Green And Golden Paths

[stalwartone]

OOC - This is a story thread for appleapps and myself. This little vignette is inspired by an old song, and I hope we can do it justice. Please, feel free to send critiques and comments via PM. Thanks, Stalwartone.

IC

1964

The old house stood alone, overwatching an overrun section of field. The entire property was in need of tending, from the roof showing patches of exposed tar paper, to the peeling paint and cracked windows, to the yard that had been steadily losing a battle to the weeds and wild grasses. One shutter hung loose on an upper window, banging slightly on it's solitary remaining hinge, but other windows couldn't boast even a single shutter. The fence around the property was a wrought iron affair, scarred from multiple years of enduring the elements, and it's gate was held shut more by it's canted position than by any working latch.

The house was old, built well before the turn of the century, and had been once a mansion for the wealthy section of the town. It occupied a high point of ground, and boasted an excellent view of the land all around, including the woods to one side, the gentle drop to a river on the other, what had once been fields to the rear, and the street in front. Few vehicles came this way, although a winding path lead around behind the rear of the place, frequented by the local children on their explorations between the woods and river.

It was also dark, seeming to suck the light from the world around it. This might in part have been from the poor condition, but also from the apparent lack of electricity. No signs of light were within it, and what light fixtures were outside seemed to be in no condition to function. It was, for lack of a better term, a proverbial haunted house, lacking only a gargoyle and a vulture to complete the scene.

The silence that loomed over the area was suddenly shattered by gleeful shouts and cries. From the trail meandering along between riverway and the woods, four young boys pranced along, talking and jabbering amongst themselves, their hands in motion as they described their latest adventures to each other. No one seemed to be listening, but that didn't stop them all from talking at the same time. They were all of an age, in that stage that allowed for independence from their parents and siblings, but hadn't yet brought on the awkwardness of puberty.

One of the boys paused in his explanation of the order of a baseball game to briefly search the ground, then he stood. His arm stretched back behind him, and he briefly shaded his eyes to draw a bead on the house, then the arm whipped forward. A rock sailed smoothly from his hand, arcing wide and clearing the building easily in it's flight. He immediately stooped again, muttering under his breath about the throw, his hand seeking another missile. One of the other boys made a move to stop him.

"No, don't."

"Why not. It's just an old house."

"You can't. She lives there."

"Whaddaya mean? That thing's abandoned. It needs to be knocked down."

"No, I mean it. She'll get you." The other two boys added agreements to the last statement, their eyes nervously searching the lines of the house.

"She? Who's she?"

The second boy looked around quickly, then leaned in, and whispered two words, the name almost a benediction as he said it.

"Crazy Mary."

"Right." With a noted nonchalance, the new stone was selected, weighed, hefted, then sent flying in a much more controlled arc. A harsh crash sounded, and a pair of shingles broke free, slid down the roof, then fell to the ground with a crash.

"Now you did it." The second boy started scouting the length of the path, seeming to become a small animal sensing a predator near by.

 

[appleapps]

Sitting in the drawing room, she hears them coming down the path. She gets off the threadbare sofa and walks over to the large windows, which are covered by the dark burgundy drapes. Standing to the side, she peeks out the window and watches them approach. The one boy picks something up and throws it at her house. It seems like all the kids who pass by have to throw things at her house. Sometimes they hit a window and sometimes they don’t, but they always run when they see her approaching.

As the second rock makes contact with the roof she hears the shingles fall. She walks across the oak floor to the foyer. She slowly opens the heavy wooden door. The light shining across the threshold makes her look like a shadow in the doorway.

The boys hear the door opening, creaking on its hinges. They stand frozen as they see the shadow in the doorway. As she steps out of the doorway and into the light the boys are even more frightened. She is tall but age has her stooping instead of standing straight. She has long, straight, white hair that doesn’t look like it has been brushed in awhile. Her face is pale, almost translucent, and her gray eyes have a haunted look about them. She is wearing a faded dress that looks like she just stepped out of the 1920’s.

The boys watch as she approaches them. They are held by her gaze, frozen, wanting to run but unable to move. Just then a bird flies between them and the old woman, breaking the gaze and enabling the boys to move. They turn and run as quickly as they can, not daring to look back.

The woman turns around and walks back into her house, once again alone.

 

[stalwartone]

The boys ran, no one speaking, no one daring to look back. In typical fashion for young boys, they made it to the treeline, then paused, safe within the darkness of the woods.

"What was that?" The one who had thrown the rocks was noticibly white, and his breathing seemed more labored than their run would seem to warrant.

"Crazy Mary." The reply was flat, a statement of fact, lacking the usual inflections that accompanied childhood fairy tales and ghost stories.

A third boy spoke up, adding his opinion to the group dynamic. "She lives there. Never goes out, no one ever goes in."

"And survives, you mean." The second boy was showing a bit more of a story telling approach, but still cast watchful eyes back towards the house.

"No, the grocery sends food to her every week."

"The guy just drops it off on her porch. No one dares go in there."

"She doesn't have electricity, or a phone."

"She doesn't talk to anybody."

"She's got a fortune stashed away in her floorboards."

"She doesn't go to church."

"She's a witch." This last statement killed the conversation for a moment, then the rock thrower laughed.

"Right."

"No, really, she's a witch. Who else would live in that house?"

"You saw her. What do you think?"

"She's a crazy old lady, that's what I think."

"No, she's a witch. My dad talks about her."

"Mine too"

"Yeah."

"What do you mean?"

"She's a witch. She's always lived there. Before the town was built, she had a cave out here."

"Right."

"My mom hates her. Says she tries to seduce young men, then kill them."

"Seduce?"

"You know. Sex. Like what's her name. Borga."

"Borgia. Lucretia Borgia. Slept with men, then killed them."

"Weird." These boys had all dropped their voices to conspiratorial whispers, partly because she might be able to hear them, partly because of the sex topic.

"You don't cross her, she'll do stuff to you."

"Like what?"

"Curse you. Put a hex on you."

"Give you warts."

"Change you into a dog, or a donkey."

"Right."

"No, it's true. Ten years ago, Martin Theldon tried to sneak in there, to get a picture of her. He thought she was a vampire."

"So?"

"So, he disappears. Never heard from again. But there's this dog that suddenly started hanging around his house, trying to get in."

"And she did it?"

"Who else?" The speaker pointed back to where the roof of the house was just barely visible. "She had to have done it. She's nuts. Sitting up there in that one window, watching us. Oh, she's doing it now!"

"What?" All the boys began craning their necks, trying to see, without being seen.

"Look, the third window from the right. It's got another window behind it, letting in the light, see? And you can see her there. She's watching us."

The boys stared for a moment, then dropped down, hiding in the relative safety of the trees.

"Man, we're dead. She'll get us. She'll wait til dark, then fly out and get us."

"She'll slip into our rooms, and kill us."

"You're nuts." The one stood back up, his demeanor once again that of a cocky kid. "I'm not afraid of her."

"Right. Prove it."

"You got it." The boy pushed his way back to the edge of the trees, and stared at the window. " You're a witch!! He waited a moment, then continued. "You're a witch! You're an ugly witch! You're ugly, and I hate you! We all hate you! How many lovers have you buried, you witch?"

The boys sat there amazed, then started edging away. They felt as if they'd crossed a line, and there was a definite feeling of danger in the air.

 

[appleapps]

She entered her house, closed the door and walked back into the drawing room. She crossed the room and peek out the window again, waiting to see what they would do next. They never just left they always had to do one more thing to taunt her, one more think to try to make her lose control.

She sees them stop just inside the trees. They are just standing there for a bit. Then the one who threw the stone stepped out of the woods and started to taunt her again. “You’re a witch!!” He waited a moment, then continued. "You're a witch! You're an ugly witch! You're ugly, and I hate you! We all hate you! How many lovers have you buried, you witch?"

The other boys back away, moving deeper into the woods, not wanting to be associated with his taunting. But she knows that they are there still, watching, wondering, they are the ones who, in a way, dared him to do this.

As she stands there watching the boys, she starts thinking about what she would like to do to them for taunting her. How she would like to get even with each and everyone of them, but most of all the boy who is doing the taunting. After all he is also the one who threw the rocks at her house.

She feels herself getting tired from standing there, the boys have finally left, and so she walks over to the sofa and lies down. As soon as her head hits the pillow, she drifts off to sleep. She begins to dream about the revenge that she would like to inflict on the boys.

The boy who was doing the taunting is walking home with his friends. They are back on the path, the river on one side and the woods on the other. They pause to throw some rocks into the river; the boy sees this perfect rock part way down the incline to the river. He decides that he has to have that rock and very carefully makes his way down the incline. Just as he picks up the rock and turns around to go back up the incline he loses his footing and slides down into the river. Never learning how to swim the boy quickly goes under the water, his friends don’t know what to do. They want to help him but are afraid of the river, it is moving swiftly. One runs towards town to get help as the others stay to keep an eye on where there friend is. They watch him bob up and down in the water and finally he stops surfacing. When help arrives they show them where they last saw their friend. They search for the body for three hours before finally finding it about a mile down the river.

Sunlight streams through the drapes that have been pushed back from the one side of the window and falls across the sleeping woman’s face. She awakens slowly, looks around and realizes she is still in her house and it was all a dream. She gets up and pulls the drape closed.

 

[stalwartone]

Running along the path, the boys put the house behind them, both physically as well as mentally, as boys are likely to do. The fear of the house's resident fell away, and they were soon back to relating adventures important to boys. They soon found themselves once again close to the river, as the trail wound back and forth, as did the river. In the true fashion of youth, they began picking up stones, and attempting to skip them across the languidly moving water. The first several attempts were frantic and poorly aimed, but they soon found their control, and the rocks began skimming neatly across the water. A contest quickly began to find the perfect stone to be used.

One stone in particular stood out among the grasses that lined the riverbanks. Shaped to a smooth flat disk, perfectly sized to fit a youthful hand, it caught the attention of the boy that had challenged the strange lady. In his mind, as in the minds of most young boys, he needed to prove himself superior, and that particular stone was the obvious key to his success. Only a few steps down the hill were required to claim it, and the title they were all fighting for amongst themselves.

He moved down the incline, and grabbed for the rock, only to have the grass start sliding beneath his feet. His sneakers offered no traction, and he fell, suddenly rolling away towards the water. He could only offer a brief scream for aid, then he struck the water.

Of the boys, he was the only one that had no water skills. This fact likely had a great deal to do with his actions in the water. Panic set in, and he tried desperately to cry for help, even though he was spending equal amounts of time both above and below water.

His friends tried to help him, but the water was deceptively calm on the surface, and apparently possessed of a strong undertow. Despite the slow moving visible water, the boy's surface moments were in increasingly distant places, showing him to be moving at a high rate of speed while trying to save himself. The three remaining boys split up, one running for the town and the police department for aid, and the other two tring to get far enough ahead of their endangered friend to enact a rescue of some sort.

In later days, the newpaper would relate that the lost boy had been unprepared for being in the water, or had perhaps been stunned by the water inhis lungs. Blame was even placed upon his attire, since the clothing had obviously taken on too much liquid to allow him even a chance of staying afloat. In any case, when he had been finally pulled from the water, all life had fled from his body.

While no one would ever know his final thoughts, they had all speculated on what they might be. Some spoke of his likely fear and panic, others suggested that he might have given thought to his family and friends, or perhaps to a greater being. Many spoke of drowning as the most peaceful of ways to go.

Truth could be the harshest of realities. And, in truth, the lost boy's final thoughts were of something far more sinister. A vision not of calm, or of a promised reward, or even of those known to him as kith and kin.

They would all have been horrified to know that, in his final moments, his last image was that of a flowing, wild hair, of angry orbs glowering up from the depths, and of a pair of withered hands, reaching to hold onto his feet, pulling him below, and keeping him there.

 

[appleapps]

The next morning she walks out to the back of her house. She opens the door that is in the back of the kitchen, looks around and then quickly brings in the box that is sitting on the steps. She takes the box over to the table that is against the sidewall. She notices the headline, “Boy drowns while skipping rocks by the river.”

As she reads the article, she a slow smile comes over her face. She realizes that her dream has come true and that mean boy won’t be bothering her anymore. She reads along but is saddened to know that the other boys are still doing well, but at least they had been traumatized by witnessing their friend’s death. Maybe that will be enough for them to leave her alone.

She takes the coffee out of the box, walks over to the counter and measures out the coffee. As the coffee begins to brew a low laugh can be heard, the laugh gets louder until it turns into a cackle.

 

[stalwartone]

~ The Past ~

1924

Annual Debutante Ball Declared A Rousing Success!!

- On the evening last, the town elders were delighted to announce and witness the coming out of the most eligible young ladies of the town's aristocracy. In all, fifteen daughters of the finest families in the area were introduced to the society at large, and allowed an opportunity to demonstrate their exceptional morals, unquestioned breeding, and superior education.

However, the uncontested belle of the ball was, without doubt, Miss Mary Donlevy, daughter of Mr. Jonathon Donlevy (deceased) and Mrs. Elizabeth Donlevy (nee - Richardson, deceased), and heir to the Donlevy family import business, accounts, and holdings. Miss Donlevy captivated the crowd with demonstrations of her dancing skills, singing voice, oratory abilities, and social graces. Miss Donlevy has yet to announce an intended, but there is little doubt that this happy event will happen in the near future, as few of the eligible bachelors at the function were allowed a chance to miss the charms of Miss Donlevy.

Miss Donlevy has been raised by her maternal aunt since the unfortunate loss of her parents three years ago in carriage accident.

-Excerpt from newspaper Republican Vanguard, February 4th, 1924

The evening was to be a holiday of sorts, a chance for those of money and means to spend some time rubbing elbows with those of similar resources in an atmosphere that would divert their attentions from the ravages of the winter outside. There were families there with intentions of showing their pride and joy, families there to seek proper partners for their sons, and individuals there to simply be seen in the correct circles. While certain liberties were taken with the law ("An event such as this without champagne? Don't be tedious, darling.."), there were sufficient reminders about to keep everyone civil and conscious of their places in society.

The young ladies for which the night was dedicated were all awhirl. Gowns of the finest material and latest fashions were displayed in all their glory, and the room had been carefully prepared in such a way as to properly allow them time and opportunity to present these young ladies to the best manner possible. All were given chances to show their schooling and skills, including all the instruments of classical music, of which nearly all were used in the demonstrations.

Of course, not one of the young men there could keep their eyes off a single lady, her body the epitome of tasteful grace, her clothing and jewelry rich, yet correct. Not a few of the elders in attendance nodded their heads and made quiet comments that she, of all here tonight, was likely the perfect choice for their own favored son.

 

[appleapps]

Mary sat at her vanity table brushing her long, dark brown hair. She just finished taking a bath with her scented oils. Her clothes were laid out on the bed. The dress was made just for her; it had taken only three fittings for he dressmaker to complete it. She told Mary that she was very easy to sew for because she had a perfect shape that never seemed to change.

The dress was long, white silk that flowed over her body, caressing her curves. The neckline was more daring than normal, showing off her taut, full breasts. The straps were very thin and accented her slender neck and smooth shoulders. She didn’t want any lines ruining the flow of the dress so she chose not to wear a bra or panties. She did have to wear a garter belt to hold up her silk stockings. Her shoes were white sandals with delicate straps that crossed over her feet then went behind and around her ankles. She wore three tiered diamonds on her ears and a matching necklace. The bottom of the necklace rested just above her cleavage. As she put on her jewelry she remembered the night she got it.

It was her sixteenth birthday and her parents called her into the drawing room. She was hoping they were going to tell her that she could go with them to the gala they were attending that evening. Her father was standing by the fireplace smoking his pipe and her mother was sitting in her chair. They asked her to come and sit down. As she walked to the sofa across from her mother, her father put out his pipe and moved to stand next to her mother’s chair.

“Mary, we have a present for you to remember your sixteenth birthday”, her father said. He handed her a long, thin velvet box. When she opened it her eyes went wide with shock. She had never received jewelry like this before!

“Oh, thank you so much Mother and Father! They are absolutely beautiful!”

“That isn’t all you are receiving Mary. We have one more surprise for you. You see, we
given your hand to Richard Jamison. You will be married two months after your debutante ball. Until then you and he will go to parties together fully chaperoned.”

“Richard Jamison?! Oh no, please Father, anyone but him! He is so,,,, so,,,,,,, OLD!”

“ENOUGH! The deal has been made and I will not go back on my word. You will marry
him and be a good wife!”

That said, her father strode out of the drawing room and up the stairs. Mary looked at her mother woefully, but her mother would not meet her eyes. Instead, she also got up and left the room. Mary was so upset with her parents! Richard was twice her age! He was older than her father was! How could they do this to her? She stormed off to the bedroom, slammed her door and flung herself across her bed. She must have fallen asleep because she awoke to a banging on the front door. When she opened the door, she saw a police officer and he informed her that there had been a terrible accident and that her parents did not survive it.

Mary must have fainted because when she opened her eyes she was lying on the sofa and a cold cloth was over her eyes. Her aunt was there with her, as was the police officer. She couldn’t believe that her parents were dead! She had a feeling that she knew about it before the police officer knocked on the door. She had to see if her thoughts were right or not, did she know about it before hand? She removed the cloth from her face and looked at the police officer, “Sir, was there another carriage involved in the accident?”

“Yes, there was, why?”

“Was Richard Jamison driving the other carriage?”

The police officer gave her a puzzled look, “How did you know? We haven’t told anyone because we are still trying to find out if he has any surviving relatives.”

Mary laid back and put the cold cloth back over her eyes. Was it a dream or wasn’t it?

Everyone watched her as she floated across the dance floor; her dance card was full two minutes after she arrived. All the other young women looked at her with envy, trying to figure out what she had that they didn’t. Mary didn’t single one man out, she danced, joked, talked and laughed with all of them, and they all felt special around her. As the evening ended Mary saw a stranger standing back from everyone else. She hadn’t danced with him, hadn’t noticed him until now. Did he just arrive? Who was he with? Why was he staring at her? Why did her body tingle just knowing he was watching her?

 

[stalwartone]

The ball commenced, and the young men in attendance quickly lined up for their opportunities to dance with the young ladies. With more young men of means than women in the town, the ladies were guaranteed several dances without repeating a partner.

Of course, most of the men had quickly vied for the attentions of young Mary Donlevy. Everything about her seemed to fascinate and attract attention without any obvious effort. No matter whom she danced with, she was able to quickly find a topic of conversation, maintain a polite, yet private, distance with her partner, and entrance them without missing a step. A raw energy seemed to crackle from her, keeping her partners attentive and seemingly perfect in their dancing.

George Munn, heir to the local hardware and building supply company, asked politely to be allowed to call upon her.

Marshall Oakes, flush with the knowledge that his grandfather had left him railroad stocks, had spoken at length of the possibilities of land speculation, and a burgeoning immigrant movement.

Terence Longstreet, now in his second year of medical school, explained about the nearby town that had already asked of his interest in being the only doctor in service to the population.

Gerard Demahr, just returned from abroad, managed to mention that he had already passed his teaching certificate board, and was on the fast track for an associate professorship.

Elmer Duit, having worked his way from no means to a college diploma, spoke of his recent interview at a major electrical lighting company.

Albert (Call Me Bert) Braston, extolled the virtues of his recent gamble in the cattle industry.

But it was perhaps the last man to dance with her that caught the most attention. Not merely with Miss Donlevy, but also with the crowd in attendance as well. No one could remember his face from the local population, and his name was not noted on the social register. But if Mary Donlevy caught the attention of every male in the room, Derek Travers had the eye of every woman in attendance.

Derek stood out among the men of the community. He was taller, not by much, but enough to be noticible. He was darker, a Mediterranean cast to his skin and hair, and his eyes and face spoke of a foreign heritage. His English was superb, with a faint edge to it that spoke of long studies to remove any hint of an accent. His hands were long and well formed, strong, yet easy in their movements. An energy also seemed to crackle off of him, a charisma that was palpable and irresistable. Some spoke later of feeling that they had seen a fire in his eyes, or crossed paths with something greater than a mere man when they had been near him.

However, if there was anything to this, it was quickly forgotten when he stepped across the room, and took Miss Donlevy's arm. The music had supposedly finished for the night, but a motion of his arm sent the musicians back to their efforts. With a power that seemed, well, unearthly, he swept her across the floor, dancing slowly, but intensely. The two didn't share a single word throughout the number, but applied themselves to the dance.

When the music finished, he held her for an extra moment, then stepped back, holding her hand. He bent, offered a proper European hand kiss, then smiled.

"My thanks, young lady. I am Derek Travers, a traveller in this world."

 

[appleapps]

Mary was flushed. She had danced every dance and not once did she dance with a guy twice. Every partner tried to get her to commit to him but she would commit to no one. She told each of them that they could call upon her but they wouldn’t be her only gentleman caller. She let them know that she was not ready to settle down yet. That was until the end of the ball and she saw Derek Travers.

Derek was different then the other men in the community. It was more than just his looks, though he did stand out that way also. There was something about his eyes, they were so dark that unless you were close to him you couldn’t tell where the iris ended and the pupil began. He had a knowledge about him that none of the others possessed. When he took her in his arms, everyone else seemed to disappear. The band started to play again with a wave of his arm and Mary felt like she was floating on air.

When the music ended Derek held her for an extra moment and then bent and kissed her hand. The moment his lips touched her skin Mary felt a spark between them. Her body tingled with excitement.

“My thanks, young lady. I am Derek Travers, a traveler in this world.”

Mary stood there for a moment lost in his eyes, totally speechless.

“I am,,,, I am Mary, um, Donlevy. Nice to meet you Mr. Travers.”

Someone coughed and Mary remembered where she was. She looked around and noticed that everyone was watching them, well, not really them, they were looking at Derek. The women were watching him with desire in their eyes. The men watched him carefully, suspicious of all newcomers. Mary looked back at Derek who was watching her still. She felt her face turning red with embarrassment. She tried to pull her hand away but Derek held it for a minute longer before finally releasing it.

 

[stalwartone]

“I am,,,, I am Mary, um, Donlevy. Nice to meet you Mr. Travers.”

He smiled, possibly enjoying her discomfort, possibly something else. Someone in the crowd attempted to break their attention with a discrete cough, but he seemed not to notice it. She obviously was concerned about it, whether from the attention by the onlookers, or from a lack of experience in social situations like this.

Of course, the entire point of this celebration was to put these ladies in the spotlight, and to test their social skills. More than dancing and oratory were needed to be recognized as women of good breeding.

Derek allowed her to pull away, then moved off to the side himself. He seemed to disappear into the crowd, his form melding into the background between a conversing couple and a faintly moving curtain.

Later in the evening, people in attendance would be unable to tell where he went. Some remembered him leaving, saying polite farewells to the important persons in attendance. Others were positive that he was last seen immediately after the dance, perhaps making use of a conveniently open window. And some would swear that he had flitted about the room, speaking to the important and powerful, flattering the dowagers and debutantes alike, sampling the finger foods and the assorted spirits.

It was late when Mary returned home. Her aunt escorted her in, sat for a short time in the sitting room with it's bay window, trying politely to ease the young girl's spirits back to earth. Narcissa Flemming was not one to allow something as petty as emotion to overwhelm her sense of propriety and virtue, and she knew that the girl would soon join her in this attitude. After all, Mary was now considered eligible, and it was time for her to begin considering the proper man to be her husband.

Finally, Narcissa felt it proper for her to leave, as Mary had finally run out of energy. Locking the door behind her, Narcissa left and headed for her own home, her hard soled shoes rapping sharply on the sidewalk, the sound echoing in her wake.

Mary finally moved upstairs, carefully removing her dress, and settling it back on the stand where it had been assembled and altered for her. She was still humming a tune from the evening when a sharp rasping sound caught her attention. Turning in alarm, she stared in surprise at the figure standing in the corner of her bedroom, a flame burning in his hand as he lit the old oil lamp that had stood in the corner for as long as she could remember, a relic from before electricity being added into the house's luxuries.

Oddly, she couldn't remember there still being oil in the lamp. And she couldn't tell if there had been a match in his hand. While logic told here that there must have been, he didn't blow or shake anything out to extinquish the flame in his hand, and no spent stick was tossed away.

There was, however, a heat in the room. Not the furnace, although that had been rumbling away, and not any ambient heat of the day, as the hour was far too late. Still, the room was suddenly hot, almost stifling, and her skin felt something inexplicable. An energy once more filled her, a power that she couldn't describe.

Derek Travers smiled, his face a study of the effects of light upon surface. There was something about him, a contrast of cool sophistication combined with commanding confidence.

"I did so love the time that we had together earlier, my dear. But I was disappointed that we were forced apart. I was hoping that we could spend some more time in each other's presence." His smile changed, something almost wolfen in appearance. "After all, I don't believe that we were finished with each other, were we?"

 

[appleapps]

“I did so love the time that we had together earlier, my dear. But I was disappointed that we were forced apart. I was hoping that we could spend some more time in each other’s presence.” His smile changed, something almost wolfen in appearance. “After all, I don’t believe that we were finished with each other, were we?”

“How did you get in here? How did you know where I lived? What do you want?” Mary asked.

Derek took a step closer, watching Mary the whole time. He could see that she was afraid and didn’t want her to start screaming, he wanted her to trust him.

Mary’s heart was beating so loudly she thought for sure he could hear it. She watched as he took another step closer, moving slowly. She looked at his mouth; his full lips were slightly parted. Her tongue slipped out to wet her own lips while watching his. She wondered what it would feel like to have those lips on hers. Would he kiss her softly or would he be rough? Would he like how she kissed? She didn’t have much experience kissing; oh she had a few stolen kisses but nothing to make her confident in her kissing abilities.

Her eyes moved up to his eyes. He was watching her look at his mouth. She blushed at being caught staring at his lips and thinking about kissing him. His eyes were filled with passion and something else that she couldn’t make out. She wasn’t sure if she should be afraid of him or not. All she did know is that this man seemed very sure of himself in a way that none of the other men in town were.

He took another step closer to her, his hand reached out for hers. She felt him take her hand and pull her closer. His arms wrapped around her, holding her near him but leaving a bit of space also, he didn’t want her to push him away. Her arms automatically went around his neck, pulling them just a bit closer. She looked up at his mouth again. Slowly she watched his mouth move towards her. She closed her eyes waiting for him to kiss her.

 

[stalwartone]

Derek did so enjoy the game of cat and mouse. The first sighting, the slow stalk, the subtle dance. That moment when the mouse realized the cat's presence, and had to make a decision about how to deal with it. Would it run, bolting for a place of safety? Would it lie down, accepting it's fate? Or would it go against it's nature, and approach the cat as an equal?

Right now, his little mouse was still trying to make her decision. Her eyes were darting back and forth, her breath catching in her throat, her body quivering as she argued with herself.

She had to recognize the possibilities of the situation. He could simply be a smitten paramour, with an overactive imagination and a lack of propriety. He could be a homocidal maniac, catching her in her own house, alone, and with no chance of escape or defense. Or, he could be something else, entirely...

He closed the distance to her in a single smooth motion, his feet making no sound on the wooden floor. She was staring at him, at his mouth, in particular. He could practically hear her heartbeat, the organ in her chest firing with tripfire speed, thundering as it charged her with energy. He played a bit more, taking her hands, sliding them up and behind him, then placing his own arms about her. For a moment, it was if they were back on the dance floor, holding each other and ignoring the rest of the world.

He then eased in closer, his eyes boring into her. The mouse now certainly knew that she had limited options, and only a moment in which to make her decision. And she apparently made it, her hands rising to his neck, making the moment more intimate.

Bending slightly, he covered her mouth with his, pulling her close into a tight embrace. They stayed there for a long moment, their bodies pressed together, the universe closing down to a small space within that room.

Finally breaking the kiss, he stared into her eyes for a moment, then pressed one hand against the back of her neck, turning her head slightly. With an infinitely slow movement, he lowered his mouth to begin kissing and lightly biting at her neck.

He spent some time in this way, working skillfully at her neck and throat, worshipping her body in this manner, revelling in the little noises she made and the faint involuntary movements she jerked with. He was cautious for any signs of repulsion or restraint on her part, but didn't find any immediately.

So far, she was his.

Finally breaking away, he stepped back slightly, and returned to staring into her eyes, his arms relaxing in their imbrace.

"So, Mary Donlevy. Have you had enough of my presence.. " His hand slid around her waist, his touch seemingly warmer than it should be. "..or do we have more to partake of each other?" His hand rose, then stopped, his fingertips resting on the fabric of her nightgown over her breast, motionless as he awaited her reply.

 

[appleapps]

Mary didn’t know what to think when she saw Derek standing there. How did he get in? Why was he there? What did he want? Should she scream? Make him leave? Yeah, as if she could make him leave if he didn’t want to, but then again did she really want him to leave?

As all of these thoughts were going through her mind, Derek closed the space between them. Mary was suddenly aware of her heart beating loudly in her chest. She was also aware that she had been staring at his lips, so perfect in shape and color. Lips that looked like they knew how to kiss a woman.

Derek placed Mary’s hands on his shoulders and wrapped his own around her waist. She knew the next move was hers when he didn’t/t move but just stared at her with gray eyes. It seemed as if he were daring her to make the next move. Mary, having never backed down from a dare wasn’t about to start now. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him closer.

Mary watched as Derek’s mouth descended upon her own. His lips pressed against hers, his arms pulling her closer. His tongue touched her lips but didn’t try to push into her mouth. Instead, he broke the kiss, looked into her eyes and liking what he saw proceeded to work his magic.

He started kissing and biting her neck, listening to her moans and purrs, feeling her body squirming and jerking against him. “So, Mary Donlevy, Have you had enough of my presence or do we have more to partake of each other?” As he said this Mary, felt his hand rest against her breast. She could feel her nipple hardening under his hand. She inhaled deeply, pressing her breast against his hand as she did so.

“Derek, I never, that is I haven’t, ummm,,,,,,,,,,, Derek, I am a virgin!”

There, she said it, now she hoped he wouldn’t turn around and leave. Derek smiled down at Mary. His mouth descending on hers again, but this time demanding more. His tongue licking her lips urging them to part. Mary let out a sigh and Derek quickly pushed his tongue into her mouth. Mary started to pull back but Derek rubbed his thumb over her nipple, making her moan and push closer to him.

 

[stalwartone]

The mouse was now in the final part of the game, and the cat was enjoying the manner in which it was playing out. Her announcement wasn't a protestation so much as a statement, and she immediately returned to kissing him. In return, he pressed his hand more firmly against her breast, then started a more insidious approach, using the flat of his thumb to arouse her nipple through her nightdress. After a moment, she ceased resisting in any manner, and responded, pressing herself against him in ardor.

He shifted his balance enough to free his off hand slightly, and maintained his twin assaults upon her lips and her breast. Her own hands were unsure of what to do, it seemed, so he chose to take yet another step. His off hand drifted up to the back of her neck, and he pressed the tip of his smallest finger against her back. An agonizingly slow movement began, and he slid the hand from the small of her neck, down along her spine, finally pausing at the small of her back. As he continued playing with her nipple and her lips, he abruptly cupped her buttocks, and pulled her more fully against him, grinding into her with both an animal force, and a promise of something that she had only imagined until then. His own lust was obviously apparent, and he revelled in the sudden squeal that broke from her as she was struck by the recognition of his intentions.

After a moment of slowly grinding against her, he lifted her back to stand more fully upon her feet. He pulled his face reluctantly away from her, then he eased the hand that had been playing with her breast away, and settled it on her shoulder. A moment later his other hand released her backside, and rose to settle on her other shoulder. A gleam flitted in his eyes, more noticible because the light in the room was behind him.

"A virgin, you say? A most tiresome burden, I'm sure. And why, pray tell, would a woman of your appearance and skills still be encumbered by such an issue?" He smiled that wolfen smile again, then he shifted his weight to his heels. "Convention, quite possibly. Your own sweet aunt has surely convinced you that the highest honor you can accord your future husband is to offer him your maidenhood upon your wedding night. Your aunt is hardly one to talk, I can assure you." For a moment something seemed distant within him, then the heat once more seemed to radiate from his body. "Or, perhaps you have some religious conviction, convincing you that the feelings you've had should only be acted upon in a marital bed." He looked about the room, noting the lack of iconography. "No, I think not. While the house does have a few signs of religious observance, they strike me as gifts to the household, not personal items of importance." He leaned forward, his lips suddenly touching her ear, his breath tickling at her skin. "Do you know what I think it is, Mary Donlevy? I think you've never given anyone a chance to take that maidenhood from you. This is, I believe, the first time you've been kissed by anyone in a manner other than prim and proper. And, I am quite sure, that no one has ever been allowed the priviledge of seeing you as a woman. A true, wanton woman." He straightened, now staring her square in the face.

"What if we were to change that history?" He allowed only a brief moment for her to almost consider the implications, then he suddenly pulled his arms back to his sides, his fingers suddenly looped in the material of the shoulders of her nightdress. As he pulled back, her dress fell away, the material of the back seemingly sliced smoothly. Mary had only a moment to react, then found her nightdress hanging from her waist, the top pulled smoothly away to reveal her nakedness. Derek stared at her breasts for a moment, then stepped forward again, lifting his hands to her breasts. Cupping them, he rubbed at both nipples for a long moment, then leaned down to run his tongue smoothly down the line of her breastbone.

 

[appleapps]

When Mary felt Derek’s tongue on her, she quickly grabbed onto his shoulders to prevent herself from crumbling. He knees had suddenly gone weak. Her body was tingling all over from just his hands. When his tongue touched her, it felt as though a furnace had been turned on inside her. She felt an ache between her legs. She heard a noise and then realized it was coming from her, she was moaning and hadn’t even realized it.

Derek, hearing, seeing and feeling her reaction continued teasing her with his tongue. As he licked under Mary’s right breast, he felt her move her hands up and grab his hair. When he moved over to lick under her left breast, he felt her press grind her hips closer to him. He knew she was enjoying this new and exhilarating experience.

Mary’s body was on fire. Derek’s tongue was licking all around her chest, teasing, sucking. What Mary ached for was to feel his mouth on her breasts. Her nipples were hard and sensitive; they wanted to feel his tongue on them. She felt Derek’s tongue lick under, around and above her breasts, but he seemed to avoid her nipples. Mary tried to move her body in different positions to get his mouth on her nipples, but all that did was make her ache in other areas. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She grabbed his hair and moved his head so it was in front of her nipple. She watched as Derek looked up at her and then suddenly sucked her nipple into his mouth.

Mary screamed out in pleasure as waves of feelings rushed through her. She pushed her breast forward, not wanting him to stop. Her hips were moving back and forth in time with his sucking. She almost cried out in disappointment when Derek released her nipple. But, the pleasure quickly returned as he moved his mouth to suck on the other one. Mary had never felt her body so alive, so filled with desire. She had no idea what else was in store for her.

 

[stalwartone]

He continued the game for several minutes, working his way slowly to her sensitive nipples. He enjoyed toying with her, keeping from touching her where she wished, instead darting his tongue around and under her breasts, teasing as she began trying to direct his actions.

Finally, he gave in, and after a teasing look, lathed her nipple with first his tongue, then his lips. He played with it, sucking, licking, nibbling slightly, enjoying the feel of the nub stiffening and tightening under his ministrations. As she began unconsciously responding to his actions, he suddenly shifted his attentions to her other nipple, enjoying the shriek that erupted from her, followed by further involuntary wiggling and trembling.

She was his. Now to have some real fun with her.

Now to see what she was truly really capable of and willing to do.

With a whisper of movement, he was gone from her vision. Even as she started and cried out, his hands rested upon her shoulders, his lips suddenly returned to her earlobe, his body pressed against her from behind. His fingers traced their way down the lengths of her arms, ending with interlacing her own fingers in his, his palms against the backs of her hands.

"So, you're worried about your chastity and virtue, my dear? Surely, you can't convince me that you are a complete innocent." With a faint pressure, he folded her arms inward, pressing her hands against her bare flesh. With simple, slow movements, he brought her hands up to cup her breasts. His teeth briefly worried at her ear, then he whispered in her ear, making a point of blowing gently in time to the kneading of her flesh.

"Surely, my dear, you've spent evenings wondering about yourself. Wondering about what it would mean to be with a lover?" He pressed her fingers around her nipples, and also ground himself against her, pressing his maleness against her.

"Surely you had dreams, fantasies about what it would be like?" A movement of his foot, and he stepped upon the hem of her shredded nightgown. With a twist, he pulled the remaining piece of cloth free of hips, then returned her to their previous position, still kneading at her breasts as he did.

"Or, perhaps, you went further?" He pulled on of her arms slowly downward, keeping her fingertips grazing along her skin, tantalizing her as he pressed her hand to herself. Finally stopping his movement, he left the fingers of one of her hands grasping her breast, and the fingers of the other poised just above the tuft of pubic hair.

"Well, what of those fantasies, my dear? Were they like this, or were they something more?" His hands slid around to her waist, then he pulled her against him, grinding himself into the cleft of her backside.

 

[appleapps]

She was completely lost under his spell. His tongue and hands were touching her in ways a man had never touched her before. But his voice was the most dangerous. It was his voice that held her in a trance, that made her lose all thought. It was his voice that reached deep inside her and made feelings rise up that she had buried long ago.

She moaned and leaned against him when he touched her, enjoying the feeling of his tongue and fingers on her body. Wanting more but not sure how to get it and also a little afraid of what she wanted.

She felt him reach around her from behind, guiding her own hands to her breasts and pressing himself along her backside. She felt the rest of her nightgown slip away, his hands never moving from hers, rubbing and kneading her breasts. She could feel the nipples hard under her hands. She wanted more. It was at that moment of her thinking that he slowly moved one of her hands downward, across her stomach and just above her pubic hair.

As he removed his hands and wrapped them around her waist she could feel him pressing against her. Her automatic response was to press back against him. She heard a soft moan escape his lips as she did this.

Her hands had started wandering along her body. They knew this path well, as she had done this many times before, always wondering if it would feel different if it were a man doing these things to her. Her one hand was kneading her breast, teasing her nipple. The other hand made its way downward, moving softly over the pubic hair. She felt his leg pushing between her legs, spreading them apart. Her hand continued to move downward, feeling the heat and dampness. Her fingers teasing along her clit and moving deeper between her legs. Her finger, feeling the source of the heat, slowly entered her. She leaned her head back against his chest and let out a moan.