and hints of flavor don't do it for the vampiric palate. We don't taste much. Lots of salt, pepper, spices are what get us interested. Want to spot the vampires at your local food court? They're the anemic looking ones smothering jalapeno nachos with hot salsa. If I can be forgiven a terrible pun, we need bite in our human type food.

My steak was rare and the wine had a crisp fruity tang I could enjoy. Even better, the bartender had some good smoky Irish whiskey with the taste of the peat and the bogs in it. Lovely. He was pretty cute too, stirring memories of T'Shombe and long regretted missed opportunities. However I could tell a woman sitting at the bar had already staked her claim. Late again, Bridget.

Late that night I had returned to my cabin, buzzing pleasantly from the alcohol and the entertainment. And not just the music either; there had been the delightful sensation of a several decent sized male members pressed against my midsection by my dancing partners. I had noted two "goods", one "borderline" and one "holy-cow-does-this-belong-on-a-horse" during my hours on the dance floor. 

I unlocked the container, took a bag from it and warmed it. Whatever did we do before microwaves? I drank the contents down and felt it spread throughout my body. The taste, okay, I won't say that even after all these years I've actually grown to LIKE the taste of human blood. But my body needs it, craves it, has to have it. Once someone attempted to deliberately drive me both to madness and to take an innocent life by keeping me imprisoned without blood for a long period of time. Thank God, neither of his planned ends took place.

I replaced the now empty bag in the container and relocked it. I took a shower, pausing to play with myself just a little. I sighed. I needed to find someone to shower with before the cruise was over. In the meantime I rather enjoyed teasing myself just enough to stay on edge. I dried off and rolled into bed.

Sometime in the middle of the next day I woke up. The room was spinning around and I was nauseous. I tried to get up. Three times I tried to get up. The last time was the charm, but I couldn't keep my balance and stumbled across the room in a zigzag pattern as I made my way to the rest room.

God, there was still a lot of food in my stomach. Usually my undead body processes human food by simply passing it through, considering most of it as waste since it provides no nourishment. For some reason alcohol and certain other drugs are carried to the brain by my borrowed bloodstream and have their usual effect. The end result was that when I vomited there was a lot to throw up.

I felt better but the room continued to go around and around and up and down. I half-heartedly washed my face and crawled back to bed. I knew I hadn't been poisoned, vampire bodies aren't affected like that. in fact, generally we don't get sick. The flu doesn't do much when you're already dead. There are a few exceptions. The dizziness and nausea made the diagnosis easy, and I was able to confirm it the next morning.

Clutching the hand railing running along the hallway I worked my way to help. Fortunately I happened to run into the charming cruise director who had welcomed me aboard two nights ago. She instantly remembered my name and the fact that I "had a severe allergy to sunlight" and steered me in the correct direction before I made a wrong turn and found myself on deck. She wrapped her arm around me and helped me to sick bay. Even in my miserable state I enjoyed her closeness. She was extremely attractive. Given her job, I was sure she had to fight off passes, probably on a hourly basis. I doubted anything was likely to happen. But I filed her away, just in case. 

Now I knew I was really sick when I didn't even make a pro-forma protest about seeing the ship's doctor. After all, my physical exams tend to start off on the wrong foot when a thermometer is popped in my mouth, the nurse tries to take my pulse and there's no response from either. Then they go down hill from there. Right then I didn't care. I hadn't felt this bad since I was twelve, and that was a very long time ago.

Fortunately "Doc", as my helper addressed him, didn't need to make a detailed examination to confirm my affliction was mal-de-mere. He confided in me that he saw my symptoms a lot and there were really only two general diagnoses. Since I didn't have a hangover, I was seasick.

He gave me some Dramamine and told me there were two schools of thought about food. One held that I should keep my stomach full, the other that I should stick to no more than an occasional soda cracker. His advice was to try both and then stick with the one that worked. He confessed he didn't understand why I was seasick now, when I assured him I never had been before. 

I liked that he didn't try to bullshit me. He didn't understand something but instead of making up some song and dance, he simply told me he didn't know. He was pretty cute too. I wondered how he would look without his glasses, or come to think of it, his uniform. When I left, a handy mirror let me catch a glimpse of him eyeing my rear end. Just to make sure I wiggled it a bit. Yep, he was watching.

I returned to my cabin and let the day go by, laying down and trying to sleep. The Dramamine helped. I had not planned to be to sleeping alone and didn't like it, but at least I felt well enough to consider how I was going to alleviate that particular problem.

So I thought. Before dressing for supper, casual tonight, I drank another bag from my chest to replenish my strength. I hit the buffet, made dazzling conversation with everyone at my table, and even managed to dance twice. Then I suddenly excused myself and made for the bathroom.

Okay, so a full stomach wasn't helping. I got back to my cabin, where the full stomach thing solved itself in a hurry. I fell back on the bed and passed the rest of the night contemplating the various atrocities I was going to inflict on Robert the next time I saw him. After all, it was all his idea.

I did my usual evening routine lately of stumbling in and out of the shower and taking my medication. I did feel better again. I opened my chest and took out a bag. This time I was going to try the "no food" idea. I started for the microwave and then stopped. Wait a minute. I frowned at the bag. Maybe "no food" meant "NO FOOD". I returned the unopened bag to the chest and locked it. Then I put on a sundress, the irony of which always tickles me, high heeled sandals and headed out.

That night was great. I stuck to nothing at all. No blood, no food, no drink. It worked wonders. I had a rollicking good time and decided not to push Robert out into the sunlight the next time I saw him.

When the party broke up I looked for Doc. I had caught a glimpse of him once or twice but had not managed to make it over to his side of the dining room. My fault. Every time someone asked me to dance I did. But I did want to talk to him.

He was gone so I went by the sick bay. He wasn't there, but I spotted a door which I thought might lead to his quarters. I knocked on it, hoping he didn't have company.

He opened the door. Well, at least I hadn't got him out of bed. He had started though. All he was wearing was his white uniform trousers. His glasses were perched on his nose.

"Hi there. Ms. O'Brien isn't it?" He gave me a quick professional look over. Then his eyes drifted back to where the sundress stopped and my legs began. He hastily looked back up and asked "How are you feeling? You still look pale."

I could hardly tell him that my pallor was the result of four hundred years without sun. "I'm fine," I replied. "Just haven't been out much I'm afraid." I saw his eyes were wandering again, this time down to my modest cleavage. I only saw that for a moment though because my own gaze was concentrating on his chest.

"That's good."

We both stood awkwardly for a moment. Then I thought, "Oh what the hell" and stepped forward. I kissed him, my hands flat on that nice chest. Then he was kissing me back and his hands were on my chest. 

Obviously he was an excellent doctor. His hands were certainly skillful enough. His fingers had slipped the straps of my sundress down my arms one smooth motion that ended with his hands gently brushing back and forth over my already sensitive nipples. He was a marvelous kisser too, his tongue caressing my lips before parting them and dancing inside my open mouth. I shivered, wondering what else he could do.

He showed me. His talented fingers had my dress on the floor in another moment and he was kissing down my body. He slowed to savor each of my breasts, covering them in tiny kisses and swirling his tongue across my already hard nipples. Then his hands replaced his lips again and he was kneeling before me.

I had worn skimpy bikini panties that seemed to be no challenge at all for him. His teeth caught their top and pulled them right down my legs. I frantically wiggled my hips and legs as he kissed my thighs and then plunged into my pussy.

I was already wet and he took advantage of it. His tongue dipped inside me with short, stabbing thrusts. I moaned loudly and locked my hands on his head. He didn't need any guidance, I just needed help in avoiding falling down. His tongue curled inside me, lapping along my walls, then worked up my open slit until it reached the top and my clit.

As soon as he touched it I began to shudder. He alternated, his tongue tip gliding over my nubbin and then changing to a hard tapping pressure as though he was trying to push my clit into me. His fingertips battered my nipples back and forth in little flicks. 

I cried out as I felt myself teeter on the edge. He sensed it, for in one swift blur he rose. His hands fell to my bottom and he lifted me to the desk behind us. He had somehow managed to leave the remainder of his clothing on the floor. As soon as my ass was safely on the edge of the desk, his hands ran along my legs. He pulled them, and me, up until my ankles rested on his shoulders. I felt his fat cock head against me. I was so wet that he was able to immediately penetrate me in one long thrust.

"Holy God, Doc," I moaned. I had thought the guy I danced with that night was equipped, but Doc completely filled me. More important, he knew what to do to pleasure a woman. He started slowly, his cock drawing almost all the way out of me and lingering for an instant before reversing to inch back down my love channel until he was all the way back inside me. His hands rubbed up and down my legs, up to my calves as he withdrew, down over my sides as he thrust into me. His cock head was swollen and I could feel my inside walls giving way as it went back and forth inside me.

The louder I became, the faster his hips moved. I had reached over my head, my hands seizing something metallic and hanging on for dear life. He was pounding me hard now, his hands grasping the front of my thighs and pulling me to meet each lunge of his body. My leg muscles tightened, pointing my toes past his ears as my ass came up off the desk. 

I shook. I trembled. I struggled to keep from trying to squeeze his head between my feet. He was burying himself all the way up inside me, the head of his cock slamming against my G-spot. He grunted and gasped, "Bridget, I'm coming," and slammed me back down on the desk under his weight. His cock exploded inside of me, matching my own outpouring as I climaxed along with him.

We finally recovered enough to move to the bed. Happily, I found out after a little rest the application of my mouth to his cock stirred him right back up again. Fair was fair. I brought him almost to the edge before pushing him on his back and mounting him with a happy yell. It was near dawn when I stumbled out of sickbay, feeling as though my sea-sickness was now a thing of the past. Maybe sex helps too. It rarely hurts.

I slipped back to Doc's cabin that next night. I paused for a moment and drank in the beautiful moonlit sea tumbling in the ship's wake. I also saw the two women from the adjacent table. I decided not to disturb them by saying hello. Not that they would have noticed, lost as they were in each other's arms and eyes. In fact, when their hesitant kiss turned passionate, I shook myself and scampered off. I smiled, happy for them, as I was always happy when any two people found each other. I also was quite turned on. I hoped Doc was ready for a repeat performance tonight.

He was. I staggered back to my cabin more rubber kneed than I had been the night before.

I spent the last day in bed, comfortably snuggled this time. The rest of the passengers disembarked while I recovered from my illness and rested from the cure. Late in the afternoon I got up and hopped into the shower. One thing about everyone else being gone, there was an enormous amount of hot water available. I have loved long slow baths ever since I first discovered them and planned on staying in this one until my skin was wrinkled. I had considered filling the tub but was so happy to be on my feet again I thought the shower was better.

I had just finished getting the water to the perfect temperature and directed exactly where I wanted the stream to go when I heard a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I called.

"Its Julie." It took a moment before I was able to connect the name with the voice and realize it was the cruise director. 

"Pretty name to go with a pretty woman, " I thought. "Come on in Julie, the door's unlocked. I'm in the shower."

I heard the door open and close. I wasn't paying that much attention, but my better than human hearing seemed to catch the "snick" of the cabin lock being engaged.

"I just came to check and make sure you were alright Bridget." Her voice came from the bath doorway, which I recalled I hadn't bothered to shut.

"I'm fine Julie, thank you very much." I stifled a giggle. "In fact, I'm very good indeed."

There was a blast of cool air across my back and I turned and my mouth dropped open. Julie stood in the shower, smiling at me. I noted that she was a real blonde. 




Bridget's Days Ch. 07



"I know," she grinned. "Doc told me you were very, VERY good." I must have given her some strange look because she hastily added, "No, he didn't go into details. But he had this annoyingly dreamy smile on his face this morning so I tackled him. We're pals," I wondered if I detected a tiny hint of wistfulness in her voice, "So I applied pressure until he spilled your name."

I smiled, my eyes drifting up and down Julie's body. "All well and good, but how did you know I would be interested in you?" This time I couldn't smother the laughter. "I actually thought I did a pretty darn good job of wearing Adam out. What made you suspect I also liked girls?"

Julie put her hands on my shoulders. She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my mouth. Our lips clung to one another's for a long minute. She broke the kiss, smiled and then gently turned me around to face the water. She picked up the body wash and dribbled in across my neck and back.

"I watched you. I saw you keeping an eye on the men, but your gaze often wandered to the other women. In fact," I could hear the mischief in her voice, "You're quite the leg woman aren't you?"

"I see you do notice things," I commented as I rolled my head around, enjoying her hands as they lathered the body wash. "So do I." I grinned.

"I know. As seasick as you were, you made a very detailed inspection of my legs, and the rest of me, when I helped you to Doc's office. I was going to follow up the other evening, but he got to you first."

All the while she was talking, her hands worked the muscles of my neck and back. I relaxed, and then tensed again as I felt two points that could only be her nipples brush back and forth across my skin.

I reached behind me, grasping her hips. I urged her forward. She complied, her hands going around me and cupping my breasts. She squeezed them, at the same time grinding herself against my tailbone.

"Mmmmmm, Bridget," she licked the side of my neck, right over where the pulse point would normally be. Of course, I don't have a pulse, but the action was sexy and it added to my excitement. Her hands were roaming up and down my body, now rubbing my breasts, now sliding over my stomach and then down the sides of my legs. All the while the pressure of her pussy against my ass continued to build. I was leaning forward, my hands braced against the shower wall. She was moaning and grunting as she ground herself into me, fucking herself on my ass.

She gave a short, sharp cry and then leaned against me, resting her body on mine, her head on my back with her arms around me. I could feel her quivering and the sensation ran from her body to mine. I smiled and suggested we get out of the shower. 

We took some time to dry each other off, our hands lingering on each others' bodies, gently patting each inch. Then I threw the towels to the bathroom floor and pulled Julie in tight for another deep kiss. She gave a gasp of surprise when I picked her up and carried her to the bed.

I kissed her repeatedly and then turned my body as though I was moving into the 69 position. However I paused only to kiss her pussy once and slid father down. She looked down at me in surprise.

"Roll onto your side Julie," I whispered.

As she did, I slipped down the bed until my head was facing her feet. I lifted her leg and slid my leg between hers. She smiled and we pushed against each other until we sissored each other properly. I looked up over my shoulder into her face and winked. In return I received a roughish grin.

Back and forth we rocked, our hips pressing into each other. It was obvious that Julie worked out. The muscles of her firm and shapely legs were strong. The flexing of her ass as she met me was sensual enough to drive a straight woman wild. I brought the ankle I was holding close to me and ran my tongue one by one over the pretty toes of her foot.

Julie let out a moan that drawfed anything she had uttered up till now. I licked all over her foot and as far up her calf as I could reach without losing contact. 

"Damn Bridget, oh that feels so good." Julie increased the speed and force of her movements. Our open slits were plastered together, slipping back and forth. I matched her, the pressure building.

I got an evil thought. I licked one finger and sent that hand creeping up the back of her leg. It followed the crease of her ass to her cleft. Just as the friction of Julie's pussy against mine made my body stiffen and begin to shake, I jammed my finger up the cruise director's tight ass.

"Bridget, FUCKKK." Julie's body arched and her pubic bone absolutely crushed my clit. Somehow I hung on to her and pumped my finger in and out of her ass. I lifted her leg and felt her nectar rush from her pussy, mingling with mine as we both orgasmed.

A few hours before dawn, I slipped from the bed and Julie's warm body. I dressed quickly by the light from the bathroom we had never bothered to turn off. Her soft voice interrupted me just as I went for my bags.

"Leaving?" 

I turned and looked. Julie's lovely body was stretched out on the rumpled sheets. Her eyes were smiling.

"I'm afraid so. I need to get going. I have places I have to be before daylight." I took a moment and sat on the edge of the bed, my hand brushing over her hip.

"Before daylight?" She grinned. "What are you," I sat very still for a second, "a spy?"

Oh what the heck. It would help explain the cooler still plugged into the wall and humming gently. I reached into my pocketbook and unfastened an inconspicuous slit on the side. I retrieved the folder there and showed her my credentials.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"WOW. A CIA agent." She giggled. "Wait till I tell Doc that we've been with Jane Bond."

I bent over, kissed her and stood up with a laugh. "With all you two share, why aren't you lovers?"

A thoughtful expression crossed her face. "I don't know. Maybe we're such good friends that we hesitate to try for anything else. I adore Doc, he's a wonderful guy, but the thought of losing him because we've crossed that line is pretty hard to take." She shrugged, which almost made me get back into bed with her. "Maybe one day."

"Okay. Well, where are you heading next?"

"Our next cruise will be a long one. We're going down through the Canal to the Caribbean and then along the Atlantic Coast of South America. Have you ever been there, Bridget Bond?" 

"A couple times, in fact." I gathered my baggage. "Its beautiful. But I'm not sure I want to go back. Not to Brazil, at least. I have memories of being shot at the last time I was there." I blew Julie a kiss and headed out.

(To Be Continued)



Bridget's Days Ch. 08



(Brazil, 1943)

I really hate getting shot at. Just because bullets won't kill me is no reason for me to go hunting situations like I was in right now. Bullets hurt when they hit me, for crying out loud. I was so upset by the whole mess that I could have cheerfully fired back at all three of the groups who seemed to think they were participating in "Wild West Night".

Of course I didn't. Two of these groups were allegedly on my side. One consisted of a four man OSS team and the other an undetermined number of FBI agents. The third would have been fair game. They were a group of SS men who had slipped ashore from a U-Boat. Since Brazil was an Allied Country, it wasn't hard to figure out they were on a clandestine mission of some sort.

However I couldn't shoot at the Germans. The main reason was that I wasn't carrying a gun. I suppose that means the secondary reasons aren't really important. After all, I was supposed to be an intelligence agent, not a one woman war on fascism. My job was to gather information to be acted upon by others.

Of course none of this would have happened had the OSS and the Justice Department been on the slightest of speaking terms. When the OSS was formed, it was given world wide responsibility for intelligence gathering and subversion. At the same time, the FBI was assigned intelligence and counter-intelligence in the Western Hemisphere. So the agents of both organizations ran amok through Central and South America, spending as much time spying and interfering with each other as they did fighting the Nazis. I guess they can't be blamed. Neither J. Edgar Hoover nor "Wild Bill" Donovan liked to come in second place in anything.

I had been recruited into the OSS when it was still officially the "Coordinator of Information" Office. The government never really loses anything, although finding it is another matter. Apparently there were still records that a certain Bridget O'Brien had at various times been employed by the Union Secret Service, the Office of Naval Intelligence, Army G2 and the State Department. I received a cryptic phone call, visited the Institute of National Health where the government's latest spy organization was hiding out and was offered a position.

I was highly amused by the shenanigans that ensued on my first night. Some officious clerk indignantly informed me that he had better things to do than stay late for some "maverick female". He sniffed and offered his opinion that he could not understand why I was being shown such special treatment. I was tempted to show him, but confined myself to ignoring the majority of the forms he thrust at me to fill out. 

I was supposed to take a physical and then go to the training school where I would be taught to be sneaky, underhanded and deadly. I knew damn well that someone was aware of what I was and had no intentions of going anywhere except back to my apartment. However, with a perfectly straight face, I elected to report to my physical.

Two corpsman, a nurse and a doctor all fainted when they realized that they were in a room with someone with no heartbeat, no blood pressure and no respiration. Okay, I had no business dropping my fangs, but I was getting tired of the bullshit. I folded my arms and waited.

Finally the door opened. I sighed. I should have known.

"Robert, surely you're not going to tell me you have deserted the Bureau."

"Good heavens, no. Among the other duties inflicted on me for my sins, I am the liaison between the Bureau and your group here. I tried to get over here in time to save someone from your juvenile sense of humor but," he nodded towards the unconscious people in the room, "I see I'm too late."

I started to make a reply I knew he would find smart ass but instead held my fire as a very impressive man followed Robert into the room.

"Colonel Donovan." Had I been wearing a skirt I would have curtsied. The man's personality filled the room. Since I was wearing slacks, having refused a hospital gown, I simply said "An honor."

"The honor is mine, Miss O'Brien. I authorized your recruitment but didn't spread the word as to your unusual needs and abilities. I left word that you were to be treated as the valuable asset that I know you will be, but someone always fails to get the word. I apologize."

"No need to apologize, Colonel. I'm grateful that someone is able to see past the old wives' tales about my kind and realize that, just like anyone else, we are individuals. Some good, some bad." Robert and I exchanged quick glances, something I'm sure Colonel Donovan saw, although he made no comment.

We adjourned the meeting to a conference room. Colonel Donovan explained that the medical personnel would be fine and that they would be fed a cover story that would deflect suspicion about who, or what, they had encountered. He assigned me duties a an almost completely independent agent, able to draw on COI resources and funds as I needed.

Once more I was staggered by how much information the government had on vampires in general and me in particular. He made an offhand comment that he knew someone with my financial resources would hardly be tempted to steal from the unvouchered funds. He offered, and I accepted, a commission as a Captain in the Woman's Army Corps.

"It will make it easier for you to move discreetly. Someone might wonder why a civilian woman was traveling so much on government transportation but a WAC Captain won't draw attention."

He was right, as he was about so many things. I blended in with the other WAC's, WASP's and WAVES' and was able to move about without drawing too much attention. It also allowed me to meet more than one cute female in uniform who was attracted to other girls, including a senior WAC on the SHAPE staff I spent many a night with in London. My orders also permitted the wearing of civilian clothes when the uniform would have attracted attention.

I had done jobs, mostly counter-intelligence, in the US and Britain when I was called in and briefed for a mission to France to rescue an Underground Leader. Since I've covered that elsewhere, I won't repeat myself except to note I was excited to be going back to the European Mainland and being "operational". At nearly 400, new excitement isn't easy to come by.

That evening I was returning from a meeting at the War Department when I caught sight of a familiar form. I chased Robert down, slipped up behind him and whispered, "Hey Sailor, looking for a good time?"

I never could surprise him, damn it. He turned and sighed. "Bridget, you're about to go on a mission. You shouldn't act so juvenile. Remember the Nazis have done a lot of research and exploration into the occult. They almost certainly know all about us and how to deal with us."

He was right, as always, but I didn't care. I decided I wasn't going to spend the last night here alone.

"Oh hell's bells and buckets of blood, Robert." He winced at my vulgarity. I ignored it and took his hand. "We who are about to die and all. How long will it take us to get to your apartment?" For a second I thought I had managed to shut him up for a change. Then he shrugged, grinned and dropped his free hand to my bottom and squeezed it.

Fifteen minutes later we were in his lovely ground floor apartment in a quite pricey Washington neighborhood. I paused for more a few seconds to appreciate the elegant decor. Robert is a gentleman and lives that way, with taste and style. I, of course, am still an Irish serving girl at heart, but the centuries have taught me to appreciate the finer things in life.

He turned as we entered the bedroom and I leaped onto him with a force that would have staggered a mortal. No luck with Robert though. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and started kissing him.

He kissed me back. He always could read my moods and knew that tonight what I wanted was hot and furious sex. Reaching behind me, he grasped my uniform collar and pulled down. The cloth resisted not a bit as he ripped my clothing from me. 

"Nice outfit," he commented. "Not regulation though."

He had left me clad in a bra and panties, and they weren't the type covered in the WAC Handbook. That ugly cotton issue bra was bad enough. I was willing to give my unlife for my adopted country, but not that. As for the prescribed GIRDLE, I wouldn't have been caught, well, dead in one, so to speak. So I ignored his comment. He probably would have liked it if I had been wearing stockings though. 

I kept my legs locked around his waist. Awkwardly I reached between us and grasped the front of his pants. I squeezed his hard cock and tore at the zipper.

He turned around and dumped me on the bed. "Bridget, damn it, this is a hundred dollar suit and I don't want it torn because you can't wait 2 minutes." He draped the suit coat over a handy chair, following it with his tie, shirt and undershirt.

I took the opportunity to throw my underwear on top of my mangled uniform. When he sat on the edge of the bed, I waited just long enough for him to get his shoes off and pounced on him again. I scooted around and pushed him onto his back, catching him off balance. I kissed down his chest as my busy hands got his belt off and the fly open. My timing was perfect. I got his cock free of his boxer shorts just as my mouth descended on it.

Robert redoubled his efforts to get undressed as my lips slid down his cock. He rolled his hips into the air and I heard a noise that I interpreted as his slacks flying through the air. As his body settled back onto the bed I gave his cock one more lick and threw my leg over him, rising to my knees. I grabbed the head of that familiar shaft, guided it between my legs and let my knees collapse.

"Hee-HAA, ride 'em cowgirl," I whooped as I impaled myself on Robert's cock. I had ended up facing away from him in my haste, so I couldn't see his face. I could imagine it though, eyes rolling in resigned acceptance of my antics. I didn't let it worry me. I was having fun, as always, and I knew he was too, in spite of his mumbled protests.

I cupped my breasts and squeezed them as I bounced up and down on his hard cock. I rubbed my nipples and pulled slightly on them, stretching them away from me. I leaned back, arching to allow more of him inside me. From the times we had spent together over the last 250 years I knew that he was building as I felt his hips begin to push up to meet me.

Then he cut loose. His firm hands grasped my hips and lifted me until only the head was lodged inside my open pussy. Then he pulled down with all the strength of his inhuman arms. I yelled my pleasure as he thrust upwards into me, burying that lovely cock up my pussy until the head mashed against my spot.

Just using his arms and hips he pounded me. I simply rode his heaving body as though I was in some wild sexual rodeo. I felt him expand to fill me, his fingers digging into my hips with a force that would have bruised a mortal. I pulled hard on my nipples and leaned forward.

"Damn you, Robert, fuck me. Fuck me NOW." I screamed. One last tremendous buck of his hips as he pulled me down on his up thrusting pole and I was coming as I felt him let go, releasing his own cum deep inside me.

As he shrunk after his orgasm, he sighed deeply and let go of my hips. Bad move. I had leaned too far forward in my efforts to grind my clit against him. With my hands still on my breasts I was overbalanced with no way to recover. Giving a startled squawk, I fell headfirst off the bed. 

Sheepishly, I peeked over the edge of the bed. Robert was shaking his head, but he was trying to hold back his laughter to keep from embarrassing me more than I already was. I grinned, and he couldn't hold it in anymore and collapsed in gales of mirth.

"You," he gasped. He pulled me up onto the bed and into his arms. "You have been pulling things like that since I've known you. I swear Bridget, you will never grow up, no matter how many centuries you are with us."

"Nope," I admitted, stretching out against him. I pillowed my head on his shoulder and fell asleep.

The assignment to France went off without too much of a hitch. The one hitch was the surprise appearance of Thorfinn Olafson, a very old Norse Vampire, who was working with the Nazis. We had crossed paths before, although not for centuries. I swore to myself that one day I would settle accounts with him somehow. He was as evil as the stories have always made our kind out to be. 

After returning to America, via England and a weekend spent with my WAC officer, I was debriefed and then put on standby. That's fine for a while, but after a couple of months I was very tired of sitting around doing nothing but hitting the blacked-out nightclubs and keeping my strength up from the innumerable men and the occasional woman who crowded DC. 

I went to prowl the domain of the case officers. I corned one mousy looking guy who couldn't escape for all the papers piled on his desk, and on the chairs, filing cabinets and portions of the floor.

He groaned when I came in. "What do you want?" Its nice when your reputation, whatever it may be, has preceded you. He obviously knew something about me, but what I didn't know. So I smiled pleasantly, emptied a chair of papers so I could sit down, and crossed my legs. Sometimes that helps.

"All I am interested in is getting another assignment. Someplace warm would be nice."

The harried man shuffled wildly through the mass of papers littering his desk. He tugged one out.

"This need looking into," he mumbled. Looking over the top of his glasses he asked "Have you ever been to Brazil?"

"Its been a while, but yes I have." I saw no need to tell him the last time I had been in Brazil was 1914. I had been doing some private contract work for an American company. Just before leaving I had gone upriver to meet with Ex-President Theodore Roosevelt's expedition as it arrived on its long journey from Paraguay. I had been much impressed by the man. I had been even more impressed by a younger member of the group, spending my last night in his bed. He enjoyed my being on top too.

"Well good. Then you speak Spanish."

I smothered a sigh. If the man was not aware that Portuguese was the language of Brazil I saw no need to confuse him with facts. I did speak Spanish, both Castilian and Tex-Mex in fact, so I simply nodded. Fortunately I had learned Portuguese along with the other couple of dozen languages I could speak well enough to get to the bathroom, order a drink or get laid.

"Good." He handed me a file and had me sign for it. "Intelligence uncovered in Argentina and Uruguay indicates that the Germans are moving money into South America. Surprisingly, some seems to be showing up in Brazil too. We don't have much of a presence there since Brazil is an Allied Country." He furnished me details of the local teams assigned there and warned me to be sure to avoid any contact with the FBI.

I flew to Rio de Janeiro and found it a vibrant, energetic city. I spent weeks snooping around under the guise of a not very bright but extremely nosey reporter. And I really didn't find anything at all. I might never have, had I not gone shopping one evening.

While wandering from stall to stall in the huge open market, I made an abrupt leap to avoid a hand cart and bumped into someone. I turned with a hasty apology on my lips only to hear a voice cry out "Bridget!"

"Benjamin! Judith!" I smiled in genuine happiness and threw myself into the welcoming arms of the couple before me. They both kissed me and hugged me until I would have had to gasp for breath had I been human. I hugged them back for a long minute, finally breaking the embrace.

"Look at you two. You look wonderful. How are the children?"

"Growing every day," Benjamin announced proudly. "Please come and see them, and us. We have a place near the coast about 100 kilometers south of here."

"Really? I would have thought you would settled here. You never struck me as the country type."

A shadow crossed Benjamin's face. "We have bad memories of cities right now."

I understood. When I first had crossed paths with the Rubens in the late 1930's, their future had been anything but bright. I had been in Berlin in a multi-functional capacity that strained even my powers of deception. I had been gathering political and economic intelligence for the US State Department. I had been assisting a Zionist underground railroad that was frantically attempting to get as many Jews out of Germany as possible.

I had been walking down a certain street when I had heard blows and loud curses. Since I have no sense when it comes to "minding my own business", I dashed ahead to the source of the commotion.

What I saw infuriated my Irish soul. Five brownshirt storm troopers were pushing a couple around, spitting on them and cursing them. The man was trying, but failing, to shelter the woman. His fists were doubled, but I knew that he was aware that resistance would only make things worse.

I stepped up to the party and pushed my way between the two biggest SA men. Startled that a slight female would simply walk between them they fell back. My eyes were drawn to the yellow 6 pointed star patches sewn onto the couple's clothing. So damn stupid. The two being called "mongrels" and "bloodsuckers" could have been the poster couple for Hitler's Aryan Race. They were both tall, blonde and with ice blue eyes. But because of their religion, they were outcasts.

"There you two are!" I exclaimed. "I've been looking all over for you. I must have missed you at home. Well, come along them. No time to waste." I looked over the stormtroopers and smiled "Thank you for locating my charges. I do appreciate it."

The biggest one stared at me. He may have been the ugliest one too, but it was hard to judge among the contenders. His mouth worked silently several times, and then he demanded "Papers", in an arrogant voice. Before I could respond he added "Who are you? What have you to do with these Juden?"

I took my identification out. "I am a member of the staff of the Irish Embassy," I replied in as haughty a voice as I could muster. "What I am doing with these people is none of your business. I have diplomatic immunity and interfering with me could provoke an incident you don't want to get involved in."

He examined my papers, including my diplomatic caret, issued by the Reich Foreign Office. Silently, I blessed an unnamed older official in the Free State Diplomatic Service who had quietly issued me credentials as a Counselor Agent. Some people's memories ran deep, and he recalled what I had done in the Irish struggle for independence.

Like all bullies, the SA man knew when to back off. He waved his arm and with muttered imprecations, the group left.

"Thank you," said the man. The woman, obviously his wife, nodded her thanks, unable to speak.

"You're welcome." I replied. "Now lets get you out of here."

They led me to their apartment, where I met their two small children. A glance at the woman, Judith I learned her name was, showed me that a third child was on the way. The husband, Benjamin, admitted they had been out on a fool's errand. They had been hoping to obtain a Spanish Visa that would allow them to get out of Germany. They were well aware of the rising tide of hatred but had waited just a little too long before trying to get out.

I was able to fix that. The Irish government turned a blind eye to the permits I issued them, as I had done for other people. They went to Ireland and then on from there. No one was questioning applications from people already out of Germany. They had ended up here in Brazil.

A couple of weeks later I took them up on their offer. I had two reasons. First and foremost, I really did want to see them again. Second, I had caught wind of something. Something about ethnic Germans traveling to that area and a hint that more travelers left than had originally arrived.




Bridget's Days Ch. 08



It was a wonderful visit. Saul, the oldest boy was a teenager now, Rebecca was the most beautiful little girl I had ever seen and as for David... well, he was an angel. I had such a lovely time I was even able to smother the jealousy that often arose when I was around children.

The children were in bed and I was standing on the front porch when a large car sped by and turned down a dirt road that seemed to lead towards the nearby ocean. I was instantly sure something was underway. Why do people think they're being sneaky when they're just being dumb? The car was traveling without lights. Why didn't they just put a sign on the back that said "Dirty Work Afoot"? I took off immediately in pursuit. Since I don't need to breathe I don't get winded and was able to keep up until the car turned down to the ocean.

The dirt track led me to the top of a bluff overlooking a small inlet. My eyes, designed to see in the dark, had spotted the low dark shape of a sub out beyond the breaking surf. On the small beach itself were two small rubber boats. Clustered around them was a band in black uniforms. I strained, making out the insignia of an SS Strumbannfuhrer on the leader. 

"Just like those thugs," I thought. "Can't even go on a secret mission without wearing their damn uniforms." The SS men started loading crates into the car, as a shadowy figure in a trench coat, with his collar turned up and his snap brim hat pulled down, directed. Maybe the sign should have read "Spies at Work". I pushed myself up and scurried away. Never mind their theatrics. Dumb doesn't mean not dangerous. I needed a phone.

I burst back into the Ruben's and ran for the phone. In response to their questions I simply snapped out the single word "Nazis!" They paled and rushed to rouse the children and get them dressed.

The phone was useless. Apparently the German agent had already cut the wires. I decided the most important thing was to get the Rubens clear and go for help. But before we could even open the door, gunfire broke out nearby.

I found out later that I was the Janey-come-lately to the party. Both the FBI and the OSS had been tipped off, probably by a source in the German Embassy. What they didn't count on was the strength of the German party, or the attendance of the other group at the dance. The first shots were actually fired at each other, then the three-way battle broke out.

Stumbling through the bushes seemed a damn dangerous thing for me to do, but I did it anyway. Since bullets couldn't do more to me than hurt like hell, I decided to find out if anyone had the slightest clue as to what was going on. I certainly didn't. Miraculously I made it to the first group without getting shot. It turned out to be the local OSS team, with already two of its four members down. I gave the leader directions to the Rubens' and then crawled towards the distinctive sounds of .45 automatics.

I winced as someone from the third group sprayed the entire area with a Schmiesser sub-machine gun and two 9mm bullets went through my leg. I barely managed to get out of the way when I popped into the middle of the FBI group and a man I recognized as the Legal Attache turned his Government Model Colt on me. His group was even worse off. Washington was far away and he gave way to my arguments that we all join forces. I led the way, helping a lightly wounded agent as the Legat followed. I convinced him once we settled the issue we would return for his other men. I knew one was beyond help already.

There are times I'm really smart. This wasn't one of them. As soon as we came through the door, hands grasped us and threw us to the floor. I winced as my body contacted some heavy objects. The lights came on as I struggled to my feet and I found I was in the middle of a pile of crates. The swastikas on them showed where they had come from.

I looked around. The Legat had been thrust over to stand with the two OSS men. The injured agent was out of it. There seemed to be five SS men still on their feet, the officer and four underlings. So the American gunfire had taken some of the Nazis out. I saw a trench coated figure lying on the floor. From the look of his face, someone had whipped him to a fare-thee-well.

What scared me was the huddle on the far side of the room. Benjamin, his hands showing just who had administered the beating to the German on the floor, and Judith stood with their children. Damn. They hadn't had time to get out.

The officer was cursing as he looked down at the agent. Apparently the unconscious guy on the floor was the one who was supposed to lead them to the Brazilian Navy Base not far away. The B-24 patrol aircraft were making life hard indeed for the Unterseebooten trying to sink Allied shipping and one of the missions they were supposed to accomplish was a sabotage run on the base. 

He shrugged and muttered something I didn't catch. Then he waved his hand and his men raised their machine-pistols. He turned his attention to the Rubens, who tried to push their children behind them. He sneered and asked them, "What? No pleading? No prayers?"

He looked back at me as I fell to my knees, my hands clasped before me. I began to babble the 23rd Psalm and his face lit with mocking amusement. What he didn't see was that my feet were braced against one of the shipping crates and my legs muscles were tensing as I rocked back and forth. Everyone stared at me, including the SS Guards, the muzzles of their weapons lowered slightly.

"Yea, though I walk though the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for I," A look of bafflement spread over the Strumbannfuhrer's face as he at least realized I was changing the wording, "For I, am the meanest fucking BITCH in the valley."

As I rocked forward, my tightened muscles released and I sprang at the nearest guard. Snatching the Schmiesser from his hands, I rolled past him, pulling him backwards. Since his weapon's sling was around his neck and shoulder, it was a contest as to which was stronger, the sling or his neck. The sling won, hands down.

As his neck snapped, I jerked him over my shoulder, throwing him into the two farthest guards. They all hit the floor together and were pounced on by both the FBI and OSS agents. That left only two for me.

I wanted the officer but the guard was in my way. He swung the muzzle of his weapon towards me. Before I could bat it out of the way, his finger tightened on the trigger. A line of 9 millimeter slugs stitched across my chest. I staggered but kept going, fueled by panic now as I saw the black uniformed officer turn his Luger pistol on the family. A backward blow to the guard's throat with the knife-edge of my hand dropped him as he futilely attempted to breathe through his crushed larynx.

I hurled myself through the air. Too late. His lips drawn in a snarl the SS man fired point-blank into the helpless couple who shielded their children with the only thing available to them, their bodies. First the Benjamin, then Judith, rocked with the impact of the bullets. Then I was on the SS Officer and he had time for only a choked scream at the sight of my face before he was picking out his seat in hell.

I managed to cover my face as I spun to check on the others in the room. The two surviving guards were being trussed up by the FBI as the OSS sat on them. About damn time we had some cooperation. The German spy looked even worse close up. I found out later that he had thought he could intimidate Benjamin with threats and only the arrival of the other Germans had saved him from being beaten completely to death.

I looked over the bodies of the three men I had killed. I repressed a sigh. Not that they didn't deserve it, but damn, sometimes I get so weary of killing. Who appointed me judge, jury and executioner? It seems so funny, given what I am, but I longed sometimes for the innocence of that Irish girl I once was. She could never have hurt anyone.

I was startled out of my reverie by a cry for help. I rushed to where Benjamin was attempting to staunch the blood loss from his wife's side. I tore loose a strip of cloth from her dress and pressed it tightly against the wound, holding it with my more than human strength.

"Hey! You guys, wake UP! Somebody get a car. We have to get her to a doctor." I looked at my friend beside me. His wounds were superficial, albeit he had a rather bloody gash in his scalp. The children appeared uninjured, although in shock.

The look was a mistake. The scent of the freely flowing blood called to me. With an massive effort I managed to keep my fangs from falling. Instead, I concentrated on maintaining the pressure on Judith's side. I tried to send my mind out of the room; tried to lock my senses away from the siren call of my hunger. My body was hurting from the bullets it had stopped and wanted blood to heal. I trembled, a sticky fluid that I dared not think about making my hands almost slip from the improvised bandage.

I... would... NOT... give... in. The men formed an litter with their hands and a blanket and carried Judith to the car formerly owned by the Germans. I stayed with them, clamping my fingers onto her side until they shook. Crouched on the back seat I fought one of the hardest battles I had ever been in, a battle with myself. And I won.

We rushed her to the Brazilian Naval hospital at the nearby base. A phone call alerted the Police and Counter-Intelligence types who went to the house. They fanned out, found the wounded OSS and FBI agents and got them to the hospital. They were also able to seize a large amount of money, as well as some documents that should have never been permitted off the sub. Two U-Boats were caught and sunk because of those papers.

I had collapsed into a chair in the waiting room when Judith was rushed into surgery. The OSS team leader, who's name I had never learned, stopped beside me. Wordlessly, he drew me to my feet and led me to a bathroom. I was thankful that vampires being invisible in a mirror wasn't true. At the same time, I was horrified by my appearance. Not only did I have drying blood over a good part of my body but I had almost gnawed all the way through my lips in my struggle. He helped my clean up, and then left me to my thoughts.

They weren't unpleasant. I was able to look at myself in the mirror. Maybe that Irish girl was still inside me. Not innocent, that was long gone, but something even more important, a girl who could recognize temptation and resist it. I smiled, but I had to face the facts. I was a vampire who had been sorely wounded and needed blood. That was also a part of me. Additionally, I needed to obtain other clothing that didn't show bullets holes. 

The first I managed to partially satisfy by raiding the hospital's plasma supply. That calmed me down enough to behave myself. While I was there I discovered the women's locker room and borrowed a dress I found a pretty dark haired nurse wearily smoking a cigarette. I bummed one and struck up a conversation. She had just got off shift and was trying to relax a bit before going home. I talked her into a back rub and she fell asleep under my ministrations. Too bad in a way, I thought as I carefully fed from her. I would have enjoyed a romp with her first, but beggers can't be choosers. I made sure she was comfortable and locked the door behind me. Refreshed and recovering, and also unfortunately sexually unsatisfied, I went to check on the Rubens.

As it turned out, both survived. Not surprisingly, they elected not to return to their lonely house. Friends helped them settle into the Jewish community in Rio. However, the house didn't go to waste. In a couple of weeks, once I had fully recovered, I managed to get the OSS team leader, who said his name was Bill, in there along with the Legal Attache. I knew the Legat was being honest when he said his name was Stan. He was, after all, a public official and I had checked through the embassy.

Both of them turned to leave when they saw I had invited the other. I stopped them both by main strength. Surprised that I was able to handle two full grown males like that they sat down and listened to my tongue-lashing. I told them no one was leaving until we hammered out a workable plan to keep a circus like the previous night from happening again.

It wasn't easy but we did come to an agreement to share information on a timely basis and to coordinate any future efforts. I reminded them they didn't have to put every detail into their reports and it could remain an unspoken agreement.

We started on Friday evening and it took until Saturday night to finalize the details. We decided to have a drink to celebrate our agreement. Champagne wasn't available, but I had brought some fine Irish whiskey. The first toast led to the second, the second to the third. By the time we were drinking to the OSS AND to the FBI I really began to see how cute both these guys were. After all, drop a few pounds, grown some missing hair back, replace mussed ill fitting suits and well, they still wouldn't be Cuchullainn or Fionn Mac Cumhail but hey, I'm not Emer or Deirdre either. We passed the time until Sunday evening in bed, or the shower, or the dining room table or, well, we had a lot of fun. And even after the booze wore off, I found them both to be good lovers. It had been some time since I had two guys sandwich me.

We were recuperating from our last bout, with me snuggled between the two of them, when Stan suddenly laughed. At my inquiring look he said "I guess you are the maverick I've heard about Bridget. You go your own way and make your own rules."

"That's what I've heard too," chimed in Bill. "There's a lot of rebel in you Bridget."

"Always has been," I said. "Even once against the US Government." At their startled looks I simply added without elaboration, "Of course that was a long time ago."

(To Be Continued) 



Bridget's Days Ch. 09



(Georgia, 1838)

"Its official," Daniel Ross spoke in bitter tones. "The removal is going to take place."

"There's nothing that can be done?" Dani Ross, his sister asked. Her voice was resigned. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful and knew the answer already. I suppose she was hoping for some surprise that would change everything.

"No. The so-called treaty has been ratified by the Senate and President Jackson has ordered the Army to begin 'moving the Cherokee to their new home'."

The room resounded with the buzz of conversation from the people gathered there. I sat quietly in the back of the room. It was not my place to offer opinions or comments. I was a guest here. These were the people who were going to be torn from a land they had held for many years and thrust halfway across a continent. 

The more things change, the more they stay the same. I recalled the uprooting of my own people beginning in 1653, when they were driven to barren Connacht. Untold thousands upon thousands had perished, either during the movement or afterward. I would have ground my teeth together except that my fangs got in the way. I made a tremendous effort and they withdrew, having dropped when my memories bubbled to the surface.

I had first come to New Echota, the capital of the Cherokee Nation, when gold was discovered in the Georgia hills. I didn't come for gold, after all, money was not something I needed. Rather, I had been moved by curiosity and my bump of wanderlust. And, well, "wander" was not the only lust I had been feeling.

I had met Daniel and Dani Ross over a year previously in Savannah. I moved in reasonable social circles, not the planter elite but the next step down; that of prosperous tradesmen and merchants, the smaller cotton factors and ship owners. I was passing as the widow of a Barbados planter. Single women, especially of means, were looked upon somewhat askance, and I could not afford too deep an examination after all. I had a town house of modest proportions and entertained and received invitations to parties in return. I did enjoy the parties and opportunities they offered to meet interesting people of both sexes.

As did those of my kind who could, I also had a well concealed hiding place in another part of town. In my case, it was several rooms near the waterfront. Comfortably furnished, they provided a base for the nights when I prowled looking for a meal. I ranged carefully over a good deal of the city, never feeding twice in a row from the same area. As well as safety, that also ensured I was extremely unlikely to feed from someone I had previously bitten. Two encounters in too short a space of time and I might have actually killed someone. My hunger had to be satisfied but at the same time I did not want to murder an innocent person.

It was at one of those parties one spring when I was introduced to the Ross's. Both of medium height, they had matching black hair and copper skins. Daniel's eyes were black. Dani's were blue, showing one of the strains that had mixed with the Cherokee over the centuries. I was taken with both of them from the first introduction. Their appearance stirred memories of the Orient and the lovers and peoples I had known there.

As distant cousins of John Ross, the Principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation, they were both well-educated and knowledgeable. I was fascinated to learn about their nation inside a nation, a nation with its own languages, written and spoken. A nation with its own laws and newspaper and all its own accoutrements and ways. I was also fascinated by them.

At a party one evening, I was standing alone on a dark porch, enjoying the night sea breeze when a voice spoke behind me.

"Out in the dark, Mistress Severin?" Daniel's voice came to me, using the name I was going under at that time.

"Bridget, please, Mister Ross" I turned and smiled at him. Enough light floated through the nearby windows to outline his form, and the two glasses he was holding. He extended one to me.

"Champagne?" I took the glass and he continued. "I would like that, Bridget. Please then, call me Daniel." With a hint a bitterness, "After all, 'Mister' seems to be a title that some here think I am not entitled to have."

"Then they're fools," I said simply. I touched my glass to his. "Your health."

We drank and chatted. As the night drew on, I asked him if he would be kind enough to see me home. The host summoned my rented carriage and Daniel assisted me into the back seat. I kept his hand in mine as he followed me into the coach. He squeezed my hand, then he disengaged his fingers from mine and gently stroked the skin on my arm. I shivered slightly and smiled.

We spoke little on the way home, but we sat close and I could feel the heat from his body. When we arrived I tipped the driver generously and led Daniel into the house.

It was dark and I lit a lamp in the hallway.

"No live in servants?" Daniel inquired, as he followed me up the stairs. I had made no verbal invitation to him, but the look we had exchanged in the foyer was enough. His own smoldering gaze had seen the desire in my eyes and matched it with his own.

"No, I prefer my privacy," I replied. That was true, I also didn't want anyone too familiar with my comings and goings. I also have a vivid imagination and could just see a helpful cook or maid bringing me breakfast in bed and opening the heavy curtains to a glorious sunlit morning. They were tightly fastened to avoid such an occurrence, but I was a devout follower of Murphy long before his famous law was written down.

Daniel's fingers touched my shoulders from behind. He gently removed the shawl I had draped around me and carefully placed it over the banister of the stair we had just climbed. Carefully, but forcefully, his hands drew my dress down my arms, leaving my shoulders bare. His lips followed, tracing my collarbone, then sliding up the side of my neck. For an instant they paused, where my pulse would have been, and I felt a tinge of worry. Then his tongue moved on, following the line of my jaw up to my ear.

His fingers were undoing the buttons down the back of my dress, even as his tongue slipped inside my ear, darting deep inside the porches. The speed that my dress fell down my body spoke of much practice on his part. He spun me around and pulled me into his arms, his mouth seeking my upturned one. We kissed; quickly once, then twice and then our mouths closed on each other and remained as his tongue burrowed into my mouth. 

He reached down, one arm behind my back and the other circling my knees. In one motion he scooped me up into his arms. He broke our kiss long enough to demand "Where?".

"The end of the hallway," I managed to gasp in return. He carried me down the hallway, pushing the door open with his shoulder and then kicking it closed behind us. I have never been able to see "Gone With the Wind" without seeing Daniel carrying me down that hallway to the bedroom. Nor do I want to forget.

Once securely in the room, Daniel bent his attention to removing my petticoats. As in a distant future I would refuse to put up with a girdle, in that earlier time I disdained to wear a corset and stays. Take me as I am or leave me alone. Therefore he was able to speedily strip me, I having "forgot" pantaloons. Again.

I was surprised to see that his skill in undressing a woman also extended to undressing himself simultaneously. I was impressed. I was also impressed by his rigid cock. It curved up slightly from sparse but dark hair and was already glistening.

I made a move to capture it, but Daniel forestalled me, taking my hands in his. He kissed me again and then took me to the bed, sitting on the mattress and then drawing me to him. When I was beside him, his kisses started anew, this time deep and passionate. He sank down onto the bed and took me with him, gently stretching me out and then covering my body with his own.

The time for talking was past. Our mouths closed on each other anew, tongues searching, demanding, possessing. I parted my legs and felt the head of his cock press against me. One hand cupped my right breast, gently squeezing it and toying with my nipple. I bent my knees, planted my feet and lifted my hips. With a single long gentle motion, he slid inside me.

For what seemed like forever he remained still. Only his lips moved as he continued to kiss me. Even his hand was motionless, my nipple caught between two fingers. Then his hips began to rise and fall, slowly, oh so slowly at first. His shaft rasped back and forth in me, the head gliding along my silky inside walls. Then he braced his hands on either side of my body, just grazing the sides of my breasts. He raised up, holding his slender muscular body in the air, touching me only at three places, his weight supported by his toes and hands. I gasped silently as his mouth parted from mine.

His arms flexed, lowering himself to cover me. His hips pushed forward, filling me with his cock. Then he pushed up, his hands tightening on my breasts. Somehow it felt wildly erotic to have so much of his weight pressing against my small breasts, knowing they were holding him up.

Down and up, in and out, he pumped. He moved faster and faster. Pinned by his weight on my breasts, I could still arch up to him, meeting each down thrust with a push of my own. The silence was shattered by both of our moans, growing louder and louder with each thrust of his cock in my pussy, with each slamming up of my hips to take him deeper into me. His knees were on the bed now, allowing him to slam forward as well as down. I felt him beginning to swell inside me. In response, my internal muscles tightened on him, until he was battering to keep pounding all the way inside. His head fell back and he released a hot flood deep in my already soaking pussy.

We slept, woke and then made love again. For as long as he visited the city we met discreetly and arranged many more lovely nights together. The visits began to trail off in late 1837 as the growing tide of the campaign to dispossess the Cherokee grew. Finally I received a letter telling me that he and Dani both had decided it was no longer safe to come to Savannah.

I wasn't in love with Daniel but I didn't want to stop seeing him. I felt more akin to the Cherokee and their plight than I did to my neighbors. So I moved, something I had done a number of times before and knew that I would do again.

From the first I loved the low, rolling mountains of North Georgia. I longed for the nearness of the ocean, but the morning mists and the gentle, worn peaks covered in trees gave comfort to an eternal outsider. I took great care in my feeding, generally traveling to the nearby gold camps. Daniel and I were still friends, but no longer lovers. Somehow that seemed right. Things were different in the Cherokee Nation than they had been in Savannah. It was as though darkness covered the land. Voices were muted. The mood was somber. I missed him in my bed, but I understood.

There were occasional attempts to lighten the atmosphere. Daniel and Dani held a party one evening and invited me. There was food and drink and conversation. If the objective was to take everyone's minds off the current crisis it was a dismal failure. People huddled together in small groups and spoke with hushed voices. Then came the news of the ratification of the treaty and the announcement of its enforcement 

I tried my best to help with some inconsequential chatter but it didn't help. I really felt like the outsider I was. I finally gave up and decided to go home.

Dani caught me as I slipped out the back door. "Where are you going, Bridget?" I explained and she nodded her head sadly. "I know, I don't know what to do. What to do about this party, what to do about the whole damn situation." She burst out. "Its not fair!"

"Shhhhhhhhh, I know." I held her and stroked her sable hair. The daughter and granddaughter of Chiefs, she brought herself under control and kissed me on the cheek.

"Thanks," was all she said, or needed to say. 

I smiled in return. We stood there looking at each other. Somehow our hands brushed and then our fingers intertwined. Different emotions chased themselves across her face. I saw sadness and loss of hope mingled with a slowly igniting curiosity that gave way finally to desire. I pulled her hand, leading her out into the darkness. Then we were running for the cover of the nearby trees.

As soon as we disappeared into the shadows I turned and pulled her to me. I covered her mouth with mine, pushing her back against a live oak, trapping her body with mine. Her body responded, her hands tearing at my clothing, her lips returning my wild kisses even as she gasped "Bridget! Oh Bridget, I've never, I mean, I've never been with another woman before."

Her whispered confession only roused me to a fever pitch. Frantically I undressed her, even as she continued to strip me. Then we were both nude and my eyes drank her form in. The moonlight bathed her smooth, tawny body. she lifted her arms over her head and stood on her toes. Her small breasts jutted from her body. I wrapped my arms around her slender waist and swallowed one breast. It was delicious and I feasted on it and then on its sister, sucking one while my hand cupped the other. My tongue laved one jutting nipple and my fingers rolled the other. As my mouth darted from one to the other, my hands switched, ensuring I kept both breasts covered.

Dani cried out softly, her hands on my shoulders. Suddenly she pushed down. Eagerly I trailed wet kisses down over her flat belly until I reached her mound and my knees buckled under me. Her pussy was smooth, and shone wetly in the dim light. A hand grasped the back of my neck and urged my face forward.

I parted her labia in one swift motion and drove my tongue inside her. I was on fire for my beautiful Cherokee maiden, unable and unwilling to tease and arouse. I wanted her. My face tipped up under her, my hands grasped her hips. I covered her bare pussy with my mouth and sucked wildly, feeling her juices already flowing past my probing tongue. 

Dani covered her mouth with one arm, muffling her cries of passion. The other remained firmly on my head, tilting it and guiding me to reach her most sensitive area. She ground her pussy on my face, gleefully fucking herself on my questing tongue. A quick glance up saw her face flushed with excitement and her eyes gleaming with lust.

Her body suddenly strained forward. She reached down, grabbed my wrist and brought my hand to her mouth. She sucked three of my fingers, using them to smother the noises I knew she wanted to make as her body trembled and filled my mouth with her sweet woman juices.

An hour later we lay in the bed at my rented house. Her head pillowed on my shoulder, she toyed with the red hair between my legs. That red hair was wet, both from my own cumming and from the ministrations of her tongue.

Dani giggled, and then sobered. She sat up in bed, sitting cross legged beside me.

"What is it, Dani?"

"I was giggling because of your hair. I heard Daniel say something about it." She covered my mouth with her fingers. "He was NOT gossiping nor was he boasting. Your name never came into the conversation Bridget. Only I knew who he was talking about." 

I propped my head on my hand and looked up at Dani. "Why so serious then?

"Bridget," she hesitated. Her voice sank to a whisper that could not have been heard across the room. "I know what you are."

Not by a single tremor did I reveal my shock. In my most studied casual voice I replied. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes held mine. "I mean you are a Nightwalker, Bridget." This time I must have given some sign, because those eyes soften and she placed her hand on mine. "Its alright. Fortunately," and now there was actually a touch of humor in her eyes," Fortunately, no one but Daniel and I actually know. Other's who helped in our investigation have been simply aiding us in checking on you as an outsider in our midst. By the time the two of us were certain, the results of that same investigation had shown us you were not a threat to us personally or to our people."

Abruptly she threw her wiry body against me, bearing me backwards onto the bed. Her thigh slid between my legs. As she kissed me, her hips moved, grinding her leg against me. Now she was giggling again as she whispered in my ear, "Now we trust you Bridget." Her hand found my breast. " And we think you might help us." Her knee flexed, parting my legs and her body shifted. Her soaked pussy met mine and she began to thrust against me. "By the way, this is not meant as a bribe for your help." I gasped and she gasped with me. "Its just meant because I want you."

We spent the next two days together. Most of the time was actually not in bed but in planning how to respond to the coming crisis. I had immediately agreed to help Dani, and Daniel, of course. After all, as Jefferson once said, "I hold a little rebellion to be a healthy thing."

Eight years earlier, Congress had passed the "Indian Removal Act". It had passed against strong opposition. One out-spoken critic was Congressman Davy Crockett. The act passed however and President Jackson ordered the removal to begin. The Cherokee managed to block its enforcement by a successful lawsuit that recognized the Cherokee as a sovereign nation. However, a very small minority block would sign The Treaty of New Echota which would be ratified by the Senate over the protests of both Daniel Webster and Henry Clay. The removal would take place.

Armed resistance was out of the question. General Winfield Scott had arrived in May with seven thousand men. Following the lead of John Ross, the majority of the people submitted.

But not Daniel and Dani. After all, they had an ace in the hole. Namely, one red-headed, green-eyed, obviously NOT Native American female who was willing to attempt to get them and several members of their family to the mountains of North Carolina where other Cherokees had already fled. Before the troops arrived the three of us, along with four cousins of the same general age and three children had taken to the Georgia red clay roads.

Speed wouldn't be the answer. Stealth was our only chance. I drove a plodding oxen team, hauling a large peddler's wagon. Spacious enough to carry a good deal of gear, it also had a sleeping section built onto the back. We traveled at night, over back roads and hidden trails. I drove as everyone else remained hidden in the wagon. Several times we were stopped, but one look at me, even in torchlight, allayed the suspicions of the searchers and I was able to proceed. During the day, the Ross's scattered through any available undergrowth and slept, usually taking turns on watch. I remained inside the wagon. Twice we were investigated by daylight. Not without injury from the indirect sun I was able to remain inside the sleeping area and convince the first party that I was alone. That news proved too much for three unwashed "Indian fighters" conducting the second search and they thought to take advantage of a lone female. It was fortunate for me, and fatal for them, that Daniel was on guard and managed to close the door to the caravan. The resulting disturbance allowed me to heal from the injuries I had suffered from the sunlight and I buried the bodies deep when night arrived.

One evening I was preparing for the night's travel. I had set up the camp on a flattened hilltop overlooking the Chattahoochee River. On the other side of the river was South Carolina. Not that crossing the boundary meant we were safe, but we would be subjected to less scrutiny there. Then I heard a horse snort on the trail leading to the camping spot. The Ross's faded into the bushes. I stood to meet whatever visitors were arriving.

My heart sank. The visitors were an Army patrol, a dozen dragoons led by a tall officer. Without being commanded, the men spread out in a semicircle around the clearing. Their faces were neutral under their hats. The officer dismounted and approached me.




Bridget's Days Ch. 09



"Good evening," he said, pleasantly enough, inclining his head.

"Good evening, Captain," I replied.

"I trust you will pardon this intrusion but I have orders to examine all east bound travelers to make sure that no one affected by the 'Treaty' of New Echota," and I was encouraged by the obvious quote marks he verbally hung around the word, "Is attempting to move in a direction other than that of West to the new reservation in the Oklahoma Territory."

I should have held my tongue but I was never able to do that. "I will pardon you Captain, but reluctantly, I must confess. I do not like at all this tearing of a people from their homeland. But," I raised my hand to forestall any interruption, "I realize that you are bound by orders."

"Yes," he acknowledged. "Orders are hard to obey sometimes. One takes an oath and then has to decide which is the greater evil, to break the oath or uphold it." He stood looking out across the river. Not by a single muscle twitch did I allow myself to look towards the Ross's' hiding place. My heart leapt as I realized that he was also avoiding looking in that direction.

"Thoughts cross your mind," he continued. "You think about resigning." I nodded. The delay that had given us the chance to attempt our escape had arisen when General John Wool had refused to move the Cherokee, resigning in protest. "But you decide that perhaps you can balance your conscience and your duty. During these sweeps," he indicated the patrol, "I would, of course, be required to apprehend anyone I observed attempting to evade the movement. But obviously, what I don't see, I cannot act upon. And perhaps when the trek begins, I can try to alleviate as much of the resulting misery as I can."

His voice trailed off and then he squared his shoulders and lifted his head. "Well, I must apologize, Madame. I have taken up your valuable time and I do not see anything in this area that would force me to act." He marched back to his horse and swung into the saddle. He lifted his uniform cap. "Good evening."

"Captain, wait," I called on a sudden impulse. When he reined in, I walked quickly to his side." I reached up and put my hand on his. "Captain, may I have your name, please?"

"Gibson, Madame, Captain Thomas Gibson."

"Thank you Captain," I breathed. "Thank you for being a gentleman, as well as an honorable officer and man." He bowed in the saddle. Giving a quick order to his troops, he led them away at a trot.

Long after the sound of the hoofs faded and the Ross's had returned, I stared out into the darkness. As we crossed the river and continued on towards the haven that we would eventually successfully reach, I kept a handsome, stern face in my mind.

(To Be Concluded) 



Bridget's Days Ch. 10



I smiled, wondering what would have happened had I been able to follow up on my impulse of that long ago evening. Probably for the best that I didn't have the chance. Things were confusing enough without the memory of having slept with my great-great-great whatever father.

I closed the book, locked it and set it beside the chair. Oh, there were so many other stories I wanted to tell, so many tales of the "ancestors". I looked across the room again at the picture of Mike and the companion picture on the other end of the shelf. A young me in a simple white dress with flowers in my hair clutched an equally young Mike by his arm. He looked so handsome in his uniform. The day we were married. After all that had happened, I was able to experience an old saying I had only been able to dream of for centuries: "Happy the Bride the sun shines on".

Darn watery eyes. You'd think my doctor could do something about those allergies. I pushed up my glasses and dabbed the moisture away with a tissue. Tears come to everyone, I know. No matter how blessed I had been in my life, the trials that I had undergone never left my memory.

The two times I had been rushed to the hospital after Mike had failed to duck fast enough...

The heart stopping knock on the door by a uniformed Marine Officer when Sean was shot down and was missing in action in one of those nasty little police actions that had filled the century...

The frantic call when Mary had skidded off a rainy road and hung between life and death for weeks...

The false phone call that lured me to an deserted town in an attempted assassination by someone in revenge for my actions as a CIA Agent long before I became human again...

Every skinned knee, fever, heartache, black eye, broken date, every disappointment my children endured...

Oh, but those memories were so outnumbered by the others. They filled my mind. Happy pictures of my children in school recitals and plays and church cantatas and choirs. The steps up from every level from kindergarten to Law School. Academy graduations and Commissioning Ceremonies and Doctorial Vestings. Awards and presentations ranging from perfect attendance at Catholic Youth to Medals of valor and Service, Police and Military and Medical and so many more.

Even those were crowded out by the more important memories, the simple ones. Walking hand in hand with Mike along the seashore, dancing alone together in a gentle rain. The first kick from our Mary, and every kick from all the children. Picnics and family outings of every size and shape and form. Shopping with my daughters and the hilarity of seeing Mike's grumpy face mirrored exactly by my sons as they impatiently waited for us. Watching them all grow up and fall in love themselves and the arrival of my grandchildren and then my great-grandchildren.

Even those terrifying times had times of joy. Seeing Stephanie come out of the operating room with a smile on her face and the announcement that Mike had "dodged another one". The incredible vision phone call from the Middle East when the screen had lit up to reveal my youngest; hungry, dirty and bandaged but with the reassurance that he was alright. That last moment in that town when I had run out of choices and was bursting from hiding with no thought but to take someone with me and then standing in shock as the cavalry arrived. The nights of kneeling by Mary's hospital bed, praying desperately for my daughter's life and then feeling her fingers touch my hair and her whispered "Mamma?". 

I reached down with my left hand and touched the other book where it snuggled in another side pocket. I thought of another old saying I had always loved. "Weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning." My night had been very long indeed, but my days had more than made up for them.

I relaxed, folding my hands in my lap. I looked at Mike again. Not that I needed a picture to keep his face in my mind. I closed my eyes, holding him before me, as handsome and as strong and loving as he had always been. 

Those French doors must have opened somehow. I could feel a gentle breeze on my face. Well, Lisa was going to have a fit, but I wasn't going to get up and close them. It just felt too nice. I could hear the distant roar of the ocean. "Silly old woman," I thought to myself, "The sea is a hundred miles from here." But the rhythm was soothing and I felt myself being lulled to sleep.

My eyes struggled to open, then gave up and stayed closed. Now this was a fine-how-do-you-do. I didn't recall having done the "wake up and not know where I was or what the heck happened" since the fight with Thorfinn. Maybe I was just overdue after 65 years.

It did feel nice, wherever I was. The sun was warm on my face, even through my eyelids. I had never tired of reveling in the sensation of feeling the sun. On Mike's and my honeymoon I had ended up with a case of sunburn that made me look like a lobster. Poor Mike had spent the whole trip home from Bermuda slathering me in Aloe and scolding me for not respecting the sun. 

The breeze felt wonderful too. I could feel my hair blowing away from my face. The scent was of fresh green grass with just a tiny hint of salt air. Speaking of grass, I seemed to be sitting on a thick carpet of it. I ran my fingers through the blades. There was still a faint film of dew on them, it must be early morning. 

I was almost tempted enough by the feeling of my surroundings to open my eyes now. But I didn't. I felt so calm and relaxed that I thought nothing could convince me to stir. Then...

"Bridget!" A deep male voice called "Get up me lass. Are ye going to sit there a wastin' the morning away? I thought I had been teaching you better than that!"

I bolted to my feet, my eyes wide open. The figure of a burly man stood a few yards away. His eyes twinkled with the laughter he had always been filled with.

"Father?"

"Well, Mary, at least she doesn't seem to be addled. At least not any more than she always was."

"Cease your blathering, Michael O'Brien," a woman's voice answered, as firm as she had always been. I smothered a sudden urge to giggle as I looked from my towering father to my petite and commanding mother. She was waggling her finger under his nose, as I had seen a thousand times before. She sniffed and turned towards me, her eyes betraying her suppressed mirth. Then they both held their arms out to me. Three steps and I was wrapped in my parents' embrace. 

I finally managed to regain my voice as I looked at them both. "How... what... I mean... Mother, Father... what are you doing here?"

"Getting acquainted with yours lass." My father replied. I felt two more sets of arms around me. I twisted and saw Pat and Mike. "And mighty good people they are," my father continued, "Even if the man cheats at arm-wrestling," he pretended to grumble.

"Ach, ye loon," my mother scolded again. "Be paying him no mind, Michael Gibson. He never could take being beaten at that."

Mike laughed merrily. "As I recall, I grumbled worse than that when he beat me."

Pat rolled her eyes and poked him in the ribs. "Indeed. The two of you are cut from the same cloth." She paused, and in a voice that summed up the feelings of all women towards their mates, she added "MEN!"

I marveled at the foursome. They were as I remembered them, Pat and my Mother beautiful, My Father and Mike strong and handsome. Joy seemed to surround them. They kept bursting out in laughter. My Father suddenly caught up my Mother in his arms and whirled her in the air as she giggled in glee. 

I smoothed my skirt down. My skirt? I looked at myself. I was wearing a plain skirt that fell to my ankles. My bare feet peeped from under the hem and I curled my toes into the grass. I had on a loose blouse of some material that looked like linen, but like the skirt, felt like silk. I touched the ringlets of my hair that tumbled down over my shoulders. I felt like I could not stand still. I lifted my arms and danced around.

I sobered for a moment. Or rather, I tried. Even as I asked the question foremost in my mind, a reservoir of elation kept bubbling up from deep inside me. 

"Dead? Ahh, that's not the word, lass," my father enveloped me in the bear hug that always made me feel so incredibly safe and loved. Even with my head pillowed on his chest I could feel him smile. "Just come home."

He let me go and I stood there, marveling at everything. Mike had sprawled on the grass and Pat was laying with her head on his stomach. My mother sat beside them. One hand was lifted to hold my father's hand. The fingers of the other were twined with those of my mother.

"How can you be 'getting to know each other'?" I asked. I looked at my parents. "You passed on 5 centuries ago. You two," I looked at the other couple, "Your funeral was only three decades ago."

"Time has no meaning here, Bridget," Mike told me gently. "We may have been here for minutes, or thousands of years. It matters not. We have as long before us as we ever had."

"Perhaps time does matter a wee bit," my mother smiled. "At least to someone." She gestured towards the eternal dawn breaking over the horizon.

I saw an achingly familiar form outlined by the sun. He was standing on a rise that led towards the ocean. He spread his arms and I began to run towards him...