Mistress Bella Short Stories

Shayna and Daniel Thanksgiving by Alix Richards

2009-11-23T19:26:00.000-08:00

I was challenged to write a short and failed the first time out of the gate. However, I am not the type of person to let something like that get the better of me. So because Stephanie Becken is a dear friend and swore I could do it, I tried (again!). This is it. The one little piece of Thanksgiving I can give two very dear family members of mine. If there was one thing I could do I would give them what I gave my characters. Enjoy! And Happy Thanksgiving!

****
"You're making it out to be worse than it really is, Daniel." Shayna continued cutting the potatoes at the sink. "My family has always celebrated Thanksgiving. It's a tradition. You have yours, we have ours. We're not so different."
"It's how you celebrate that is strange, my heart." Out of the corner of her eye she saw him staring at the spiced turkey she had to put in the oven. She smiled. "My people rejoice at the harvest, but you give thanks to a god that is not mine. This I do not understand. You know the Ancient Creators are real, you have to or the human cancer would have taken your life. I saved you, yet you still worship this lesser god."
He shook his head and she turned to him. Smiling she touched his forearm. "Tradition, Daniel. Until I met you and your family I had no others beliefs than what had been taught to me. Now I have to tread carefully between the two. Until I have to stop seeing my Mortal family and friends I want to spend as many of these holidays with them." She laid her head against his chest, and closed her eyes. "My parents are old, soon they will be gone. I am between two worlds where I belong to both, yet one more than the other. I am no longer Mortal because you saved my life. But I am still human in my thoughts and feelings."
"I understand." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "I will do this for you. I was willing to let you live out your life as long as we were together. I didn't want to bring you into my world, but I couldn't let you die from that disease. I wish I could save others, like I saved you. I cannot and for that I am eternally sorry."
"Please don't be," She held him closer to her, pressing her body to his. "There was a reason for my breast cancer, and another for it occurring during a time when you were undecided. Eventually we will find a cure for it. Until then we just pray and be thankful to whosever god that we survive. It's all we can do."
She felt his arms tighten around her more, and his nose brush the top of her head. Even at 5'6" he was still over a head taller than her. But she loved him just the same. It made her feel dainty, his height and strength compared to hers.
"I will give thanks to your human god, Shayna, because that is what you want and what your family believes. I have no wish for them to think I have no belief system." She could feel the rumble of laughter echoing through his chest against her check and her smile grew. "Besides, it wouldn't be good for your religious family to think you married, a- what are they called again? Oh yes, a Satanist."
That made her laugh, he was right though. Her step-mother and father would automatically assume he was a Satan worshipper if he refused to partake of the Thanksgiving holiday.
Then her chuckle grew as she thought of Christmas.
"I do not think that is funny, my love." Daniel's voice rumbled in her ear through his chest. "I was being serious when I said that. I wasn't joking. I made a vow to Tarrinaysa to appear human while here. I must keep my word."
"It's not that, dear heart." She giggled then tipped her head back to look up into his face. "I was thinking of Christmas next month. It's a bigger celebration then Thanksgiving."
"Urgh!"
"It will be fine. You'll live. Besides, I have many things to be thankful this year. I'm alive, Daniel. And I'm married to a wonderfully Immortal male who thinks the world revolves around me. What more can I ask for?" The tears she had been holding back blurred her vision. She didn't want to cry, but her emotions were high at this time of the year. "According to the specialists I shouldn't be here, and because of your Creators I am. And for that they will have my eternal gratitude."
She let them fall this time when he wrapped her in his arms again. It was alright to cry. She could and would now.
And she did.
She couldn't tell her family and friends what saved her life, nor could the doctors find anything to explain why she was knocking on death's door one moment only to be completely healthy the next.
Healthy right down to being able to carry the child she wanted to give Daniel more than anything. She was able to now, and as the tears rolled down her cheeks she could feel that new life move inside her. An event she hadn't shared with her Immortal husband.
She would soon, before her family arrived.
Family! Oh geez! I got to get this dinner done!
Stop, Shayna, it will be fine. You're family loves you, they'll love your dinner.
His whispered voice tickled her mind, making her tears halt and her smile grow. Stepping up on tip toe to kissed him on the mouth.
"It will be alright, but it won't be ready if we keep stopping. Put the bird in the oven. Set the timer too, please? Thank you."
"Yes, the bossy female is back."
"Ha-ha, very funny! Now scoot! This is the first Thanksgiving family dinner we are hosting, I can't make any mistakes." She slapped at his hands and laughed as he tried to pull her back to him. "I mean, it Daniel. Move! The turkey takes the longest, everything else is easier."
"Yes ma'am." He saluted then turned to the pan setting on the counter. "I will do as thee commands."
"Yeah, right!" She laughed her mood returning to the happiness she felt before the tears. "Right now you'll do as I command, but not later tonight."
"Well, no, ofcourse not." He grinned as he set the pan in the oven then straightened to look at her, closing the door with a bang. He wiggled his eyebrows. "I've heard you like it when I'm in charge then."
She didn't know if she was blushing, but she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. She knew exactly what he was talking about, and she hated the fact they didn't have time for it right now. They only had hours to get everything finished before their company arrived.
"Later, big boy," She tossed the hand towel at him her lips tilted upward. "After they leave."
"I'm holding you to that, my heart."
****
Finally, everything was complete. Shayna thought as she set the handcrafted center piece in the center of the large table. Hands on her hips she surveyed the picture before her.
"I think they will love it, my love." Daniel wrapped his arms around her pulling her back against his front, the evidence of his desire pressing into the rear of her jeans. "I do."
"You're just saying that because you know I'm nervous." She laid her hands on his forearms linked across her middle. "Daniel, we need to talk before everyone gets here."
"I already promised I wouldn't use any magik and I wouldn't shift. I even agreed to leave your brother alone. What more do I have to do?" His chuckled vibrated her back, making her giggle.
"It has nothing to do with my family, dear one. Well, at least not in the way you're thinking." She turned in his arms to face him. Telling herself it was now or never. Her parents and siblings would arrive soon, and she wanted him to know first. Before everyone else; he was the father after all, and the baby was real because of him and his saving her life. "There's a small matter that we never talked about because I was ill."
"What matter?"
"Children?"
"Oh, well-, um- children?"
"Yes, Daniel. Little miniatures of us, a testament of our love for each other."
"I do not know if the healing and conversion repaired the damage to that part of your body, honey. You are the first True Mate I know of that has been saved from death by cancer."
She giggled again. Wrapping her arms around his waist she hugged him, the tears were back. But this time for the happiness that flooded her system.
"We have nothing to worry about in that area, my love." She tilted her head back to look up at him, her smile bright she knew as were her eyes. "I am just over two months along, with a boy. I can feel him, he talks with me. I hear him!"
If she wasn't so overjoyed with her news she would have noticed that Daniel was silent, his eyes huge and his jaw slack. But she continued on with her goshing over the baby she had a relationship with that wasn't like the ones her friends' spoke of when they were expecting their children. This was so profound she had been speechless when she first heard the tiny voice.
"Daniel?" She stopped when she felt him sway. Her big Immortal never faltered. She had never seen him look pale before in her life, his skin tone always perfectly golden-bronze. "Daniel? Are you alright?
"A-a baby?"
"Yes," She nodded with a smile.
"A-a baby boy you said?"
"Yes, a boy. Like you."
"Um- um, I think I better sit. I don't feel so good."
Now she was concerned. Immortals weren't ever ill; they were perfectly healthy in all ways.
Assisting him to the sofa was hard, she became more worried when he dropped like a ball when let go out of a two-story window.
"Are you okay, Daniel?"
He just nodded; no sound came out of his mouth. Now she was terrified. She was new to this life he gave her in exchange for her old one. Connecting with other Immortals wasn't in her lesson plans. Calling on Tarrinaysa also wasn't her forte either.
"Wow! I'm going to be a daddy!"
At his loud exclamation she jumped, startled. She stepped back just as he bound to his feet, taking her in his arms and swinging her around.
She laughed, he laughed.
"Really?"
"Yeah, really."
"Wow!"
"You said that already."
"I know. I just can't find any other word to describe the sensations. Wow."
He kissed her then a long love and passion filled caress that robbed her of rational thought processes.
Then there was a knock on the door.
The troops had arrived.
****
Shayna decided clean up could wait until the following morning. Right now she just made sure the food was put away so she could cuddle up with her man, it was a wonderful dinner.
Her father and step-mother took the news of her baby very well. Considering the doctors told them she would never have children of her own. Radiation took care of that.
"You're quiet."
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"The little boy inside, he can't wait to play with his cousins. All of them, including the girls. He sounds a lot like you, Daniel."
"He is my son."
"Yes; that he is." She burrowed closer to his warmth. "Will he find his other half? Will the gods match him? Have they already matched him with her?"
"Don't worry about something that is still years off, my heart. I am certain they have, or they will. Remember, I roamed many lands and saw many centuries before I found you. Sometimes that is what happens. Be thankful, love. You and I and our son later in his life, will have something that no other can achieve. A love so profound the connection is on a level that isn't even understood by those of us who it happens too."
"I will try not to worry. But as a mother, I will."
"Yes and so will I." She felt his face brush the top of her head. "But know that she is out there waiting for him to find her. When the time is right they will meet, just as we did."
She didn't respond, for there were no words to describe the feelings that she knew her baby would one day feel for another.
Instead she smiled and relaxed against the broad chest of the man who saved her from death and gave her a child of her own.
What more could she be thankful for?
She has everything she ever wanted in life.
I'm right here, Momma. I love you and I can't wait to see you.
This time the tears that fell were those of happiness and joy. She had a husband who she loved and who loved her in return and a son who she could speak with often.
Life was beautiful.
****

Thanksgiving After the Fall by Sky

2009-11-22T22:13:00.001-08:00

Just because Thanksgiving should be heartwarming....even if there aren't zombies sometimes.

Turkey was not going to happen. If any survived the Event, they hadn’t been found yet. But there were chickens around, and Shay planned to catch one, and she had a lot of dried Indian corn to grind and make cornbread. From that she could make a tasty stuffing. She had one can of cranberry that she thought looked okay. Not swollen or anything, just a little dented. Shay was pretty sure she could pull together an approximation of the feast that Brady would remember from past years.
He was coming home after almost ten years. She had gotten a letter! It was the first letter she had gotten since the reorganized Pony Express Service had begun its deliveries. Until that time, Shay had not had any idea whether Brady was alive, dead, or Other.
According to his letter, Brady had been in D.C. when the Event happened, and had not been able to get outside the fence until now. They weren’t letting anyone out unless they were absolutely certain that they weren’t Other, and if they let Brady out, he was alive and well.
Shay rummaged around in the cabinet over the sink, looking for a square cake pan. One of the funny things about the A.E., After Event, was the shortage of grains. Most of the standardized grain varieties just wouldn’t grow anymore, so it had been necessary to raid the heritage varieties stored in seed banks and try to get enough of them growing. The first few years had been almost entirely grown for seed, and it had only been in the last few years that any had been available for distribution, and only this year that any had gotten this far west. She patted the sack of dried corn fondly. It had been difficult to get the seed, but the results were worth it.
A sound came from the lane out in front of the house. Shay froze. Was it Brady? She listened carefully, the sound of hooves pounded toward her from the east, but never slowed. It wasn’t Brady after all. She tried not to let disappointment take over, there was no predicting how long it would take to come this far. The roads were uncertain and plagued with thieves. Then the hooves sounded closer again returning. Maybe it was him after all. Her heart leapt in her breast as she froze in her tracks. Footsteps sounded on the wooden steps and there was a tentative knock on the door.
“Shay?” the query came muffled from the other side of the door. “Shay, are you here? They told me you were here.”
Shay gulped a breath of air, apparently she had been holding it while he walked up to the door. Her knees unlocked and she ran the few steps to pull open the door. It was Brady, a little older and worse for wear, but Brady!
“Oh my God, Brady, it really is you!” He looked to thin! But then, so did everyone these days.
Now it was Brady’s turn to freeze. He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before, and didn’t move forward through the doorway until Shay laughed and grabbed his hand to pull him in. Then he acted, and pulled her right into his arms.
“Brady! I didn’t know if you were alive or dead until I got your letter. I was so afraid!”
“I had no way.”
“Of course you didn’t. How could you have contacted me, cell phone?” She laughed again, almost hysterically this time. “But I waited. It was so hard.”
“Shay, you never ....”
“No, I never. And they tried to make me. I’m a young woman, most likely fertile. They tried very hard.”
“Shay, I was in D.C. through all of it. I probably am not a fertile male. The pressure is only going to get worse.”
“I know, my darling. but they will give us time to try. If I don’t get pregnant in six months or so, we may have to do something to appease them, but for now, it’s just us.”
Brady bent to press his lips to Shay’s forehead, then her cheeks, first left, then right. He pressed a firm but chase kiss to her lips. “ I have been riding for weeks, and I need to clean up. I don’t want to come to you reeking of the road.”
“Oh, Brady, I’d take you reeking of the sewers if need be! I never thought I’d see you again.”
What little sense of propriety Brady had melted away with her words. “I don’t think I’ve been in any sewers, but if you’ll just get me some water, I’ll wipe off the worst of the dust.”
Shay brought the bucket of water from the spring, and a soft cloth and wiped the dust of the road off Brady’s face. She treasured every stroke of the cloth as it touched her husband’s face. He looked older and there was some gray in his dark brown hair. She gently touched the lines beside his still-vivid blue eyes. He looked so beautiful to her.
Slowly she wiped off the accumulated grime of weeks of riding, adoring every inch of skin revealed. As Shay pushed Brady’s shirt off his shoulders, she traced a long scar on his left arm.
“I got that in the invasion. But it’s not a battle wound, it was an exploding glass window, a big piece cut right through my shirt.” Feeling her touching another scar on his lower back, he said, “But that one was caused by an actual claw.”
The scar was jagged and extended at least six inches, and was far too close to his kidneys for comfort. Shay brought her arms around to the Brady’s front and opened his jeans, one button at a time. She pushed them over his lean hips, waiting while he stepped out of them. Underwear was now an anachronism, so he was naked in front of her.
The bucket of water was grimy, so Shay dumped it outside the door in her small flower bed, and went to pull another bucketful of water. She walked down the short path to the spring, feeling Brady’s eyes on her back as she went. The respite was welcome. Brady’s return was so overwhelming, and she didn’t want to break down in tears right in front of him and ruin their reunion. Dipping her bucket into the spring of cold water, she pressed her eyes closed tight and tried to focus on the joy of their reunion.
Ten years! Another few months and she would have been forcibly paired with a man who could give her children. Even now, if she didn’t get pregnant, they would make her have sex with someone who could impregnate her. If she were fertile, anyway. But those problems would have to wait for another day.
Shay tossed her long blonde braid over her shoulder and started back toward the house. Brady was standing in the open doorway, completely naked and obviously delighted to see her. Oh my! She hurried toward him, dropping the bucket and oblivious of the water spilling onto the ground. Road dust be damned!
Shay flung herself into Brady’s waiting arms, and he lifted her off her feet. His kisses burned into her lips and she opened hers to allow him entrance. She felt his hands stroke down her back and lift the bottom of her cotton shirt to pull it over her head. Bras were also gone, not all new things were bad, so now she was naked from the waist up.
Brady stroked his hands back down her back and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her long cotton skirt. He pulled it down over her hips, feeling how much thinner she was. He remembered her as a little more than curvy, and always fretting about it. No amount of reassurance had convinced her that her love found every line, every curve of her endearing and enticing. Now she was more like the frame she had sought in that long ago day, and he found her just the same, it was her heart and her soul that he loved, the heart that had waited so long, and the soul with the strength to resist the pressures put on her to move forward and leave their love behind.
Now that they were both completely nude, Brady couldn’t stop caressing her, giving her little biting kisses that followed the pathways made by his hands on her flesh. He moved from her mouth to her neck, inhaling the fragrance that, even now without scented cosmetics available, was uniquely and sweetly hers. His lips descended to the rounded mounds of her breast, hands stroking, cupping, and lips closing over a rosy tip. He heard her gasp as he grazed her lightly with his teeth.
Shay was as hungry for Brady as he was for her. Her own hands roamed over the planes and valley of his skin, tingling with awareness. She pressed her lips to his shoulder and closed her eyes. No amount of contact could make up for ten years of doubt and worry, but it was enough to have him back at her side now. When Brady pressed the length of his lean masculine body against hers, she whimpered. Then she took his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom, trembling slightly with emotion and need.
Brady kept his other hand on Shay’s waist, needing to touch her with both hands. She looked so beautiful, even more beautiful than he remembered, and had her skin always been this soft? Her hair in that braid was catching his attention too. The moment they entered the bedroom and fell to the bed, tangled in each other’s arms, Brady pulled the braid loose, sinking his hands in the long waves. She had worn it shoulder length before, now it fell around both of them in a silken curtain. He moaned deep in this throat and captured her mouth in a kiss.
“Now, Brady, I’ve waited so long, now!”
“I missed you so much,’ He said, stroking her body in long, slow sweeps. “I want to relearn every inch of you.” As his hand slipped between her thighs, he felt how ready she was for him.
“We have time. But this time, this first time again, I want you inside me, now! I ache for you.”
Brady pressed Shay’s thighs apart with one muscular leg and slid inside her in one smooth stroke. He groaned and held still. “Give me just a minute, I don’t want to end it this soon.”
“I love you inside me,” Shay gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist and clutching Brady to her with both arms.
“Oh, Shay,” Brady pushed slowly, building a rhythm, in, out, pressing against just the spot inside her that he remembered made her writhe. And he wasn’t disappointed at her reaction.
“Brady, oh my God! I love you so much!” And just like that she was over the top.
Her muscles contracted around him, and he was quick to follow her into bliss. “I love you, Shay,” he cried out.
As her love collapsed on top of her, spent for the moment, Shay prayed that Brady would be able to impregnate her, and soon. If not, they would be forced to have another man in her bed, and she hated the idea. But the Event had made fertile people very valuable, and the Others were out there, probably getting ready to attack again. Shay would have to make sure and have a baby for the sake of humanity.
But for today, for this Thanksgiving, Shay had the love of her life back, in her arms and in her bed. And that was more than enough.

Zombie Pilgrims on Parade by Sky

2009-11-18T15:22:00.000-08:00

“Welcome everyone to the 30^th annual Graves Department Store Thanksgiving day Parade! I’m Zanku Kitty, here with my co-host Grief Abandon. How’s it hanging Grief?”

“It fell off, Kitty, but thanks for asking.”

“Oops, my bad. Well you can’t have everything, Grief.”

“I wasn’t going to mention your nose, Kitty.”

“Well I never!”

“Even if you did, I couldn’t do anything about it. Can we move on, please? I see the first float is heading our way.”

“Zombietown, Massachusetts is known for this spectacle on Thanksgiving Day every year, Grief The residents do their best to attract as many tourists as possible to share their Thanksgiving Feast.”

“A truly welcoming atmosphere here, Kitty, and this float received the Mayor’s Prize for epitomizing this year’s theme, “Lend a helping Hand.” That lovely young thing at the front is waving the mayor’s actual hand, loaned to us for this occasion. Don’t lose that hand, Wendy, the mayor needs it to sign the Parks Bill next week.”

“And coming up next is the High School Shuffling Band. You have to admire these young people for their determination. Most of the percussion section had their hands sewn on extra tight, just for today’s performance. Can’t have a repeat of last year, Grief!”

“That was quite a melee, Kitty, all those kids digging through that pile of limbs trying to match whose hands were whose. I’m glad they took precautions, be prepared, I always say!”

“That’s good advice, Grief. Maybe you should have taken it yourself last night.”

“Do we have to keep getting personal, Kitty?”

“Sorry, Grief. But if a certain body part were to show up, what would it be worth to you?”

“Kitty, you bitch! What do you... Our producer indicates it’s time for a message from our sponsor, Graves Department Store, the store that helps you keep it all together. We’ll be right back.”

***

“Welcome back to the parade, I’m Zanku Kitty.”

“And I am Grief Abandon. We are starting to see a few of the parade-watchers heading indoors now. With the icy wind, there have been a few wardrobe malfunctions, and some of the mama’s don’t want their little zombies to see anything fall off that they didn’t know was there to start with. But I’m sure we’ll see them all later at the big feast.”

“Along with all of our wonderful visitors, Grief. The city council has extended their usual gracious invitation to all the living to come join us and bring their brains, er, families. It’s sure to be a delicious spread.”

“Let’s talk about the float approaching us right now. It’s certainly unusual, Kitty.”

“Yes, it is, Grief. My notes tell me that it is the Merchant’s Prize winner, selected for its fine selection of Zombietown’s wares. The town is known for it’s outstanding prosthetic devices. The young people modeling these fine products are members of the local sports teams. As you can imagine, they are big fans of the artificial limbs produced here.”

“Yes they are, Kitty.”

“Perhaps you should stop by one of the shops after the parade, Grief.”

“Shut up, Kitty.”

“If you think I’m going back to the motel with you with that big gaping hole in your....”

“Kitty!”

“Look, Grief, here comes the Mayor himself, Bob N. Bob and his death-partner, Chompers. Hello, Mr. Mayor. Do you have a few words for our viewers at home?”

“Hello, Kitty, Grief. It’s a great day for the parade and for the town! I want to remind all of our visitors to be sure to come to the town hall after the parade for the big feed. It’s always an experience!”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor.”

“You’re welcome, Grief. And you’re looking very nice today, Kitty.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor. At least someone around here is a gentleman!”

“You’re very welcome, Kitty. After all, a nose isn’t everything. Many of our finest citizens are among the noseless.”

“Mr. Mayor, I think Kitty is overcome with emotion at your kind words. Perhaps you’d better rejoin the parade. NOW!”

“I see what you mean, Grief. Let’s go, Chompers. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Mayor. Keep up the good work, Chompers.”

“Grief, what does Chompers do again?”

“The mayor. Look, Kitty, here comes the Founders Float.”

“Zombietown, Massachusetts is the only town in all of North America featuring the actual founding fathers riding on a float.”

“Look at Zedediah Claw. No, Daddy Claw, no don’t wave! Shoot, somebody pick up Daddy Claw’s hand and tuck it in his jacket. These founding father’s get so enthusiastic, they forget how breakable they are.”

“He’s probably excited about the feast, Grief. Remember, all you tourists are invited to the feast immediately after the parade. Just come right on in, someone will take care of you.”

“Here comes Santa Claus!”

“The kiddies are getting really excited. This is the first year they could find anyone to fill out the suit. Hiya, Santa!”

“Hello Kitty! Have you been a good girl this year?”

“Why, Santa, you old devil, you tell me.”

“Him too, Kitty?”

“Don’t you look at me like that! I can’t be exclusive with someone who just falls apart at the least little thing.”

“What do you want for Christmas, Grief?”

“All I want for Christmas is my ...”

“I can tell you what he wants, Santa, can I sit in your lap?”

“Sure thing, little girl, whisper right here in old Santa’s ear.”

“Kitty, don’t you dare! Don’t be sharing our private business with that old rickety lech.”

“I see, Kitty, I see. That is a problem. Grief, you want to come up here on Santa’s lap and tell him what size you’d like?”

“Oh my God, Kitty!”

“I was only trying to help, Grief. Santa understands that, don’t you stud?”

“We are almost out of time, here. Kitty and I would like to thank you for joining us for the Graves Department Store Thanksgiving Day Parade. It’s time to head on down to the town hall for dinner. I hope to see you all there, with bells on.”

Hunting Canned Cranberries: A Freak Sorority Short by Stephanie Beck

2009-11-18T12:03:00.000-08:00

Pammy muttered to herself as she rifled through her cupboards looking for a missing can of cranberries. Thanksgiving dinner was T-minus fifty minutes away and she had a set schedule if things were going to be ready when her father arrived. Since her mother died, every Thanksgiving was the same. She opened the cans of corn, green beans, carrots and cranberries. Her father bought a cooked turkey from the deli along with mashed potatoes and a pumpkin pie. No matter what was happening in their lives, Thanksgiving was their thing and if she didn't have cranberries there would be hell to pay.

She reached to the very back and with a triumphant shout pulled out a dusty can of jellied berries. The date was barely good but definitely within use proving once again that she was smart to take advantage of the two for one offers. She shopped half as often and any time-saver was good. As a kindergarten teacher and demon slayer, her minutes were at a premium most days and waiting in line to buy toilet paper and cereal pissed her off.

The bowls of her offerings were set out and ready to nuke, the small kitchen table set with the finest in paper dishes and a glance at the clock said she'd made it with twenty minutes to spare. She dumped the cranberries and managed to keep them in their can-ribbed perfection and pulled out one of the long necks she'd bought for her father. They would, eat, drink and talk about killing demons. Happy Thanksgiving.

She was about to turn on the Stones when her trip wire rang. The fish line across her end of the hall was too low to be tripped over but it alerted her to everything outside her apartment door. It was never a good thing for a demon hunter to be taken by surprise. She checked her Blackberry for the instant feed recorder and scowled at the top of a brown head that wasn't her father. The stranger smelled human and knocked politely. Just what she needed, a Jehovah's Witness or magazine salesman to bug her before her father came. If Big Jim were here they'd terrorize the interloper together but since it was just her, she'd make it quick.

"Delivery for…hell."

"Wow, Bricker, still as charming as ever I see," Pammy said, eye to eye with a set of baby blues she hadn't seen since high school.
"Pamela Dickerson. How did I not put that together?" He held out a warm cardboard box. "Thanksgiving dinner from Jimmy Dickerson. Happy holidays."

"Huh?" She held the box in one arm and grabbed his surprisingly firm bicep with the other. "Did he say anything else?"

She watched him roll his eyes, the same ones that back in the day had always been below hers but sometime in the last ten years since he'd grown six inches and become shockingly good looking. He fished out a paper from his coat.

"There was a message," he admitted. "'Sorry honey, Uncle Ed's in town and we've got a hunting party by the light of the moon.' Huh, he shouldn't be hunting at night."

"I see," she said, undeniably disappointed but if her uncle was in town that meant he was chasing a dangerous demon and needed her dad's help. "Well, thanks for dropping this off. I suppose you'd better get back to work. Do I tip you? I've never had a grocery delivery before."

"I'm the owner so don't worry about the tip," he said magnanimously. "And you were my last delivery so I'm heading home to watch the game, drink beer and fall asleep in my chair."

Her surprise must have shown because he blushed a little and stepped back further into the hall. "Well that was too much information. It was nice seeing you Pammy, maybe we can do this again in another ten years."

"Wait," she said as he began down her hall. "Are you really just going home to do what you said? I mean, because if you are then you might as well stay and watch the game while you drink my beer and eat."

"Really?" Hesitantly he took a step toward her.

"Yeah, I mean, I've got a ton of food and like you said, it's been ten years. Why not catch up?"
---
Peter looked around the little apartment and wondered why the hell he wasn't home. The place was packed with things belonging to a woman he'd barely spoke with in high school. She'd been a freak and he'd been a loser. High school common law would have them bonding but she'd been a scary freak and he'd been a wimpy loser. The decorative knives and swords that didn't look so decorative hanging above plastic drawers full of craft supplies told him he was once again over his head.

"So are you still afraid of using public restrooms?" she asked, running the microwave like a pro while he looked at a picture of a bunch of scary looking women and one dog, wait that was just a really hairy woman. Yikes.

"Do you still give blow jobs in janitor closets?" he replied and winced.

She laughed out loud and he was relieved. His mouth had gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion and freak or not she'd invited him for Thanksgiving when he'd have spent it alone.

"Not nearly as often as I'd like," she said, still laughing. "Mostly I teach kindergarteners to read and help Dad with his company in the evenings. You?"

"I still prefer to use the bathroom at my house, which I bought last year. I took over Mr. Harrison's grocery a couple years ago and have sold my soul to the produce supplier," he replied and picked up a strange piece of hard, blue plastic. "What is this?"

"Ah, maybe put that down Bricker." He scowled at the stupid nickname. "No I'm serious, you don't want to touch that."

"What is it?" he asked, rubbing his hand over the smooth surface.

"It's a demon penis."
---
She watched him drop the demon tool like it was hot and bit back a laugh. He'd found her favorite trophy and now he was wiping his hands on his pants. Poor guy. She put the dishes on the table and handed him hand sanitizer.

"You are still weird as hell, aren't you?" he muttered, accepting a squirt.

"Some things you don't outgrow," she agreed. "Let's eat."

Pammy couldn't believe how well Bricker had grown up. He had great manners and since her dad and most of the men in her life had horrible ones she recognized the thought he put into eating. He kept his mouth closed unless he was speaking and when he spoke he said things that were moderately intelligent and non-demon related. For the first time in her life she enjoyed a meal and didn't resent the fact that wasn't out hunting, discussing hunting or thinking about slamming the next demon that came across her path.

"What is that?" Peter asked when her alarm bell rang.

She caught demon stench and pounced to the door, palming her the knives she had attached at her back.

"Whoa," Peter said but she ignored him, launching out of her apartment door before the demon tried to enter.

"Hey bitch," she snarled at the little hunched over `woman' waiting in the hall.

"Hunter." The demon's eerie, toneless voice filled the hall but Pammy didn't flinch because she was trained not to. Peter, on the other hand was cursing from her kitchen floor.

"Don't you assholes ever learn?" she demanded and launched.

The demon didn't try to run, not that she would have let it. Mindful of the ordinary humans living down the hall Pammy wasted no time plunging her knives into the demon's throat even as the creature tried to bite. Blood poured over her arms, blue, smelly and thick and she loved it. There was nothing better than being elbow deep in demon guts. She cut off its head and stood back with a satisfied sigh.

"What the hell was that?" Peter demanded and she looked over, glad he was no longer withering in pain.

"Demon," she answered and pulled out her phone to text in the pickup. "Can you step back for a minute? I can't leave it in the hall."

She pulled it to just inside the kitchen and closed her door. The grin on her face had to be huge. Her dad said she never looked as happy as she did just after a kill. Even Peter, who looked a little shocked, pleased her because he wasn't freaking too badly.

"So?" she asked. "Questions? Comments?"

"That, that," he stuttered then she watched as he shook himself. "That was hot. Can I call you next weekend?"

"Next weekend?" she said, wiping a glob of blood from her cheek. "Works for me."

Happy Thanksgiving!

Stephanie Beck

A Thanksgiving Pie Tale by Sky

2009-11-05T15:07:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving always puts me in the mood for pie, so here's a little something to tide you over

WELCOME TO THE FIFTIETH ANNUAL THANKSGIVING DAY BACHELOR AUCTION AND PIE BAKE-OFF read the sign outside the Town Hall in this little hamlet at the edge of nowhere. The travellers where surprised to see such an event in a small town, but curious, so they pulled into the little parking lot in front of the building.

“Do you think they mind strangers coming?” Cassandra slung her purse over her shoulder as she stepped out of the little red MG convertible.

“Oh, I doubt it, Cassie,” said Angela. “Or they wouldn’t have such a big sign up. Anyway, the worst they can do is tell us to go away.” The two women began to walk up to the big metal quonset hut that housed the Town Hall. There were quite a few pick-up trucks and some cars parked around the building, and the big double doors were open wide.

Inside, it was crowded, and nearly everyone looked like they came from the local farm areas, but there were a few people who also looked like tourists among them. They strolled around the edge of the room. The pie bake-off had already happened, apparently, and they were offered samples of the winning pies.

“Mmmm, did you taste this apple pie, Cassie? Lots of cinnamon, I love that.”

“I like the pumpkin with the crumbly topping, wow, can these country people bake pies. I just buy them at the bakery when I bring them for Thanksgiving at Mom’s.”

“Look,” said Angela, “I think it’s time for the auction to begin, everyone is going over to that end of the hall by the little podium. Let’s go watch.”

“Okay, but I’m taking another piece of this yummy pie. I didn’t even see the chocolate one. I really wish I knew how to bake. I’d bid on anyone who could bake like this. It’s a shame none of the bachelors is a pie baker.”

“You’d really bid on a guy just because he could bake a pie?” Angela could hardly control her giggles. “You really would? You swear?”

“Angie, I get tired of fast food and I can only burn water on a good day. I can’t live forever on microwave popcorn. So, yes, I swear, if there were a guy who could bake a silky, dark chocolate cream pie like this one, I’d not only bid on him, I’d marry him.”

Angela couldn’t control herself any longer, she clutched her stomach and bent over laughing, revealing what had been behind her on the wall. A poster that said,

COME ONE COME ALL

AND BID

ON THE HOTTEST PIE BAKING BACHELORS

IN THE COUNTY

ALL PROCEEDS BENEFIT

STYXTOWN FOOD BANK

Cassandra turned pale as her sister continued to convulse in helpless laughter. “It’s not funny, Angie. You set me up!”

“Like you haven’t set me up a hundred times! I wouldn’t be married to Sam now if you hadn’t set me up on that blind date. Looks like we’d better take a seat and see which of our handsome bachelors made that yummy chocolate pie.”

Cassie knew how much Angela loved Sam. He was with his platoon on maneuvers, and Angie missed him dreadfully. She was worried he’d be sent to Iraq next, and this trip was supposed to be a distraction. Home for Thanksgiving was just too lonely without Sam. “Okay, you know I never back out on bet. I guess this was a bet. I only hope he’s my type.”

A matronly woman in a floral dress and a flower-trimmed hat stepped up to the microphone, “Welcome to the auction! I know you’re all anxious to bid on a bunch of guys with such a crisp crust and well-spiced filling.” There was a polite smattering of applause and a few chuckles from the assembled audience. “Without any further ado, here is your Master of Ceremonies, Bianca Hatfield.”

From off to the side, up stepped a young woman dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a short black jacket, her long auburn hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. She raised her arms and said, “We begin! Gentlemen, this way please!” And at her call, a dozen men walked up in front of her and turned to face the waiting crowd. “Here they are, ladies, the finest pie bakers Miner County has to offer! Remember, when you bid all the money goes to charity, so be generous.”

The men lined up in front of the audience were all sizes and shapes and ranged in age from about twenty to maybe forty-five. They were all smiling, and a few of them were blushing at the catcalls that had begun with their arrival. The country crowd was getting rowdy and having fun with these men they had known all their lives.

“All right! We will begin with baker of the Crispy Apple Tart. Let me remind you ladies that you not only win the bachelor in question, but also a baking session in their own home kitchen to recreate their winning pie! What am I bid for the bachelor responsible for the Crispy Apple Tart?”

Cassie scanned the men to see who would step forward and take credit for the delicious apple tart she’d tasted. Not one of the men moved forward or stepped onto the podium. “Angie, do you think he’s not there? Why doesn’t one of them step forward?”

Angela craned her neck over the tall woman seated in front of her. “I don’t know, Cassie.”

The bidding had begun, starting at twenty dollars and climbing to over three hundred before the auctioneer called, “Going, going, gone! Sold for three hundred fifty dollars! Now, anyone have a guess who our winner, Mamie, bought to make her a pie?”

Cassie was amazed to observe that it had been a secret auction. Those who lived here obviously knew the rules and were good-naturedly calling out guesses, until the auctioneer said, “Pie-maker, show yourself!”

A man stepped forward, to cheers and whistles from his friends in the audience. “Never knew you could make apple pie, Ed!” yelled a masculine voice from toward the back. “Thought you were a pumpkin man!”

“Nope, apples have always been first in my heart and my pan!” said Ed as Mamie, an apple-cheeked woman about his age, led him away.”

“I have my doubts about whether there is total secrecy here,” Cassie whispered to Angie after watching three more happy couples wander off to the back of the hall.

“We’ll see, which one do you think made the chocolate?” She looked under her lashes at her sister, who had been staring at one corner of the line of guys the entire time the bidding had been going on.

“Oh, I don’t care,” she said. “I probably won’t win him anyway. I don’t have the kind of money it will take for the Best of Show pie.”

“But if you could? Which one?”

“The one with the white shirt, and the black boots.”

“Wow! He is pretty cute, but not your usual type, you usually go for the blonde, urban types.”

“I think I’m tired of the usual types. They haven’t worked out so far, have they? I think I’m ready for the cowboy type, with all that wavy black hair and those chocolate brown eyes. Think it’s a hint?”

“I don’t know, Cass. Let’s hope so, I like your new type.”

The bidding continued, and with each bid Cassie’s heart beat louder. Would he be the next one to go? The others were okay, but she was getting awfully set on that guy on the end. He was tall, she noticed, and his jeans hugged his hips in a way that she really liked. “Do you think they’ll turn around so we can see the other view?” she whispered to Angie then blushed furiously as she realized what she’d said.

Angie was lost in giggles once again, clutching her side. “I had no idea this little car trip would turn out to be so much fun! Maybe you should ask, no, I will!” and before Cassie could stop her, Angie called out, “We want to see the rear view!”

“All right, we have a request from the audience!” said Bianca, looking very serious. How about it, gentlemen? Let’s see if another angle will help loosen the purse strings.”

As one, the remaining six guys, the best looking of the original dozen, turned to face the stage. A line of jean-clad behinds faced the audience and the cat calls grew in volume.

There were even a few shrill whistles and masculine laughter was very audible.

“How is that? Everyone got a good look?” The guys turned back around, laughing themselves. Overall, the afternoon was fun for everyone present, and the hilarity was growing with each winning bid.

The next bachelor was the one who had baked a banana cream pie. Not only did that get the crowd going, but two ladies were very determined and managed to bid up to almost a thousand dollars before one waved to the other and said, “All yours, I don’t need banana cream pie that much.” If it got much wilder in there, someone was going to have to call the riot squad.

Cassie’s heart sank, though. If the bids were this high now, they were only going to get higher. She knew which guy she wanted, and she’d sworn to bid on the chocolate cream pie. Even if they were one and the same, it was bound to be more money than she had.

The next three bachelors were bid on and won, the ladies squealing with delight and the guys smiling and accepting the hugs and kisses and pats on the behind as they passed through the crowd. It was down to only two pies and two guys. Cassie held her breath. If the guy with the chocolate eyes had baked the Second Place autumn pear pie, she was done for.

“They’re both cute, Cass,” whispered Angie. “Either way, it should be fun.”

But Cassie had her heart set on the guy with the beautiful eyes (and cutest butt) and was prepared to be heartbroken if she didn’t get him. This is ridiculous! I don’t even know him, and I’m acting like we’re going to break up or something. She watched the bidding on the next-to-last pie rise to almost twelve hundred dollars and waited to see what would happen. When the auctioneer said, “Sold to Amber Conahee for twelve hundred dollars,” the two men looked at each other, then at the audience, and Cassie knew she wasn’t the only one holding her breath.

Then, just as she thought she might turn blue, chocolate-eyes took a step back. He was still in the running. He was the only man standing, and she was about to take the chance of her life.

“Do you think they’ll take a check, Angie?”

“I saw one lady pay with one, Cassie, so yeah, they probably will. How much are you planning to bid?”

“I have two thousand three hundred twenty dollars in my checking account.”

“And?”

“All of it.”

Angie looked at her, big eyed. “All of it?”

“Yep, for once in my life I am going to do exactly what I want to do. I get paid next week, I’ll be okay.”

“Ladies,” began the auctioneer, “ I know how many of you had a piece of that delicious Dark Chocolate Dream pie. And I know you’ve probably guessed by now who the baker might be. Shall we open at five hundred dollars?”

The audience was much quieter for a moment. Then,“five hundred,” shouted a petite redhead, waving money over her head.

“Six!” shouted another and the bidding was fast and furious until it reached the two thousand dollar mark, when it began to slow. Cassie joined the bidding early on, and more and more women had dropped out until it was now between her and the redhead who had bid first.

“Two thousand three hundred!” the redhead yelled, and the crowd went wild.

“Two thousand three hundred twenty.” said Cassie, clutching her checkbook. She saw now that the object of her desire was looking straight at her. He was so handsome, and she saw kindness in his eyes and laugh lines by his mouth. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone or anything in her life.

“Two thousand three hundred twenty-five,” screamed the redhead.

Cassie felt despair begin to gather around her like a dark cloak. She had no more money, none at all. It was over. She turned to congratulate the redhead and felt her sister press something into her hand. It was a fifty dollar bill.

“Get him, Cass! Sam and I owe you for helping us find each other.”

“Two thousand three hundred seventy!” Cassie shouted, voice hoarse with emotion.

She looked around, and the redhead looked back at her, then grinned and shook her head.

“Any other bids?” asked Bianca. “No? Okay then, going, going gone. Sold to the pretty blonde in row three. Thanks, honey, that money will do a lot of good.”

Cassie stood frozen by her seat. She had won him, what was she going to do now?

What was I thinking? He’s headed this way! I don’t even know him, what have I done?

Then he was standing right in front of her.

“I’m Bob Stone and you must have really liked that pie.” His eyes twinkled gold flecks in the dark brown reflecting the light.

“I did, and I understand you’re making me another one?”

“You bet, come with me and we’ll get started. What are you doing for dinner?”

Angie shook her head, “Don’t mind me, I’ll check into the motel. Going to do everything you said you’d do with the maker of that pie, Sis?”

Cassie smiled, “You never know.”

Angie watched her sister walk away, hand in hand with the tall cowboy in the tight jeans. She shook her head, it wasn’t like Cassie to fall this hard. But she was due, it was about time she let her heart lead her. As Cassie walked out the door, Angie felt someone standing close to her.

“That girl got lucky,” said Bianca, the afternoon’s auctioneer.

“He does seem nice,” said Angie.

Bianca smiled. She pointed to the window where they could see Cassie reaching on tiptoe as Bob bent to press his lips against hers. “They’ll be fine. They’ve both been waiting for each other. It works like that here sometimes, if you’re very lucky.”

And the Winners Are...

2009-11-02T07:46:00.000-08:00

Published Category:
1st place: Do You Want to Know a Secret by Wendi Zwaduk
2nd place: I Dare You by Valerie Mann
3rd place: Breakfast with a Zombie by Kerri Nelson

Unpublished Category:
1st place: Samhain Kiss by Tonya Callihan
2nd place: Tonight I Met a Vampire by Sky
3rd place: Angels and Vampires: A Freak Sorority Short by Stephanie Beck

Congratulations to our winners and to everyone for participating. Winners please contact mistressbellareviews@gmail.com to claim your prizes.
FYI: I will be away for a few days so it will be next week before I get your prizes sent out.

Mistress Bella

All Hallow's Eve Party by April Dawn

2009-10-29T09:18:00.001-07:00

Melinda closed her eyes, grasped at the trailing ends of the ties which held her hands immobile behind her.
"Bite the apple, Linny"
"You can do it."
She approached the apple, which hung suspended by a string and licked her lips. Turning her head one way, then the other, she tried to decide where to begin. Her corset kept her from bending too far in either direction, so she lifted her chin, coming at the apple from slightly beneath it. Her teeth bit into the flesh of the fruit, and elation filled her as the juices spurted into her mouth.
"You did it, Linny." Her best friend Sara said, rushing to her side as she stepped back from the bitten apple. "You will be the first to marry!"
Melinda smiled, chewing on the sweet morsel as Sara removed the bindings from her hands.
"Shall we have some tea, and find out who your husband will be?" Sara asked.
As Sara speculated about the possibilities, Melinda's eyes once again returned to the spot where Anthony stood. His eyebrows lifted as his gaze shifted meaningfully to where the apple still hung. He grinned, and she fought not to grin back.
"I heard that Franny drank the tea, and it told her that she would marry a duke! And now, she is engaged to his grace, the Duke of Rochester."
"Mmm," Melinda said, eyes never leaving Anthony.
His head inclined slightly toward the entrance of the barn, indicating the open expanse of pastures beyond. Her breath caught, and she shifted her gaze to where Sara stood.
"Why don't you go, Sara? You can tell me all about it later." When Sara protested, Melinda held up a hand. "Now I want to hear positively everything about your tea, but I… I promised my father I would be home early, and I wouldn't want you to have to leave on my account."
Sara pouted and looked at the door. Melinda followed her eyes, seeing Anthony's back as he stepped through the doorway. Her heart lurched. Sara turned toward where the tea was being poured, then looked back over her shoulder toward the door again.
"Look now, all the cups are nearly taken. I insist that you enjoy your tea." Melinda said, shoving her gently toward the table. "You can tell me everything tomorrow."
"All right, but you go straight home." Sara said, giving her a quick hug before whirling to hurry toward the table.
Adjusting her bodice and slapping at the wrinkles in her skirts, she started toward the door. Stepping across the threshold, she noted the darkening sky and empty expanse of land. Looking around, she fought the urge to call for him. She moved toward the far end of the barn, her pulse pounding in her throat.
"Not frightened, are you?" A deep male voice came from beside the barn.
"Not at all. I'm far too old to let a silly night frighten me." Smiling, she faced the obscure darkness.
Anthony slipped from the abysmal world of shadow and into the moonlight. His dark hair was tousled, and she found herself itching to brush a wayward lock from his forehead. Her fingers clenched at her skirt to quell the impulse.
"I'm glad you came out to walk with me. I never thought that Sara would let you out of her sight."
Eyebrows raised, she tried to give him a reproving look, but her grin broke free. "She was very insistent tonight. I think she wishes to try new things, but is too afraid to try them alone."
His hand came to her elbow, and he took it delicately in his fingertips as he helped her over a hole in the ground. Warmth spread through her from at the contact.
"She's always been that way." He laughed, a rich sound that warmed her in the chilly night air.
"I was told that you will be leaving to attend school in England soon," she said, speaking the words which had remained silent between them for months now. "It should be very exciting." She turned her head, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from coming.
He grunted his agreement. They walked along a piece and soon came to the large white fence at the edge of the barn. Anthony jumped to the top of the fence effortlessly, extending a hand to her. She took it, and he lifted her as she placed her foot on the bottom post. When she held the top of the fence, he grasped her waist and lifted her over the fence and to the ground on the other side. The brief contact of his fingers at her waist sent a thrill of anticipation through her body.
He had helped her over this very fence so many times in the past, but lately…
"So, you bit the apple." He said, dropping to the ground alongside her. "You're next to marry then."
She giggled, trying to sound lighthearted while her insides twisted. "Silly superstition." She waved her hand as she spoke.
"Perhaps," he said, his fingers touching hers for the barest moment as they walked together. "And perhaps not. You are eighteen now. It is time to take a husband, is it not?"
"I suppose it will be."
Head down, she watched him in her from the corner of her vision as they passed the storage shed near the main plantation house.
"And I am nearly nineteen. My father will be pressing me soon enough."
"Parents are rather insistent on the matter."
His fingers brushed hers, but this time he grasped them, holding them lightly in his own. She glanced up at him, and his face lit with a roguish smile. A thick lump had formed in her throat, and she fought to swallow past it. He pulled her toward the shed, and she went with him, leaning back against the draw of his hands, but not truly resisting.
Reaching behind him, he pushed the shed door open and drew her inside. Her chest felt as though it would shatter into a million bits when her eyes met his.
"I… We should--."
"Shhh." He silenced her, placing a long finger over her lips. "It’s all right."
The door shut behind them, and he sat on a small bench, drawing her onto his lap.
"You and I have been friends a long time, Melinda." His eyes held hers so fully that she couldn't have looked away even if she had wished to. "Lately our friendship has changed. I know you have felt it too."
Butterflies seemed to have taken up residence in her stomach, and they fluttered in crazy patterns as he took her hand in his and kissed it.
"I love you, Linny," he said. "Say you love me too. Say you'll marry me and make me the happiest man who ever existed."
A whimper left her throat, unbidden, and she leaned in, her palms gently holding his cheeks. Her lips met his, softly and tenderly. He moaned as she pulled back from the kiss, his hands running up and down over her arms. The fiery quality that his eyes had acquired made her insides turn to pudding.
"Of course I'll marry you, you goose."
Whooping, he slipped his arms around her, his lips finding hers. His mouth covered hers, not the sweet, tender kiss she had visited on him, but fiery and passionate. A kiss she would be content to stop time and live in for the rest of her life.

Devilish Delight by Marie Bradley

2009-10-29T07:04:00.000-07:00

Standing in the foyer area at the party, Kiley was a little nervous. What should she do? Her girlfriends had dressed her in this fabulous costume, brought her to this Halloween party and then promptly dumped her leaving her all alone. She did look incredibly good though. Thankfully she had been spending a lot of time at the gym lately getting toned up. Tonight she was Catwoman and the outfit certainly didn’t leave room to hide anything.
As she thought about her situation she started fuming. This always happens! Sarah and Jill are very spontaneous people and it seemed like she always got abandoned. Kiley was here to have fun but now she was wondering if she had enough nerve to cut loose like her friends. Catching sight of her reflection, she paused. Maybe she could transform just like Catwoman did in the movie. Her meek, mild, naïve self could become a bold, aggressive hellcat. No one here knew who she was so maybe it would be kind of fun to try it.
Kiley left the front area entering the party. Spooky Halloween noises drifted from hidden speakers and several musical selections blasted from the dance floor. To her right was a large variety of edible ghoulish treats. Back in the corner was a wet bar with tables and chairs scattered throughout the room. The costumes ranged from simple to very elaborate. There was a multitude of different kinds of outfits drifting around the crowd. She moved further into the mass and started walking around absorbing the atmosphere. It was nice to be unknown, she felt she could do things and no one would be able to point a finger at her later saying she did it.
She gathered food and drink moving around chatting to people gathered in small clusters. She even played at flirting with the men; really enjoying her anonymity. Intently trying to follow the rapid conversation coursing through the group, she heard a deep voice brush over her back.
“Would you like to dance?”
Standing very still she tried to figure out if she was imagining the voice. She held her breath for a few seconds and didn’t see anyone looking at her. Maybe the invitation wasn’t meant for her just something she had overheard. Kiley relaxed and concentrated on listening to the group conversation when she felt a finger graze around the top of her ear and heard the deep voice again.
“I really would like to dance with you.”
Kiley slowly turned around and came face to face with the devil. He was standing very close and she almost stepped back but stopped herself at the last second from giving up her space. He was tall and she had to tip her head back to look up at him. “Were you talking to me?”
“Yes, let’s dance,” he reached for her hand.
“I don’t know…” she started to protest as he captured her hand and pulled her to the dance floor.
“I’ve been watching you all night and I haven’t seen you dance yet.”
“I’m not that good at dancing.”
“We won’t know until we do it,” he smiled.
He wrapped his arms around her and started moving with her to the music. His hands gently caressed her back causing small shock waves to travel up and down her spine. These feelings were surprising but she decided it would be fine to enjoy them for a little while. Together they rocked and swayed brushing each other in extra sensitive erotic areas. Sexual tensions tightened around her chest sliding downward causing her breasts to tingle and tighten and a warm wet feeling to fill her most womanly spot. Her breath was getting heavy and she had lost all conscious thought of where she was. In this spell he was spinning around her, she became putty in his hands. He directed and she followed. A long way off she was aware of a fresh breeze but she was not able to untangle her thoughts to anything other than what he was doing to her.
When she heard the zipper, she stiffened for a brief second until his lips consumed her dragging her deeper into his world binding her to his sexual desire. She was hot and cold, shivering and breathless, aroused and so far gone her eyes were glazed and unfocused. Her body burned and stretched toward him wanting more. He lightly pinched and stroked her skin drawing her closer and closer to her climax. She couldn’t take anymore and started whimpering and begging him. He pushed her further along the path until she screamed and tightened through her sexual eruption. In her daze, Kiley could hear his delighted chuckle. “Come for me again,” floated his intoxicating words. She felt the stirrings deep in her belly as they clawed and gathered again making her wither and grab at him. His hand was quickly replaced by his hard pulsating shaft. His tempo increased as he slammed in and out of her getting faster and faster. She was teetering on the edge trying to wait for him. His breathing was ragged and then she felt the growl rumbling deep in his chest as he tightened and tensed for his ejaculation. The feel of his climax tipped her over the edge causing her to shiver from her toes to her head and back again as the strength of her orgasm hit her again. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her drowning her in a sea of sensation. She was having trouble breathing and she couldn’t move she was so drained.
Coolness fanned over her skin and she knew he was moving away from her. She was transfixed in this dream state and unable to move or talk. He stood towering over her depleted body sprawled on the ground. His eyes locked with hers sending a few more shivers through her body.
Fog drifted in around them. His black cape whipped up as he turned around and was gone. Kiley pulled herself together slowly, her limbs felt like lead. Redressed she returned to the party. Searching the room, she wanted to find him. Her devilish delight was nowhere to be seen. Wandering around the crowd engaging in small talk, she was carefully looking everywhere trying to catch a glance of him. She felt eyes watching and following her but she was unsuccessful in locating the source. She had never acted as carefree as she had these last couple of hours. She decided she had had enough for one night. Quietly she left for home.
Two weeks later the girls went out to the club for a girl’s night out. It was Kiley’s turn to get the drinks. Standing beside the table she reviewed the order requests with her friends. She heard a deep voice behind her.
“Would you like to dance?”
A shiver quivered up her spine as a ghost of a memory prickled her senses. Turning around she found a handsome tall man standing behind her wearing a devilish smile.
“I might have that dance if I know who I am dancing with,” Kiley smiled back. They walked off talking together leaving her friends sitting alone staring after her in surprise.

Samhain Kiss by Tonya Callihan

2009-10-28T23:51:00.001-07:00

Every Samhain he would visit, Shay knew it was only a matter of time. She counted down the minutes until midnight struck. For she knew her vampire would seek her out. For ten years, every since Shay had been 17, Drake would come to her on this night and after conversation he would kiss her and leave before sunrise.

“Why is it you can only come out of your coffin once a year? From legends vampires roam the nights, not just Halloween night.”

“Ah, yes. But you see, my dear, I am cursed.” Drake replied sitting across her in her darkened kitchen.

“How are you cursed?” Shay stood of her bed and walked to him.

“Back in 1692, during the Salem Witch Trials. Abigail, she was the love of my life, but she was a witch. She knew she would die so she cursed me. She didn’t want to share me with anyone else.”

“But she allowed you to be free one night a year.”

“Yes, she wanted me to live and suffer without her, because I would turn her into a vampire. She allows me this one night to feed.”

“That must be an awful way to live.”

“It’s not so bad,” Drake ran a cool finger down her arm. “It allows me to see you.”

Blushing Shay turned from him. If only he wanted more than a few minutes conversation and a kiss to do him for a year. If only he wanted her the way she craved him.

“What could break the curse?”

Drake crossed his arms and stared out her bedroom window. The moon was bright and full, with his hearing he could hear parties going on all over Salem.

“Drake please, I would like to know. I want to help you.”

“There is nothing you can do to help me.”

“You mean there is nothing at all to lift this curse from you?” Shay begged grabbing his arm. “There has to be something, anything.”

“Shay, let’s enjoy our time together. I want to make the most of the few hours I have with you each year. Someday you may not want me to return.”

Standing on her tiptoes she brushed her lips across his cool cheek. “That will never happen.” Shay promised before closing her mouth over his. Gasping she clung tighter to his body when his tongue entered her mouth. She could feel his cock pressing against her stomach. For ten years she had wanted him. “Please Drake, I need you.”

“You must know that if we make love it will be one step to breaking the curse.”

“What would be the next step?”

“For me to take your life.”

Gasping Shay pushed him away from her. “You have to kill me?” She trembled. “But I don’t want to die. I have a career and a family. I have obligations. I want to live.”

“Relax my love. You will become a vampire like me. You are my lifemate. We would be free to roam the nights together for all of eternity.”

Drake slowly brought her back into his arms and just held her for a few minutes to calm her nerves. After ten years she had to know he would never hurt her.

“You smell like peaches,” his thumb slowly traced the outside of her breasts before lowering his lips to hers. The kiss was slow and sweet.

“All you need is some whip cream then.” Shay spoke her mind still fuzzy from the kiss. She heard him groan then opened her eyes just in time to see his lips take hers again.

Shay wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her body tightly against his. His hands rubbed up her stomach over her breasts to frame her face, tilting her head to the left for a deeper kiss. “I’m sorry sugar,” Drake apologized. “But tonight, being her with you, I have no strength left.”

He whirled her up against her back door Shay quickly removed his jacket and shirt licking her lips as she ran her hands over his hard chest and stomach to the button on his jeans.

“Not so fast sugar, I want to taste you.” He pushed her hands above her head and began his assault again, this time kissing down her neck, her collarbone, then lowering her dress until it feel to the floor. Stepping back he let out a groan at the small red lace thong she was wearing. Then his mouth was on her breast again, while his free hand slid over her other breast, pulling on her nipple before lowering over her stomach to trace her belly button then the top of her thong. Shay’s breath shuddered, the door a hard pillow as she laid her head against it. He was so close to seeing how wet he made her and hot ready she was for him. “Please,” she begged when his hand found it’s way back to her breast.

He let go of her hands and smiled at her before kneeling in front of her and running kisses down her stomach. He quickly tore her thong off before running his tongue over the inside of her thigh. Her body quivered and burned for his touch. Her hand rested on his baldhead and urged him to taste her. “Please,” she begged again.

His gaze met hers as he slid a finger inside her, she bit her lip and closed her eyes. It had been too long since she had been touched.

“Mmm, sugar, you are so tight, so wet.” He said, his breath blowing against her aching body.

She squirmed as his lips closed over her. Drake raised her right leg on her shoulder to gain better access to her. His tongue slid between her pink folds as his fingers pumped in and out of her. His mouth closed over her clit and began to suck greedily. Shay let out a loud moan moving her hips with his fingers. Her body became tight, with one last pump of fingers Shay shuddered. She imagined she only remained standing because of Drake. Before she could get her breathing under control he had lifted her up and placed her on a small, round table and pressed his erection against her sensitive center.

“See what you do to me,” he grabbed her hand and placed it over the bulge in his pants. “I can’t wait to bury myself inside you.” He kissed her lips. “I want you screaming and begging for more.” He kissed the side of her neck.

“I want you inside me, please.” Shay squeezed his erection before unsnapping his jeans and pulling down the zipper.
In one swift move, Drake had his jeans around his ankles and her legs resting on his shoulders.

“What do you want Shay?” He asked rubbing the head of his dick against her clit.

“You. Inside. Me!” She begged. “Now!”

In one thrust Drake was buried inside Shay. “Now what do you want?”

“I want you to make me come.”

Drake groaned and then began to pump in and out of her. Shay could feel the tension start to build with each pump from Drake. She saw Drake’s eyes grow dark and bit her bottom lip. She felt his dick twitch inside her, he then placed his thumb over her clit and began to massage it. His rasping cry of pleasure was all it took for Shay to throw her head back and cry out with her own orgasm.

Moments later when she could breathe Shay asked the underlining question, “when and how do you turn me?”

“Next Samhain, my love. Only one more year and we will be together for all of eternity.”

With that he was gone.

The End

By the Light of the Moon by Janelle P. Lanthrum

2009-10-28T22:06:00.001-07:00

Eyes squeezed shut, her breath came in gasping pants, broken only by occasional gulps to wet her parched throat. The metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and each breath brought a fresh coppery wave. It made her gag and her full stomach twist. Her heart pounded, blood rushing in her ears. Vertigo made the world tilt beyond her closed lids.

A gentle autumn wind whispered through the trees, chilling bare skin and carrying the promise of rain. She was covered in sweat and something thicker. It was in her hair, oozing down her arms and chest, and dripping from her chin to pat softly on the leaves all around her. Her muscles shook with the effort of keeping her on her hands and knees. Fingers curls in soft earth sending up a heady, primitive scent.

Casting her mind about, she tried to understand how she arrived here. She had been reading when the sick feeling had begun. Her gut had heaved and the world became too bright, too loud. She had tried to make it to the rest room but had ended up retching in the hallways, sickness splashing the hardwood. Then there was dizziness and everything hurt, as if her very bones where being wrenched about. A ripping sound. Heavy floral scents hung all around, too strong.

She was hot, burning, inside and out. Her body tingled, suddenly restless. She paced, trapped by the walls around her. Wild, she threw herself about, heeding the summons beyond the confines. She needed. She wanted. She hungered. The air beyond was sweet and crisp, begging to be chased.

After that was a blur of motion. The world flashing past in the muted blues and silvers of full moon light. Long shadows gather around her, but did not hinder her rush. Cold October air being taken in greedy gulps. The scents of pine and water and earth. And blood. There were others, moving with her and around her. She knew them and yet they had no names. They ran together. Heedless and boundless. Free.

A scream. The race had become urgent, almost frantic. Joy and thrill urged her faster. Consumed by the chase. The others where falling back, letting her lead, there keening voices music in the night. It was hers, faster, closer, to ground. The moment of the kill. Doe eyes widened, then blood flowed. They gorged on tender flesh and broke soft bones. The heart was hers, they insisted. Supple sinew unsoured by age. Sweet blood tracing its path.

Her breath was coming in gasps again, even as the images lost their tenuous focus. A blurry haze of sickness and pain. It could not be real. Just a nightmare. She opened her eyes.

Pale doe’s eyes stared back at her.

The woman was young, barely out of her teens. Her throat was gone and her torso torn open. Entrails and gore littered the ground and blood soaked the leaves. Where arms and legs had once been, were now bloody hollows where the limbs had been ripped from their sockets. What remained of a risque nurse’s uniform lay in pieces among the leaves.

She scrambled back from the fresh corpse, scattering and crunching dry leaves that upset the quiet of the midnight forest. Her wet hair fell into her face, and she desperately shoved it away. Her arm glistened in the moonlight, the pale illumination turning the dark fluid black against her skin. She shook to see she was covered in the gore. It was smeared across of face, arms, and chest, and dripped from her chin and hair. The fullness in her stomach settled heavily before it lurched upward. Blood, coppery and thick, was all she could smell. The gentle wind could not waft it away, only stir it around her.

Then she felt them. The others, just beyond the light of the moon, hidden in the night shadows, their eyes aglow in gold and red. They moved, circling her without a sound. She could feel their exchange though they had no voices. She drew her arms around her naked body. Cold, afraid, but not of the monsters with out. She had nothing to fear from the others, they watched over her, kin.

A crunch of leaves, a whiff of oak and pine, and she spun.

He was beautiful: lean muscle wrapped in pale skin, living marble. Windswept locks fell to shoulder length and swirled around luminous green eyes. He was naked save the dark stains of liquid splashed across his body. His expression was soft, gentle, yet she flinched as he knelt before her. The moonlight worshiped him, wrapping him in gentle silver fingers. The scents of wind and blood and forest clung to him, stirring her soul. She wished to sig for him, sing with him, sing with them.

She licked her lips, tasting the blood there, and his smile grew hungry. His nostrils flared and his chest expanded. He crouched before her, leaning close, he rubbed his cheek to hers, the stubble of a day’s growth scratched at her softer flesh, and chuffed into her ear. As he drew back, his tongue soothed across her chin cleaning off the blood, then each cheek. He moved to her neck, lapping away the gore. Her breath shuddered in her throat and he replied with a rumbling chuckle.

“Fear not, young one, the first hunt is always the hardest.” His voice was throaty and deep, and rough as if from exertion. He rocked back onto his heels and rolled to his feet with supple grace. He reached his hand out to her. “Come. The night is young. Run with us.”

Wide eyes met first green, then pale doe as her heart raced anew. She swallowed, still tasting blood. The metallic sweetness sliding down easily. The wind rose, cold and free, howling through the forest.

She took his hand and music once again filled the night. She found herself singing with them. Her body twisted and warped and again the joyful blur of night consumed her.

A Vegas Halloween by Bob Rebel

2009-10-28T21:56:00.000-07:00

Arriving in Vegas for my first vacation in over five years, I was determined to have the time of my life. Too much work was making this boy tired and lifeless. How lucky was I that they were having a masked Halloween Ball? Just what I needed to jump start my vacation.
Entering the Dunes grand ballroom, I stopped to let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Ghostly apparitions floated eerily through the air. Jack-o‘-lanterns grinned from every table. A thick, clammy fog hugged the floor. The dance floor was jammed with costumed party goers gyrating to the sound of Purple People Eaters. Smoothing the vest of my Captain Jack Sparrow costume, I sauntered inside, eager with anticipation.

There were witches, vampires, goblins and ghouls. Aliens, fairies, presidents and movie stars cavorted with each other. Casually glancing around the room for a dance partner, I saw her, a vision in red. She wore a low cut red dress that matched her long silky hair. The gossamer dress clung intimately to her slender body. A slit ran the length of her right shapely leg all the way up to her hip. Her back was bare down to the curve of her well formed derrière. When she turned, her face was hidden behind a red, feathered mask.

I watched in stunned awe as she worked her way through the room, nonchalantly dismissing every man who approached. It was like watching a panther on the prowl. She was looking for one man to be her prey that night and every man there obviously wanted to be devoured by her.
It took me a moment to realize she had stopped directly in front of me. Her ruby lips curled into a mischievous smiled as she took my scabbard in her hand. A wave of excitement jolted me when she began to seductively rub her hand up and down the scabbard’s shaft.

Her sculpted lips pursed as a soft purr rumbled in her throat. "Mmmm."
My mouth went dry as she led me out of the ballroom toward the elevators. Before the door closed she placed a finger to my lips and shook her head. No talking.

We got off on the twenty sixth floor and stopped at room 2669. How she could have possibly hidden anything inside that tight dress without it showing, I don't know, but she reached down between her two magnificent breasts and slid out the key card that would open the door to her room and what I hoped would be a night I would never forget.

The room was dark, the only light came from the full moon shinning through the open French doors. A hot, desert breeze turned the white curtains into eerie specters. A bottle of Champaign chilled in a bucket next to the king sized bed.

The sultry strains of Reveille's Bolero wafted through the air as she lead me to the bed and made me sit on the edge. After pouring me a glass of the sparkling wine, she backed away from me and began to slowly, erotically, sway her body to the music.

Seductive as a snake charmer, the bulge in my pants responded by straining against the leather for all it was worth. Sweat beaded my brow as my eyes followed her hypnotic hips. I gasped suddenly as one strap fell off of her creamy shoulder. I could tell she knew exactly what she was doing to me as her grin turned wicked, her tongue wetting her lips.

Turning away from me, she pealed one side of her dress half way down, then the other. Bending over, she wriggled the dress the rest of the way to the floor. All she was wearing now was a red thong, that evil grin and the feathered mask.

Straightening, she turned, arms crossed in front of her breasts and walked toward me. She took my glass from me and held it to her lips. Champaign trickled down her chin, between her full, firm breasts, across her flat abdomen and over her thong covered mound.

Kneeling down, she reached out to unbuckled my stiff belt. I started to rip off my shirt and vest only to have her stop me. Climbing onto the bed behind me, her hands snaked around me, sliding under my shirt, lightly rubbing my chest. Her touch sent shudders of pure ecstasy through my body.

Her breath, hot and sweet, on my neck as she licked my ear. She removed my shirt and oozed back off of the bed. She pushed me onto my back and took my zipper in her teeth, slowly pulling it down. After removing my boots, she pulled my pants off. I was naked and completely in her hands.

She slipped out of her thong, revealing a small, shaved patch of red hair in the shape of a heart.

She climbed on top, straddling me, positioning herself directly over my hard, throbbing erection. The heat of her skin was nothing compared to the furnace I felt as she took every inch of my length deep inside her.

She was hot, wet and very tight. She leaned close to my face, our lips fractions on an inch apart. Her sea green eyes sparkled, her perfume intoxicating. Her soft, supple lips touched mine for the briefest of moments, yet I felt an intense fire of passion run deep in my loins.

A moment later we kissed again, passionately, feverishly. Sitting back up, she began to rise and fall in tempo to the music. Slow, long strokes that made me fight for control not to end this too soon. If this was Heaven, I wanted to die.

The rhythm of the music increased and so did she.

Faster and faster she rode me.

My hands reached out and grabbed hold of her firm breasts.

Her swollen nipples were hard under my fingers.

Her body arched backward.

A guttural moan of pure pleasure tore from her throat as her body began to climax.

I felt the hot rush of her juices as I erupted in waves of agonized delight.

She collapsed on top of me, our bodies slick with sweat. When my breath finally returned, I gently disentangled myself from her and dressed. She lay curled up on the bed like a hot house flower settling in for the night. Her fantasy fulfilled, a smile of deep contentment played on her luscious lips.

I leaned over, kissed her tenderly on the cheek and quietly left her room. On the way down to my room I wondered if I would ever see that gorgeous creature again.

The End

I Dare You by Valerie Mann

2009-10-28T21:34:00.000-07:00

“Truth or dare, Kate,” Ashley said.

Oh, I hated the way her eyes gleamed with twisted pleasure and I so knew what she was going to ask me. And she knew I would take the dare because I would never tell her what she so desperately wanted to know. I was definitely going to suffer before this sleepover was over.

The five of us had arranged our sleeping bags in the tent like spokes on a wheel, with the lantern in the middle. I batted a moth away from my face and glared at Ashley. We’d been friends since elementary school. But right then, I wanted to punch her lights out. Instead, I said, “Dare.”

Parker, Dani and Cotton groaned. I knew what they were thinking—Ashley was going to make me pay dearly for not giving in to her deepest desire. Which was, of course, if I’d gone all the way with her boyfriend, Drew.

I’d never tell.

Ash leaned back on her trendy Timberland sleeping bag and stared up at the tent ceiling. She pursed her cute little lips, the same ones I wanted to smack, and replied, “Well, I have the most perfect dare.”

A collective ‘ohhhh’ from my three BFF made me cringe. Ashley had a mean streak and we all knew this was either going to hurt or scare the living crap out of me. Since we were in the middle of the woods, I pretty much figured it was a dare of the scariest kind. Just Ashley’s style.

She began, “Last week, Drew and I were taking a walk in the woods.”

I knew I wasn’t the only one who wondered what else they’d done in the woods and we also knew she’d gotten in her first good dig of the night—whether or not I answered her truth or dare question, she wanted to remind me who Drew belonged to now. And it wasn’t me.

“Do you remember that old tobacco barn out near Tatum creek?” she continued, staring at me, the nasty gleam returning. “I think it’d be fun to spend the night out there, don’t you?”

Oh, she would not. She couldn’t be serious.

Of course we all knew that barn. It’d been around since the slaves worked the bacca fields. The only thing holding it upright was a mass of kudzu big enough to have its own zip code.

And it was haunted.

Eight eyes watched my reaction. I tried hard to pretend I wasn’t freaking out but every single hair on my body stood up and nobody missed my shiver of horror.

“Gee, Ash. That’s kind of extreme,” Dani said.

“Yeah, just because Kate won’t tell you—,” Cotton shut her mouth and began to play with the zipper on her sleeping bag. Bless her heart, Cotton never thought before she spoke, but I wanted to hug her for sticking up for me.

Parker kicked Ashley’s foot. “You always were jealous that Kate dated Drew first.”

Ash shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. He’s mine now. And she took the dare.”

“She’s not going out to that shed alone. I’m going with her,” Parker said.

“Oh, I don’t think so. Y’all know the rules, she goes alone,” Ashley replied. She pulled her cell phone from under her stupid, fuzzy pink pillow and checked the time then looked up at me with a little grin. “How ‘bout that? It’s almost midnight. The perfect hour to start your dare.”

***
Ten minutes later, I tripped through the woods to the old barn, with my sleeping bag, cell phone and a big, fat dose of fake courage keeping me company. It was far enough away that when demons came to suck the soul out of my body, nobody would hear my screams. Just the way Ashley hoped.

I stopped when I reached the edge of the woods where the clearing started. The thought of entering that open field made me feel totally defenseless. A dare’s a dare, I thought and stepped out, keeping my eye on the old barn.

I hadn’t even made it halfway to the hulking building when I heard the first sound. A woman’s cry, long and shrill echoed out of the woods behind me. I’d always felt running was a waste of time, but right then I did the fifty-yard dash faster than an Olympian—right toward the barn. Something scraped the top of my head and I screamed. A cloud passed in front of the moon and in the sudden pitch blackness, I didn’t see the small stump in my path. I hit it at a dead run and screeched again when I went airborne. Lucky for me, my sleeping bag flew ahead and I landed across the roll, cushioning my fall and sliding over it to land in a heap. I laid there for a few seconds, trying to catch my breath when the second wail sounded. Sitting up, I grabbed my stuff and crabwalked backward to lean against the stump. Unrolling the sleeping bag, I wrapped it around me. My teeth began to chatter and I had a hard time catching my breath.

Then I heard the growl and it definitely wasn’t an animal. It had to be the freakiest, most evil sound ever. Coming from inside the barn, it rose and fell, warning me, I was sure, not to come any closer. That was so not going to be a problem because quite simply, I froze. I wasn’t going anywhere. My muscles were in total lockdown.

Thumps, deep and threatening, accompanied the growl, until the ground began to shake around me. The wind started to blow, cold and damp through my clothes, making me shiver harder. I burst into tears then, long overdue in my opinion. That damned Ashley was going to be so sorry when I got back to the tent. I’d give her the truth she wanted. Starting with the love letters Drew had written me a month after she’s started dating him. You want the truth, Ash? Yeah, well, you are so going to get it.

If I lived.

I don’t know how long I sat there, crying my butt off, freezing in my thin, flannel pajamas (not my attire of choice for sitting in a damp, haunted field), when footsteps approached me. And I got mad. Really mad, because I knew it was going to be Ashley or one of the other girls, coming to laugh at me. They’d probably been in on this together,
planned it all along. Oh, let’s pull a Halloween prank on Kate! I wiped my face on my sleeve and opened my eyes.

Silhouetted against the moon was a young man, down on one knee, staring at me. White shirt ripped at the neck, his suspenders holding up tattered pants, and bare-footed, he was the last thing I expected to see when I looked up. I could only stare at him in shock, though I felt no threat whatsoever even though I knew, don’t ask me how, that he was a ghost. He looked about my age. In the bluish moonlight, I could just make out smooth, dark skin, long, curly hair pulled back at his neck and a concerned look on his face.

“You hurt, Miss?”

I shook my head just as a huge thump and shriek sounded from the barn. I burst into tears again.

He looked over my shoulder toward the barn and frowned. “Don’t mind them, they can’t do nuthin’ more than scare ya.”

I smeared my nose along the edge of the sleeping bag. “Yeah well, they succeeded.” The crack of splintering wood followed by a long groan made me jump again. Didn’t these spirits ever take a breather?

Kinder than most mortal boys, the boy settled down next to me, a comforting expression on his face. “My name’s Jim,” he said and his teeth flashed white in the moonlight.

I told him my name and then we sat for a little while, listening to the creepy noises still coming from the barn. I wondered why he was a ghost. I asked, “How did you die?”

“Accident,” he shrugged. Then he said, “Why you here? I’m not thinkin’ you wanted to come.” His speech was thick like molasses.

I wasn’t sure how old he was, but I knew he wasn’t from my generation. Or my great-grandparent’s generation for that matter, so there was no way I was going to say I’d taken a dare rather than tell my so-called friend whether or not I’d had sex with her boyfriend. So instead, I said, “I didn’t have much choice.”

He frowned. “Miss, we all got choices.”

He kept his eyes down, like he wasn’t good enough to meet mine. That bugged me more than I cared to admit and I hated to think I was party to any injustice he felt. So I goaded him instead. “What was your choice? To die and stay here with these loser spirits? That must be lonely.”

“Oh no, miss. I got no reason to be lonely, why would I? You folks keep comin’ round, keepin’ me company.” I must have looked confused because he added, “You don’t think you the only one who come this way? No, Miss, I gets visitors all the time. Most come cuz they lost a bet.”

His teeth flashed bright white in the darkness. I liked his smile and the friendly vibe he had so much, I’d nearly forgotten about the evil, soul-sucking spirits around us.

“I didn’t lose a bet, I took a dare,” I admitted and tucked my chin down in the sleeping bag. Suddenly, that dare seemed incredibly immature. I felt his stare, like he was waiting for me to explain. “I had to keep a secret.”

“Secrets can be dangerous,” he replied, his tone revealing pain I couldn’t begin to imagine. My twenty-first century brain couldn’t wrap itself around the kinds of secrets slaves had lived with.

I turned my head then and found crystal blue eyes staring into mine. Blue eyes that didn’t belong in the face of a black boy. And in that instant I knew he’d been forced to keep secrets. Bad ones.

And he hadn’t died by accident.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, ashamed at the stupidity of this whole night in comparison to what I knew he’d gone through in his short life and I began to cry again, this time for Jim. A small movement and a whispery touch grazed over my hand that still clutched the sleeping bag. He’d laid his hand on mine.

“Go on home, miss.”

I nodded and stood up. “Will you walk back with me?”

He nodded. “To the edge of the woods. I can’t go beyond.”

We walked in silence across the clearing and right before I got to the tree line, I turned around to thank him, but he was gone. Only a warm wind blew around me and I wondered if that was his way of saying goodbye. In the distance I could hear faint thumps and moans and not wanting to revisit those guys again, I spun back toward the woods.

Directly into a man.

My scream rivaled anything those spooks had to offer and when big hands grabbed my arms, my voice hit high notes my choir director would have envied.

“Kate, stop! It’s just me!”

My mouth snapped shut and I tipped my head back. Drew looked down at me. What was he doing here?

“Cotton called me,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “She told me what Ashley had done to you.” He pulled me into his arms and I sighed at the familiar embrace. “They kicked her out and sent her home.”

“Then they made you come rescue me?”

“Nah, that was my idea.”

I laid my head against Drew’s strong chest and thought about all that had happened since leaving my friends.

Jim’s words echoed in my mind. Secrets can be dangerous.

Maybe.

But tonight, a secret had given me a new friend and brought back an old one. And that was worth the dare.

Do You Want to Know a Secret? by Wendi Zwaduk

2009-10-27T22:51:00.000-07:00

“A Halloween party isn’t a party until someone has to clean up.”

On a labored sigh, Pennelope Anderson twisted her tawny hair into a clear plastic clip. She nudged a garbage bag chock full of crinkled cups and paper plates. An avalanche of refuse tumbled out onto her feet. “My friends are pigs but I can forgive them because we have a good time.”

A warm hand covered hers. Her gaze shifted to her best friend, Nicky Lyons. Eyes the color of unripened lemons pinned her to the spot. He licked his bottom lip and knelt next to her. “My time with you is always good.”

Nervous giggles slipped past her lips and a shiver slid up her spine. “You’re just saying that to make my day.” God, she had to get a grip. Measuring her words, she paused. “And I love it.”
A hank of raven hair slid over his forehead. “I see.” The corner of his mouth kinked. “How about spending more time with me, besides dressed in costumes?”

Forcing her breathing to slow, Penn shrugged and twisted the bag closed. “You’re not a commitment kind of guy and I’m a relationship kind of girl. Look at how many women you’ve dated in the past year. I can’t compete.” Although a short, spicy evening of passion enticed her, she refused to ruin a strong friendship for a one-nighter.

Tipping his head, he crinkled a dark brow. “Are you sure about that? This Lyon could change his stripes.” He shook open a new bag and lined the garbage bin.

Covering her mouth with her hand to smother a chuckle, she raked her gaze over him. Sinewy muscles rippled under his tight black T-shirt and she yearned to smooth her fingers over the dusting of beard on his cheeks. Okay, how to change the subject to something a little less—distracting? “I’m not sure about stripes, but you did change out of your vampire get-up in a quick fashion. Don’t tell me you left it stroodled all over my bathroom. I think there’s still white and black makeup smeared around my sink.”

Nicky rocked back on his heels. “And you spared no time losing the skimpy black dress in favor of your favorite jeans. Not that I didn’t like the dress, mind you.”

Dusting her hands on her jeans legs, Penn stood. She rolled her tongue around her dry mouth and tossed the garbage bag into the can next to the back door. “Okay, well, in other news, I think it’s time to let Fang out of the bedroom. He’ll probably need to run outside.”

Nicky followed hot on her heels. “He hates that name, you know.”

Frustration marred her forehead. She clutched the wooden stair rail and turned. “Does he? How do you know? Or is that a male thing—you telepath your inner desires to each other?” She snorted. “Cause it would be funny if you did.”

Swatting her ass, he urged her forward. Displeasure clouded his voice. “Would you really want to be referred to as a tooth?”

As she reached the top of the stairs, she edged her shoulder up in a thoughtful shrug. “When I found him, he hissed at me. Fang seemed appropriate. He thinks he’s tough, but he’s really a lover, despite what he likes or dislikes.” She stopped short in the hallway. “The door is cracked.”
With a grunt, Nicky ran into her. “I thought you left it shut. Did you forget?”

With trembling hands, she shoved the door open. Deafening silence met her ears. “I know this was closed. I closed it.” Her heart thundered in her chest. Fear pounded into her brain. “We have to find him.”

Trailing his fingers through her pony tail, Nicky tucked her tag into her sweatshirt collar. “He can take care of himself.”

“What?” She shrieked, jumping from his grasp. “It’s Halloween! Some people hurt black cats on Halloween. I can’t let that happen to Fang, even if he hates his name. I’d be lost without him. I love him.”

On a sigh, Nicky cocked his head. His brows rose beneath his dark bangs. “He’s safe.”
She burst past him, bounding down the stairs. “I’ll get his treats. Please grab the carrier. If he’s not in the basement, he’s probably just out in the yard.” Her hands fluttered through the air. “He’s a smart cat and can’t have gone far.”

With a firm hand to her shoulder, he stopped her frantic movements. Concern and something else shone in his green eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Penn let out a long breath. “Yes, more than I care to think about some times.” Why did she just admit that? He wasn’t that in to her. She bit her tongue. “Why are we just standing here? We need to find Fang.”

He brushed a rogue lock of hair off her forehead. “I know where he is.”

Clutching her chest, she rested against the living room wall. “Thank God. You always think
ahead. Did you lock him in the basement? Or is he at your apartment?”

Nicky cocked his head. He tapped his chest, right above his heart. “He’s in here.”

She angled a brow. The low tone of his voice sent shivers through her body. “You ate my cat? That’s just weird.” Forcing her attention from his emerald gaze, she sighed when he didn’t laugh at her joke. “I know you didn’t eat him, so where is he—really?”

A calloused finger tipped her chin. No matter how much she wanted to remain indifferent, Nicky was the one man she couldn’t ignore. A growl rumbled in his throat. “I’ll ask again. Do you trust me?”

Without thinking, she spoke the words in her heart. “I trust you.”

“Then come upstairs with me.” As he tugged her down the hallway, she fought to register his words. Did he want to sleep with her? A lump lodged in her throat. She wanted him—once they found Fang.

In front of her bedroom door, he paused and leaned on the stark white frame. “I need to show you something.”

She held up her index finger to buy a moment of time, to slow him down in case his plans included taking the relationship a step further. “You can show me later. First things first, let’s find Fang.”

Angling his head toward her bedroom, he nodded and kissed the tip of her finger. “He’s in here. Safe and sound.” With a gentle tug, he helped her into the room and gestured to the bed. “Sit.”
Though feeling uneasy, she did as he asked. Chills ricocheted through her system. Something was odd. God, why did it have to be Halloween? Bad things happened on Halloween, like last year when her Labrador, Lugosi, was hit by a car, yet his body was never found.

Wrapping his fingers around her hand, Nicky knelt before her. “Do you know you’re sexy?”
Before she could stop them, words rushed past her lips. “In a baggy KSU sweatshirt, worn jeans, no makeup, and messy hair—that’s sexy all right.” He exemplified sex. She looked like the frumpy girl next door. Still, what did her looks have to do with finding the damned cat?
He chuckled. “A man can only take so much.” Her breath stuck in her throat as his hands braced on her thighs. He moved closer, situating himself between her legs. “You make one gorgeous witch, baby girl. I couldn’t take my eyes off you all night.”

Rolling her eyes, she snorted. “Because you worry about me.”

His breath warmed her skin and sent tingles to her core. “Because I love you.”

Could he want her for real? She didn’t see that declaration coming. Beneath her sweatshirt, her nipples pebbled. “Me?”

“You.” He pressed warm, wet kisses over her cheeks. “I lost my heart the day we met five years ago. With you, I’m free to be myself.”

His lips met hers. On a sigh, she opened for him. His taste, a mix of cola and spicy man rolled over her tongue. Sizzles shot from her core to her heart in warp speed. Could he be the one?
Nicky broke the kiss and cupped her jaw. “Did you ever wonder why you never see me in the same room with Fang?”

Working to catch her breath, she turned his words over in her mind. “Well, he’s shy. He only honeys up to me.” Like I want you to.

His thumb smoothed circles on her cheek. “He loves you, but he’s not who he seems. Do you want to know a secret?”

Nicky closed his eyes. His body fizzled and morphed at her feet. Before she could process his disappearing act, Fang appeared in his place surrounded by the rumpled clothing. The cat cocked his head and stared at her with vibrant green eyes.

With white knuckles, she grasped the comforter. Nicky was flesh and bone. She tasted him, fantasized about him. How the hell did he shift into—a cat? No, how did he shift into her cat? “I know what I’m seeing, but this isn’t happening. Nicky, wherever you are, stop trying to scare me.”

Fang’s eyes closed. He lowered his head. In a moment, Nicky sat before her—stark naked. She gasped and her eyes widened. Every inch of his ripped body imprinted itself on her brain. Another gasp slipped past her lips as she noticed his cock, long, thick, and steely against his thigh. She shook her head. “But you can’t be him. I brought him home. He hissed at me and wouldn’t come out from under the bed for a month. He escaped from the vet’s office...”

He caressed her cheek. “Baby girl, I have the ability to shift. I’m not evil and I won’t hurt you. Until I met you, I hid my abilities, but one look at your sweet body and I knew I wanted to be with you.”

“Is this a sick Halloween joke? ‘Cause looking at you makes me want you, but I’m not laughing at that trick.” Hot tears dampened her lashes. “Why didn’t you tell me before now? I wouldn’t have scheduled the appointment to have you fixed.”

Nicky kissed away her sadness. “I feared you’d run from me. I care too much to let you go. Despite the fact that you tried to have my nads removed, I’m in love with you.” His hands roved over her body underneath the baggy shirt. She groaned as he nipped her neck. His voice rumbled over her senses, turning them inside out. “And right now, I want to make love to you.”
Edging away from him, she ripped the sweatshirt over her head and tugged the clip from her hair. “Do you want to know my secret?”

His brow crooked again. “You can shift, too?”

“I’m in love with you, too.”

With a small chuckle, Nicky grinned. “I hoped you’d say that.”

Smoothing her hands over his pecs, she sighed. “So now you know my truth, do I get a trick or a treat?”

Deft fingers unbuttoned her jeans. Nicky growled. “It’s only eleven a.m. and I plan to treat you all day long until we collapse. Happy Halloween, baby girl.”

She fell against the mattress, tugging him along for the ride. “Happy Halloween, indeed.”

Astral Lovers by Dena Celeste

2009-10-27T22:49:00.000-07:00

The room was dark and there was the scent of melted candle wax in the air. Jasmine’s altar glowed still, her pentacle surrounded by the low, flickering lights. Each element of importance to her was represented: Earth, air, fire and water, but also wood, silver, bronze and gold.

Jasmine lay on the bed, her body bare, her breathing slow and steady. The winds that were not winds swirled around the room and raised goosebumps down her spine. Her spirit lifted from the shell that contained it, her sleeping form connected to herself by a whisper-thin line.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” The presence of Thomas’s arms around her gave her shivers. On that plane, they could truly connect, truly be together again.

“I know. I’ve been waiting for the night to get here, and it took too long.” Jasmine turned and saw the sparkling blue gaze that had first caught her attention. His ash blond hair laid over his shoulders in shaggy waves.

“You cut your gorgeous hair! I sure hope someone is getting a nice wig full of those black locks.” Thomas grabbed her by her shorter curls and pulled her head back. His mouth fastened on her throat and his teeth edged into her almost to the point of pain.

She moaned and the world spun around her. “They are. You weren’t there anymore…it felt like I needed a change. It’ll grow back.”

He bit harder before letting her throat free. “I want it back by next Samhain love. No more chopping it off.”

“You left me though! And I didn’t think…didn’t think this would work.” His hand tightened in her hair and she let out a whimper. Her heart still ached.

“I didn’t leave you on purpose. But I said we would be each other’s forever, and I meant that. So no more cutting your hair off, even if you do look like a ravished pixie.” Her lips gave way under his and the kiss made her feel even lighter than she already was.

“Come with me,” he whispered into her mouth and she found herself literally whisked to another place, the strand connecting her to the living stretching more and more.

Stars flew by and they landed in an open room with a bed the size of a lake. Oddly, she could feel silk against her disembodied form, and his weight pressing her down into the plush bed.

“Where are we?” She turned her head from side to side to examine her surroundings when he latched onto her earlobe and sucked at it. Jasmine melted and tingles raced down her body.

“I made a place for us tonight. A beautiful place for us to be together.” Her cunt ached at the press of his erection against her soft belly. She knew just where she wanted that.

“It is beautiful. But I don’t care where we are. I just…I’ve missed you so much Tommy.” She rubbed her cheek against his surprisingly rough one. “It’s only been eight months.”

“I know love.” His hand grabbed for her curls again and her head was wrenched to the side. He licked lightly at the sensitive spot along the curve of her neck until the shivers were continuous and he finally, finally bit down again. She was so sensitive, so ready for him. His other hand traversed down, down until he could guide his cock into her, and slide perfectly into place.

Jasmine cried out. “So full! So fucking thick! Needed this.” She arched her back and tried to pull him deeper with her legs.

Thomas’s teeth sank even deeper, until she felt like she was breaking, and yet the pleasure overwhelmed any pain as he pulled out and then thrust back in. She scratched her nails hard down his back, determined to give him sharp in return for sharp, even as her soft pussy cradled him in a warm, slick embrace.

Her orgasm didn’t claim her yet though. It wouldn’t until he let her, until he said specifically that she could cum. He pulled away from her body and sat up, dragging her hips up as he knelt on the bed.

The new position hit her G-spot perfectly as he thrust hard, so hard that she felt like she would split apart. His fingers dug into her thighs and she struggled to remember her own name as the familiar feelings came back.

No longer numb from grief, no longer aching from loneliness, Jasmine was free to feel again, with her love above her and inside of her. His grunts were erotic music and he let go of her thighs to fall forward, full-weight onto her.

“You’re mine Jasmine. Mine!” He growled at her. His teeth sank into that same curve, and then let go to fasten briefly at the plump top of her breast.

“Yours. Yours, yours, yours,” she panted, her words disappeared into the silky hair that tickled her chest as his lips suckled one of her pert nipples before switching to the other.

“Gods, this is too much. I want you to cum, love. Cum so hard. Cum now!” The order thrummed and she lost further control. There was a familiar tingle at her tailbone, a desperate itch of pleasure at her cunt before insistent throbbing took over.

He leaned on his forearms, her face in the grip of his hands, and she looked up into his ocean-blue eyes. The love there was so intense it brought her to tears as much as the pleasure he brought her. He grimaced as he came inside of her, and she traced his lips with her tongue even as she dug her nails into his ass.

They lay there, joined in spirit and heart in ways that they had only begun to explore when he was alive. She kissed him, slowly, firmly. The room around them was blurry and she felt a tug at her bellybutton.

It can’t be over yet! There were tears on her cheeks and yet another ache in her chest as they whisked back to her bedroom. The candles on her altar had guttered and gone out. Their bodies were still twined above her bed, where her body lay.

“Don’t leave me yet.” Jasmine wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. But the darkest hour that night was fading already, and time passed so much faster while they were together.

Thomas stroked her hair, tugging at her curls. “It’ll get easier. And know that my heart is yours, no matter what. But try to be happier. I’ll see you again next Samhain.”

Jasmine shook her head fervently. “I don’t want it to be that far away. How can I get through without you?”

He kissed her firmly, then bit the place he’d marked on her shoulder once more, tight and tighter until the pain made her cry out. “Pain fades. Just know that I love you, and want you happy.”
He faded from her vision, and the pull at her bellybutton grew more insistent. Everything went dark. Her body felt cold and she blinked away the very real tears that were forming at the corners of her eyes. As she sat up, she realized that her shoulder ached fiercely.

She touched her fingers to it and felt a wetness there. “Blood? But how…?” She looked around the room again and up to where she last remembered being.

“Thank you for the mark. I’ll try to be happy,” she whispered, sure that even though he wasn’t visible to her, he could still hear her. She traced the ring of teeth marks with her finger and fell into sleep with a bittersweet smile on her face.

Ghostly Tryst by Becca Dale

2009-10-27T22:35:00.000-07:00

Jenna studied her map one last time, comparing it to the jagged seascape. She had brought a copy of the ancient seaman’s guide with her so she might locate the sight of Beowulf’s final resting place. Rumors placed the dragon battle at several places along the Coast of Sweden or perhaps on a neighboring island. With a shiver she stuffed the worthless scrap of paper into her bag. She wasn’t silly enough to believe men battled dragons and creatures descended of Cain, but she did believe in Beowulf. Recently, his king’s existence had been proven beyond a shadow of doubt, which in her mind meant the mighty Beowulf had been just as real. Grendel and the dragon were surely symbolic of powerful warriors – or even entire armies – that Beowulf had faced and defeated.

With a sigh she walked closer to the cliff’s edge. A sharp breeze tugged at her sweatshirt and pressed her jeans to her boots. Waves crashed against the rocky shore, too harshly it seemed for the otherwise quiet October evening. The salty scent of the ocean, combined with the anticipation which had filled her since she landed at the Stockholm airport, created a strange connection to this land she had never seen before, a feeling of homecoming. The night held limitless possibilities. All Hollows Eve, the one time of the year when ghosts moved freely among the living. The mere thought made her heart trip in her chest.

She turned her back to the sea and studied the countryside in front of her. It looked as wild as it made her feel. Then she saw it. The earth sloped with a gentle swell much like an undersized
Native American burial mound. Could Beowulf’s tower have fallen to no more than a bump on the ground? She walked closer, slowly circling the raised area. It stretch nearly a hundred feet in diameter but the center rose less than five feet above the edges. She moved to the peak. Even if she was correct and this had been Beowulf’s tower, his body had not been buried here. He would have floated away, ashes tumbling in the breeze, but perhaps his spirit had remained. That would explain the almost holy feeling emanating from the dirt. She sank to her knees and felt the cool stubbly grass beneath her palms.

Closing her eyes with a reverent sigh, Jenna lay face down on the gentle rise. In three days she would return to the States and reality, but for the moment she could pretend she had found him and soak up the history of the mighty warrior and his men. The sea pounded the shore below but peace settled over her as she conjured Beowulf’s image. He had died an old man for his time but had not succumbed to the weakness of age. The savage battle which ended his life had sorted the loyal from the weak. As she visualized Beowulf’s death, a younger, clearer apparition floated behind him, a wild looking man dressed in furs to ward off the cold.

Wiglaf?

It would make sense that the devoted warrior stood guard over his king’s final slumber. She rolled to her back and willed him close as her heart drummed a welcome song in his honor.

“Come Wiglaf.”

His fierce scowl chilled her more than the wind did, but it was only a dream. Her pulse thundered in her ears and her breath grew labored. She understood the rudiments of his language but did not speak beyond her initial call. Warriors of his time took what they desired without regard to the niceties of life. She wanted his desire, craved it.

He spoke, or growled, as he approached but she caught little beyond the words cniht and cild – boy child. She smiled and sat up so the wind pressed her sweatshirt to her generous breasts. “Ic eom wif.” With luck the visual would overcome her pronunciation to make her point. “I am a woman, Wiglaf.”

He shook his head. “Scin-læca?”

A shining corpse? She had to laugh as the pot called the kettle black. She shook her head no. “Ic eom nā dwinor. I am no ghost.”

He moved closer, hesitant, leery of the unknown but brave enough to face it anyway. The nearly full moon cast a white glow over his scarred features, making him gorgeous in a rugged, untamed way. His dark blond hair lay in wild disarray around his shoulders and his beard grew thick near his mouth and chin. Her heart drummed in welcome. Clear blue eyes shone with intelligence and a little mischief. How could she not want this man? Wiglaf’s stories had fascinated her all her life. He represented everything men of her time lacked: loyalty, undomesticated intelligence, bravery, and strength without artifice. There was nothing pretty or cultured about the Anglo-Saxon warrior before her.

Wiglaf edged closer. Caution rode his features. Jenna rose to her knees careful not to startle the spirit away. Would he treat her as a gentle woman or a common one ready for a good tussle in the autumn grass? Slowly, she lifted her sweatshirt and tossed it aside. Her breasts tightened as the ocean air whipped across her flesh. “Sēcan mec, Wiglaf. Come to me.”
“Gē eart fæger.”

“Beautiful? Ic pancie pē.” Did women of his time thank a man for a compliment? She wasn’t sure of the protocol. How did one seduce a guy who had lived more than twelve hundred years before? “You’re not too shabby yourself.” He looked confused as she spoke in modern English, but he could not misunderstand when she beckoned him closer with a crooked finger. “Sēcan mec.”

He knelt before her and traced the thin strap of her bra. “Gif ic ācwelan, lǣtan mec gefaran mid gylp.”

“I will not kill you, nor destroy your dignity, Wiglaf. Trust me.” Her limited vocabulary would not allow her to allay his fears, but her body language had to speak volumes. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she fought for oxygen to feed the blood pounding through her brain and body. A warm, red flush covered her chest despite the cold and her nipples poked clear and firm against the thin lace of her bra.

He slid her straps down her arms and cupped her breasts in his large palms. A soft whimper escaped her lips as he rolled and pinched the tips between his calloused fingers. She leaned closer, needing the heat of his mouth and the scrape of his whiskers against her hungry flesh. The language barrier melted away as his lips closed over her breast and he sucked it deep inside his mouth. Her cry of pleasure translated to any age.

With a groan Wiglaf pushed her back to the grass and explored her exposed skin. She slid her hands beneath his clothing and found solid flesh. He felt so real. Her imagination had to be working overtime to create such clarity, but she did not care. She released him long enough to kick free of her boots and shed her jeans before opening her arms once more.

He loosened his pants and took her without further preliminaries. He filled her, easing the ache she had carried so long. Her heart thundered and she lifted to meet his aggressive demands. Her fingernails sank into his muscled back. She held him tight, praying she’d survive his heady assault. Each stroke fueled her desire, made her greedy for more. His mouth finally covered hers moments before a scream ripped from her throat. Jenna clutched him closer; her lips clung to his, her body convulsed. Sweet gratification slammed through her and settled slowly back to peace.

He dropped nibbling kisses across her collarbone until his heart no longer pounded under her palms, then he was gone, dissipated into the October night with only a faint good-bye whispering on the wind.

Tears trickled down Jenna’s cheeks when his warmth left her. She hurriedly pulled on her clothes, embarrassed but blessed by the dream that had seemed so real. “Wes pū hāl, Wiglaf. Good-bye, my love. Gesǣlig Samhain. Happy Halloween.”

“Gif ic ācwelan, lǣtan mec gefaran mid gylp.” If I die, let me go with pride.

Cold Epiphanies by Kayden McLeod

2009-10-27T22:29:00.000-07:00

The darkness of this night was eternal, always everlasting on Halloween. The veil between the worlds is lowered, and ghosts have free rein in our world to create chaos and mischief where they pleased.
It was a time when all kinds of things could happen.
But our concern wasn’t what caused havoc from the other world, but our own. What already lived here, year-round.
A small group of humans had been having a party, never knowing they’d invited a Rogue vampire in, one who’d been on the run from us. He was hungry from the chase, only seeing dinner, and laid perimeter spells at every door and window, locking them inside with no chance of escape.
He’d broken almost every conciliate law when he revealed himself to them for what he was. Chaos had burst forth, their flight or fight reflex kicking in, with no chance of survival.
By the time we’d arrived, four out of seven humans were already dead. It wasn’t in our power to bring them back, not like we could with our own. If we’d been minutes later- well you get the drift.
Because of that fact alone, we rushed in headstrong in an attempt to save what little we could.
Holly had broken the spells without preamble, instantly alerting the criminal to our arrival, and giving him time to escape through the backdoor.
And the chase was on.
For whatever insane reasons that were in my head at the time, I’d gone along on my first real hunting trip, even though my mate had begged me not to.
I could handle it. Couldn’t I?
But those were my thoughts then, and certainly not now.
Thankfully the pounding rain had finally bled into a bare trickle of frigid liquid, spilling into the perfidious water that had been calm only moments before.
“Marcus!” I shrieked loudly.
“I’m trying, Kelly.” Marcus stressed, again. His unusual turquoise eyes were lit with fierce perseverance.
He pulled uselessly at the rope, but it was unresponsive to both of us.
I’ll never ask to go on a hunt again. What the hell had I been thinking?
I had thought I could do this, tending to forget that while Sara and I were practically sisters, we were nothing alike. Our pasts were on two separate sides of the scale, and there was a very good reason why she could track Rogues so proficiently, and deal with the repercussions of such a job.
Sara would’ve found a way out of this predicament. Me? I was terrified, near tears, which tore Marcus up in ways I never would’ve willingly done otherwise.
The others had gone after the Rogue, and Marcus had taken me towards the river in an attempt to cut him off. He’d bid me stay while he materialized across to the other side.
Being alone, with the heavy rain and concealing night had creeped me out. Of course with me being me, I’d decided to create a dingy to cross the river, not feeling safe at all. At any moment the Rogue could’ve showed right behind me-I wouldn’t have stood a chance.
I’d manifested a tiny rubber craft, and Marcus hadn’t been paying enough attention to stop me.
At least until I screamed.
At some point during the hunt, the outlaw had bewitched the rain-swollen river, making it boil in a very unstable expanse of H20. The spell was far past my abilities to unravel, and considering it wasn’t triggered until I was about halfway, it was already too late.
Now, my previously nice, safe boat tossed and turned violently, twenty feet from shore, and my only salvation.
He’d tossed me a manifested rope, but at the water’s first touch, it began to fray like it was bathed in acid. The rope threatened to give at any moment, which would send me on a horrifying journey with no way to save myself.
I should’ve listened to Marcus when he’d begged me to stay home tonight, but like he normally did when I was insistent; he’d caved, thinking it would be a manageable Rogue to hunt.
Wrong.
“Well, try harder!” I screamed when a geyser-like wave exploded to my right, upsetting the frail rubber craft, until I was almost sideways.
With every passing moment, the water around me frothed and swelled more. The spell was working towards a peak, and we both knew I had to be out of the water before it was reached.
“I thought you said this was a nice river? You told me this was safe.” I requisitioned in a small voice, my normally steel-strong trust in Marcus waning under the pressure.
In my head, I knew this was my fault. But aloud? It was all on Marcus. I never claimed to have rationale when in such situations.
“You wanted adventure, love. I live only to serve you, and give you what you ask,” he said between clenched teeth.
The rope was wrapped around his thick forearms that bulged when he tried to yank it towards him with no avail. His frustration and panic just scared me more.
Which meant; going down river was entirely too possible, and that wasn’t an option I cared to consider right now.
“Oh, you’re in so much trouble when we get home, if you even get me to land first!” I yelled, holding on for dear life. “Can vampires drown?”
“No, love. I’ve told you that.” He reminded me.
“Then why are you freaking out?” I demanded.
Marcus ignored me, beginning to frantically whisper under his breath in some last ditch effort. He knew so much more about spell work than I did.
We knew from the briefing, the vampire was older and more powerful everyone but Holly and Ryder, who were in charge of this mission, and weren’t anywhere near enough to help us.
But the possibility of victory was ever-present, though very unlikely.
Our only hope was for him to re-set the trigger before the rope’s last leg was up, and the lone prevention of my own demise would be gone. Totally breaking the spell wasn’t an option for either of us.
“I’m getting close cher. Stay calm, please.” Marcus assured in a thickly sweetened voice I would cherish in almost any other situation.
In other words; stay calm, because you’re driving me to insanity.
He switched to yet another language, the words slow and deliberate as he sought to find the key.
Please don’t let me die for this stupidity. If my life has to end, couldn’t it be for a good reason?
While Marcus worked, the tension on the rope solidified, and the dingy began to move towards land. Success!
And then another geyser exploded just in front of me.
My dingy tipped so unexpectedly, I hadn’t retained a good enough grip. My lungs filled with the icy-coldness of the river, the shock paralysing me.
Water whooshed around me, the swift unforgiving movements of the treacherous currents stealing my energy while I was tossed helplessly left and right.
After a long dire moment of not knowing how to get to the surface, a body jumped into the water with me. Strong, comforting arms closed around me.
And my anger immediately flared.
What’d you jump in for? Now we can’t get out of the water. You will…
Die? Love, you know if you go on to the next life, there’s no choice but to go with you. He chastised softly, never regretting any of the harsh decisions he’d made to get us to this time and place. Plus, give me a little credit. I found the trigger to the spell on the rope. Just let me think about the water spell for a moment.
Even with the tense wait, he was with me in this horrible mess. And true to his word, and after several more tries, the rapids calmed minutely. I had no idea what had worked in the end, but honestly I didn’t care.
We broke the surface, and he began to drag me to shore. Even as a vampire, my body was sore from fighting the strong current.
If I had the energy, I would’ve kissed the beautiful, welcome shore. As it was, we collapsed on the grassy shore.
I waited for Marcus to yell at me for not listening, at least some reprimand, but it never came. No matter how badly I screwed up, he never did.
Staring up at the overcast sky, the raindrops ironically began to fall from above once more. Lightening flashed in the distance, illuminating the tips of the trees on all sides.
The river eventually settled, the spell moving into a stationary status, until Holly had time to remove it completely.
“Never again.” Marcus murmured. His white-blond hair was a soaked mess when he turned his enchanting timeless face to meet mine. “You will not hunt anymore, love. There’ll won’t any talking me into it next time.”
“Yea, I agree.”
I might argue my case more often than not, but now there was more than enough proof to know I didn’t belong on these particular adventures. All of my brothers, my Leaders had bade me to stay away from this particular duty for the Council, and none of it had affected me.
But this had, in a way none of them could’ve ever dreamed. Reality really was a bitch.
“It isn’t often you give in this easily.” Marcus mused, shaking his head in exasperation. “Maybe I should allow you to be scared more often.”
Holly filled our minds, and I ground my teeth at his amused laughter when he read the situation. He had one weird sense of humour.
The Rogue is now in the Council’s possession. Everyone can come back in. Holly instructed. I knew you wouldn’t care for this, little sister. You’re as stubborn as Sara, but you don’t have her strength. And Marcus is right, this was a first, and a last for you.
Yea, yea. I huffed indignantly. It won’t happen again. I get it.
The lesson was thoroughly learned.

2009-10-14T02:55:00.000-07:00

'Ghost Walk' by Ellen Margret

"Holt, what's the point going on a ghost walk? Ghosts don't exist."

"How can you be so sure, Hope?"

She fingered a blonde strand of hair. "I've never seen one."

He crossed his muscular arms, and looked her in the eye. "You can't see oxygen molecules, and yet they're all around you."

"Now, you're being silly."

"No, I'm not. Have you ever seen Mexico?"

"No?"

"So, maybe Mexico doesn't exist."

Hope gave a mighty huff. "This conversation is utterly pointless, just like those blasted ghost walks that are designed to make gullible people, with over-active imaginations, scream like little girls in the playground."

"So, you won't be going with Billy and Wendy?"

"No, they can go on their own. Knowing Wendy she'll get so scared she'll wet herself. I don't want to be there to see that."

"How about if I came with you? I'll join you there."

"No, I won't waste my time on some idiotic ghost hunt."

"I'd like to be there with you, especially in the old church that's reputed to be haunted by the woman who can't stop searching for the curate who killed her."

"Emphatically, no," she declared.

Holt shrugged. "The stress wouldn't be good for you anyway."

"It wouldn't stress me. How could it if I don't believe in spirits?"

"Still, the atmosphere wouldn't be conducive to relaxation, and that's what you have to learn to do."

"I'll relax when I'm dead."

He put his arm around Hope's shoulder. "Don't talk like that. I want you to live a long and happy life."

"Holt, you know my only real hope is a heart transplant, and there's a long waiting list."

"You told me last month the doctors had some kind of new operation planned. Didn't it involve inserting a valve in your heart?"

"I found out this morning that it's not possible."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry."

"Hey, let's not get morose. I'm well enough at the moment, and I'm glad you're with me. Mind you, the scare you gave me last week might have been enough to finish me off." She shuddered. "I was all set to dash up to Yorkshire, and see you in the hospital. Your sister phoned to tell me about the car crash. She said the doctors had little hope of you surviving."

"Meredith's always been prone to exaggeration. She's an expert at blowing things up out of all proportion. I had a head injury, and the doctors assumed I had brain damage."

"You recovered so quickly. I was going to catch the train after my hospital appointment the next afternoon, but the nurse gave me something that made me so drowsy that I fell asleep. The next thing I knew you were there, standing beside my bed in the hospital room."

Holt sat down on the sofa, and positioned Hope on his lap. "You are my girl. It's my duty to always look after you. Meredith frightened you for nothing, because here I am, and there's not a mark on me. As far as I know my brain isn't damaged." He held up his right hand. "Look, all six fingers present and correct."
Hope laughed. "Your sense of humour remains in tact."

He began to unbutton her blouse. "Something else in is tact too." He peeled off her blouse, and deftly unfastened her bra. "Oh, yes, that part of me in is perfect working order. I can feel it demanding attention."

"Holt, you appear to be undressing me."

"Yes, and I intend to continue doing it until you are sitting naked on my lap."

"I think I prefer to lie on the sofa," she purred, as Holt swiftly removed the rest of her clothing.

He stood up and stared down at her. "My God, just look at you. You have to be the most beautiful woman on the planet. That lovely face, those ripe, pink tipped breasts, and the sexiest legs that ever walked the earth. I could never leave you. I refuse to let anything come between us. You're mine."

She grinned, and her hand moved down her belly to touch the most intimate of areas between her open legs.

"So, are you going to show me that part of you that you claim to be in perfect working order?"

"You bet," he said, tugging off his tee shirt, followed by his jeans.

"Mmm, look at those pecs?" she sighed, staring at his chest.

His boxer shorts, and socks hit the carpet. "I work hard."

She pointed to his high state of arousal. "I hope you're not referring to that."

His body came down over her. "That has one sole purpose. To please this lovely lady," he declared, sliding his shaft deeply inside her.

She sighed. "We've had such good sex these past few days. You always come to me late in the evening when I'm feeling so sleepy. How about meeting me tomorrow. We can walk in the park?"

"Silence, woman, I'm concentrating on sucking your nipples. I never was good at multi-tasking."

She laughed softly, and her hands stroked his firm buttocks. "You're doing a fine job right now. You're shafting

me, and kissing my breasts."

"That's instinctive," he murmured. "Now, stop talking. I'm about to give you the biggest orgasm of your life."
She did stop talking. She had too because speech suddenly eluded her. Holt was right. He took her to a state she hadn't been in before. A state that transcended mortal life. A state where she felt aroused, and yet blissfully serene, both at the same time. She didn't recall falling asleep in his arms, but she was sure she did.

Surely this time he would be with her when morning came? But, in the morning he'd gone again.

* * * *

The day dawned, bright and clear, and it felt unusually warm for the end of October. It was a perfect day for that walk. She felt rather irritated that Holt had left her so early, but how could she be cross with him? He loved her, and she loved him. She called his mobile several times, but it was switched off. She decided to go to his parents' house. He was staying there whilst searching for the perfect flat for them to share. She caught the bus and found a seat at the back, away from the group of children who had already started to have their Halloween fun. They chatted, and congratulated themselves on their costumes. They weren't bad either. The witch had amazing make-up that really did make her look like an old hag. The wizard had the most interesting long wig, and a cape with astrological signs on it. The spirit wore a white sheet that matched his white face.
She thought about her conversation with Holt. I don't believe in ghosts. She wished she did, because then she wouldn't be so frightened of dying. The thought of not existing terrified her more than she was prepared to admit to anyone. When the pains came in her chest, she would often panic. Thank goodness for the tablets the doctor gave her. She had the pain again today. Never mind, Holt would make her feel better. She knew he would be at home, because it was a Thursday. He always had Thursdays off.

When the bus stopped at the traffic lights, Hope glanced out the window. Across the road she saw the funeral parlour. She stared at the woman who got out of her car, and walked across to the undertakers. Was that Meredith? At that moment the woman glanced up at the bus, and Hope knew it was. Meredith seemed distraught, and even from a distance Hope could see that her eyes were red from crying. She jumped up and ran for the door. "I have to get off."

"This isn't a stop, lady."

"Open the doors!" she yelled, trying to force them open.

"Hey, stay calm. I'll let you off," the driver said, pressing the button to open the door.

She dashed across the street. Meredith had already gone inside and so Hope ran after her. She followed her straight through the reception area and into the room at the back where soothing music played in a room that was full of sweetly scented flowers. Inside Meredith stared into a long coffin. "I'm so sorry, Meredith. Is it Grandpa? I heard he didn't have long."

Meredith turned slowly around. "No, it's not."

Hope moved towards the coffin, and stared inside at the corpse clothed in the expensive black suit. Her ears began to ring, and her vision went out of focus so that she could no longer clearly see the handsome features of the corpse. "No, this isn't possible!" she cried, grabbing the corpse's cold hand. "No, this isn't Holt!"

"I'm sorry. The brain damage was severe. He died a week ago, but we've only just been able to bring his body back. I heard you were in hospital, and so I thought it best to wait a while before telling you. The funeral is next Wednesday."

"I only had a few tests. I didn't stay long, and..." She shook her head. "No, he couldn't have died a week ago. Holt's been with me every night for the past week." She touched Holt's icy lips. Lips that had been kissing her breasts not so many hours before.

"Hope, let me take you home."

Hope burst into tears. "This doesn't make any sense. I've been seeing Holt. He wanted to come on the ghost walk tonight."

Meredith winced. "I'm taking you home. This has been a shock, and you don't look at all well."

* * * *

Billy and Wendy refused to go on the ghost walk. They didn't think it appropriate. Hope knew she had to go, but she didn't take the tour with the guide. She went alone, but only to the church where the murdered woman was supposed to haunt. The candles flickered in the church, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Hope sat down on a pew and looked around. For the moment her tears had ceased, but she had never cried so much in her entire life. When a woman wearing a long dress and a shawl entered the church from the churchyard, she decided that she had to be someone in costume. "I think the tour guide is further down the road."

The woman walked to the altar and stared at the statue of an angel. "The man told me I have been here too long."

When the woman suddenly seemed to glow with an intense light, Hope got up. She found it hard to ignore the pain in her chest. "Who are you?"

"I'm someone who is going to a better place. The man said it was best if I go."

"What man?" Hope asked just as the woman vanished before her eyes. The shock sent a bolt of pain through her heart, and she dropped to her knees.

"This man."

She crumpled to the floor, but her face was turned so that she could see the man. "Holt!" she gasped.

He approached her, and held out his hand. "You're mine. Didn't I say nothing would come between us?"

She felt an explosion of pain in her chest, and then it went. She was able to get up and the next instant Holt was holding and kissing her. She stared back at her own corpse. "I'm dead."

He grinned. "We're both dead."

"So, there is an afterlife?"

"Oh, yes, and we are going to spend it together."

She took his hand. "I love you so much, Holt."

He kissed her. "You're my girl, Hope, and you always will be. Now, we should go?"

Careful What You Wish For by Jennifer Robins

2009-10-13T15:08:00.001-07:00

She stood at the open door, her snow white hair fashioned neatly a top her head. Dangling dark blue sapphire earrings the match of her deep blue eyes framed her sadly wrinkled face.
"Come right in. I've been waiting for you. I'm happy you could find time to come and tune my piano. I want it done for the holidays." She held the door for Carlson as he stomped the little snow from his shoes before entering.
"My piano is in the parlor, just follow me. Don't worry about your shoes." Her cane in hand, she led him from the large foyer down a hallway to the parlor.
It sat in the corner of the large room by the ceiling to floor large picture window that overlooked a spacious court yard. Ebony black concert grand piano glowed with its beauty waiting for its yearly tune up.
"Would you like tea, I have some made in the kitchen. I can bring you a cup. It will warm you."
"No thank you, Ma'am I'll just get to work here so you have your lovely piano in tune and ready for the holidays."
"If you change your mind let me know." She went off leaving him to do his work.
He gazed around the handsome parlor and a photograph on the desk caught his eye. He picked it up to admire the beauty portrayed in the wood framed picture. A second glance told him it had to be Miss Lillian at a much younger age. The resemblance was there without doubt.
She was so beautiful he couldn't take his eyes off of that photograph of her. If only he had been born when she was, he thought as he admired her lovely smile, her exciting beauty.

2.

With his work at hand, he set the photograph down and went over to the piano and took his tools out from the case he carried in with him.
The entire time he worked at tuning the piano, he kept looking over at that photograph. It almost looked like she was looking straight at him. Because he was so fascinated by this image it took him longer to finish the job than usual.
Miss Lillian thanked him at the door after paying him with a check and bid him goodbye. He turned to face her before he stepped out into the cold. Yes, that photo was her all right.
***
A restless night in his bed followed a long day of wishful thinking of that sexy beautiful woman in the photograph. He couldn't get her out of his mind. Intoxicated by her beauty he lay awake until dawn not knowing how he could get through the day without sleep.
When the phone rang he threw his bare legs over the side of the bed and picked the receiver up from the phone next to his bed.
"Hello," He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Yes, this is he." His eyes grew wide, "Miss Lillian?" he stood up. "Oh. . .I left my tools there. All right, I'll come get them this morning if that's all right with you." His feet did a search on the floor for his slippers. "I'll be there shortly. Thanks for calling."
A quick shower and shave and he had him on his way still thinking about that lovely woman framed in a wood frame on the desk. Wish I could have been there when she was young.

3.

Weaving through the morning rush hour traffic had him edgy. How he would ever get through this day had him wondering. It started to snow again for the second time this week.
He pulled into the driveway and hurried to the door. When he rang the bell he expected to see the old woman open the door and greet him with a friendly smile but instead the door opened and the greeting came from the young Lillian in the photograph. There she stood in all her beauty just like she appeared in the photograph. His mouth dropped open--he couldn't speak at first and had to compose himself. Slowly he entered the house without taking his eyes off of her for a second.
"Tha. . .thank you for calling," he cleared his throat, "About my tools."
"No problem. Would you like some tea? I have a fresh pot made in the parlor. It's so cold out, you look like you could use some warming up." Her smile, so enchanting accompanied her soft lovely voice. Her beauty captured him and held on to his very soul.
He sat with her in the parlor sipping tea before he noticed how much the décor of the room had changed. The furnishings were not quit the same but that didn't sway him—not when his attention zeroed in on her and how lovely she looked. Could this be real? Is she the old woman he saw here yesterday or is it a dream, or a relative who looked like her?
"Uh" he cleared his throat again, "Are you the same Miss Lillian that was here yesterday?"
He had to ask knowing that the old Miss Lillian lived there alone.
"Of course I am, you silly thing. This is me right in the flesh." She let out a giggle that had his heart beating fast. Then to make it even more un-believable she snuggled up closer to him.

4.

He set his cup down on the round table in front of him before he spilled its contents from his shaking hand. Before he knew what was happening, she had her lips close to his, her soft hand embracing the side of his face. Excitement raced through his body like a freight train. His arms found their way around her, his mouth pressed to hers as he fondled her breast. Desire, need and passion took over. Her shapely body pressed hard against him, her fine female essence filled his brain with lust, love and want.
He tore at his clothes to remove as much of them as he could while his hands searched her to open that silk robe she wore. Her skin, soft silky white and warm with sexual heat felt smooth and wonderful as he swept his hands down her sides to her thighs. Her robe fell to the floor to cover his pants and shirt. She lowered her self down on the sofa and whimpered for him to meet her needs. His hand found the right spot, she moaned with pleasure lifting her hips asking for more. And then he went inside of her--his head swam with pleasure his mind in ecstasy. She held her arms around him for a long time before they sat upright on the sofa. A little heart shaped ruby pin sat on the table next to the sofa. She picked it up and handed it to him. "Here I want you to have this, a token of my love." He took the pin, stared at it for a few second before he put it in the pocket of his jacket on the floor.
He had to see her again and she agreed to have him visit any time. After a strong cup of hot tea, he left her and drove directly home. Any work he had scheduled for the day would be delayed.
***
Over the next four days, Carlson spent almost all his time with her, making love to her, falling

5.

in love with her. The excitement of her--her outstanding beauty, the unbelievable sex had him neglecting everything else in his life including his work. All he wanted was to be with her. Even at night in his bed, he imagined being with her. It no longer mattered how this all came about, he just
wanted to be with her, make love to her, feel her soft body next to him.
By the end of the week he had spent every day since Monday with Lillian. Friday morning he rose early to get on the road to her house before the morning rush. With Thanksgiving coming along in the following week he knew he would have to spend some time at his parents house with the family and wanted to have as much time with Lillian as he could before the holiday. Still in the back of his mind he had wonders of how this all happened but while it did he would not question it.
A cold breeze blew across the front of the house as he approached the door and rang the bell. Winters prelude held the day with cold drizzling rain. He clutched at the collar of his jacket to pull it up around his neck as he waited for her to answer the door. He paused before ringing the bell a second time and peered in the narrow window high on the door but couldn't see anything but the wide staircase to the second floor. Early, he thought, she may be sleeping. But he rang the bell again.
Finally the door opened but the woman, maybe in her mid to late fifties on the inside was not Lillian. She wore a robe and slippers and looked like he may have woke her up from sleep.
"Yes, what is it?" She asked as she held the inside door open.
Through the storm door he looked at her shocked, "I'm here to see Lillian. Is she all right?"
"I'm sorry but Lillian passed away this past Monday night. The wake was yesterday and the

6.

funeral is today. Are you a friend?"
His jaw dropped, "How could that be?" Was all he could say as he stared at this woman who just told him his newly found love had died four days ago.
"I'm sorry but it was sudden, my mother died in her sleep."
He couldn't speak, all he could do was stare at her.
Behind her came a voice that sounded much like Lillian's. He strained to see who stood some feet in back of this woman at the door. "Ma, who is it?"
"It's someone who knew Grandma," the woman shouted.
A young lady looking much like Lillian walked up to the side of the woman and peered out at him. "How did you know my grandmother?"
His speech hindered by stuttering as he looked at the likeness of Lillian in this pretty young woman had him searching for an answer. "I tuned her piano."
"Oh, that explains those tools you left here. Why don't you come in out of the cold and have a cup of coffee. I just put a fresh pot on." She smiled with that same welcoming smile he saw in Lillian.
"Thank you; I could use a nice cup of coffee." He entered the house, went to put his keys in his jacket pocket and felt something…the heart shaped ruby pin. A chill ran down his spine but he followed the beautiful young woman to the parlor without taking the pin out of his pocket.

THE END

Angels and Vampires: A Freak Sorority Short

2009-10-13T15:04:00.000-07:00

Angels and Vampires: A Freak Sorority Short
By: Stephanie Beck
StephanieBeckAuthor on Facebook

"Ta da!"
Sara spun theatrically and put her hands on her hips before she faced her handsome fiancé. The look on his face told her the skimpy angel costume was once again a success. This reincarnation of her favorite theme was pure white, cut just short of her knees and high enough to cover her breasts. The sexy came in with the details as the skirt was in strips of gold making it look like with every step there was a chance to see something really good. But her goods were taken now, the whole of her body and soul in the possession of one James P. Raven, vampire.
"So?" she asked when he continued to stare, his piercing brown eyes taking in every nuance of the costume for what it did and did not cover, "I was thinking it would be perfect for all of our Halloween plans. Demure enough for your parents' party, foxy enough for the clubs after."
His appreciative smile slipped and the dismay in his eyes made her crumble a little. James was her everything and she couldn't imagine why he wouldn't approve of her plans. It was their first Halloween together and she wanted it to be perfect.
"What?" she asked when he seemed to debate with himself.
"I love it," he said and closed the distance between them before she could blink, "I love the way the skirt pieces hug your hips. I love the lacing under your breasts and how every man will look and want but never touch. The halo is plain but I'll have something made that is near as beautiful as you before next week."
"But?" she asked, letting him cuddle her as his hands stroked her bottom in the most distracting way.
"But…I think we should find you something different for my parents' party," he admitted and she could see the pained expression telling her that he didn't want to deny her but thought it was best. It was an expression she rarely saw but with his protective streak it did show on occasion, "I know, we'll go to Tiffany's tomorrow, I'll buy them out and you can go as their cover girl."
"Oh come on, James," she protested, although the promise of diamonds did get her attention, "I know your parents aren't prudes and obviously vampires aren't affected by angel costumes if you're all hugged up to me. I fail to see the problem."
"You're right, they aren't prudes and the angel reference takes no toll on my vampire nature or my father's but it's my step-mother that will have issue. She doesn't care for angels," he explained, genuine anger and fear in his tone at the mention of his father's wife.
"Oh yeah? Why's that?" she asked, trying to keep her voice interested and concerned instead of demanding and homicidal. No one messed with her man/vampire. No one.
"She's a time demon," he answered with a harsh sigh, "Dad didn't know it when he bonded with her and afterward there was nothing he could do to void it."
"Time demon?" Sara asked, thinking hard but coming up blank, "What exactly do they do?"
"If we piss her off she blanks our memory as a way of stealing time," he explained.
"That doesn't sound so bad," she replied.
"I broke a teacup around the civil war and don't remember anything until two thousand," he told her, the bitterness and anger in his tone shoring up her new found desire to destroy the demon.
"Poor baby," she muttered soothingly, drawing his head to her chest, petting her hand through is ebony hair as his cool breaths turned to hot kisses on her skin.
"I know," he said, his tongue dragging along the inner cleft just barely showing above her dress, "I love you, Sara. I can't let that happen with you. I want you as long as I can have you."
"I love you too," she said, tugging him to the sofa, "Just try to get rid of me."
---
She looked at her fellow freaks, and when five heads nodded at once, Sara knew her future mother-in-law was no longer a problem. When it came to friends, she knew she couldn't do better than the group around her. There was Dina the witch, Amy the nymph and Kate the unfortunately hairy werewolf. They were all her girls, but she was closest to Pammy and Rachael. Pammy nodded hard, the rings on her nose and eyebrow flailing wildly. She was a kindergarten teacher who moonlighted as a demon hunter. Rachael didn't nod so much as freeze in indecision. Sara loved her dearly, but the girl was timid. A succubus from a long line of sexual deviants, Rachael had secrets she hid behind her matronly librarian wardrobe that only was removed on weekends when she danced at a strip club eighty miles north in Vermont.
"So, any suggestions?" Sara asked, swirling her glass of orange juice and cream, her newest craving since James had planted his vampire spawn inside her, "I have and always will dress like an angel on Halloween. I refuse to change for a bitchy demon. Oh and James, I want her to leave him alone too."
"Well," Pammy said, twirling a knife blade on her index finger, "The obvious answer is for me to chop off her head."
"But she is bonded with James' father," Sara replied with a shrug, "If extermination was an option I could handle that myself."
They threw out more ideas and threw popcorn too but by midnight when Pammy had to get hunting they were still short on ideas with Halloween only three days away. Sara checked her watch and knew James would be by any minute to take her home. She didn't want to leave without a plan. The whole situation sucked.
"Suck," she said and jumped to her feet, the faces surrounding her turning away quickly as light shot out from her every pore, "Sorry. I know what we have to do. Rachael, how do you feel about a little time-demon snack?"
---
"Are you sure you're feeling up to this, pumpkin?"
"I'm fine, bloodyboo," she assured James while patting the velvet arm of his leisure suit. He was something straight out of the nineteen seventies and she loved it, "I might want some pretzels and cream cheese soon. I hope your step-mother has some."
"If she doesn't, I'll get you some," he promised, holding her to his side as he rang the doorbell of the townhouse that glowed with the party inside, "Remember what I said about her, okay? The angel thing…just stay really close to me."
"Okay, sweetie," Sara said, smoothed her bodice and turned on her smile.
The woman who answered the door was adorable in a bright blue dress and a white lace pinafore. The bevy of sheep beanie babies and shepherdess staff proclaimed her `Little Bo Peep'. Sara bit back a grin as the sheep keeper looked them both over and smiled in approval, "James dear, who is this lovely girl?"
"Ah, Addie this is my fiancé, Sara," he said, confusion in his voice but Sara kept on smiling as she offered her hand, "Sara, meet my step-mother, Addie Demona."
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Demona," she said, warmly.
"You too, dear, you too," Addie said and opened the door wider, "Do come in, James and dear Sara. I love your costumes, my darlings. A vampire and an angel, how perfect."
---
Lying in bed Sara bit her lip as James gushed over his step-mother's change of heart. The old bat had been hostess of the year, confusing her guests who attended her parties more out of fear than affection. James and his father were thrilled, both relaxing for the first time in centuries when they realized it wasn't a trick. They didn't claim to know what happened but assumed the demon part of her had been called back to Hell.
They were nearly right. In the end Sara decided the best way to get rid of the demon without killing Addie was to suck it out. Luckily for them, the time demon was just like the rest of its breed, willing to jump anything with power and something fun between its legs. She, Pammy and Rachael went the night before when James and his father were out and without remorse she'd siched her succubus on the demonness. Rachael left the longevity but took all the power, leaving Addie docile and sweet.
"So," he said and she realized her participation was required, "I'm hoping Thanksgiving and Christmas go as smoothly as tonight. If we can keep her level through the holidays I bet she'll be fine for the wedding and baby. I should have known you would win her over."
"Well of course, my lovesucker," Sara said, tucking close to his side, "I am pretty amazing."

Breakfast with a Zombie by Kerri Nelson

2009-10-09T11:26:00.000-07:00

I’m a zombie and I still enjoy Lucky Charms for breakfast. Every morning I pour myself a bowl and think about how my life went from bad to worse in the blink of an eye. Or rather, in the flap of a bat’s wing, if you prefer.
I was an average everyday working girl before the one night that would forever change me. By working girl, I only mean that I went to a normal nine to five job as a bank teller every single day. Day in and day out, I put in my hours with no adventure and no change in routine.

Then, on the eve of Halloween, I volunteered to stay late at work to decorate for our bank’s Annual Check or Treat Event. That would turn out to be the worst decision that I ever made. So much for good karma being my reward for volunteer work.

I had just locked up the front doors and set the alarm after hanging streamers and taping festive pumpkin cut-outs to the windows. I was walking to my car when I noticed something that looked like a small child huddled by the corner of the building under the light from the ATM machine.

Thinking that this was more than just plain odd, I put on my Good Samaritan hat and went to check it out. When I arrived at the side of the trembling figure, I saw that it was sheathed in a black cloak. I bent down to take a closer look.

“Are you lost?” I asked tentatively, reaching out my hand to touch the poor child.

That was when the figure threw back the cloak and the red eyes stared back at me. The trembling was not fear but was instead laughter. I tried to jump back and away from the strange, ghoulish looking child but he grabbed my outstretched hand and bit me before I could move.

------------------------

By the time I got home, I wasn’t feeling so well. After the monster child had bitten me, he’d run off into the night and I’d high tailed it home.

To say that I was feeling a bit freaked out by the whole thing would be putting it mildly. As I made my way to the safety of my own bathroom, I was not at all prepared for what I would see in the mirror.
The color had already begun to drain from my face and deep, dark circles appeared beneath my eyes. Panic began to flood through me as I felt a sickness roar through my body. I looked down at the bite on my hand and the small tooth prints were surrounded by dark black skin. My hand looked terrible and that was when I knew that I’d been infected with something bad…really bad.

My first instinct was to call an ambulance and I quickly made my way to the phone beside my bed. As I dialed the emergency numbers I tried to fight back the intense wave of nausea that suddenly wracked my body.
As my shaky hands tried to dial the three numbers that would bring help, I found it difficult to move the infected hand and my body shook uncontrollably in tremorous convulsions.

I felt a hot rush of something like fire rise from the pit of my stomach and then something wet rolled down the side of my face. Thinking that it was sweat, I pawed at it with the back of my good hand and when I returned the hand to my dialing task…I saw blood instead.

That was when I passed out cold.

-----------------------

When I woke, the smell of freshly dug dirt filled my nostrils and lungs. I tried to collect my thoughts but I was feeling confused and disoriented. I could hear a faint sound coming from a distance and it sounded like music.
No, it was someone whistling.

I tried to open my eyes but they stung. I tried to move but felt locked in place. My head hurt and I was extremely hungry.

Then, something sharp poked at my torso and I shifted to get away from it. My movement caused an avalanche of dirt to spill down around me and I began gagging and coughing. I tried again to open my eyes and then I saw a pale faced man standing over me with a shovel.

“There you are…” he said and as he smiled the greeting at me, I saw the white sharp fangs glisten in the moonlight.

As it turns out, his name was Montecarlo and he was a two century old vampire. He had a family of zombies that he routinely sent out to bring him meals. Human meals. The newest member of his family was a young boy zombie named Mitch and he was still learning the ropes.
Apparently, Mitch forgot that if he bit me that my blood would be totally useless to his boss. When a zombie bites you, they infect you with the zombie virus thereby making you a zombie as well.

That was just my kind of luck.

These days, I live a new sort of life. I still work nine to five but it is during the evening hours instead. I still work for a demanding boss and receive little reward for my efforts. I guess in a way I’m still a working girl but I don’t have to worry about money anymore.

In fact, I don’t have to worry about air or water or any other basic necessity either now that I’m a zombie. As far as eating goes, I’m told that zombies are supposed to crave human flesh, most particularly human brains, but the thought of ingesting that still sickens me. So, for now, I still eat Lucky Charms for breakfast.

© Kerri Nelson 2009

Tonight I Met a Vampire by Sky

2009-10-09T11:11:00.000-07:00

I MET A VAMPIRE

Testimony Given to the Police Department of the Township of Hooligan, Gizzard County

Tonight I met a vampire. And I know this for absolute sure, this time. I was going home later than usual, a little after dark, and decided to cut across the park in the middle of town. It’s faster that way. I just barely had time to make my appointment with the cable guy. It was real hard to get the appointment for after six, and I was no way gonna miss it. Another week without Idol just wasn’t something I was willing to face. It’s such a cool show. Do you watch it?

Sorry, ok, I’ll go on.

I had just come to the part of the path where there are those big, tall trees on both sides, that kind of crowd into the pathway, you know? Anyway, I almost walked right up to him, he was just there. I think he appeared or something, you know how they do.

He was just there. He was standing in the path, not walking or anything, I couldn’t walk past him without saying somethin. So I said, “Hey, how ya doing?” and he didn’t answer me. He may have been standing still, but I was walking, so I was getting closer and I was starting to worry that something was wrong, maybe he was deaf. I didn’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings. So I thought I’d get closer and smile, nod, something friendly like that.

It’s weird enough to run into someone you don’t know here, nobody comes to this town that doesn’t have people here, unless it’s like a Keebler delivery man or something. And this guy was no delivery man. So I wanted to be really friendly, make a good impression. I think that’s real important and....

What? Oh, okay.

He was a little taller than average, about like Bob Clem over there, maybe six one or two. Wearing black pants, nice, not like work pants, and a blue shirt. I’m not sure what silk looks like, but I think it might have been silk. It was really smooth.

But that was later on. He looked kinda like he worked out, big and strong, you know? And his hair a little long and had these curls that fell over his forehead. But not girly, no not girly at all.

I’ll try to tell this how it happened though. I kept walking and when I got close I couldn’t get past him on the path without him moving or me stepping into the trees. And I was no way going off into that dirt in my nice work outfit, It was brand new, and cost a lot,. If it went into them trees I was going to snag my hose for sure, and my shoes would be beat all to hell, heck, well beat bad.

So, one of us had to move. And I said “Excuse me, would you please step over so I can pass?” as polite as you could ever imagine. And he still didn’t say anything. But he looked at me. And his eyes were amazing. They were dark brown, I think, or maybe black. I don’t think he blinked at all. And then I couldn’t move. I saw him coming toward me, and I didn’t mind at all.

Fact, I was so happy that I walked right up to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and planted one on him, right on the lips! You all know me, known me all my life. I don’t kiss strangers, at least I didn’t til then. He made me do it. I ran my hands down his back over that silky shirt, and pressed the whole front of my body into his, there was no open space between us. And he didn’t say nothing, but he kissed me back, hard, and it felt good. I know he had me under some sort of mind control, because I woudn’t ever be standing in the park kissing some stranger, and I sure as heck wouldn’t have done what I did next.

I asked him back to my place. I did, as bold as you please. I said, “Come with me now,” and I reached for his hand, and grabbed it, and pulled him along the path til we got to the little bridge. Now, I hear tell that flowing water is a problem for some of them, but he crossed right over that bridge, or maybe it was holy water I was thinking of, I don’t know. But whatever, he came with me out of the park, and walked across First Street and stopped on my porch. He didn’t move til I said, “Come on in.” He just stood there looking around.

That’s another reason I think what I do, he didn’t come in til I said to. I hear they have to be invited in. And he came in and stuff and then he left before morning. That’s it, that’s what happened.

Oh, I’m sorry. You need details? I don’t really want to tell all that stuff, it’s embarrassing, even though I know it all happened because I was under his spell. But I know it’s important, for the record and all, so I’ll tell you. Or can’t I just write it down? No? Okay. I’m gonna need some water to drink before I go on. And maybe a bathroom break?

Okay, where was I? Yes, I asked him into my house. I guess that’s important because they can’t come in otherwise, right? Anyway, I told him to come in and sit right down on the davenport. And he did. And I set right down next to him, close up. I couldn’t stop looking into those eyes. I hadn’t turned on any lights and it was kind of dim in the living room, but it looked like those eyes were lit up from inside, almost like a fire deep inside. And he finally said something to me. He said, “Who are you?” and I knew he wanted me.

I leaned into him and wrapped those long, strong arms around me and pulled me real tight against that soft, soft shirt. It was blue, I think, pretty sure. The streetlight coming through the window made the silk a little shiny, that’s another reason I said I thought it was silk? It’s shiny isn’t it? I don’t have anything silk. I did have that nylon shirt, it was soft and... oh, I’m sorry, I get a little distracted sometimes. The next thing I knew, he had magicked me into taking him into my bedroom. I would never do anything like this, except I was under his spell, you understand.

So we started kissing again, and hugging and I unbuttoned his shirt and he put his hand down the front of my top and we kept on kissing. He was real warm, they aren’t supposed to be warm, are they? And he ran his tongue right down the side of my neck, and I waited and waited.

No, he didn’t bite me. I thought he would. I was sure he would. Why else would he put me under his spell like that. But he didn’t He just kept kissing me and finally I said, “What’s wrong? Not good enough to bite?” and he looked up.

He looked right at me with those brown lit up eyes and lied. “I wouldn’t bite you,”

he says to me. “You looking for someone to bite you?”

“ I know what you are!” I said. “You magicked me here with those eyes of yours and now you gotta bite me and bring me over. We’ll be together forever!”

And I swear, I never seen nobody run so fast! He jumped off the davenport tripped over the coffee table, and made for the front door Didn’t even say good-bye. And I know why, too. Once he knew I was onto him, he had to go. He knew I’d run right down here and tell you all and he’d be in big trouble. If I could escape, that is. And if he didn’t make me one of them. I guess a good, upstanding woman like me can’t be one. But he could have tried couldn’t he? .

So tonight I met a vampire. But he got away.

Today is Monday, Dear by Daisy Banks

2009-08-09T15:33:00.000-07:00

Today is Monday, Dear
by Daisy Banks

Her skin still damp from the shower, Lily stood in the warmth of the early sunlight. She gazed down from the window into the depths of the garden. A tiny breeze wafted the voile curtains towards her, today was going to be another hot one, and a shiver of anticipation ran over her. Small beads of sweat built above her top lip, at the back of her neck, and more joined to make the undersides of her breasts slippery.
"Lil, have you seen my blue cuff links?" David's voice echoed and swirled around her to invade her private paradise. She bit back the retort she longed to give him.
"The last time I saw them was when you went to New York." The modulated calm of her voice astonished her. Deception was sweet indeed. Her eyes continued to watch the gentle sway of the tall poplars that edged the bottom of their property. She glanced down at the rose bushes. Their blooms would intoxicate today, but it being Monday, she wouldn't, couldn't go and sit beside them. A spasm shot through her, not on a Monday.
Her sense of anticipation grew when she turned back to the clock, eight thirty, David would be gone in less than fifteen minutes, and she would be alone. Her finger brushed over her top lip and wiped the dewy perspiration away.
"I've got them, they were in the green suit pocket."
She didn't move a muscle, remained static, when David came in and dropped a swift kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you on Thursday," he said.
"Yes, dear, have a good flight." She didn't even turn to watch him go. At one time, she would have hugged him before he left. They would have kissed with passion, and the promise of more to come, when he returned from his trip. Not now, not ever again, David had seen to that, and thought it quite right and proper at their age.
The front door thudded closed. A few moments later, the car wheels spun with a hiss on the gravel as David drove down to the road. Her gaze remained fixed on the side gate to the garden, and more sweat built up on her body. The moisture trickled down between her breasts.
She caught her breath when at last, the wrought iron gate swung open, and there he was. This Monday's child was fair of face. The sunlight turned his hair to spun gold, gilded the solid sculptured muscles of his naked chest to bronze, and she licked her suddenly dry lips, as he pushed the old, green, hand powered mower into the garden.
He turned to close the gate, and the view of his buttocks where the white shorts molded to rounded flesh, made her swallow hard. A ball of feathers seemed lodged in her throat, so she tried to swallow again. The purr of the mower made her sigh, and the way his arms braced as he pushed, sent trickles of desire seeping down her spine.
David was an ass, insisting the lawn was done the old-fashioned way, but she would be forever grateful for it. Her golden boy would be here for the next two hours, and his muscular beauty would feed her desire for another week. The sheen of the golden hair on his legs shimmered as he walked away down the length of the garden, and she leaned against the window ledge for support. The voile curtains, became an opaque disguise for her warm, naked flesh.
How she longed to stroke over that golden haze on his legs. Run her fingers up along the inside of his broad thigh, and then higher still, to slip inside his shorts, and find the weighty delights he kept tucked away there.
Licking her lips again, she watched him reach the end of the first stripe on the lawn, and he turned towards her now. Only another three more stripes to go, and she would allow the touch of his hands on her in her misty world. His wide hand could span her thigh, strong with thick muscular fingers to tease and pinch, smooth and smack. She loved his hands on her breasts, and another shiver of pure need sent goose bumps down her arms.
The grating whir of the lawn mower made her close her eyes. There was a distinct rhythm to it, like the rhythm of love. No, she was going too fast, he hadn't even finished row two. She forced herself to watch him, and the heat glowed between her thighs. His skin had built up a silky sheen of perspiration, like hers. It was hot. The breeze shifted the voile again, but did nothing to cool her. She inhaled deeply, longing for just a trace of the smell of him.
One Monday last month, she'd paid him in cash, her fingers slippery with sweat on the notes. He'd stood there and smiled, while she'd in drunk the rich musk scent of him deep, more intoxicating than wine, heady enough to make her need to sit down. He must think her a batty old dear, she hadn't even let him say thank you, before she shut the door.
For two weeks solid, she'd thought of the scent of him before she slept. Every time her hands stroked over her body, they were his hands, enhanced with his fabulous scent, which could enslave her.
He turned to begin row three, and her thighs slid moist together. She let her mind linger on how his strong arms would feel when they tightened around her. How she'd be outraged if he dared to kiss her, and when he did, all her fury would melt, as he stroked over her flesh, and told her what he would do to her.
His muscular thighs rocked back with each step, before he moved forward, and the mower hissed smooth over the lawn.
Oh yes, there'd be no getting away from thighs like that, no way to stop them as they parted her own. She'd have no chance to prevent them powering him into her, even if she moaned her fury at him, for burying his thick cock, deep in her.
A whimper left her mouth, as his rhythmic movements continued along the row. The sleek wetness between her thighs increased, became viscous, so her thighs would slide if she walked. But of course, he wouldn't let her walk, he'd make sure she stayed still, her thighs spread wide to allow him to do whatever he liked. His fingers would smooth over her flesh, to probe, tweak and rub, until she pleaded with him to give her release.
Her excitement grew, as he turned and swung into row four, her heart beat swift. When he got to the end of this row, she'd feel his fingers tweak her nipples into hot and rigid peaks. She'd moan and whimper her displeasure to be touched so by him, but he'd do it all the more. He'd force her to enjoy his attentions, and if she tried to turn away, his hand would smack her breast. Gentle at first, but then with increasing strength, his hand would fall. Each breast in turn would redden, until her nipples glowed like hot coral as they throbbed and ached, while she swore she'd let him do as he wished.
She swallowed again as he turned at the end of the row and now those strong fingers began to work on her. They tweaked and rubbed, rolled her hot nipples into the rigid stalks to pull on. Her groan echoed around the room, and she tried to yank away, whimpered as his hand smacked over her nipple. More slaps splattered loud on her skin, and she begged for him to stop.
He strode on, and the sounds stayed the same, the hiss of the mower, and the warm smacks to make her whine.
Only when he was certain she'd offer the breasts to his lips did his hands move on over her body, to stroke smooth down her skin. His palms glided, and used her sensitivity to provoke her need, until he pinched a buttock hard. "Oh," the cry left her lips, as he rubbed hot patches of heat onto her skin, ground his calloused palms over the tender flesh, so it began to heat with the friction. She writhed as he did it, whimpering at what she knew would come next.
The first slap stung like a bee, flushed her with heat, before the next one arrived, hot and hard to leave a roasting imprint. His broad palm, throbbed on her ass. Again and again, the blows fell, until each burning flash merged into a sheet of soft flame, and she pleaded with him, "No more." Her pitiful pleas were disregarded, to leave her with a seat of pure unadulterated heat, only then would his fingers explore to the dripping furnace between her thighs.
He stroked over her seared flesh, which burned only for him. His gaze glowed at her, while he teased gentle and smooth, pulled at her labia, stretched it to long folds and then patted it to plumpness to make it receptive for his touch. Her squirming and moans made no difference, as he rubbed at her clitoris with his work hardened thumb, press and stroke, stroke and press, until the juices dripped from her. The wetness tricked down between her thighs, and he smoothed it over her anus, dipped a finger inside, so she whimpered in shame and delight.
He let her drip on his fingers, let her moisture run until she was desperate for relief, and she pleaded with him now, "Fuck me, give me your cock, please."
When her cries grew to fever pitch, that’s when his strong thighs shoved hers wider apart, and he lay between. The thickness of him, throbbed at her entrance, teased over her sensitised flesh, rubbed over her clit and down to her anus, before settling at the entrance of her hungry pussy again. She tossed her head back, arched her neck as quivers of pleasure rushed over her. The heat of her rear converged with the heat of her pussy to become a pulsating need.
"Ah...." Her sigh of sheer bliss filled the room, when he filled her, powered into her and stretched her flesh wide. The forceful, long hard strokes were for his pleasure, not hers, but pleasured she was, and made low grunts of delight at each powerful entry. She rocked her hips to encourage him deeper, and his strokes became stronger now, so deep inside her, she moaned. Her panted breath took up a steady rhythm and she couldn’t keep from coming. He made her come, forced her to come, and once it happened, she came again, her defences and will power broken by the surge of his virile demanding cock.
She sank to her knees trembling, satiated as her juices ran like water down her thighs. Somehow, she had to thank him. She went into the shower and swilled herself off, dried, and dressed in her loosest, cotton summer kaftan.
From behind the fly mesh on the kitchen door, she called into the heat hazed garden. "Gareth, dear, would you like a cold drink? You must be hot."
He strode across the lawn, and a shiver of fear at his sheer size ran over her. "Thanks, Mrs Aston, you are a luv."
She handed over a tall glass of cool orange, and watched the muscles in his throat as he swallowed deeply to drink it. His golden head tilted right back, and she licked her lips for now she could drink her fill of his male scent.
"Thanks a lot. Oh, is it cash or cheque this week?"
"Cash." Her trembling fingers counted the five pound notes into his wide calloused palm.
"Thanks, Mrs Aston. Anything else I can help you with today?" His blue gaze held hers, and she bit her lip while she called up the shreds of her will power, so it wouldn't happen again.
"Well, today is Monday, dear." Trembles ran over her, as his gaze devoured her, and he smiled wide. Slowly she nodded, taking a step back, when he crossed the threshold. He put the glass on the table, closed the door, and his fingers reached for her nipple.

The End

Boardroom Love by Valerie Mann

2009-07-11T12:42:00.000-07:00

“That was the worst fucking presentation I’ve ever seen.”

Beth dropped her pen at the CEO’s words and jerked a glance across the huge boardroom table to watch junior executive Jarrod shut down the Power Point program. A red flush crept up his neck and total humiliation etched his features.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Fleming,” Jarrod replied, his head never lifting to meet his boss’s.

Beth stared at David Fleming, chairman and president of the company. His haughty, glacial eyes rounded the table, taking in every member of the board before his gaze settled on her. She looked away from the unwanted attention and gathered her notes, pretending not to notice his scrutiny.

“Pitiful ideas like this are why companies around our country are folding,” the chairman’s demanding voice forced all of the board member’s eyes up to meet his. “Every one of our employees enjoyed a profit bonus this year because we don’t do shit like this.” The tip of his Montblanc pen jabbed the tabletop with emphasis before he rounded on Jarrod, “Your presentation sucked ass and compromises further bonuses, not to mention the integrity of this company. If you and your team don’t come up with something that will benefit the company and your co-workers, heads will roll. Starting with yours.”

Jarrod fiddled with the strap on his laptop case and Beth watched his throat work around his nervousness. The poor man was speechless.

Fleming nodded at each member around the polished mahogany table. “Get your asses in gear and show me what you’ve got. I’m giving you twenty-four hours.”

Damn the man. His leadership qualities and get-the-job-done-yesterday work ethic were fantastic, Beth had to admit. While most of the country’s corporations had to answer to their stockholders and their profit margin, she’d always been thankful her own didn’t bow to demanding stockholders. They’d never gone public. Nevertheless, she hated the chairman’s strong arm tactics sometimes, even if they got results. She risked another quick glance at him as she stood up, saw him deep in conversation with the chief financial officer, yanked the huge leather briefcase off the floor and prepared to beat a hasty retreat with the rest of the group.

“Beth,” her boss said, stabbing his index finger in her direction, “stay here. I want to talk to you.”

The CFO brushed past her with a pitying look and snapped the door shut behind him. Beth pulled her bag closer and waited. David tossed the pen on the table, shrugged out of his suit jacket and swiped a frustrated hand over his jaw.

“Jesus, I hate it when people waste my time.”

“Jarrod and his team didn’t think it was a waste of time. They’ve worked hard on this project. It had its merits.”

David leaned against the table beside her and folded his arms across his broad chest.

“You think I was too rough on him.” It wasn’t a question.

“I think you need to learn tact.” She watched the quick flicker of annoyance then humor make the corner of his mouth quirk. He had a beautiful mouth, made for kissing the hell out of a lucky woman. The five o’clock shadow shaded a square jaw and dark, brown eyes glittered giving him a dangerous appeal, in and out of the boardroom. And the bedroom.

Women wanted him, men wanted to be like him.

And damn the man – he knew it.

He didn’t move for a few seconds, simply looked at her. Her heart pounded at the feral gleam in his eye then she froze when his hand reached over and tugged her bag away and set it back on the floor. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. When she drew back, he followed her, cupping a hand behind her neck to still her.

“Are you crazy?” she hissed against his mouth, pushing at his hard chest with both hands.

“I don’t think so,” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip. Her head fell back and he stared down at her, obviously enjoying both her discomfort and resistance. He did love a challenge.

“This is so inappropri – oh, God,” she moaned as his hand snaked its way up her thigh and under her skirt. Long fingers pushed past lace and heat then stopped. How could one touch, from a mere mortal man, inflame her so quickly?

“You know what I do think?” he asked in an arrogant tone, flicking the tip of his finger against her core. “You want me.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, praying he’d put a little more pressure into the strokes. She tilted her hips forward in invitation.

“You were watching me during the meeting.” His finger moved up to slide over her clit, back and forth. “I don’t think you were paying any attention at all to Jarrod’s worthless presentation, were you?”

He eased her up on the table and she wrapped her legs around his waist, mindless of the wanton picture they made if anyone walked back into the boardroom. “You were watching me too,” she gasped around the sensations building between her thighs.

He dropped his hand and unbuckled his pants. In a swift, smooth stroke, he sank into her.

They both groaned.

“I never stop watching you,” he ground out, his long, strong thrusts creating a delicious friction. Hard hands gripped her thighs, rocking her, the pleasure and pain increasing her desire.

She pulled his head down and his mouth crashed into hers, their tongues dueling in time with his movements. The flutter of release began to build and she tightened around him.

“Come with me, babe,” he groaned.

The rich sound of his deep voice, the carnal sensations between her legs and the wicked timing of their act undid her. He covered her mouth with his to stifle her shriek as the heart-stopping orgasm raced through her for several seconds. When she managed to open her eyes, David stared down at her with the same satisfied expression she knew she wore.

He grinned, “I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

“Take-out. You can pick it up when you get Matthew at soccer practice.” She sighed when he kissed her softly. The man still knew how to take her breath away.

“No problem. I’ll see you at home.”

****

Transcendent Reunion by Connie Chastain

2009-07-11T12:32:00.000-07:00

Resplendent in a white dinner jacket and black bow tie, Vandi Decker—Dr. John Vandiver Decker, a year into his residency at Verona General Hospital—rested a forearm on the piano, sipped champagne and smiled slightly at the sexy tinkling rising up from the instrument's strings.

Mellow. That best described the atmosphere at Jimmie Chandler's, one of Georgia's fanciest restaurants located not in sophisticated Atlanta but near the Florida line in small, moss-hung Verona.

Square tables circled the golden oak dance floor, their crisp white skirts contrasting starkly with the black baby grand off to one side. Greenery blanketed the place, from feathery palms that reached the ceiling to banks of lush philodendron vines tumbling down the walls.

There were vacant tables here and there, but it was a nice turn out for a Thursday.

Vandi's eyes, ice blue but not cold and ringed with spiky lashes skimmed the crowd. He nodded or lifted his glass in salute several times to people he knew.

Well off, respected in the community, to-die-for handsome and sexy as all get-out, he was Verona's most eligible batchelor.

Not bad for a kid who grew up in an orphanage. Oh, the progressive consortium that owned and operated the place back in Louisville, Kentucky had called it a "group home" or some silly politically correct nonsense like that. Although it was true that most of the children there at the time were not true orphans. He was.

He had lost his parents before middle school—his father, a construction worker, in the collapse of a bridge under construction, his mother to undiagnosed diabetes. Her illness and death were the primary factors in his decision to study medicine.

Some of the nurses at the hospital said his smile lit up rooms, and a few claimed healing powers for his rare laughter. He knew they thought it odd that he had no steady woman and hardly ever dated.

Across the room, a woman he knew to be interested in him smiled and fluttered her fingers his way. He noted with passive appreciation the flashy dress in red chiffon and the glittery earrings that dangled almost to her shoulders, nodded and smiled back—and his smile froze on his lips. And odd feeling enveloped him and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. He was being watched....

He knew the feeling. It had happened two or three times in the past few weeks.
His eyes skimmed the crowd again and he knew a flame of something—suspicion? fear?—flickered in their blue depths. If people noticed his unease, so what? Maybe it would force whoever was watching him to reveal themselves.

He straightened and made a slow, unobtrusive scan of the dining room. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary and the discomfort gradually ebbed.

But half an hour later, it happened again. Seated at his lonely table for one, his meal partially consumed, he stopped in mid-chew as something—a thrilling tingle this time, not clamminess—swept down his body. He searched the dining room openly, a faint line between his brows.
Deeply disturbed and unable to explain it, he suddenly had to get away, to be alone.

Like a sleepwalker, he tossed a generous tip on the table, paid for his meal, and stepped into the blue-gray dusk outside. Moments later, as he unlocked the door of his sleek, midnight-blue 4Runner, the feeling swept him again, stronger than ever, and now he knew what it was—love and loss mingled, excitement blunted by the sorrow that entertwined it. Great sadness came to his face as memories he had tried to bury long ago rose up to envelop him.

Was this an anniversary date of some sort? April twenty-fifth. Nothing came to mind.
Movement caught his eye. A woman walked toward him across the half-empty lot, a beautiful sweetness on her face. She held the hand of an adorable boy about six years old.

Vandi knew who she was instantly. Breath rushed from his lungs as shock robbed him of strength and he staggered back against the vehicle.

He would have recognized anywhere her lovely face with its rounded chin and amber-brown eyes framed with honey blonde hair.

The woman stopped several feet in front of him and he stared at her as if hypnotized.

“Nicole...."

“Vandi.”

Incredulous, he stared at her, blinking as if to clear his vision. "They told me you died. They told me they took you for an abortion, to get rid of our baby, and the doctor botched it and you died.”

Terrible pain came to his face. “They wouldn't let me see you, wouldn't let me go back to Louisville for the funeral. I thought I was going to die, too.”

“There was no abortion. I ran away. I couldn't let them hurt our child. I went to St. Louis and got a job and made friends, and they took care of me when the time came. I'll be grateful to them forever.”

“Why didn't you come to me?” he whispered. “I would have taken you away with me, you surely knew that.”

“They told me ...” she glanced away. Pain distorted her face and tears left tracks down her cheeks “You were in medical school and ... and they told me you’d found someone else, and it served me right for throwing my future and career away on a man and a baby.”

“And you believed them?”

“I didn't know what to believe. But I decided if they were telling the truth, it made me more determined than ever to keep the baby—a part of you I could have for the rest of my life.”
They looked down at the boy who gazed back at them, solemn but with flames of life and excitement in his ice-blue eyes.

“Vandi, this is your son, Johnny. John Vandiver Terrell.”

Vandi knelt before his son and took his shoulders in a gentle grasp. His eyes stung and a breathless laugh escaped his throat. “Johnny. What a fine looking boy you are.” He resisted the urge to sweep the child into his arms in a father-hug—No need to scare the kid to death—but offered a hand and Johnny took it.

“Are you really my daddy?”

Vandi nodded. “I really am.” He looked up at Nicole to see her eyes still brimming and stood up to give her his handkerchief. “How is it that you're here?”

She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “When Johnny was four, and he started to look so much like the pictures of you as a little boy, something just clicked inside me and I grew determined to find you. I wanted the two of you to at least meet, even if you didn't develop a relationship. So I started looking for you. I went back to Louisville and started there."

She paused to bring the quaver in her voice under control. "It's a long story but the gist of it is that I moved to Savannah a year ago because I thought that's where you were. Then I found out you were here I already had a job in Savannah so we stayed there, but Verona's only a couple of hours away. Close enough to for me to drive over and find out about you—find out what kind of man you are, find out whether you might have a family, whether you'd be interested in knowing about Johnny.”

“You watched me.”

She nodded.

“I felt you watching me.” He gave another soft, quick laugh, his face dazed as the templates of his very life shifted beneath him. “At the hospital once. And once outside church... I should have known it was you, should have recognized the feeling, but I had been convinced for years you were dead."

"Yes, I watched you enough to know you had no family. Not even girlfriends. It was excruciating to see you, be so near to you, and not make contact. And to know that you must be so terribly lonely.”

His blue eyes roamed her face with awe. “You're more beautiful than I remembered.”
Sudden shyness overtook her and she looked away. But only for a moment and then her eye met his again.

“Have you had supper?” he asked.

“Yes. Johnny and I got burgers and shakes on the way here.”

“Okay. Would you like to go to Howe Street Cafe, for coffee? It's not like this place. It's small, intimate. We can talk there."

“Oh, yes, I'd like that. I'd love it.”

“There's so much I want to know, to ask.” His breath caught as he looked at her, “You're a miracle! They told me you were dead.” His eyes filled and his voice broke on the words. "The frauds, the bastards—they showed me your death certificate. How could they play with lives like that? Cause so much pain and sorrow?”

Pensive, she looked aside, into the distance. “They were going to change the world. Change human nature itself."

She shook her head to dispel the memories and return to the present. She lifted her eyes to him, and he saw in them the vitality and spirit laced with a touch of defiance he had known and loved so long ago.

"They didn't change me," she said. "I never stopped loving you."

Then they were in each other's arms, wrapping each other in a warm, trembling embrace as powerful emotion flowed between them and swirled around them. They separated just enough for Vandi to hoist Johnny into the embrace and the three of them clung to each other, crying softly—tears of pain for a past of sorrow they could do nothing about now, and tears of joy and gratitude for the future of happiness that awaited them.

Welcome To Mistress Bella Short Stories

2009-06-25T12:46:00.000-07:00

We started out as a review site until we started getting other requests from authors, and un-published writers.

This is our Short Story site. If you have a short story you would like to post on our site we would love to have you.

What are we looking for?

Just about anything romance. We don't care if it's a sweet, romantic tale, if it's a married couple reuniting, if it's a one-night stand between strangers. We will take any romance genre any spice level. We would like for you to submit something that hasn't been published or if it has been published it no longer has a contract.
Length can be anywhere from 500 to 1500 words.

If you have any questions or comments please email me at mistressbellareviews@gmail.com with Mistress Bella Short Stories Query in the Subject Line.

Thanks,
Bella