The Croft

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Croft Copyright © 2006 Elliot Mabeuse ISBN: 1-55410-702-4 Cover art and design by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books Look for us online at: www.Extasybooks.com

The Croft

An Erotic Vampire tale

By

Elliot Mabeuse

Chapter 1

T

he summer was unseasonably warm on the borderlands, even unnaturally so, and the breeze that blew in off the sea was soft and fragrant with the mingled smells of salt, late blooming flowers from the gardens, and the scent of overripe pears from where they had fallen in the long grass of the neglected orchards, sweet and cloying. On these strange, almost balmy nights Anne found that she could walk the ancient battlements of the Croft clad only in her nightdress, letting the warm breezes lift her hair and caress her bare arms, and this she did, for the sheer romance of it. From here on a clear night she could look down on the broad moonlit swaths of lawn, the formal gardens now gone to seed, the overgrown pond from which the manor had once drawn its water, all the way down to the old oak woods and the small stream that ran through it. The warmth also brought thick mists that blew raggedly over the grounds as the warm air from the land met the 1

Elliot Mabeuse cool ocean winds, but this didn’t detract from her pleasure in the least. She found the soft caress of the fog soothing and intimate, and almost felt she understood a secret language it spoke to her only. Occasionally too, something in the landscape below might catch her interest, a shadow racing across the grounds faster than the clouds that scudded across the moon, an almost imperceptible rustle in the thick ivy that had taken over much of the garden, a sound from the forest that ran almost up the eastern wall. At one time she would not even have noticed such subtle things, but now, the strange languor that had settled upon her in this place left her keenly aware of every perception, every sensation, for now they all spoke to her of Angus, the Laird of the Croft, her lover and her teacher, and she knew now that such subtle signs often were prelude to nights of excruciating passion and almost transcendent pleasure. **** On her first nights in the Croft, she had often wandered the halls in a sweet fog, as if in the grip of some subtle yet powerful drug. She was intoxicated with this place, a gothic fantasy come true. The half-ruined and abandoned halls of the old castle that Angus was working to restore, the 2

The Croft ancient paneled rooms of the manor, seemed to draw her in and welcome her, recognizing her as one of their own. In return, she found a deeply satisfying beauty and peace in the ancient stones, the overgrown gardens, the sight of stars through a ruined tower. Occasionally she would come across Angus as he worked in the high-ceilinged library, or in the dining room, or perhaps simply sitting in the great room staring into the fire. No matter what he was doing, though, he would look up at her and smile with pleasure, his gray eyes shining with appreciation, the charming and rueful smile he gave her a sweet apology for his staying up so late over his never-ending work. His smile was the one thing that broke through the fairy spell that made everything so unreal to her. It touched her heart with sweet pain to see him smile like that. From the first she had wanted him badly. And even in those early days Anne had fancied that they were already like lovers. Though nothing had been said, nothing had been done to acknowledge this, their lives had intertwined to such a point that only a word need be said to make public what she knew already existed between them and tangle their lives together as the ivy tangled with the holly in the forest close by. She carried her memories of his numerous signs of affection for her like charms on a bracelet, 3

Elliot Mabeuse each one so simple and perhaps insignificant, but together they were her adornment: the long conversations by the fire or walking the grounds, or the times she helped him with his painstaking restoration work. They were almost as man and wife. And yet, he had never touched her. Had never confessed his feeling for her, feelings she knew he must have. Nights she had waited in the big canopy bed, door and windows open to the breeze of the sea, waiting for the sound of his step on the stair, the feel of his weight on her bed, the intoxicating smell of his body next to hers as he took her in his strong arms. Hours it seemed she spent watching her curtains flutter in the breeze, dreaming of his touch, yet nothing had ever come of it. **** She had come here as an eager and naive graduate student doing her thesis on the Border poets of the late 18th century, the most famous of whom was the Laird Brian Tinne McConnachie, Angus’s direct ancestor. Little remembered now, they had at one time had moderate success with their sensuous and mystical verse, poetry dealing with subjects not considered suitable in that era of preromantic rationality. At the end, their poetry had 4

The Croft sunk to a level of blatant sexuality and paganism that scandalized even their most vocal supporters, and the Border poets quickly sank from view. Their remaining few books of poems were selfpublished and studiously ignored by their peers. Laird Brian had been the acknowledged leader of this circle, but his papers and manuscripts had never been reviewed by a knowledgeable scholar. Anne, in fact, though still shy of her master’s degree, was apparently the world’s expert on the work of the Border poets, a sign more of their current academic neglect than of any outstanding scholarship on her part, and when after prolonged correspondence Angus had extended to her an invitation to come and examine his ancestor’s works herself, she jumped at the chance. She had intended to stay for two weeks. She didn’t want to be a bother. But she hadn’t expected Laird Angus to be so young and so handsome and charming either. Where she had expected a 60 year old in heavy tweeds and a calabash pipe she found Angus in jeans and a tee shirt with a scarf around his neck. Where she had expected a paunch and thin arms she found an athlete’s body, strong and hard. And where she had expected a thick Northumberland accent and English reserve she found just a trace of a burr and a natural charm that immediately melted her heart. 5

Elliot Mabeuse Her infatuation only deepened as they spent long hours together alone in the baronial manor house known as the Croft, poring over Laird Brian’s papers and eating the sumptuous dinners that Mrs. Travis prepared for them in the ancient kitchen. Warmed by the fire in the enormous hearth and fueled by wines from the Croft's own cellars, these dinners stretched into the night, as Angus delighted Anne with his tales of his bawdy ancestors and his own adventures. In the gloomy and ancient halls of the Croft, he was like the sun that brightened her days and turned the manor into a palace rich with life. He had spent much of his life in America, which is where he made his fortune in bond trading. He came back to the Croft because he had had enough of New York, and had enough money to have a go at restoring the old pile before it was turned over to the National Trust. By a geographical and historical oddity, the Croft was neither in England nor in Scotland and so escaped the crushing taxes that had ended private ownership of the other Great Houses of Britain, and as long as Angus could afford the army of barristers who kept things this way, he was truly the Laird of the Croft and of the little village of Glendree down the road as well. Things were almost perfect, Anne thought; almost. So close to perfect she was afraid to hope 6

The Croft for more. She had her work, she had the kind of gothic castle she had fantasized about but never even expected to see let alone live in, and she was madly in love with Angus and was certain that he loved her as well. But why hadn’t he done anything? Each night he retired to his rooms, and she to hers. All the signs she gave him, all her flirtations, seemed to be have no effect. She wondered if he might be afflicted with what the French knew as the English Disease, and that he was secretly gay. But there was no sign of this. Or perhaps it might be a British class problem, of which she knew so little. If there was another woman, he’d never mentioned her. What was it then? Every night as she climbed the massive staircase to her room, so distant from his, and as she removed her clothes, preparing for another night in that huge and empty bed, she asked herself, what was it? It was Angus’s custom to celebrate whenever he finished a piece of reconstruction on the Croft, and on one particular night he took her to dinner in Dumfries. Anne had looked forward excitedly to this outing for days, for she was certain that that something special would happen. She went into Glasgow on her own and dipped into her savings to buy an entirely new outfit, down to her imported French stockings and under things. She had her hair and nails done, and she took extra 7

Elliot Mabeuse time in her bath, wanting everything to be perfect. She put on her brand new bra, panties, and stockings, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her brick red hair was arranged to frame her face, her green eyes sparkled, set off by her makeup. Her hands slipped down her body and she touched the slight bulge of her mons behind the sheer, shimmery fabric, fabric so thin that she could clearly feel every hair in the small puff of pubic hair she had left lest Angus think her too loose and wanton. She experimented briefly with her looks of love and surrender, and she wondered whether this would be the night that Angus would see her in her under things, whether they might in fact go further, and whether perhaps she would at last feel his hard lean body lying atop her own. The thought dizzied her, and she finished dressing in a romantic and sexual high. Dinner was exquisite, the restaurant dark and romantic, and Angus seemed in high spirits, his laugh easy, his compliments sincere and accompanied by a look that told her of his sheer joy at being in her company. It was all she could do to keep from fidgeting like a school girl. After dinner he wanted to go somewhere else, a disco a few blocks down the cobbled street. Anne’s jacket was too little against the Dumfries chill so Angus took off his own and put it around her shoulders, enveloping her in his warmth and 8

The Croft traces of his warm and exciting scent. She hugged the jacket to her and he put his arm around her as they walked. As they reached a corner and stood in the shadows of the overhang of an old, medieval house, she turned to him. “Kiss me,” she said, surprising herself. Angus looked at her in surprise just for a second, but before she could blush at her rash words, the twinkle returned to his eyes and he pressed his warm lips softly to her own. It was a sweet and tender kiss. He held her face in his strong hands and gently tasted her mouth for the first time, and his tenderness made her knees weak. “I’m sorry, Anne,” he said. “I should have done this long ago. Forgive me.” “Oh Angus,” she said, slipping her arms around him and pressing herself to him. He embraced her and they stood there like that. She just reveled in feeling him so close to her. Finally he laughed. “Look at us! What must we look like?” She remembered that she still was wearing his coat, looking like a waif or runaway, he in his shirtsleeves. She laughed back the tears in her eyes. “Angus,” she said, unable to stop her words, “be with me tonight.” 9

Elliot Mabeuse He buried his face in her hair, kissing her head. “Oh Anne, Anne! D’you have any idea how badly I want to? How I’ve though o’ nothing else for weeks now? Don’t you know you’re driving me mad?” She detected some reluctance she didn’t understand and looked at him. “There’s something I must tell you,” he said tenderly. She wasn’t surprised. She knew there had to be some reason that he had made no advance to her yet. Now she would at last find out why. “Come,” he said. “Walk with me.” She took his arm and they started down the quiet cobbled streets. She became aware that the fog was rolling in, puffy clouds of vapor came gliding up from the river in ragged shreds, growing thicker as they walked. She gave him the silence he needed to collect his thoughts, and he didn’t speak for some long minutes. Finally he said, “I’m not like other men, Anne. Nor was my father, nor his father, nor his father before him. Nor was your beloved poet before them. In fact I think it started with him.” She gazed at him expectantly, holding his arm tight. Finally he drew himself up and took the plunge. “You’ve no doubt heard of vampires?” 10

The Croft She felt a chill run over her arms. He glanced at her and laughed sourly. “Nay, it’s not like that. Like Dracula and Bela Lugosi and drinking human blood and all. Not like that at all. Maybe it was once, but no more. I’m flesh and blood, not the walking dead, I’m afraid. And I have the passions of a man, as I hope to show you. I have them in full, and more than my share.” They were at the old stone bridge that spanned the River Dee, and he stopped in the middle and leaned on the parapet. The fog was all around them now, the street lights looked like little candles, each in its own halo of light. The water moved dark and inexorably beneath them. There was not a soul around. “In fact, I live on passion,” he said. “That’s the kind of vampire I am. I need passion. Otherwise I’m nothing. I can’t live.” She looked at him, confused. She’d never known him to tease like this. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said 'vampire',” he said. “Perhaps it would be better if I called myself an emotional predator, an eater of feelings…” “Angus, don’t joke! I don’t understand.” He looked at her seriously. “Anne, I’m not joking. Be assured of that. I didn’t know how else to tell you.” He turned the soft light of his eyes on her and said, “I do love you, Anne.” 11

Elliot Mabeuse “Oh God, Angus! I love you too! You don’t know how long I’ve waiting to hear you say that!” She waited for him to take her in his arms, but he did not. “But you must understand what I’m telling you,” he said. “You must.” She was torn between incredible joy and fear that it was about to be snatched away from her. “Understand what, Angus? I am trying to understand. But there are no vampires. You know that.” “Then call me what you like,” he said, “but it will all be different with me. And if it repels you, if it’s too strong for you, I’ll understand. But you must hear what I’m going to tell you.” He turned back to the river and spoke to the fog, “I don’t know where it started or how it started. But it does get in the blood somehow. I’ve no doubt I was born with it. Born with what? you’re thinking. Aye. “Let me try to put it in the language of our own century, Anne. You’re a beautiful woman, and you’re very sexual. I noticed that from the start. I could feel it from you. I feel it from people as clear as you may see their face. I need that from people, their sexual aura or energy or whatever you want to call it. It keeps me going. “But it’s not enough for me. To really live, to thrive, to be strong, I need something more 12

The Croft intense, something much stronger emotionally. I need the absolute essence of human passion, what you feel at the extremes of your endurance, when your mind is overwhelmed and heart is bursting. When you no longer think, but are consumed by your feelings, when you’re transported by rapture. The closer you can get to that state of pure feeling, the sweeter it is to me, the more nourishing.” She looked at him and saw the gleam in his eye as he spoke. She no longer believed he was joking, but she still did not understand. Was he mad? Ill? She’d been with him over a month now and couldn’t believe either of these. But to believe this story was beyond her. “What does this mean?” she asked him. She meant, what does this mean for us? He laughed shortly and seemed embarrassed. “There are others like me, Anne. Not many, but there are others. We all feed off emotions, but we all have our tastes. Many of them prefer the feelings that attend the anguish of death, the flood of fear and terror that precedes some poor creature’s last moments. Many more go through life content with poorer fair, weak and puny beings that sip up things like dread and fear, or the happiness they find in people in love.” “And you?” she asked. “I prefer the taste of sexual desire,” he said simply. He waited for her to reply, but she said 13

Elliot Mabeuse nothing. He laughed again. “I must say, darling, I much preferred your taste when first I kissed you, You seem now to have lost much of your flavor, no doubt because of my story.” She realized that he was trying to defuse the situation with a joke, and she appreciated his effort, even though she didn’t find it funny at all.. “So what you’re saying is that passionate sex excites you? Is that it?” “More than excites. It’s my heart’s blood. It’s my life.” he said. “Well there’s nothing wrong with that Angus. That doesn’t make you a vampire or monster. It just makes you a great lover.” she said. “Now take me home and I’ll let you prove it. I’ll give you more than you can handle!” He laughed again and this time she joined in, very much relieved and a bit flustered at being so brazen. The fog was thick around them and she felt her worry slip away from her. It was a close, marvelous, romantic night. “Now my Anne is back!” he said lustily and gathered her into his arms, seeking her mouth. Though they were alone on the bridge they were still exposed in a very public place and she stiffened involuntarily at his public show of desire. He opened his mouth and laughed gently at her 14

The Croft resistance. “You’re afraid?” he teased. “You weren’t afraid before in the shadows, lass. You prefer a bit of darkness about yourself as well, eh? Well I can understand that all right.” She smiled in spite of herself, safe and warm in his arms. He turned serious. “Now Anne, I’ve got one more bit of vampire business if I may.” She smiled, in on the joke now. “What?” “I’ve got to ask you. Do you take me to your heart, and accept me as I am?” “Cape and all?” she teased. “I’m serious, Anne. You must answer me before we can do anything more. Do you take me to your heart and accept me as I am?” “Yes. Of course I do, darling.” she said. “Again you must answer. Do you take me to your heart and accept me as I am?” “Yes again, Angus, what is this?” “Once more, love. Do you take me to your heart and accept me as I am?” “Angus, yes. I take you to my heart and accept you as you are, now…” He threw his arms around her and crushed her to him, so tight she could hardly breath. He whispered in her ear, “You’re mine now, Anne. You’re mine, my love.” Something warm suddenly flooded through her body and made her shiver. Then a delicious 15

Elliot Mabeuse languid drowsiness took her totally by surprise and overwhelmed her with a rush of dizziness so strong that she thought she was passing out. Again her knees felt weak and this time she couldn’t control her legs. With a soft groan of surrender she fell limp and collapsed in his arms. Waves of pleasure in red and black rolled over her and she let herself sink into them, so sweet was the deep, satisfying joy she felt within her. She must have passed out, she realized, for when she opened her eyes Angus was still holding her in his strong arms, but now the fog was gone and the night was clear and the streets seemed filled with pedestrians. The lights in the shops seemed very clear and bright. “What happened?” she said. “Are you all right, Anne dear?” Angus asked her with real concern in his voice. She honestly didn’t know for a moment. But then she remembered her joy and she smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. It …I must have fainted for a moment. Too much wine, and too much excitement. Yes I’m fine. In fact, I’m fantastically happy!” He laughed when he saw her smile and hugged her to him. This time his embrace was of pure joy and exuberance and she hugged him back “Let’s go, then.” he laughed. “Let’s go get drunk and go home and fuck like minks!” 16

The Croft

But they didn’t go home. Instead, they went to the disco they’d originally been headed to when she’d interrupted their evening with that kiss. They seemed to pick up exactly as they had left off, but now everything was different. They entered the noise and cacophony of the disco laughing and holding hands. She’d put the talk on the bridge and her swoon totally out of her mind. Compared to Angus’ declaration of love for her, all the rest was inconsequential. They belonged to each other now, that was what mattered. Angus bought them drinks while she stood behind him, trying to acclimate herself to the strobe lights and bone-jarring thump of the sound system. This place did not seem like him at all. She couldn’t imagine why they’d come here, but if this was where he wanted to be, she wanted to be here with him. The thought that she’d have to learn his habits and likes filled her with excitement and happiness. There would be so much to learn, and she would learn it all. He found them a little booth in the back where they could converse in just under a scream and she asked him. “What is this place?” “It’s a disco,” he shouted back. “I used to come here years back. It was always a fun place. It’s changed though.” 17

Elliot Mabeuse Their faces were periodically raked by reflections from the numerous mirrored balls revolving from the ceiling. The noise and the light, the smell in the air all seemed surreal somehow. She felt as if their little booth was tipping, then revolving. He was saying something to her but she couldn’t hear. “What?” she yelled. “I said I love you, Anne!” She smiled. “I love you, Angus!” She was about to take a sip of her drink when she felt something at her leg. She jumped involuntarily. It was his hand, beneath the table cloth, climbing up her thigh. “Angus! What are you doing!” He looked at her with a slightly wicked smile. “I want to touch you.” “Here?” “Everywhere,” he shouted, and they both laughed. She tried to cover his hand with hers but he pushed her away “No,” he told her. “This is just for you.” “No fair,” she yelled. “Sorry, Anne. Just keep your hands to yourself, dear,” he joked. She would let him have his fun. She folded her hands demurely in front of her and closed her 18

The Croft eyes, the better to feel what he was going to do. His fingers crawled up her thigh and gently stroked the fabric of her skirt. It was a fine, black crepe, sensual and soft, and his fingers halftickled, half-caressed as he rubbed the fabric against the skin at the top of her thigh. His lips were at her ear, so close she felt the warmth of his breath. “I love the feel of you.” he said. “Does this feel good?” “Yes,” she said, eyes still closed. “Your touch is wonderful.” He scooted around closer to her in the tiny booth until they were touching. His hand now spread over the top of her thigh and kneaded the long muscles in her leg with a masseuse’s expertise. It felt very good, relaxing and very sexual, and she purred like a cat. He put his arm around her and drew her close. He kissed her face softly while under the table he massaged her other leg through her skirt. His hand was wonderful, and his touch so expressive. She could feel his appreciation of her body in the way he touched her, strong yet gentle, and she could feel his own excitement as well. His arousal soon matched her own, and what had started as a little lovers’ game became something more. She let her head fall back on his arm as he continued rubbing her legs, always through her skirt, his hand moving steadily 19

Elliot Mabeuse higher, giving her excited flutters in her stomach. She wet her dry lips and turned her undivided attention to his hand, to what he was doing to her. The deep throb of the music seemed to fade out, the noise disappeared. His touch was making her wet for him. “Anne, Anne, my love, my sweet…” he whispered as his hand continued to crawl up her leg. She shifted her hips anxiously and reached up to take hold of the hand draped over her shoulders. The thought that others might be watching them made her open her eyes, but all she saw were the strobing lights, the crowded bodies on the dance floor, the blinding spots from the mirrored balls flashing in her eyes. No one was paying them any attention. She preferred the darkness, and closed her eyes again, letting him do what he wanted to her. She was beginning to float on an erotic haze, alone in a sea of people. She rolled her head back towards him, presenting her lips for a kiss, and he gave her again one of those tingling tender kisses he had given her on the street. It seemed to bring every nerve in her body to life, it said so much. She felt totally in love with him and deliciously his. She trusted him without reservation. His hand moved back down her leg towards her knee, then worked its way beneath her skirt 20

The Croft and back up her thigh to the bare skin above her stockings. At this, she started. “Angus!” she said. “Shhh, my love, my darling,” he whispered. “Trust me. You do trust me?” “Yes, of course I do…” “Then let me pleasure you,” he said. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.” “But this is…” “Shhh. This is heaven,” he said, and silenced her with his lips. She dropped her hand to his lap, and felt his enormous erection. She closed her hand on him, feeling his heat, his excitement, his urgent virility. But again he told her “No, Anne. Hands on the table. This is about you, not me,” and she obeyed. His touch was soft but insistent on her heated flesh, and he knew instinctively how to stoke her fires. Too soft and he would have tickled her, too hard and he would have hurt her. His pressure was just enough to arouse her and make her open like a blossom in sweet anticipation. “Angus…” “Delicious…” he said as his tongue traced icy fire along the side of her neck and swept the shell of her ear. “Just delicious…” She was hot now, and without realizing it her hips began to seek his hand, wanting him to touch her where she needed it most, wanting him to press against her. His fingers were so close, 21

Elliot Mabeuse pressed into the soft and defenseless inside of her creamy thigh, rubbing insistently up and down. “Oh God! Angus…” He could feel her heat, her moisture trapped in the sweet cleft between her legs. He could feel her yearning, her trembling. She held on to the hand draped over her shoulder with both of hers, squeezing it when her longing became too great or her sensations threatened to overwhelm her. Suddenly, he lifted her leg and placed it over his own, spreading her open. She didn’t resist. Her earlier concern about being seen seemed to have evaporated away. She wanted his touch so badly. “This is perfect, dear, perfect,” he whispered. Head back, she reached blindly for him, gripped his tie and pulled his head close and whispered. “Touch me. Oh God, Angus, touch me!” And finally he did, his fingers making contact with the damp patch of fabric between her legs. It felt so good she thought she might scream. Her eyes flew open and stared sightless into the wild and senseless riot of lights that surrounded her. She couldn’t think. Her whole world contracted to the spot between her legs where Angus’ touched her. And when his fingers pulled the fabric of her panties away and touched her naked flesh, she groaned deeply and hid her face in his neck so that no one would see her biting her lip to keep 22

The Croft from crying out. “Sweet Anne.” He said to her, “Sweet, sweet Anne. This is how I want you always.” The honey-like feeling invaded her again. Every nerve in her body was alive with sensation, with expectation. Her excitement was all out of proportion to his simple touch. Hot tears of joy and desire rolled down her cheeks as she hid her face in his neck and she fought to keep from crying, so overwhelmed was she with feeling for him. “If I touch you, will you come for me?” he asked her softly, his fingers trailing maddeningly up and down her soft, wet crease. She threw both arms around his neck, pressed herself to him, and weakly nodded her head yes, knowing she was already very close. “Do you want me to?” she asked him weakly. “Yes, yes I want you to,” he whispered fiercely. “I want you to come in my hand. I want to feel your body when you come, here, in this crowded club, with strangers everywhere, all around us!” “Oh, God, Angus…” “You won’t scream?” “I…I’ll try not to,” she said into his neck. “Don’t,” he said. “Just come for me, Anne. Come for me!” “Yes,” she said. “Yes.” She was his to command, he could do with her whatever he 23

Elliot Mabeuse wanted. His hand drove her mad for him. She groaned helplessly as he lowered his hand from her shoulder and put it around her hip, then slipped it below her buttock, squeezed her and pulled her closer so that she pressed tight against him. She now sat almost in his lap, one leg draped over his, the other on the floor. Beneath the table cloth her skirt was up around her waist, his hand beneath the crotch of her panties stroking her. With both arms around his neck, she clung to him like a woman drowning, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. He could feel her hot tears as they rolled down her face and he knew they were tears of passion and surrender. He could feel the heat from her, and the tension in her body. And he breathed deep savoring her, tasting her love, her joy, her need for him. Her bouquet was rich and complex and exquisite. Slowly he inserted his middle finger into her, making her gasp. She moaned into his neck and began to kiss him urgently to spur him on as he worked his finger easily in and out of her. Her hips began to work with him. Immediately she began to pant, her breasts heaving into his body, and he tried to calm her with soft words at the same time he was attempting to ignite her climax with his finger. He was a consummate artist, and through the haze of 24

The Croft her emotions she realized that he was playing her like an instrument, achieving just the right balance between restraint and abandon, taking her higher and higher, to a place she’d never known before. She marveled at how easily and instinctively he worked her, as if he knew her every thought, every pleasure, as if he could read her mind. Yet he knew he was out of practice. He had lost that objectivity so essential to his art and his excitement nearly equaled her own and made him dizzy. She was just too tender, too vulnerable for him, and he was famished from having gone so long without. Nor was his patience what it should have been, and he couldn’t resist the urge to feast on what she was feeling now, on the strong emotions he could taste emanating from her trembling body. He plunged his finger into her sensitive depths. He felt the energy gather in his hand, felt his face flush with her excitement. His cock was rampant in his pants and began to twitch. He too was going to come. He couldn’t wait any longer, nor could she. “Now, Darling Now!” he cried out as he plunged his fingers into her body and let his energy flow into her. “Touch me!” he hissed at her. “Touch me now!” With a strangled sob she dropped her hand from his neck and found the bulge in his trousers, 25

Elliot Mabeuse seeking him out. No sooner did she grasp his massive erection than she felt it jump in her hand like a live thing, strong and undeniable. She gasped at the strength and hardness of him as she felt him jerk again in her hand and she knew immediately what this violent motion meant. He was coming, coming in her hand from her soft touch, from the mere feel of her fingers upon him. The thought made her whimper at the very lewdness of what they were doing. She felt a hot wetness spread in his trousers and against the palm of her hand as his cock jumped like an animal in her grip shooting his semen into his pants, and he groaned in her ear as he came. The feel of him sent her own orgasm crashing down over her like a tidal wave of lust and she made no attempt to control it. “Oh God, Angus, Oh my God!” She buried her face in his chest, squeezing convulsively at his spewing prick and clinging to his neck as her body spasmed in sweet, deep waves of climax, each one forcing a shuddering sob from her throat as her vagina contracted wildly around his invading fingers. She was tossed on a great tempest of feelings and emotions, hearing him growl desperately as he ejaculated again and again and she thrilled to each muscular contraction, her hand becoming hot and sticky as his enormous load seeped through 26

The Croft the straining fabric of his pants. She felt dizzy, as if lost at sea, buffeted this way and that, now surfacing into the throbbing noise and blinding light of the disco, now disappearing beneath the waves of her pleasure as another spasm drove her down into brilliant darkness. Next to her and a part of her, Angus sucked in great lungfuls of air along with her exploding passion and dimly she felt a strange pulsing in the midst of her orgasm, as if he were indeed sucking something out of some nameless place inside her. She could not identify the feeling in her frenzy of passion, but each pulse was so sweet she surrendered to it willingly. It was almost a relief, as if whenever her ecstasy became too great for her to bear, he would drain some of it away, making space for a new wave of feeling to flood into her. When she opened her eyes and saw the look of pure bliss on his face, a wave of fresh pleasure swept through her, making her gush unexpectedly into his hand in a way she had never known before. Afterwards they laughed, embarrassed as they tried to collect themselves and make themselves presentable enough to at least exit the disco without attracting stares. He took his coat back and tried to hold it casually over his arm to cover the enormous stain in his pants. But beneath their 27

Elliot Mabeuse laughter was a mutual awe at what they had done, and the intensity of what they had experienced. She clung to his arm as they walked slowly back to the car, trying to hide from him the fact that her legs were still weak and wobbly, and that her stomach still knotted as pleasurable little aftershocks burst inside her from her fantastic orgasm. And that was the beginning.

28

The Croft

Chapter 2

T

he hallway to her bedroom on the second floor of the Croft was lined with closed doors. Behind each, she knew, were rooms in various states of disrepair. Some of the doors were locked or stuck, she couldn’t tell which. Some rooms were restored but empty of furniture, and some were fully restored with the original furniture waxed and gleaming, as if their ancient occupants had just stepped out and would soon be back. Since their encounter in the disco, Angus seemed renewed, as if twice himself; energetic, vital, and filled with good health. She assumed that they would soon consummate their love in a more conventional way, but since that night he hadn’t touched her. They spoke of that night, marveled at it together, so it was not a matter of Angus being somehow ashamed of what they’d done. Nor did there seem to be any question of Angus’ love for her. He just seemed to spend 29

Elliot Mabeuse almost all his time working in the ancient subbasement on a job he said was vital the Croft’s structural integrity. When Anne tried to lure him into bed, he said that it wasn’t time yet, but soon it would be. So she waited. She too seemed filled with good health. Her body had suddenly changed in a most extraordinary way, becoming more womanly, rounder, as if she were ripening like a piece of fruit or a sweet berry. She even felt as if she were filled with juice of the most delicious sort, and that she was somehow ready to be plucked and tasted. Had Angus done anything more than masturbate her in the disco, she might have thought she was pregnant, but she knew it wasn’t possible. Even so, in her new body she seemed constantly to be in a state of heat. The world had taken on a remarkable sheen of sensuality, if not overt sexuality, the colors somehow more intense and bright, almost sparkling, shadows became more profound, the ancient stones around her seemed filled with a meaning that she could almost, but not quite understand. She accepted all these changes as the result of her love for Angus. Thus, she was not surprised to find herself becoming aroused at the most mundane things. The wind through her windows at night could cause her to become agitated without reason. Clouds over the moon filled her 30

The Croft with a strange and powerful longing. Her dreams were filled with such salacious sexual images that she often awoke with a groan, finding herself aroused and wet, her breasts aching. At such time, she had no compunction about reaching down and trying to satisfy herself and made no attempt to muffle her cries, hoping that Angus would hear them and come to her aid himself, or at least remember her need. She found herself wearing her very tightest jeans, loving the way they rubbed against her when she walked, even though she had to change her panties several times a day. Her brassieres were all suddenly too tight, and she had to go into town for new ones, ones more flattering and lacey, ones that she would want to be seen in. Anne had spent some time thinking about that evening in Dumfries. Her recollection of their conversation on the bridge and its possible significance was, however, eclipsed by the extraordinary events that occurred later on in the disco, where Angus had given her the most intense orgasm of her entire life, using only his hand. She couldn’t explain her uncharacteristic response to his touch, and it was a subject that puzzled and somewhat embarrassed her. She did not want him to think of her as cheap or easy, a girl so sensitive that a few minutes of foreplay was enough to send her spinning into a mindless 31

Elliot Mabeuse orgasm. Compared to what had happened in the disco, the puzzle of their earlier conversation didn’t seem very significant. She came to the conclusion that this vampire thing of his was a quirk of some kind, a little game he played with himself for some unknown reason. Perhaps he found it some sort of romantic indulgence. After all, he did live in a castle, why not live the fantasy to the hilt? In any case, it seemed to pose no immediate threat to their relationship, which, after all, was the important thing. As to why they hadn’t yet consummated their relationship, she didn’t know. She was impatient, but she would wait for him. Then, one night, she mentioned the changes she was experiencing as they stood on the patio after dinner, admiring the moon glow on the wildness of the garden. “I’ve noticed,” he said with a soft smile. “Do you think I should be concerned?” she asked. “No. I think it’s very becoming on you, dear. And you shouldn’t be surprised. You know the legends.” “I’m sorry?” “The vampire legends. What happens to the bride of the vampire. What happens to the woman he bites?” he made a show of biting at her. She thought for a moment and felt a chill run 32

The Croft down her spine. “She becomes a vampire too.” “Bingo,” he said, smiling. “At least they got that part right.” “Darling,” she said, “I wish you wouldn’t play this game with me.” He stared at her for a moment, letting a smile dry on his lips. “What game is that?” “You know. This whole vampire thing.” “But it’s not a game,” he said to her, still smiling. “I assure you, Anne, it’s not a game.” She stepped away from him petulantly. “There. That’s what I mean. I don’t like that. Why do you have to do that? It’s scary.” He looked at her with some concern, making her uncomfortable. Then he removed his gaze, looking off into the distance. “Fog,” he said. “Fog is coming.” “What?” she thought she hadn’t heard him right. The night was absolutely clear and windless, jewel-perfect, the air too warm for fog. The moon was just short of full, and the first crickets of autumn were singing their sweet and melancholy song in the grass. And then she saw the tendrils of fog come racing around the house, rising up from the garden. No wind, not a breeze, yet the fog raced in like it was driven. She felt the moist kiss of mist on her bare arms, and she grew very cold. The 33

Elliot Mabeuse chirping of the crickets suddenly stopped dead. She felt chills grip the back of her neck. She looked at him in astonishment. He was looking at her with a very peculiar, flat gaze, as if he weren’t there, as if he were no longer in his body. The fog continued to pour from the woods and trees. Without a trace of wind it flooded the grounds, obscuring things she’d been looking at just seconds ago—so thick she lost sight of the moon and could barely see Angus still standing there, that same horrible blank look in his eyes. Then, suddenly, he was there again, inside his body again. The insects tentatively started up again, as if cautious. “Angus!” she said. “What…” He smiled. “Sometimes it takes a demonstration, doesn’t it? I’m still rather weak, but I know a few tricks.” “What happened?” she asked nervously, but already she was concocting a theory of his having known the fog was coming, having lived here so long. He just did this to impress her. As if reading her mind, he smiled. “Wind,” he said. Immediately there was a hard gust of air that shook the leaves on the trees and rattled the dry stalks in the garden. It blew the fog away from the house in ragged tatters, until the moon was again visible. Again the insects were suddenly still, then 34

The Croft started up again after the wind had passed. She laughed incredulously then stopped, alarmed by the note of hysteria in her laugh. “You don’t expect me to believe that you did that, do you?” “Look over there, by those willows,” he said, gesturing into the distance. “Do you feel that? A fox has just caught a rabbit. Don’t you feel its terror? Concentrate!” She looked into the shadows. She could see nothing, feel nothing but her own confusion. “I don’t feel anything, Angus, I…” She looked back at him and a scream caught in her throat. She was knocked breathless by what she saw. Angus stood behind her exactly where he’d been, but he was huge, enormous, half again the size of the Angus she knew. He loomed up behind her, his bulk blocking her vision, tipped forward slightly almost as if he were about to fall, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Again that horrible blank look was on his face but now she noticed an unearthly reddish yellow light emanating from his eyes, eyes that glowed with a frightening, feral intensity. She could not scream, she could not breathe. She felt her legs buckle in sheer terror and she grabbed a stone balustrade to keep from falling. “Don’t look at me.” he said from somewhere far 35

Elliot Mabeuse away. She didn’t see his lips move. “Take your eyes away from me. Take your eyes away from me now. Close your eyes.” Terrified, she found she could not take her eyes off of this apparition. She was paralyzed with fear. She felt as if something were being sucked from her body, leaving her weak and helpless. Finally her body began to tremble and a sob broke from her throat. She managed to close her eyes. She willed him to stop. “Anne, Anne, I’m so sorry! Darling, I’m so sorry.” he was there, taking her into his arms, kissing her hair. She suddenly broke and began to sob in terror, still clenching her eyes closed. “Is it gone? Is it gone?” she at last managed to stammer. She clung to him desperately. “Yes it’s gone! It’s gone,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Anne, but it was the only way.” “What was it?” she cried. “Was that you? Oh God, Angus, was that you?” “Of course not, my darling,” he said rocking her tenderly back and forth. “Hush, hush, nothing will harm you. Nothing will harm you now. I’m here. Angus’s here.” And suddenly her fear seemed to slip away as if it had never been. Her memory of what she’d seen just disappeared as the fog had disappeared before the wind, and she let it go. His arms felt so good around her. She felt herself begin to dissolve 36

The Croft in that golden warmth she remembered from before, when he’d held her on the bridge in Dumfries. It was as if her terrible fear had burned all thoughts from her mind, leaving her with nothing but the delicious sensation of Angus holding her close. This time she knew that he was doing this to her, that he was making her feel this way. He was controlling her as if she were a puppet, but she didn’t care. It was too hard to care. It was easier to just surrender. She raised her tear streaked face to him for a kiss, and his lips came down upon hers with a savagery that was exactly what she wanted. Sweet pangs of need shot through her and she felt her body, ripe and rich and ready to be given. His hand came up and cupped her swollen breast and his hand felt so absolutely wonderful that she wanted to tear open her blouse and press his face to her. She opened her mouth wide, inviting him in, and when his tongue sought to enter her, she dueled with it, moaning deep in her throat at the feel of him in her mouth. Her body exploded as a gush of liquid warmth soaked her vagina, making her ache with need for him. He lowered her down to the patio, his mouth still locked to hers, as he sucked her passion into his lungs. She was beside herself, unable to think clearly, overwhelmed, and she knew that if she 37

Elliot Mabeuse didn’t get her clothes off immediately she would die. She tore her mouth from his and gasped for air as her fingers went to her jeans and fumbled with the buckle, but he was already on her, his open mouth fastened to the crotch of her jeans, and she felt his hot breath as his tongue tried to penetrate the rough fabric and enter her body. “Angus, Angus! God, Angus!” she chanted, trying to roll away from him. She finally managed to pull her tight jeans down her hips and wiggle out of them, the feel of the flagstones rough and cold against her flesh. Angus was immediately upon her, between her open thighs, his hips grinding desperately against her. She locked her heels around his back and pulled him tight to her body, grinding back. She could feel his hard bulge press against her sensitive flesh and she worked herself against him, her passion instantly at fever pitch once again. He reached down to her and with one hand tore her blouse off her, ripping it and sending buttons flying. She too tore at his clothes with her hands, pulling his shirt out of his pants and running her hands feverishly over his exposed skin, her lips kissing blindly at his face as she babbled in her need. Working out of the embrace of her thighs, Angus managed to slide down so that his mouth was at her stomach, where he sucked in great 38

The Croft mouthfuls of her flesh, working his way ever lower as his hands reached up and tugged at her bra. She knew what he was doing and thought she’d never be able to stand it. She was already on the verge of climax and to feel his mouth on her would simply be more than she could bear. She managed to sit up slightly, reach behind her to the clasp of her bra and unhook it, but the tatters of her blouse prevented her from slipping it down her arms. She wanted him. She felt like she’d melted into a pile of soft jelly that only his hardness could make solid again. She wanted him in her mouth, anywhere. He pulled away from her and chuckled. “You can get hotter than this, Anne. You can get still hotter than this!” She reached for his head with a savage cry, but he moved out of reach. “God Angus, I need you. I need you in me! Now!” He suddenly scooped her up, held her tight to him, and ran into the garden, his speed and strength simply incomprehensible to her, but she could not be bothered with that now. In an instant he had carried her beyond the willows, where he deposited her on a stone bench that sat white in the moonlight, surrounded and overgrown with 39

Elliot Mabeuse ivy. Thank God! she thought. Finally! He’ll take me here, on this very bench! He stood back as he stripped off his clothes and Anne sat up and removed what was left of her blouse and bra. Her breasts felt huge, enormous, and aching for his touch, his lips. She gasped when she saw her lover without clothes at last. He had the body of a Greek sculpture, smooth and muscled, and his cock stood up proud and huge from his muscular thighs. The moonlight touched the rich curls of his hair and played with his features, casting his eyes in shadow within which she could see her own excitement reflected back at her in his intense and appreciative gaze. “You are fair, Anne.” he said softly, his burr surfacing in his excitement as it so often did. “You are truly fair, and made for fucking!” He came to her and bent over her body. He ran his hand from the base of her throat, down over her breast, her stomach, her groin, watching her twitch, then sliding his finger tenderly down between her legs to touch her there, feeling her throb for him. “Now Angus, please! Now!” she was almost weeping in her need. “You can be hotter, Anne. You can be hotter still!” 40

The Croft “No! No!” she cried in anguish, writhing on the stone bench, reaching for him. She raised her legs and spread them for him. She clutched her own breasts and squeezed savagely, and the touch of her own fingers almost made her swoon from pleasure. “Ivy,” he said. Anne felt something like cool bracelets wrap wound her wrists and pull her hands from her breasts. Looking down she was shocked to see coils of green tendrils twined around her hands and wrists. She gasped in disbelief even as she saw the entire mass of ivy around the bench writhe and rise up like a sea around her. Quickly her ankles were seized, her legs, and slender tendrils snaked over her quaking stomach and around her neck, holding her fast to the bench. She knew that this couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible, but she was more concerned about the intense pain and desire she felt within her. Was it never to be satisfied? What sort of game was he playing with her now. Angus looked down at her bound form with a glitter in his eyes, She made no sound, but her breasts heaved on her chest with her labored breathing as Angus got on his hands and knees above her and looked down at the bound beauty, her legs parted lightly, her arms stretched out tight to the sides, a look of fear on her face. 41

Elliot Mabeuse “That’s better,” he said. “That’s much better.” He leaned forward and licked her breast, slowly, his tongue like fire upon her skin. She groaned loudly and felt another gush of wetness soak her aching loins. She was exquisitely sensitive and felt every contour of his tongue, felt the warmth from his mouth, the breath through his nostrils. He held his mouth over her erect and aching nipple and fluttered his tongue so very lightly that he barely made contact with the turgid bud. Anne howled like a she-wolf at his unbearable touch, thrashing her body on the bench, but the ivy held her fast, held her open and defenseless to his cruel depredations of her alabaster flesh. His breath was coming almost as fast as hers as he lowered his head to her chest and kissed and sucked at her, kneading her other breast with his strong hand. She was certain she would swoon, his touch was unendurable. Her fluids seeped from her in a steady stream, running down her flesh and pooling beneath her as she begged and wept beneath him. He left her breasts, and she shuddered as he trailed his mouth down her body, for she knew where he was going. “Please, Angus! Please!” she begged in a whisper, helpless to move as she felt him going lower, past her stomach, below her waist, lower 42

The Croft still. Her body convulsed in helpless spasms as she felt him on her mons and she braced herself for what she knew was coming. His tongue suddenly plunged into the aching center of her desire and she screamed, her hips jerking up involuntarily to his hungry mouth, despite the snug grip of the ivy. He licked her, he sucked her. He put his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her hips to his face while he drank down her nectar like wine from a chalice, scooping it out with his muscular tongue. Anne moaned in desire and embarrassment as her body betrayed her, any sense of modesty or shame burned away in her fierce need for his touch. She gasped for breath, her hips twitching in Angus’s iron grasp, her mouth agape, brows knitted. He ate her as if she were a succulent piece of fruit. His saliva mingled with her own juices and ran down her ass, down his cheeks, wetting his fingers as he made hungry and satisfied snuffling sounds in her crotch. The ivy held her fast, allowing her to do little but jerk and quake at his lewd violation of her flesh. As he worked at her, she became aware of another feeling, the same subtle draining suction she had felt that night in the disco, as if he were sucking some ineffable tension or energy from her body which was quickly replaced with new excitement so that her pleasure seemed to pulse in 43

Elliot Mabeuse and around her like a glowing aura of sexual desire. She felt this in deep, rhythmic throbs which possessed her whole body. “Oh No, No, God…No!” she wailed, her body tense and quivering. But Angus only ignored her. He was like a starving man having his first meal in weeks, and all he wanted was her flesh. Anne moaned, her head spinning. She had melted into a liquid puddle of need under the salacious treatment of his tongue and her orgasm was thundering down upon her like a herd of wild horses. She could not keep it away. Just then Angus left her vagina. He climbed between her twitching legs, his stiff and seeping penis in his hand, her juice shining around his mouth. Anne was too far gone to even know or care what he was doing. She ached all over. Even her ovaries hurt, and anxious spasms ran the length of her trembling sheath. The lips of her vagina pulled in convulsively as if trying to swallow. She had lost control of her body and hung on the very edge of consciousness, afraid to speak, afraid to breathe. He thrust his rampant hardness into her and her eyes flew open and she screamed. All the pain, all the ache, all the need were suddenly satisfied as his enormous pole of flesh slid irresistibly into her, as Angus groaned at the delicious clutch of 44

The Croft her spasming pussy on his aching rod. “Oh my God it’s good, Anne! It’s so fucking good!” Anne squealed, looked up at the sky as her eyelids fluttered over sightless eyes and she arched her back to take him in more deeply. He slid relentlessly into her, leaving burning pleasure in his wake as he went. She dared not breathe as he plumbed her very depths, seeking the center of her being. Finally he stopped, his hard cock so far into her that the head bumped against her cervix and he could go no further, she had him to the hilt. No sooner had he stopped, resting on his muscular arms than he felt her body begin to tremble, then shake, then convulse in a massive orgasm. “Angus! Oh God, Angus! I’m coming! I’m coming! Angus! Auugghhhh!” she screamed out her violent release just as he began to writhe upon her, pressing his hips against her hard, pinning her to the bench so that all she could do was tremble as her orgasm thundered through her. Even in her throes of pleasure he began to fuck her, smacking his hips against hers as he pushed into her again and again, mindless of the violent twitching and convulsing she was undergoing. He was as hard as iron, as implacable as a locomotive. His teeth were set in a rictus of pleasure and desire, and his big balls smacked into 45

Elliot Mabeuse her wet, upturned flesh as he rode her hard. Her orgasm gave her no relief. Still she wanted him, wanted the hot friction of his piece moving inside her. She wanted to feel his hot come burn into her womb and make her forever his. The ivy still held her immobile, there was no escaping it. But now she relaxed into it, letting it hold her open for him, letting him use her for his own selfish pleasure, which was her joy as well. Suddenly she felt it again. Something vaguely tugging at her, something soothing and sweet, taking the heat from her, the pain. “Angus, Angus,” she whispered, “Are…are you.” Working above her, his perspiration falling on her skin, he looked at her with fire in his eyes. “Yes! Yes I am! You’re so sweet my darling! You’re so incredibly sweet. You’re making my head spin you’re so good!” “Ohhh!” she exclaimed with a long shudder. Then it was true, it was true. He was feeding on her passion, sucking it out of her as fast as she felt it. It felt good, glorious. She shouted with joy as he fucked into her. “Feel how strong you’re making me! Feel me growing in you! You feel me, Anne? You feel me? That’s all from you, my sweet. That’s all your sweet love that’s making me so strong! It’s you Annie!” 46

The Croft She did feel him. He was huge inside her, almost painful, but the thought that she was giving to him as he would soon give to her made her giddy with joy. Her joy was his joy. Her passion was his food. He grunted something and the ivy suddenly fell from her limbs, from her body. Immediately she wrapped her legs and arms around him and hung on for dear life as he pounded into her like a man possessed, shouting obscenities, grunting and crying out. His hands gripped her ass and lifted her from the bench as his cock stroked in and out of her tight, hot socket, the friction igniting a million lights behind her eyes, dazzling in their intensity “Ah, you’re so fucking good on my cock, Annie! You belong here always! Always! Now get ready! We’re soon to come together! Soon! Soon!” Yes, she suddenly felt it growing in her, an incredible knot of pleasure, stoked bigger and tighter by the bellows of his hard male meat. “Don’t faint on me, Annie!” Angus cried out. “Don’t black out! I need you conscious, Anne! Please!” Anne was past hearing. She was riding that bubble of pleasure to the stars. Nothing in her life had been like this. She was mindless in her joy, almost rabid with the thought that he’d soon spill his seed inside her. God she wanted that. Wanted 47

Elliot Mabeuse that more than she’d ever wanted anything. She squeezed him tight. She went mad with passion, she kissed at him, bit at him, dug her nails into the power bunched muscles of his shoulders. Knowing that the wilder she got the better it would be for him, Angus encouraged her. “Go on, Anne! Bite me! Scratch me, bitch! Make me bleed! Suck my blood! Tell me you love it! Tell me you sweet bitch! Tell me!” “Ohhh God!” She squealed as she felt his cock stab into her heart without mercy. “I do love it! Oh God, Angus, I love it!” Her nostrils flared and orange and purple lights went off behind her eyelids. She bit down hard and tasted the hot salty taste of her lover's blood in her open mouth as she came and she felt his hot seed pour into the deep well of her being, again and again, gush after hot, rich gush of his semen, as she felt him sucking the pleasure from her body, taking as he gave. She fought the black fall of unconsciousness, crying out to stave it off, opening her eyes to see the stars wheeling in dizzy circles over her head as the bench and the entire earth heaved and fell beneath her and she clung to her lover’s rigid, climaxing body with all the strength she had, welcoming his violent outpouring into her eager body. And yet another intense tremor ripped 48

The Croft through her as she felt him slowly deflate within her, felt him slowly withdraw. She wished he had spilled some seed on her body. She had a wild urge to bathe in it, to spread it over her skin, to taste it in her mouth. She privately thought that if she felt him dripping out of her, this is what she would do. She would not waste a drop. When he at last rolled off her, panting and bathed in sweat, she realized that the crickets had stopped before and were just now starting up again. She looked at Angus and he looked at her as if he would burst, he looked so alive and full of strength and joy and pride. He immediately fell on her, covering her exhausted body with his, covering her with kisses. “You’re mine now, lass! You’ll never be another’s! You’re the bride of the vampire now for sure!” She was too overcome to laugh.

49

Elliot Mabeuse

Chapter 3

A

fter that night, there was no doubt as to what was between them, at least on his part. Anne couldn’t deny what had happened in the garden, but she couldn’t accept the strange and supernatural things that had gone before, the fog, the ivy, the way Angus had appeared suddenly so frightening, so unearthly. It was simply too fantastic. And yet it was all so sharp in her mind. She couldn’t ignore what had happened. Yet was it really so supernatural? Sex with Angus had been so far beyond her normal experience that everything else seemed no more than a bunch of parlor tricks. It was his effect on her that was the real mystery, and that was what she concentrated on, and in thinking about this she slipped into a kind of limbo where nothing was real and everything was real. She no longer looked for explanations and 50

The Croft reasons. She fell into a world of sensation, where things were perceived as feelings. She recognized a thousand men in her lover and learned to feel him in ways she would never have dreamt possible but now didn’t think twice about. Things came to her at night and shadows spoke to her, the dead flowers in the garden sang to her their wispy songs and the moon howled down at her as she walked abroad at night, keen to the sights and smells and feel of the night. When a wisp of fog blew by her she laughed and reached out her hands to it. When the wind blew she turned to it and opened her bodice, letting it caress and kiss her breasts, for she never knew when it might be him, and still she wanted nothing more than to please him utterly. They had sex regularly, yet it was so varied she hardly thought of it as sex. He might look at her and stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers and she would immediately flower at his touch. Once she stood on the patio and the sound of his laughter in the dining room sent an unexpected wave of pleasure through her so deep and intense that she actually fell to her knees. There were spirits abroad, and they were having their way with her. But what Anne liked best was more mundane. She would sit naked in his lap, facing him, his penis inserted snugly within her, as he told her of 51

Elliot Mabeuse his love and her beauty and how good she was for him. He could hold her thus for hours as her emotions ran higher and higher and she would begin to tremble, and the tremble would become a quake, and then sweet, painful spasms, and then she would feel him gush into her like a fountain of liquid gold and she would cry out in deep happiness and satisfaction at his goodness to her. Then he would lie on her quivering form and feed deeply of her passion and joy, which she gave to him happily and with a great feeling of peace. He enjoyed these long unions, telling her that her orgasmic ecstasy at these times was so intense and so deep that she was almost too rich, too sweet to feed upon, and that he had to be careful lest he become fat and lazy off her. She enjoyed too hearing his tales of other vampires, the true vampires, of whom he knew quite a few. He had told her that she had already begun her transformation into one of them, and so what he told her had a special meaning and importance to her. Often they talked after a session of love, lying in the deep satisfaction of one another, he fed, she pleasured, as she curled into his great enfolding warmth. She learned that vampires had no advantage over normal men in years allotted. They were not immortal. Nor were they any more fragile than normal men. Denied their nourishment of strong 52

The Croft emotion they did not shrivel and die. At worst they reverted to their normal existence. But it was their food that gave them their powers and perceptions, and great powers these could be. She learned too, as she had expected, that the vampires’ victims feel no loss when their feelings are used as food. Human emotional fields are so highly charged they are almost impossible to exhaust unless special techniques are employed, techniques which Angus had no interest in, they being more in the purview of the death-feeding vampires. Angus was more interested in the workings of human desire and lust, and he taught her how to perceive these fields in people and things around her. The world was filled with sex, and she realized that she had always known this intuitively, but never knew that this knowledge was a source of power. Angus showed her how to recognize this power and how to use it. He told her of the emotional fields of men and women, and described how they differed by sex and age. Angus preferred the fields of women, especially those in their late thirties or “after they’ve been aged a bit.” He said that their lusts had a very complex and satisfying taste that varied with their own personalities and experiences. They were like mature and carefully aged wines, each unique, but all suited to his 53

Elliot Mabeuse palate and very nourishing to him. “Often they’re so very neglected or deprived that their passions can be brought to incredible heights,” he said. “A shame, really. They’ve spent a lifetime maturing and then they’re discarded in favor of some young thing whose taste is bright and sweet but ultimately unsatisfying. Young people in general are like that. Their taste may be intense at first, but ultimately their flavor is very thin and flat, with no depth and with little nutritional value. It’s like preferring a soft drink to a fine wine. And virgins? I wouldn’t waste my time. An hour later you’re hungry again.” Sensing her unease, he gave her a playful slap on her hip. “Don’t worry, Annie, you’re ripe far beyond your years. And more than that, you love me and I love you. That’s what makes you so good. I’ve never tasted one quite like you.” He told her too that the passions of either men or women or both could serve as food for him, but he happened to prefer the taste of women. “Men often have the tang of violence about them, which I personally don’t care for, though I’m told women vampires prefer it. Women are much more mellow and tender, their feelings much more profound and lasting. The passions of someone in love are especially satisfying, but not as common as you’d think, especially in men. 54

The Croft Strange that passion and love are so rarely found together.” He had the power to make women want him, but he could not make them love him. No vampire could. Fortunately, desire was usually sufficient for his purposes. It was also very difficult to take a woman who wouldn’t willingly have him. It could be done, but it was always a struggle, and more trouble than it was worth except in the most dire emergencies. This is why he had asked her three times on the bridge at Dumfries if she would have him. Had she refused, he might still have had sex with her, but he would have been compelled to look elsewhere for his food. He was not about to force himself on her. “There are those vampires who enjoy this type of thing and they’ve given us all a bad name.” he said.. “The aura always has the bitter taste of fear and it’s impossible to get rid of it. Why go through all that trouble and terrorize some poor person when there’s much better food available, and easier to procure.” He also cautioned her against making a meal of anyone who drank excessively or used drugs— chemical additives he called them—as they would ultimately make her ill. She would make a fine Mistress of the Night, he told her affectionately, and he was quite pleased 55

Elliot Mabeuse with her as both a lover and a student. He was quite sure that she would have men crawling at her feet, begging for her to take them, or for the mere favor of her attention. At this she blushed and protested that she wanted no one but him. “No,” he said, “soon you’ll have to try your wings, Anne. You’ll have to show me you can get your own food, seduce your own man.” She looked at him with alarm. “What are you saying?” “Just that. I’ve got to know that you can fend for yourself, darling. You’ll have to find someone and have sex with them. It shouldn’t be difficult…” “But Angus, I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that. Ever!” He smiled. “That’s sweet, Anne. But you’re confusing passion and love. For a vampire…” “No, Angus. No. I won’t hear of it!” “But the time may come…” he said. She hushed him with her finger. He told her of female vampires or vampiresses, whose ways were often not the same as the men’s but who were even more numerous. In the early stage of development as vampires, women more than men drew their strength by actually imbibing the life fluids of their victims, though the tales weren’t entirely true. “You must remember that knowledge 56

The Croft concerning vampires first became popular in Victorian times, when anything even remotely sexual was simply not discussed. So the public at large was told that vampires drank blood.” he looked at her and smiled. “The Victorians simply could not bring themselves to tell the truth. Vampresses do drink a life-giving fluid from their male victims, but take it from one who knows, it’s something much more potent than mere blood!” and he roared with laughter. Thinking about this, Anne realized that she had never taken Angus into her mouth, though it was something she’d thought about often. She loved him so much that she wanted to experience him with every sense she had, take him into every orifice of her body, and she did not understand why he had not requested this simple act of love from her himself, one she would have been so happy to give him. She asked him about this as they lay in bed, his arms around her. He smiled at her. “Why?” he echoed. “Why, because you’re no good at it, are you, lass? Before she could grow indignant he hugged her tight and she felt his smile against the side of her face. “Here,” he said. “I’m just teasing you Annie. Don’t get cross. The reason is simple. If I feed off your pleasure, then what good would it do for you 57

Elliot Mabeuse to pleasure me? Besides, not one woman in a hundred can do it well.” Anne was hurt. How could he assume that she wouldn’t be able to do this well when he’d never given her a chance? Even so, the idea that one could do it well or do it badly was vaguely disturbing to her. It meant that there were specific skills or techniques that one could use, and that seemed somehow cynical and false. It also made her feel uncomfortably naïve, and she didn’t like that feeling. “But you could teach me,” she said. “You know I would do anything to please you. That’s all I want.” He looked at her and gave her one of his smiles that told her how much she still had to learn. “Dear Anne. It’s not something you teach. It’s like passion. You either have it or you don’t.” “But how do you know—" “You may have it. You have surprised me in so many things. Perhaps we shall see. If it is something you truly want to give, then perhaps it will work.” **** Was she becoming a vampire? Certainly she was not the person she had been just months ago, the girl who thought she knew everything but in fact 58

The Croft had known nothing of what really mattered. A new world had opened up to her, mysterious, sexual, passionate. The body she woke up in now was a wonderful thing, no longer just a conveyance for her mind, a package for her soul. It was lean, ripe, and sensual. It was her, and she delighted in her capacity for sensation and pleasure. Just waking up or moving and stretching in the morning was an exquisite experience. Angus was now attempting to teach her how to feed off his own passion, though it was difficult, as he had warned her. “It’s like teaching you to drink water,” he’d said. “How natural is it to drink water, yet how difficult would it be to teach?” “Can a vampire feed off his own energy?” she’d asked. “No. Not really. He uses his energy for other things, like those tricks I showed you in the garden.” “What was that, darling? How did you do that?” “Just tricks. They’re easy to do. That’s how we make ourselves into scary vampires and frighten the superstitious villagers.” He made a scary face. “Will you show me?” “Ah, it’s foolishness, Anne. You don’t need to know that. Concentrate on what’s important.” By which he meant feeding off another’s sexual 59

Elliot Mabeuse energy. She certainly didn’t mind when he fed off her. In fact she enjoyed it, knowing that her own desire gave him strength and life. But she found the idea of doing the same vaguely disquieting. It seemed to be a corruption of the love she felt for him. And yet, she realized, wasn’t she already feeding off Angus? Didn’t she live on his smile, his own feeling for her? Was feeding off this energy so different from what she already did without compunction? In fact, wasn’t everyone a vampire of one sort or another? **** Their nights now were almost routine but deeply satisfying to her. Though Angus might be gone or working on some remote area of the Croft during the day, he always joined her for supper, even if it were no more than bread and cheese and maybe some fruit and a bottle of wine from the cellars. But their nights really began in bed after dinner where sex became a natural extension of their closeness to one another. Angus would strip off his clothes rapidly so that he could be first in bed to warm it for her, and in order to watch her get undressed, which he always enjoyed so much that it embarrassed her. Though he knew her body better than she 60

The Croft probably did herself, she found herself both excited and embarrassed by his attention, and would quickly slip into her nightdress and jump beneath the heavy comforter, pressing close to him for his warmth. Angus would laugh and tease her for being unfit for life in the chilly Croft, and she would tease him back. But as she warmed up the teasing and laughing would stop, and he would kiss her gently and with pleasure until finally she raised her mouth to him. His kisses and his nearness soon warmed her more than the blankets, and she would roll on her back, presenting her body to him. He loved to feel the contours of her body, passing his hand over her breasts, her belly, her hips. He might also tenderly touch her lips with his fingers, as if marveling at her softness, which always thrilled her and melted her heart. She could tell from his kisses how he felt, and what their love would be like that night, fierce and hungry, or sweet and gentle. She didn’t know which she preferred, and Angus seemed to be able to read her desires perfectly, so that she was always delighted. Rolling onto his side, Angus might pass his arm beneath her head, grasp her hand and hold her arm down. With her other arm already imprisoned beneath his body, he would begin to 61

Elliot Mabeuse explore her body with his free hand—stroking, caressing, his appreciation obvious in his touch. Knowing what he was up to and seeing how he had overpowered her again, she might try to struggle, but Angus stopped that with a kiss, a kiss so soft and sensual that she could barely feel his lips upon hers. He knew she loved this sensation of having her lips tickled, and she opened her mouth in order that he might better reach her. Her smile of pleasure at his sensitive touch wouldn’t last long, as this treatment of her lips with his own mouth and tongue quickly excited her past all reason and her expression would turn serious as she tried to give as good as she got. So they would battle with lips and tongue like this as Anne would begin to writhe slightly in frustration. He was so much bigger and stronger, there was never any question who would win. But as this oral duel went on, Angus was at work on her breast, massaging it, kneading it, worshipping it with his hand. As her excitement rose he might also throw her gown open to expose her chest, and pinch softly at her nipple with his fingers. The combination of oral pleasure with intense stimulation of her breast soon had Anne moaning in protest, but their kisses now became less playful as their deeper needs surfaced. Her open mouth was a sign of her surrender to him, and he took 62

The Croft advantage to dip within her lips and explore the sensitive inside of her mouth, her own tongue shooting little appreciative darts at his rampaging invader as they shared their very breath. By now his hand had wandered down from her breast, crossed her ribs and trailed across her stomach. He loved to feel her jump as he touched her here, knowing that these were the same lean muscles that would soon contract in delicious spasms of orgasm clutching him inside her with a woman’s sweet strength. Down across her lower belly he moved, to her mons, where he would spend some time teasing her unmercifully, twining his fingers in the little puff of pubic hair she kept so neatly trimmed, or roaming in the sensitive joint where her leg met her hip. Once her hips had begun to roll in her frustration, he would poise over her sex, and then softly tap his middle finger against her lips, making her lurch and cry out. Usually she was already moist, and he loved to feel the sensual stickiness that was proof of her excitement. She knew full well what he was doing and playfully resented his testing her for doneness, as it were, but he only laughed. He would continue his exploration of her sex, but with the very lightest touch, and only on her outside surfaces, enjoying how her need grew during this, as reflected in the 63

Elliot Mabeuse growing passion of her kiss as her tongue now boldly invaded his mouth, to saucily announce her eagerness for him. But he was in no hurry. He loved the way she felt beneath his fingers, all female and mysterious, and he loved watching her breasts rise and fall as her excitement grew. It further thrilled Anne to realize that Angus’ touch was not just meant to excite her, but that he took sensuous pleasure in the way she felt beneath his fingers. He never tired of exploring her body, the different textures, and she loved the appreciative eagerness of his hands upon her, loving him for loving her. That is not to say that she didn’t find his touch maddeningly arousing too, and as much as he loved her feel, he loved the way the little sounds she made in her throat told him of her growing impatience and need, and the way this was reflected in the deep and growing desire of her kisses. He would have teased her longer if she’d let him, but by now her need had overcome her usual deference and she would decide it was time to take the lead, or this foolish male would spend the whole night in dalliance like this when what she had in mind was something a bit more substantial. He could tell when she’d had enough, and when he picked up on the signs he no longer held her down, but released her hand and rolled part 64

The Croft way off her. She might do any number of things now, depending on her mood, but what he liked best was when she pushed him back with her small hands with a no nonsense expression on her face, pulled up her gown and mounted him, her lovely legs set to either side of his hips to straddle him so that his erection was pressed tightly along her cleft. She loved to press against him like this, and could very well have spent more time just lying there feeling him throb thrillingly against her as his own excitement built. He was so much bigger that she could lay down upon his chest as if upon a blanket on the grass and play idly with the sweet curls of hair on his pectorals or trace the rocky bulges of his shoulders. All the while she felt him growing ever larger in the heat and security of the very portal to her body, right where he belonged. She would slide herself a bit downward to increase the pressure, and start kissing his chest, perhaps even paying him back for his rough treatment by seizing one of his tiny nipples in her white teeth and worrying it with bites and licks, an offense that she then generously repaid in the numerous tender kisses of remorse she showered on him. He was not satisfied with the static feel of her and reached down to take one of her smooth and 65

Elliot Mabeuse firm buttocks in each of his large hands, palming her easily, and begin to move her up and back against his tool. She loved this not only for the delicious friction, but for the thrill she always got when she realized just how strong and masterful he was, that he could use her very body as a toy for masturbation. She would let him do this for as long as she could stand it, for by now she would be steadily leaking a stream of lubricant, and she would be more than ready. She knew that she must take control or he would spend the entire night in these silly boyish games. It was up to Anne and her woman’s resolve to dispense with this foolishness and get on to the serious business. Which is to say that she could not stand his teasing any longer. Pulling in her knees, she lifted her hips up and positioned herself directly over his straining cock. He could see the look of sensual impatience on her sweet features as she reached down and took his penis in her hand, her arm pushing her breasts together in a sight that delighted him. He loved the innocence with which she displayed her own beauty, as if totally unmindful of it. Anne, for her part, was always surprised by the enormous size of him. She had never measured him, of course, but she suspected that if she did 66

The Croft she would find that he was quite too big for her, and that by any serious measurement she would find that the head of his penis when inserted into her would lodge somewhere below her ribs. But she also knew that this wasn’t true, that somehow nature in her wisdom had arranged things so that he fit her exactly right, even when in her to the root, as if custom made. For she knew they were indeed custom made, he for her and she for him. She gripped him and raised herself up, and if she was feeling feisty or still had any patience, she might tease him in turn now, wiping his glans over her labia just to see him wince. But the truth was, this excited her more than it did him, and after a few swipes her hips would betray her and reach down hungrily for him, demanding insertion. There was a second of delicious pain when he entered her that she always savored, and though she bit her lip as his head slipped into her tight ring of muscle, she could not stop the groan that escaped from her at the feel of him inside her at last, where he belonged. She would not be able to take him entirely into her for several strokes. It took that long to stretch herself to accommodate his huge girth, but he was patient, almost detached, loving her look of rapt concentration as she adjusted to him, gasping and moaning, protesting his size anew every time they 67

Elliot Mabeuse made love. When he was safely ensconced within her at last, she would smile in feline bliss, and stretch her body out over him, running her hands through the hair on his chest. If he didn’t move he was capable of remaining hard inside her like this for an incredibly long time, and on occasion that’s what they would do. But as intent as Anne might be to keep him close inside her like this, she would invariably succumb to the need to feel him move within her and begin to rotate her hips ever so slightly. Sometimes though she would hold off, till the sheer pressure and goodness of his tool inside her would bring on wave of tremulous contractions in her sheath, which caused them both to give voice to their pleasure, at which point it was he who would lose control at this evidence of the joy he gave her. As much as Angus loved this, he loved better when Anne would fall victim to her own lusts and begin to ride him, her selfishness getting the better of her. Then he would put his hands behind his head and close his eyes, though secretly peeking to watch the flush spread over her chest and face as she worked herself up and down on his cock, her brows knitted together at the exquisite sensation of his manhood moving within her. She would moan incessantly, trying to tell him with half-formed phrases how good he felt inside her as 68

The Croft she rode him, her breasts rolling on her chest, her hair tossing around her pretty face. She was delicious to him now, her lust and passion near their peak, and he could just lie back and imbibe her emotions as if he were basking in the sun, feeling the strength of her desire soaking into his very bones, making him stronger, more virile, harder and bigger within her. Or he could stoke her lusts further, by filling his hands with the ripe softness of her breasts, softly inflaming her by tweaking her nipples. Or he might excite her further by sliding a hand down and placing an enquiring finger between their bodies so that it made maddening contact with her now swollen and emergent clitoris as she worked atop him, causing her to squeal and shudder with pleasure as he played so casually with her body. But more often he would inflame her with his words, telling her how good she was and what he was doing to her and what was to come, invariably descending to the gutter language she would never countenance in their normal conversation but which thrilled her now as evidence of his submission in the grip of her sexual passion. “Fuck me, Anne! Ride my cock, you sweet bitch! Do I feel good to you, my little whore? Do you love me inside you? Ride me, Anne! Christ I’m so hard for you! Ride me and suck the come 69

Elliot Mabeuse out of me! That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me shooting deep inside you, don’t you? And you’ll come for me when I do, won’t you Annie? Come for me! Come for me!” In his own passion, he might resort to swatting her on her bottom as she worked, as if spurring on a galloping horse, or punishing her for succumbing to her own sexual desires. And though she would never tell him outright, it excited her terribly when he did this. Not only was it a sign of his own delirious pleasure, for this was something he would never do to her were he thinking clearly, but half-delirious herself she actually craved such rough treatment. She was afraid she might fly totally out of control if he didn’t somehow punctuate her pleasure with some sweet, sharp pain. Head down, hair falling over her face, sweating, panting and gasping, Anne rode him, her thighs flexing as she drove on towards her goal. She knew this was when her passions were strongest, almost out of control, and she tried to feel him feeding on them, tried to feel him sucking her aura out of her and into himself, and sometimes she thought she felt a sweet, subtle rhythmic throb all over her body, which is what he’d told her she would feel, but she was usually too far gone into her pleasure to stop and examine the feeling. And besides, the very thought that her lover was 70

The Croft literally feeding off her excitement, that her lust was his food, was so very erotic to her that she would immediately feel the spasms of impending orgasm deep inside her. Such was his control that as soon as he felt her first contraction, he would begin his own throbbing within her, and together they would ratchet each other’s pleasure until Anne would scream out in ecstasy, blind to the world around her, taken up into a cloud of whirling stars and colors where her body rang with chimes of bliss. She would feel him jerk within her, and she would cry out again as he sent his first delicious jet of semen into her. She would hang in a heaven of delirium then, her fingers clawing into his hard biceps as his whole body went taut between her shivering thighs, and she would feel him gush forth like a fountain within her, crying out his name as he gave this precious gift to her, a gift her body welcomed with every cell in her being. She was often subject to spells of intense sobbing afterwards, as she lay on his chest or cradled in his strong arms, and he always interpreted this as a sign that he had hurt her somehow, or that she was sad. He seemed unable to appreciate the difference between a woman’s tears of joy and fulfillment, and her tears of grief, a blindness that Anne found particularly endearing. It was a distinction Anne had no trouble with 71

Elliot Mabeuse whatsoever. And thus they would sleep, limbs atangle, her head on his chest, his arms around her, his gift of love safe within her body as the wind rattled the ancient panes and howled around the half-ruined stonework of the Croft.

72

The Croft

Chapter 4

A

nd so they passed the late summer and early fall, totally engrossed in each other and their passion, which almost seemed to be a third person in their life. Angus continued with his restorations, but at a slower pace. And Anne finished her cataloging, although the poetry had lost most of its erotic charm and allure compared to what she had now found in real life. She recognized what a poor and shallow imitation it was of the enchanted world in which she now lived. Angus told her that she was losing her human attributes and moving deeper into the vampire’s realm, and that she would begin to see and feel strange things, and he was right. In bed at night, he taught her the names of the shadows, and showed her that there were different kinds and that each held information and secrets. He taught her to bathe in the light of the moon, and to invoke the blessing of the Mistress of 73

Elliot Mabeuse the Night when they made love. Under Angus’ tutelage she became aware of sounds and sights she had never noticed before. She began to hear laughter in the forest and whispering in the weedy garden. At night she saw a shimmering greenish glow over the pond, as if fairies danced there, which Angus assured her was exactly what she was seeing. He continued teaching her the ways of the vampire, and she eventually learned to feed tentatively upon his emotions, though she could never have described how she did it. Angus had been right, it was something unconscious, almost instinctive, a feeling she got when Angus was aroused. At such times, she felt a strength flowing into her body that she had at first confused with the thrill of giving him such pleasure. But she could not deny the feeling of strength and assurance and well being she felt afterwards. She experienced this first on the day she finally fellated him, and did it successfully. This wasn’t the first time she’d had him in her mouth by any means, nor the first time she’d tasted his ejaculate on her tongue. But it was the first time she understood what he’d meant about her doing this for her own pleasure rather than for his, and doing it with that selfish passion that seemed to be at the heart of so much lovemaking They’d been in the car, driving back from 74

The Croft Dumfries on a rainy day when she was suddenly overcome with a need to feel him in her mouth, something like a taste for him but also an almost physical need to feel his strength in her mouth. The urge was totally unexpected and startled her at first, and she said nothing for some time as she tried to make sense of this sudden desire as the image and feel of him became sharper and more pronounced in her mind. He hadn’t touched her, hadn’t said anything suggestive to her, so she was at a loss to understand where this salacious need had suddenly come from. But Angus had often told her that this kind of thing happened to him as well without rhyme nor reason, and that he always surrendered willingly to it as a manifestation of his vampiric powers and his unconscious desire for her. After several minutes of debate, she gave in. She leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. “Angus, I want you in my mouth.” He smiled, not taking his eyes from the road. “You are the naughty one, aren’t you dear!” “No,” she said. “You don’t understand. I want you now. Right this minute. Right here!” Now he looked surprised and blanched slightly, but he didn’t protest. After all, she was his student, and this was the behavior he was teaching her. He pulled off the road beside a farmer’s field and turned off the engine. “In the 75

Elliot Mabeuse back seat?” he asked. “No. Here. I can’t wait!” She fumbled with his trousers for a moment and reached into his shorts, pulled out her prize and hungrily pounced on it, sucking it into her mouth and humming with contentment. She had no idea what had come over her but it was real and she didn’t resist. As soon as he was in her mouth she knew it had been the right thing to do. Soon she felt him swell delightfully in her mouth, and she sucked him in with deep pleasure, running her velvety tongue all over his shaft, loving his taste, his smell. She slid down onto the floor on her knees, keeping him her prisoner, and opened her blouse in impatience, then pulled up her bra so that she could feel him against her breasts. “Christ, Anne…” Angus moaned as he sunk lower in the seat. There was no sound but the quiet ticking of the engine as it cooled, the soft patter of rain against the windshield, and the wet and viscous sounds of her mouth sucking at him, accompanied by her low moans of real pleasure. The weight of him, the mass of him in her mouth was satisfying in a way she’d never known before. The friction of his tool over her lips excited her deeply. She plunged deep onto his shaft, her lips feeling the tickle of his pubic hair as she felt him slide to 76

The Croft the back of her mouth, nudging her epiglottis and threatening to gag her. She blinked back tears and sucked hard as she slowly raised her head, her lips sliding over the shaft, over the glans, to finally pop free of her mouth. She licked up and down his shaft with her tongue, her fingers fumbling in his shorts to extract his balls. As her hand began to frig his cock up and down she placed first one, then the other testicle in her mouth, bathing them in warmth and tickling them very gently with the tip of her tongue, well aware of their sensitivity. They were rich with male potency and virility and the thought of this filled her with delirious sexual arousal. She let them go gently and quickly plunged herself back down on Angus’s shaft, now unfurled to its full glory. The weight of it, the sheer hardness felt so incredibly good in her mouth. His lovely piece of thick muscle was vibrant with the very stuff of life, and for a second she envied him. How good it must feel to have that sexual club between one’s legs, to play with and enjoy whenever one wished, to enter women’s bodies and give them the blessing of his seed. But then she remembered how divine it felt to take that shaft into her own body, into her core, and feel his strength and male passion inside her, and her envy turned more into a sense of pride. This was, after all, her cock too. It was something they 77

Elliot Mabeuse shared. Above her, Angus gazed down with a film of lust in his eyes. Again he seemed to read her mind. “You want my come, don’t you Anne?” he gasped. “Oh yesss!” she whispered, taking her mouth briefly off him but continuing to lick and nuzzle his dear cock. She wanted his semen badly, as if she were suddenly starving for it, as if she burned with an unquenchable thirst for it. “You little vamp!” he said. “You know it’s my life, don’t you?” His words thrilled her. Instinctively she understood what he meant, as he instinctively knew the thoughts racing through her fevered brain. It was life, his life, so much more precious than blood, so full of raw energy and ecstasy, the very essence of his pleasure. “Oh yes, God, I want it! I want to drink you up! All of you, my beloved!” “Oh Christ!” he gasped, dropping his head back against the back of the seat. She felt him shudder in her mouth as she sucked at him desperately, her breath wheezing through her nose. Above her face she saw his flat stomach trembling as he gasped raggedly. The feel of him sliding over her lips was making her wet. It was like a skilled lover’s kiss, like when Angus ran his tongue around her lips when he had his 78

The Croft cock stuffed into her. It made her dizzy. She pulled her head off him and frigged him madly with her small hand as she dipped her head and clawed at his shorts, trying to pull them down his legs so she could lick his anus. She didn’t care about the lewdness of what she was doing. She didn’t think twice about it. She was in a fever to possess this man, to eat him up, to fill her mouth and her belly and her heart with him, to taste his release and his seed in her mouth. If he’d asked her now to die for him she would have done so gladly, driving his cock into her heart and expiring in bliss At last her straining tongue made contact with his sphincter and she tasted him, the raw animal smell of him. It drove her mad, and she wanted more. Her flailing hand was wet with his precum as it streamed from the head of his penis, and she left his ass only to lick his juice off her fingers. She strained her neck to reach the underside of his balls. He tasted like earth and the woods and like leather, like the sea and like muscle, and something deep and mindlessly potent that she needed as she needed the light of the sun. “Oh fuck, you’re good, Annie!” he breathed desperately. He grabbed her hair and pulled her face up. “Now suck me, darling, suck me as I come!” With a fearful growl that she would miss his 79

Elliot Mabeuse ejaculation, she quickly skewered her mouth on his prick again, taking him deep into her throat, wanting him to ejaculate directly into her stomach. But she could not breath. She gagged, and pulled him out, his cock trailing strings of saliva and mucus from the back of her throat, her face red and eyes tearing as she choked back her gag reflex. She did it again, taking him to the gagging point, and held him there, the reflex spasms of her throat massaging the glans of his penis, and she held on despite the roaring in her ears as her body told her to cough it out, to breath, to vomit, all of which she stubbornly refused. Her lover was going to come in her throat, and she wanted that more than she wanted anything else. Acting purely on instinct, she took the little finger of her free had, swept up some of the copious juice of saliva and precum that coated his stalk, and sought access to his rectum. His ass was clenched tight but Anne would not be denied in her lust and she squealed impatiently and shoved, making him climb the back of the seat until her little finger popped inside of him. Then, licking her lips and taking a deep breath she again fucked her mouth down onto him to the root, again felt the head pushing against the back of her throat and her soft palate spasm around the sensitive glans of his cock. 80

The Croft “Oh God in Heaven, Anne! Oh suck me, my beauty!” he cried out in a voice choked with anguish. Her face was bright red from fighting to keep him down, and the tendons on her neck stood out in bold relief as she kept her tormented body impaled on his throbbing cock. Twin rivulets of spittle leaked from the corner of her mouth as she felt him suddenly swell in her throat and she moaned wildly to encourage him. She wriggled her finger in his rectum, urging him to ejaculate as his thighs turned to rigid stone and trembled against her naked breasts. Finally she gagged and had to release him, but at that moment his anus clamped down on her finger as if he would cut the tip off. At the same time his hips thrust powerfully up against her encircling hand and she felt a thick gout of his seed rush up the shaft with sexual fury. She had never seen him ejaculate and she watched with astonishment as his shaft jerked muscularly in her hand and she saw the first powerful burst of semen jet from his cock and splatter with unexpected force into her mouth, as if shot from a gun. She was almost hysterical with joy as again and again she felt his prostate gland pulse powerfully against her imbedded finger, each time accompanied by a heavy spurt of semen from the 81

Elliot Mabeuse jerking tip of his penis as he ejaculated into her mouth as quickly as her tortured throat could swallow At every additional burst they both cried out, he in raw ecstasy as his body spasmed in convulsive release, she in excitement and wonder as a split second later a rich burst of semen shot into her mouth. She took his fluid of life joyfully into her mouth and upon her expectant face. She swallowed what she held in her mouth with a strangled laugh of triumph and took the purplish head back between her lips, lashing the head with her tongue as more of his ecstatic juice poured from him, wanting to drain and swallow every precious drop. At last she pulled his deflating member from her mouth and rubbed the last few jets of come around her lips and mouth, humming with selfish pleasure as she then went after it with her tongue, showing him how eager she was to take it all. At last she rested her head in his lap, squeezing the last straggling remnants of ejaculate from his deflating penis, marveling again at this small piece of him that held such infinite pleasure. She was soiled, her clothes disheveled, her blouse open and bra in disarray, yet she was filled with hot, glowing pride. She knew she had done it and done it right, and it had been so simple. She had simply wanted him, wanted him with a passion uncontrollable. 82

The Croft She had given by taking, as he’d always told her she must do.

83

Elliot Mabeuse

Chapter 5

E

ventually the weather turned, as they knew it must, the transition being marked by a period of violent storms that blew in from the graying sea. She wrapped herself in the wool cape he bought her and joined him on one of the balconies to enjoy the fury of the storms. Even the weather had passions, he told her as he held her close, warming her body with his. At first he seemed to enjoy fondling her as they stood in these tempests. This hard weather excited him sexually, excited them both. He would stand behind her running his hands over her chilled flesh and probing his fingers between her legs as she trembled against him. In this way the wind and the lightening seemed to be inextricably bound up with her own stormy emotions. He would work her up to such a state that at last he could fling open her cape to the wind and she would stand naked in the rain and feel nothing 84

The Croft but the heat of her own arousal and his fingers inside her body, his hot mouth on her throat, her breasts and face pelted by cold rain and sleet. But eventually the grim weather seemed to affect his mood as well. He became restless and uncharacteristically impatient with her, and he took to sleeping on the sofa in the library. He told her he was involved in research, but she suspected he was angry with her for some reason, or in the grip of another of his protracted moods. He had been urging her to test her own powers of sexual seduction by actually picking up and bedding someone from the Dumfries disco or other meeting place, but she stalled and made excuses. She knew that he insisted she become adept at this type of thing as a matter of her own survival as well as an indication of her acquisition of vampiric powers, but still she begged off, insisting that she wasn’t ready for this. In truth, she couldn’t conceive of giving herself to anyone but him; the thought made her physically queasy. After one discussion of the matter, Angus grew short with her. He assured her that it would not lessen his feelings for her one whit, and would in fact increase his ardor. She begged him for more time. “Well, then bed a woman if that’s easier for you!” he exclaimed. “But you’ve got to fuck someone! We don’t have that much time!” 85

Elliot Mabeuse His outburst was like a slap across her face. What must he think of her if he thought she could make love to another female? And what did he mean about not having much time? She tried to keep herself busy while Angus remained out of sight. She knew better than to disturb him at his work, whatever that was, but his absence weighed heavily upon her. She could no longer bear to work on the poetry she had catalogued. The dark imagery and barely suppressed sexuality she found there suddenly spoke to her in a very personal voice, but she could not quite get a handle on the poems’ exact meanings. She was no longer satisfied to let the words speak to her emotions. She now wanted to know exactly what the Old Laird was talking about. She had by now accumulated quite a wardrobe, much of it very sexual if not openly fetishist, which Angus had paid for, and she began dressing for her routine forays around the Croft, hoping that she might bump into him. She had no compunction about going down to the kitchen for a bite to eat in a tiny miniskirt, hose and heels, or throwing a sheer robe over a black teddy to make a cup of tea. She made no effort to rationalize her behavior. She wanted him to see what he was missing. The situation was ludicrous, and this was not 86

The Croft entirely lost on Anne. She was in love with some sort of supernatural being, a man possessed of powers she could not quite bring herself to believe, even when she saw them with her own eyes. He was more than human, of that she was sure. And yet he was a man too, and their problems were not supernatural or imbued with the shadows of the occult, but the same banal problems that face every man and woman together. He did not come to her with the hounds of hell on his tail, or dripping ectoplasm, or reach to her from some otherworldly dimension. Instead he got angry with her and stomped off, or said something simple and cruel that hurt her feelings. He pretended to doubt her love, he complained about all he’d done for her, he told her that she wasn’t trying. Anne didn’t fight back with arcane magical talismans and spells, nor invoke demons and wraiths from worlds beyond. Instead she flattered him, or cried, or cooked things she knew he loved, or wore the clothes he she knew he liked. It was preposterous she knew, but what else did she have? So it was that she didn’t find anything outlandish in the commonplace anger she felt towards her vampire lover. The fact that he could control the elements, call forth the very vegetation 87

Elliot Mabeuse to do his bidding and turn himself into a frightening apparition did nothing to save him from Anne’s growing annoyance. She only knew that she was being neglected and that she was tired of it. If this relationship meant as much to him as he said it did, there would have to be some changes made, and that’s all there was to it. He might be Lord of the Infernal Domains for all she cared, but until he started treating her with the respect she deserved, he would have to contend with her, Anne the human, or vampiress, or whatever she was. There was nothing for it but to sit down and air her feelings, and the only way to get Angus to reappear from wherever it was that he was hiding out would be to show him that she didn’t care. Living well was the best revenge, she decided, and she would show him that his tactic of disappearing wasn’t working any longer by enjoying herself as much as she could and flaunting it. To that end she took herself down to the village one day and began spending the money that Angus so often lavished upon her, buying holiday decorations, food, liquor, whatever might brighten up the old Croft make it feel more like a home. Anne had not spent much time in the village since coming to the Croft, but had always seemed to enjoy a special relationship with the villagers, 88

The Croft most of them small farmers and shopkeepers. They all knew her as their titular Laird’s special Lady, and an American at that, and felt that anything that made their Laird happy was inherently good, so she was treated as if her vague and hazy claim to nobility actually had some meaning. The villagers originally had been concerned about Angus’ coming back to the Croft to assume sovereignty over what was, after all, his village by right. But aside from the work he brought to the village craftsmen in restoring the Croft and purchasing supplies, his effect had been negligible, which suited everyone fine. Anything that maintained this happy status quo was deemed by the citizens to be good therefore, and so Anne, who was known to be close to their Laird’s heart, was held in high esteem. The women especially were concerned that Anne make an honest man of their Laird, and their affection for her also curtailed much of the gossip that might have given Anne a more unsavory reputation in that conservative country town than she, in fact, enjoyed. Thus it was that Anne was able to purchase and procure almost anything she wanted in that village, and what she couldn’t find there the shopkeepers were only too happy to order for her. In a short time, a steady stream of delivery lorries 89

Elliot Mabeuse and tradesman were traipsing through the habitable rooms of the Croft, bringing a business and life to the old place which Anne reveled in. Though the holiday season was still more than a month away, Anne decided to indulge her American penchant for decorating early. The dining hall and entryway were festooned with greenery, garlands of evergreen and sprigs of holly and mistletoe gathered from the old oak woods that surrounded the Croft. Bowls of fruit and flowers brightened the rooms. Anne employed Mrs. Travis and an army of her relations to sweep and clean and the few rooms they lived in, and then to prepare a feast. Anne told them it was in celebration of American Thanksgiving, but in truth it was all a part of her plot to lure Angus out of hiding. While all this commotion was going on, Angus was nowhere to be seen. But Anne, her senses keener than those of the visitors, knew that he was watching everything she did. She was prepared for him to be upset, even angry, but that was not the feeling she got. Instead she felt his amused interest in what she was doing, and at last, with everything prepared and set out and all the help gone, as Anne descended the main staircase in a simple yet elegant skirt and blouse, there he was, sitting at the table, eyes twinkling. “I see you’ve been busy, eh?” he said to her. 90

The Croft She was studiously frosty. “I thought the place could stand some brightening up.” “And what’s all this then?” he asked, gesturing at the spread of food on the dining room table. “You’ve enough here for an army.” She had thought of that. There was more here than they could eat in a week: a roast pig and leg of lamb from the butcher, puddings, pies, sausages, cheese, wine and ale, fruit and vegetables from the greengrocer. She’d gone quite overboard. “Well, the table is so large.” she said, sitting down to his right, but several chairs down. “I told the Vicar that he was welcome to what’s left.” “It’s Thanksgiving, you know.” she added. Angus laughed. “Come now, Annie. Thanksgiving’s still weeks away. And we don't celebrate that here, you know. It's strictly colonial.” Anne squirmed uncomfortably but didn’t apologize. “But that meat looks damned good.” Angus said. “If you’ll pour the wine, I’ll carve. I’m suddenly famished.” Anne poured wine as Angus took to the pork with the carving knife. No time like the present, she thought. “Angus, we have to talk,” she said. “Oh? Fine then, let’s talk.” He held some of the 91

Elliot Mabeuse meat on the fork, waiting for her to pass her plate. Flustered, she did, and he placed the meat on it before carving himself a good sized chunk which he proceeded to attack, not waiting for her to begin. Although Angus could go weeks without seeming to eat at all, Anne also knew that when food was available he could go at it with the best of them, and she marveled at where he put it. He now heaped a large spoonful of mashed turnips and potatoes onto his plate and dove in, signaling her with his knife and fork to go on with her talk. Anne ignored what was on her plate. “I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me.” she said. “Work,” he replied. “That’s not true, Angus. You’ve worked before without avoiding me. And then every so often you disappear like this. I want to know why.” He ignored her question, lifted his wine glass and said, “Here’s to us, Annie. To you and I.” She couldn’t refuse to drink to this, so she took a sip from her glass. “You’re angry at me,” she said. “I know that much. But I don’t know why.” “Am I?” he asked her. “Now why would I be angry with you, lass?” “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Just then Angus spied the bottle of Clan 92

The Croft McLeish on the table. It was his favorite whiskey, made in Dumfries with corn grown on his own soil. “Annie,” he said, picking up the bottle, “how you spoil me! We must have a wee dram, eh?” Amidst the welter of glassware on the table he found one suitable for a splash of scotch. He poured himself one, then motioned for Anne to hand him her glass. Furious now, Anne picked up a tumbler and handed it to him. “Anne, don’t joke.” “Fill it, please,” she demanded. Angus did as she said and looked at her dubiously. “Health” He raised his glass and drained it. Anne raised hers, and sucked it down in three big gulps, thinking that it wasn’t so bad. Then she finished swallowing and felt it burning like molten steel down her gullet. Damned if she would let him see it. She pressed her lips together and sat as it burned through her body, not moving for fear that it would immediately come back up Angus only glanced at her and returned to his plate. “You’re one of a kind, Annie, that’s for sure. Now mind that you don’t puke, eh?” Fighting through the haze of tears, Anne was instantly drunk. She sipped some water, resisting the urge to gulp it like a chaser, and composed 93

Elliot Mabeuse herself. But when next she spoke her frosty composure seemed to have disappeared and what she said came out as a petulant and embarrassing whine. “I want to know why you’re mad at me, Angus. What have I done? Why do you always do this to me? Is it because of that pick-up thing?” He said nothing, his attention on his food. “We’ve been over that, Anne,” he said. “I think we’ve been over that enough.” She looked at her plate, picked up a bit of meat on her fork, then lost it. “I can’t do that, Angus! I can’t! Why won’t you understand? Why is it so important to you that I make a whore of myself? It’s so…sick! It’s so wrong! I love you. Isn’t that enough for God’s sake?” Angus sipped his wine, looked at her, said nothing. Anne met his eyes and felt hers fill with tears. She hated herself for crying, but she couldn’t help it. She hated his coldness. She hated this stupid meal she’d spent so much money on. So much food. “Say something!” she demanded. Angus chewed in silence for a moment, then spoke. “Excellent pork.” Anne had enough. She threw down her napkin and marched over to his chair. With strength that 94

The Croft surprised her she pulled his chair away from the table, moved between him and his plate, and lifted her behind up, plopping it down right on the pile of food on his plate. Her move had the desired effect. Angus looked at her in total shock, his knife and fork still poised in the air. “The hell with the food!” she screamed. “Why are you being so mean to me! Why are you ignoring me! I hate it when you’re like this, Angus! I just hate it when you ignore me like this!” Reaching behind her, Anne blindly stuck her hand into a bowl of fruit pudding. She withdrew a handful and, without thinking, flung it at him, splattering it along his face and down his shirt. When she saw what she’d done she broke down into helpless tears, putting her hands to her face and smearing herself with the pudding. She reached down and got another handful and flung this at him too. At this point, had she not been thinking, she might have grabbed a knife and gone after him, and the violence of her feelings frightened her into more tears. Angus stood up, trembling with rage, and Anne prepared for the blow she knew was coming. He stepped towards her and she closed her eyes, ducking her head down between her upraised arms. 95

Elliot Mabeuse To her surprise, he didn’t hit her. Instead she felt something wet running down her blouse, soaking her. He was pouring the wine over her. She squealed and twisted away, reaching for whatever came to hand, which was the bowl of mashed turnips and potatoes. She grabbed a handful and pushed it into his face. Angus laughed. “It’s hot, damn you!” he said. Anne twisted, trying to scurry back on the table. His plate was stuck to her skirt and she felt the warm food squeezing up through her skirt on the back of her thighs. Plates and platters crashed to the floor as she tried to get away, but Angus grabbed her ankle and pulled her back towards him through the wreckage. Anne was nearly hysterical, crying and laughing at the same time as Angus dropped a minced meat pie on her chest then worked it in through her blouse. Her favorite blouse. She kicked and tried to protect herself but he held her down and ripped her blouse open, exposing her sexiest and flimsiest bra, which she had worn in hopes that this meal would end in reconciliation and romance. “Angus! No!” she wailed as the fabric gave way. “Ah Ha!” He shouted, “So you’re been saving the best dish for last, eh? Let’s just see what we have here!” 96

The Croft Suddenly ticklish, Anne writhed on the table, knocking over more dishes and plates. She giggled uncontrollably, all her anguish transformed into hysterical glee. She was covered in food, bits of berries and lettuce stuck to her face, her hair a sea of wine and gravy. Angus threw her sodden skirt up over her waist. She felt something warm and greasy rubbing over her bare thighs, some sort of meat. Her panties were a match to her bra, and it was nothing for him to shred them with his hand. She felt him press the warm food between her legs, felt it slide warmly over her sex. “Angus!” she screamed laughing “No! What are you doing?” In response he laughed and growled like a bear. He had a bunch of grapes in his hand which he mashed against her smooth hips, then dipped his head and began sucking up the sweet juice. He mashed them all over her chest so that the red juice ran down her breasts, soaking her bra. He dropped the grapes and grabbed her breasts, kneaded them as his lips sought her crotch. “Oh no! Oh no!” she screamed, laughing. She sat up, pushing his hands away, then grabbed his shirt and pulled him close and kissed him, wrapping her legs around him. She felt the bulge of his erection pressing into the back of her thigh. Damn him! Would they always end up like 97

Elliot Mabeuse this? She’d been angry, hurt, she’d wanted to engage him in an open and honest discussion, and now here she was, covered with food, wanting him again. But they could always talk. How often would they be together like this in this mixture of anger, playfulness, and lust? Deftly Ann unzipped him, still holding him captive between her thighs. He sprang out fully erect and she took him in her hand, laughing and biting at his lower lip as he howled at her brazenness. With her other hand she reached behind her. She knew the pudding was back there, so that meant the bowl of preserves should be nearby as well. She found it, her fingers poking right into the sticky bowl of jam. Laughing again, she took a handful and boldly slopped it over Angus’s rampant tool, making him howl again as the cold jelly hit his heated flesh. “Anne! It’s cold! What the hell…” But she had him now, and she spun around on the food-splattered table till her head was facing him, and, leaning down on one arm she extended her tongue and licked at him, scooping up some of the jam that ran off his cock. Once he saw what her intention was he stopped all struggling and moved towards her to present himself. With a broad smile Anne made herself as comfortable as she could, dropping her head to lick him again. 98

The Croft Angus shuddered and pushed his fruit-covered tool at her eagerly. So he did like this little game. Anne realized that by lying flat on her back and hanging her head over the edge of the table, she would be just at the right height to reach her treat. Laughing, she did just that, rolling over onto her back and letting her head hang over the edge of the table. Gazing up at him from this unusual perspective, she made a show of slowly extending her tongue to just swipe at his shiny pole, scooping up a bit of jelly which she showed to him before she swallowed it down with a grin. This was too much for Angus, and he aimed his cock at her mouth and pushed boldly forwards, impaling her with his piece which she took like a sword swallower, her neck extended. He tasted wonderful, all sweet and fruity and masculine, and she swirled her tongue around him with pleasure, licking him clean and he humped gently into her mouth. His hands went to her breasts, naked and shiny with grease and grape juice, which flowed gelatinously beneath his fingers as he squeezed them. Anne moaned and put her hands around his ass, pulling him more tightly to her mouth. She let go of his cock and licked at his balls, also covered with the sweet jelly, as Angus ran his hands smoothly down her ribs, over her hips, and dipped into the valley of 99

Elliot Mabeuse her sex. He let go of her and took hold of his bold erection and slapped it teasingly against her open lips while she fought to capture him again in her jam-smeared mouth. “You saucy little thing!” he teased, “And I mean that literally! You’ve ruined a lovely meal!” She smiled at him, still hanging upside down over the edge of the table and licking the jelly off her lips. “That’s all right,” she said. “I like this one better anyhow.” She guided him back to her mouth and sucked him in, humming with pleasure. He didn’t fool her. She could tell that he was wildly excited by the tremors she felt in his muscular thighs as he slowly fucked her face. She prepared herself to receive his seed into her mouth. Angus frustrated her again though. He grabbed her legs and easily spun her around atop the wreckage of the table, ignoring her squeal of surprise, until her hips were in front of him. Then he pulled her forward and lifted her legs so that her bottom was poised at the table edge. She laughed at her ridiculous position and Angus grinned at her himself, though not entirely in amusement. He took both of her ankles in one powerful hand and rolled her slightly to the side, then silenced her laughter with a sharp and unexpected slap on her exposed bottom, making 100

The Croft her squeal in shock and alarm. “Owww! Angus!” Now it was his turn to laugh, and he gave her another spank on her other cheek, bringing her full attention sharply to the business at hand. She felt a flood of warmth in her backside and tried to protect herself with her hands, but Angus was done with this particular aspect of play and again spread her legs wide and pulled her forward on the table, positioning her just where he wanted her. Anne was giddy, drunk and coated with food, but the feel of him entering her brought her immediately to her senses. He felt impossibly good as he sank into her body, as hard and as aroused as she had ever felt him, the pleasure of his entry melding with the heat in her rudely spanked ass. He held both her ankles high, and easily kept her legs open and straight up, almost lifting her reddened behind off the table with his incredible strength. Again the feeling of his mastery seemed to take her breath away. He began to fuck her with no nonsense strokes, regularly, in and out, jarring hard into her body. Anne managed to hook her hands over the edge of the table and she hung on tight with her fingertips to prevent her body from skidding along the slippery surface. Angus’ thrusts were virile and insistent, and each one caused her to grunt in 101

Elliot Mabeuse pleasure. She knew by the tension in his body and the force of his love-making that he was already near his climax. He was normally so considerate of her and so much in control that she was surprised at his rapid build-up in excitement. But it thrilled her too to know that he was holding nothing back, unleashing the full reign of his passion, determined to have his pleasure of her body. “Oh yes, Angus! Yes!” she moaned in excitement as he plunged into her again and again, gritting his teeth and growling like a man possessed. And then she felt him come inside her, and the full force of his passion ripped into her with every savage throb of his tool. Unclouded by overwhelming passion of her own, she was free to concentrate on the delicious feeling of her lover splashing into her with all his strength and desire, and she couldn’t hide the broad and satisfied smile that lit up her face. “Christ on a fucking crutch!” he swore as he brought himself to a halt inside her, panting heavily, his body still twitching in spasms of release. “God that was fucking good!” He looked down at her and laughed. “And God you’re a fucking mess, Anne! You look like you’ve climbed out of the garbage!” With a groan he pulled himself from her and she felt him leave with disappointment, as always. 102

The Croft But then he laughed again, looking right at her crotch. “Just like in the songs!” he said “Jellyroll! You’re covered with preserves, my darling!” Anne tried to close her legs, but Angus still held them open. “Not so fast, there!” he said. “You look quite tasty, Dear!” He dipped his head to her and Anne raised up, “Angus! No!” He’d never done this before, pleasured her with his mouth after ejaculating inside her, but the sight of her pussy dripping with his cream and strawberry preserves was too delicious for him to pass up. He licked the jelly off her labia, making her cry out in surprise and arch her back. She was still terribly sensitive there, and his tongue was clever and agile, taking up exactly where his cock had left off. Whatever doubts or distaste she might have had for what he was doing were quickly washed away in the tides of pleasure that swept through her. Angus’ head bobbed this way and that at her crotch. He let go of her legs and knelt down on the floor, his hands digging into the cheeks of her ass to lift her more easily to his mouth. She kept her thighs apart for him as he slurped and licked the jelly from her recently-fucked vagina, but she covered her face with her hands so he wouldn’t see the wide smile of pleasure on her face as he subjected her to this salacious treatment. 103

Elliot Mabeuse Her hands, her body, her clothes full of food and wine, she lay on the table like the course in some perverse bacchanal, mindless of her surroundings. As always, his mouth upon her sex thrilled her as it expressed his ravenous desire for her. He just loved the feel of her in his mouth, the taste of her excitement. With her heels on the table she let her legs fall open shamelessly, her hands traveling down to feel his jaw muscles where they worked at her, giving her such overwhelming pleasure. She closed her eyes and rode the delicious sensations as she felt the sweet thrill of orgasm roll over her slowly and inexorably, as gentle and as profound as a deep sea swell. It brought her trembling against his sucking lips as he took her over the edge with the feel of his tongue twirling in delight on her jam-covered clitoris. She could almost feel him smiling as he pleasured her, and she almost laughed herself at their absurdity and would have, had not her joy been so deep and laughter so inappropriate to what she felt. He let her calm down, her orgasm subsiding, then he did laugh out loud and got up off his knees. He kissed her face and she tasted the familiar musk of his seed, but strangely out of place on his lips this time, along with her own juice and the strawberry jam. “Well we’ve made a fine mess of it, haven’t we 104

The Croft Annie?” he asked as they kissed. “And now it’s up to us to clean it up.” He stood up and Anne reluctantly opened her eyes to the world she’d so recently left, turned her head to view the wreckage on the table and floor about her. It was a terrible sight. Overturned glasses and goblets, food smeared on the table, bowls upended. Her clothes were matted with cake and bits of food, her hair was wet with wine and jam, and, despite Angus’s thorough scrubbing, her thighs were slick with grease. “Oh Angus,” she moaned. “Can’t you just use your…you know…your powers to clean this up?” Angus was walking to the kitchen, wiping his face with a napkin. He laughed. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” he asked. “‘Mess: Clean yourself up!’ ‘Floor, sweep yourself and be quick about it! Anne Commands!’ No, Darling, I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that! Not like that at all!”

105

Elliot Mabeuse

Chapter 6

H

ard autumn and the weather had changed. The landscape grayed, and blue and ashen clouds blew rapidly in from the sea bringing cold winds and squalls of sleety rain. Anne helped Angus batten down for the winter, sealing off entire wings of the old Croft with plastic sheeting, lath and tape. There was no way to heat the huge old pile. The rooms they maintained as living quarters were already difficult to keep warm, as vast as they were, with no insulation but cold stone or wood paneling. The heat from the fires immediately collected beneath the high vaulted ceilings, where it did no good. Anne sadly watched the flowers wither and die in the garden and heard the frogs cease their singing in the ponds. She keenly felt the passing of that magical summer, and the onset of this wild and inclement weather seemed to signal more than the normal procession of the seasons. She 106

The Croft took it personally and with a sense of foreboding. She did not know what the coming winter would bring her, but she feared that it would not measure up to what she’d known so far. Angus was constantly pushing her to test her own vampiric skills now. He felt it was essential for her to demonstrate her own independence and prowess as a hunter to prove that she was capable of fending for herself. As it was, he was worried about what would happen to her should he for some reason be unable to provide her with the emotional sustenance he knew she had come to rely upon. But Anne was not interested in her own powers. Though she was pleased when she learned some new technique or secret of vampire lore and skill, she never wanted to contemplate life without Angus, and to develop her own powers seemed to be tempting fate. She feared losing him above all. Should something happen to him, she told him, she had no desire to continue life on her own, either as a vampire or as anything else. Angus was growing impatient though. She had been with him now for sufficient time that she should by all rights be able to see to her own needs. He pushed her to find her own game, but she had no heart for it. When he insisted she simply refused, but she was afraid that one day he 107

Elliot Mabeuse would lose all patience and give her an ultimatum. Anne realized that she and Angus looked at their being together quite differently. For her, he was the only man she ever wanted, he was her everything. Angus swore that he felt the same, but he also dwelled in his vampire’s world, and in that realm Anne was simply his student and protégé, and it was his traditional duty to make her one of his own kind. It was here that he was frustrated, for Anne would not stop being his lover long enough to test her wings. On a Wednesday evening Angus finally insisted. She could put him off no longer. He sat with her in her room, unmoved by her tears. “Anne, I am responsible for you, don’t you see that? I’ve brought you this far, and I simply can’t stop now, darling. There is no going back.” “But I can’t Angus! I just can’t! Why can’t you see that?” Angus frowned. This was familiar territory, something they’d gone over before, something he’d thought they’d settled. “You can, Anne. You’ve got to. That’s all there is. You’ve simply got to. It’s no different…” “Stop!” she screamed. “God, Angus if you tell me once more that it’s no different than shaking hands or giving a back rub, I’ll just kill myself! It’s not the same! It’s not the same at all! My God! How can you be so stupid about this?” 108

The Croft Angus sighed, but he would not be dissuaded. He got up and moved to her wardrobe and started going through her clothes. Of all things, he selected the very charcoal gray suit she had worn when she’d first stepped off the plane what seemed so long ago. He laid it on the bed. “This will do,” he said. “You don’t want to look cheap. And dark stockings. Your black heels.” There was no sense in fighting any more. Once his mind was made up, he was intractably stubborn. Anne thus fell back on her follow up plan. She would do as he wished and then show him how inept she was by purposely sabotaging any possible chance of picking up a man. She could certainly discourage male interest on her own, she’d had enough practice. Angus went into the other room and drew her bath. “I want to leave in an hour, Anne. That should give you enough time.” She said nothing. “I’ll take you to the big hotel in Dumfries—the Kincaid. That's where the Americans stay, and Americans will be much easier for you to handle at this point. You’ll do fine, Darling. And I’ll be there the whole while. You’ll be alone for less than an hour.” Seeing her blank expression, he came over and 109

Elliot Mabeuse knelt by her. “Anne, darling. It’s nothing. Believe me. Nothing at all.” “Oh God, Angus! Don’t…” “Listen to me!” his anger was not far below the surface. Or perhaps it was anguish, too. “Listen to me, Anne! I love you! I love you and that will never change. There’s nothing you could possibly do to change that! And after this… After this I’ll only love you more, Darling! And I can stop worrying about you at last, and we can go back to the way things have always been.” “So you want me to play the whore so you can love me more?” she sniffed. “Is that what you’re saying? The cheaper I get, the more you’ll love me? Is that the way you are, Angus?” “Stop it, Anne,” he growled, getting quickly to his feet. He strode to the door then stopped and looked at her. “One hour,” he said, then walked out. They drove through the miserable rain to Dumfries, saying nothing. He just couldn’t understand, Anne thought. Of all the sordid details that bothered her about what he was having her do, this bothered her the most. His failure to understand things from her point of view. He just didn’t appreciate that a woman’s attitude towards sex was very different from a 110

The Croft man’s. And while she herself wouldn’t claim to know how Angus might react if she had demanded that he find and have sex with a strange woman, she at least knew enough to appreciate that it might not be the casual thing he seemed to imagine it to be. Maybe that’s where she’d failed. Maybe she should have insisted on more tenderness and honesty in their lovemaking. He’d always seemed to set the terms, and she’d always gone along. And it was not that she didn’t enjoy all the things he’d taught her, nor was it that Angus didn’t give her what she wanted. Rather, it was his failure to appreciate that down deep things were different for her. She thought about this as they drove, as she had for the past weeks. There was something very different about taking another person into your body. Men’s sex was so external, literally and figuratively, and they seemed always ready to push their things into anything that happened to be around that was relatively soft and warm and accessible, whether it be a woman, a hole in the wall of a public bathroom, or an inflatable doll. But to let another person enter your body was an act of great intimacy and trust, and the thought of doing it with someone she didn’t know was just abhorrent. To be covered by a strange body with a strange feel and a strange odor and lie there while 111

Elliot Mabeuse he discharged his semen into you was just impossible for her to contemplate. She repressed a shudder. She wouldn’t do it. She just couldn’t. Angus dropped her off in front of the hotel. He’d made her a reservation and made her pack some luggage as if she truly were a single woman traveling on business. He left these on the walk next to her, kissed her perfunctorily and smiled at her, and told her he would be back as soon as he parked the car but from then on she should act as if she didn’t know him. She’d heard all this before the last time they’d tried this. Then, she hadn’t been able to exit the car. Now she got out, and marched smartly into the lobby to register. She took her bags up to her room, opened her bag and took out a bottle of wine. She poured herself a glass and tried to watch television for a while, killing time. Angus thought that nine o’clock would be a propitious time for an unescorted female business executive to wander into the hotel bar, so she waited. She looked at herself in the mirror of her room. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and the wine had made her dizzy. Was she sexy? Did she look too sexy? Cheap? She pretended for a moment that she had already picked up some man in the bar and 112

The Croft brought him back up. She reclined on the bed, running her hand over the spread, as if she were feeling his muscled chest, just like Angus’. “Okay Baby,” she said, “ready to party? Think you can satisfy a hot number like me? I’m a handful, Baby. I’ll tell you right now!” She giggled. She caught sight of herself in the mirror over the dressing table, saw herself reclining on the bed. She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse and looked at herself again. That was better. Her body had become more womanly since she’d been with Angus, and this outfit was a bit tight. It was still wearable, but it was a lot sexier than when she’d first bought it. She sat up and faced the mirror. She was attractive, she remembered. It was strange that she’d forgotten this fact, but now that she was with Angus, it was something she didn’t give much thought to. There weren’t that many mirrors in the Croft, and she’d come to rely more on Angus appreciative comments than on her own perception. But she was attractive. She was sexy. It was an exciting feeling. She puckered her lips at herself and decided she needed more lipstick. She put that on then sat back down in front of the mirror. She got up, turned off the bright lights, making the room more intimate, then resumed her pose on the bed, legs crossed as she might pose on a bar stool, knees 113

Elliot Mabeuse exposed, back straight, showing off her breasts. Strangely, she felt herself get a little excited. She was sexy. She was very sexy. She tried a few suggestive looks in the mirror as she used to do in her bedroom as a girl. But this time she was startled to see that they worked. The woman who looked back was not an awkward and giggling adolescent, but very mature, very alluring. She laughed at herself. “Baby…” she breathed, leaning towards the mirror. “Let’s go to bed.” She licked her lips seductively and then giggled again at her brazen image. What did you say when you wanted to pick a guy up? She really didn’t know, but she suspected that was a bit much. She tried again. “Baby, I’m so lonely!” she told the mirror. No that wouldn’t do. She tried it with a Mae West accent and giggled again, then brought herself up. Come on, Anne. You’re not exactly inexperienced with men! But try as she might, she couldn’t remember ever having to come on to a man before. They’d always come on to her. What about Angus, she thought, then remembered that she had taken the initiative with him, insisting finally that he kiss her. Well, that wouldn’t work in this situation. 114

The Croft She decided to skip the pickup. “Come on, Baby. Fuck me!” she said, using her strongest language. “Give it to me lover, I’m so hot for you!” Yes, she thought. She could say that if it came down to it. She could picture a man in her room, making drinks, looking at her, trying to figure her out, wasting time. That wouldn’t do. She wanted to get it over with fast, not fool around. Direct language would do it. As she flirted with herself she brought her hands up and covered her breasts, simulating her lover’s touch. “Mmmm,” she purred, “You like them, lover? You like this body? Oooh, yeah, that feels sooo good!” She moved her fingers to her nipples, tracing their outline through her blouse and thin bra. She felt them stiffen deliciously. She felt herself grow moist between her legs. “Ohhh, Baby! That’s so good!” she flopped herself down on the bed, kissing her lips at her imaginary lover, then let her fingers go to the hem of her skirt and start pulling it up over her thighs. “You what?” she asked in pretend shock. “You do? You want to do that to me? Oooh, then do it lover! Eat me all up! You know I love that!” Her skirt was high enough now that she could slide a finger across her silky panties to her crotch, where she pressed the fabric against herself as she 115

Elliot Mabeuse continued to fondle her breast. It felt good. It felt really good to do this to herself. She began to rotate her lips on her imaginary lover’s mouth, moving slow and sexy for him. I can do this, she thought suddenly. I could really do this with someone! It feels good. What was I so afraid of? She tried now to come up with a face for her lover. She flashed back to her high school crushes, her teen idols, her movie star fantasies, but couldn’t come up with anything that worked. It was always Angus she saw looking at her as he made love to her. She ignored the face. She slipped her finger under her panties and touched herself, shocked at how good it felt. She wondered if she should make herself come. She was pretty certain that she could do it. Would that make her sexier? Would that make her hornier? Would people be able to tell? It seemed like every lewd thought now just made her hotter. Her lover came up over her, kissed her, and slid into her with sweet tenderness. She gasped and began to pump her hips on her delving fingers, moaning with exaggerated pleasure. I’ll show him she thought. I’ll fuck everyone who’s in that bar! I’ll take them all on! Why not! Why shouldn’t I? It’s so good! Men are so fucking wonderful! 116

The Croft She realized that she was close and she didn’t know what to do. Should she stop? Could she? No, she would go. She would take the pleasure, the sweet release. Her fingers began to vibrate frantically at her clit. She bit her lip, eyes clenched shut. The phone rang. It startled her so much that she yelled and bolted upright, eyes wide with terror, ripped from her fantasy, heart hammering. It rang again, and she rolled over, scrambling up the bed to the night stand. Yes?” “Anne? Is that you?” it was Angus. “Angus? Yes. Yes, it’s me,” she said guilty and relieved. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Yes, yes. I… I must have dozed off for a second.” He chuckled. “Well, that’s good. Then you can’t be that nervous.” “No. I’m fine. I’m…fine.” “Well it’s twenty past. Are you coming down?” “Yes, yes. Just give me a moment to freshen up.” “All right darling. You’ll see me around.” “Okay.” “And Anne? I love you.” “I love you too, Angus. Five minutes.” 117

Elliot Mabeuse He hung up and Anne shook her head to clear it. Her fingers were sticky but her makeup was still in place, and her clothes just needed a moment to straighten. She washed her hands well, checked herself again in the mirror, and walked out. She tried to maintain the confidence she’d had while masturbating as she descended in the elevator. She was still aroused, she knew. She could feel it in the puffiness of her lips and in her sex. But when she reached the lobby it evaporated. She stood by the elevator pretending to read a placard while secretly she checked out the people. Almost all of them were men, here on business no doubt, salesman, oil company execs. Who would she choose? Who looked like an acceptable lover. She avoided the more attractive and dynamic of them. She didn’t want someone who intimidated her. She found herself thinking more of the slightly older ones, especially if they looked kind or fatherly. Then she saw a face that made her heart leap, only to realize that it was Angus, smiling at her over a newspaper. She ignored him and continued her search. Well, maybe once she could talk to them it would be easier. And maybe it wouldn’t be a matter of her choosing them, but of them choosing her. She’d never considered that before. She walked into the bar, and took a small table 118

The Croft to herself. She knew that women didn’t sit alone at the bar. The waitress came over and Anne ordered another glass of wine. No sooner had the waitress set it down then a man came over and smiled at her. “How do you do, Ms,” he said. “Please don’t think me presumptuous, but it’s rare that we see a woman in this hotel. You are a pleasant sight.” She glanced up. He wasn’t bad. He had the look of a man who was not a stranger to defeat, and had learned to lose gracefully. That suited her more than did the numerous hard-chargers she saw around her. “My name’s Larry Osterman,” he said extending his hand. She allowed herself a smile. “How do you do. I’m Anne. Croft.” “And are you here on business?” “Er…yes.” “Can’t be oil,” he said, “or I’d know you.” “No. No, it’s not. I’m in antiques.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is that right? Yes I suppose this must be good antique territory. I’d never thought of it. When you’re in oil, all you see is oil, I guess.” He was standing holding a drink with the paper bar napkin wrapped around it. The small table was between them, but had he been next to her, Anne realized, her lips would have been just 119

Elliot Mabeuse about at his belt level. Did they intentionally design these chairs with that in mind? “I’d hate to bother you,” he said, “but I wonder if you’d mind if I sat down?” He didn’t seem so bad, Anne thought. But that realization about his belt buckle and what would be a few inches below it, separated from her by only a few pieces of cloth, made her suddenly uncomfortable. “Uh, well, I’m waiting for someone,” she said. “Someone’s meeting me.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Well, I envy him, then. Please don’t take it the wrong way if I tell you that you are a very attractive woman, and it’s been a pleasure speaking to you.” “Thank you,” she said “Thank you so much, Mr. Osterman.” “Larry.” “Larry.” “Maybe I’ll run into you again, then,” he said. He smiled, and went back to the bar, as simply as that. She’d blown it. He seemed nice enough. Maybe he really only wanted to talk. He’d at least seemed polite, manageable. Maybe she could have taken him to her room and just talked with him for awhile. How would Angus know what they were doing in there? She could have at least have found out. But now she’d blown it. Now he’d be waiting 120

The Croft to see who met her here, and she couldn’t leave without showing him that she’d lied. She picked up her purse and pretended to catch site of someone in the lobby. She waved at no one while she scanned frantically for Angus. There he was, looking right at her. “Angus!” she called. “Darling! Over here!” Surprised and puzzled, Angus folded his paper under his arm and crossed the lobby to her. She jumped at him and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you!” she announced in a stage voice. “Let’s go get my things. I’m ready to go!” She steered him towards the elevator, Angus still glancing about him trying to determine just what was going on. “I blew it, darling. I blew it.” she whispered, holding his arm tightly as they waited for the elevator. Angus said nothing until they got into the elevator. Several other men got on, so all he could do was sigh as they rode up to her floor. Anne unlocked the door for them. Once inside she gave a great sigh of relief and waited for Angus’ explosion. That would be much easier to endure than what he’d asked of her. But Angus didn’t seem angry. Instead he said, “You could have had him. I saw the whole thing. 121

Elliot Mabeuse You could have had him easily.” “Yes, I suppose so.” “That’s something,” he said. “You had him in the net. He was all but in the boat.” “Yes.” “Well, that’s good,” he said. “I mean, that’s the hardest part. You did fine, Anne. You did very well. I’m quite proud of you, darling!” Anne turned so that he wouldn’t see her frown. His ignorance and naiveté appalled her. But why try to explain and risk his wrath? If he was happy, she was happy. “How did you do it?” Angus asked. “How did I do it?” she repeated. “I just went down to the bar and sat down! What was I supposed to do?” “You didn’t use any of the things I showed you?” He was referring to some vampiric tricks and spells he had taught her for creating desire in another. She turned to him in frustration. “Angus, really! I don’t need all that hocus pocus. I’m a single woman. Wherever I go, men are going to be all over me like flies! I just went in there and sat down and he came over and started talking to me. And if I’d stayed there more men would have come in and tried to talk to me as well. That’s how it works. You know that.” But he looked as if he hadn’t considered it. 122

The Croft Anne shook her head ruefully He sighed and stood up. “Well, okay. Get your things and we’ll go.” Anne looked around the room. Aside from her makeup, she hadn’t unpacked anything. The bed wasn’t messed. The room looked the same as when she’d found it. “Angus,” she said. He turned to look at her and grinned. “I know what you’re going to say.” “Well, why not. We’ve already paid for it…” “Yes, we have,.” He smiled and put down her bags. “Why waste it, eh? All right. It would be nice to have a night away from the old pile. But what about dinner? I’m famished. Do you want room service or shall we go out?” “Oh, out I think,” she said happily. “We haven’t been out in weeks.” “Then out it is.” It was as if all that went before hadn’t happened at all. The attempted pick up, her failure of nerve, all that was forgotten. Anne felt immediately cheered and excited. “Do I look all right?” “Do you have to ask?” he said. “Didn’t I dress you?” To Anne’s delight, Angus was able to get them in to the same restaurant they had gone to on that first night. Notwithstanding that it was one of 123

Elliot Mabeuse only two decent restaurants in town, Anne would henceforth always think of this as their place, and unlike the previous time they’d been here when she hardly noticed what she’d eaten, this time she was able to enjoy the meal and found it excellent. Angus too seemed in good spirits, and continued to praise Anne for her earlier performance in the bar with the businessman, and she was not about to protest that she really hadn’t done anything at all except turn him away. Angus insisted that she had successfully done what he’d asked her to do and that all that she hadn’t done, namely have sex with a stranger, was mere detail. To Anne, of course, this had been the impossible part of the assignment, the part she had totally failed at, but she was not about to argue the matter with him. The entire matter in fact was turned into a game in which Angus pretended that he was the man Anne had picked up and they played at making awkward conversation. This was fun for her, and she had no reservation about flirting shamelessly and very suggestively, enjoying the way she could make Angus squirm and blush at her lewd and graphic suggestions. She had him so frazzled that when she finally asked him, “What did you say your name was again?” the best he could do was cast his eyes around the room until he found something behind 124

The Croft the bar. “Er… Remy Martin.” he said, making Anne laugh. “All right Remy—or should I call you Mr. Martin? And do you go down as smooth as the real thing? I can’t wait to find out.” They continued the game as they strolled back to the hotel. Anne was aware of the impact of her clothes on both him and herself. That and the wine and the silly game they played, as well as the salacious tension she had felt earlier in the bar all worked to get her quite aroused, and when they were alone in the elevator she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body tightly against him. She was only half-joking when she said, “Remy, I want you to fuck the hell out of me. I want you to fuck me till I scream.” By the time they reached the room, Angus was hobbling along, trying to deal with a full blown erection. “Come here, Mr. Martin,” Anne said, sitting on the bed and patting the space next to her. “Let me see what your problem is. Maybe Annie can help.” “I don’t know, dear,” he said, flopping down on the bed. “I must say that you’re a bit more than I bargained for when I picked you up. You’re sure you’re not actually a professional? Or perhaps a vampire of some sort?” Anne laughed and covered his body with hers, 125

Elliot Mabeuse enjoying the role of aggressor. She kissed him and ran her hand up his leg until she found his hard tool where it pressed against his trousers. She wrapped her fingers around him and her kiss intensified until she melted into his mouth. The feel of him hard always made her weak, and for a moment she forgot their game. She felt a rush of wetness as if in response to his hardness. Mine, she thought, all mine. All for me! “Ohhh!” he groaned. “Miss, at least let me take my clothes off!” She giggled and rolled off of him and he quickly stripped off his clothes. It seemed that their game had gotten to him as well, as he was as anxious as she was. and Anne laughed as Angus hopped around, his pants around his ankles, trying to get his shoes off. But her laughter stopped when his cock popped free. As always, it thrilled her to see how hard and big she could make him. Naked at last, Angus flopped down on the bed next to her and reached for her, but Anne avoided him. She was still dressed. She stood up where he could see her. She felt unusually bold and horny, and wanted him to watch her as she shrugged off her jacket. Standing provocatively with her hips cocked, she stared at him as she slowly undid the buttons on her blouse, then her cuffs, then removed it, letting it 126

The Croft slide down her arms and bringing her shoulders back to push her breasts out at him. Angus watched her unashamed, a gleam in his eye, his mouth alternately hanging slack with wonder or tightening into an appreciative grin as she slowly unveiled herself. He adored her body, but she rarely displayed it for him like this, having a woman’s exaggerated sense of her own imperfections. But now, as Anne the hooker, stripping for Mr. Remy Martin, her john, she had no compunction. She left the lacy bra in place and turned around, unzipped her skirt and let him watch her hips as she wiggled out of it. When she turned to face him again she was dressed only in her shoes and stockings, bra and panties. “Why Mr. Martin,” she teased. “Whatever is wrong? You seem so uncomfortable.” She noticed Angus's nervous swallow as he looked her over, and his obvious erect prick. Anne lowered her head and pretended to ignore him as she reached behind her to undo the clasp on her bra and let it drop to the floor. Then she raised her arms and made a show of smoothing her hair back to show off her tits. Angus actually groaned at her display, and she felt another gush of heat between her legs. She bit her lip to keep from smiling as she again turned around and slowly worked her panties down over 127

Elliot Mabeuse her hips, letting him watch the smooth muscles in her legs and ass work as she did. She stepped out of her panties, a bit unsteadily, then boldly turned and exposed herself to him in all her naked glory, running her hands slowly down from her breasts to her crotch in narcissistic appreciation of her own beauty. Angus suddenly growled and reached for her and she shrieked in surprise and stepped back, flinging her panties at him as she did. “Why Mr. Martin! You must control yourself! Please!” “The hell with that stuff!” he said, “Come here you little tease! I’m going to fuck the holy hell out of you!” She squealed again but did not move away as he reached out and grabbed her hips, pulled her to the bed and threw her down. She fell on her face and Angus immediately climbed on top of her, kissing her back and neck, trying to get his hands under her body, but she held her arms tight to her sides, protecting her breasts with her hands. He adjusted himself so that the tip of his rampant cock was placed between her legs, his knees on either side of her hips as he kissed and bit her back and neck in a lover’s frenzy of desire. Ann too forgot the game. She loved him like this, when he was nearly animalistic with passion. 128

The Croft She wanted no foreplay, no fooling around., She wanted him inside her, right now, and she opened her legs as much as she could in an attempt to capture him. In their brief tussle he lost his aim, and his hard cock sprang up against his belly. He pressed down against her again, so that the length of him was nestled between the cheeks of her ass. He groaned at her heat as he slid his tool along the length of her crack, and she tightened her ass to increase the friction. “Oh Anne, God!” He fucked the crack of her ass desperately, and the feel of him moving there was maddening. He pushed himself lower and now the body of his cock frictioned over the clenched bud of her anus as well. The sensation was so intense that Anne moaned and lifted her ass up for more. “Oh, yes!” she said “Oh, Angus!” He continued sliding his cock between her buttocks, moaning with pleasure as Anne reeled from the deliciously wicked sensation. “Angus…” she said. He recognized the change in her voice and stopped. “Yes, love.” “Angus…I want you…back there.” “What?” “I want you in my ass,” she said, hardly believing her own words. “I want you to fuck my 129

Elliot Mabeuse ass.” She felt him stir uncertainly atop her. “Anne…” “No,” she said. “Please. I want you to fuck my ass, Please Angus, please!” “But Anne, it’s…” he began. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure. I want you there. I want you to put your cock in my ass, Angus.” She didn’t quite know what had come over her. She was insane with passion for him, and she wanted suddenly to give him something more than what she usually did. The feel of his cock moving across her sensitive anus had aroused her so much, that she knew she had to feel all of him back there, entering her, possessing her in the most intimate way there was. It was all she had to give. “It’ll hurt, Anne.” ”I don’t care,” she said. “Angus, I want you! I want you so much! I want you in every part of me, please!” In response, she felt him climb off of her, felt him move down the bed, then felt his mouth on her, probing at her rectum. “Oooh, yesss!” she hissed, lifting her hips higher and spreading her legs for him. He sucked and kissed at her anus, ran his tongue around her, and she loved it. “Ohhh, Angus! That’s sooo gooodd!” He worked at her for some time, and the thrill 130

The Croft just built in her. She wasn’t afraid. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, and the thought of his taking her this way was almost unbearably erotic. As he licked and kissed her she slid a hand down to her overheated pussy and began to rub herself, the two pleasures melding into one. The sight of her fingers pleasuring herself while he licked at her tasty and virginal asshole enflamed Angus, and he lost any reservations he might have had about this. He stood up and went to her makeup case, rummaged through her things till he found a tube of lubricant which he brought back to the bed. “On your knees,” he said. “It’s going to be cold for a second.” Anne did as he said and braced herself, and she felt him squeeze a gob of lubricant right over her anus. He smeared it around and she gasped at the delicious friction. “Ohhh, It’s good. It feels good,” she said. She gasped as she felt a finger slide into her. It hurt, then felt strange. She was afraid she’d lose control of her bowels. She panted rapidly as he worked the finger around in her, stretching her gradually, kissing her ass and thighs to distract her from the pain he knew he caused her. As the initial strangeness faded, it was replaced by a feeling of deep, deep pleasure that she felt all the way to her toes. 131

Elliot Mabeuse “Oh, Angus! Oh God!” She had expected it to hurt. She hadn’t expected it would feel so salaciously good, so exciting in such a nasty and lewd way. By the time he slipped another finger inside her, she was rolling her hips in small circles and sucking air in between clenched teeth, her mind so aflame with lewd thoughts that she couldn’t think straight. “Oh, fuck me, Angus! Fuck my ass!” she breathed, feeling filthy and loving it. Through their association it had always been he who had initiated things, he who acted as her teacher and guide. But now Anne was giving the orders and she loved it. “Play with me,” she said. “Play with my pussy while you fuck my ass!” Angus used his other hand to explore her sex, wet with arousal, sliding between her swollen lips and finding the bud of her clit. When he touched her there she thought she’d pass out. Her whole lower body was alive with the most wickedly delicious sensations. Having his fingers inside her rectum was perhaps not as erotically sweet as when he touched her sex, but the sensations were somehow bigger, involving more of her body. She was spread before him, ass up, legs spread, resting on one forearm. The other hand reached 132

The Croft back and grasped her own ankle to spread herself wide for him, and she knew he could tell what she was feeling by the way her grip tightened and loosened and by the harsh gasps and moans that issued from her lips. “Fuck me now, Angus,” she said. “Put your cock in me now. I want you.” He didn’t argue. She obviously knew what she wanted better than he did, and, almost as if in a dream, Angus knee-walked up behind her, his eyes on her ass offered up so invitingly before him. He had to push her hips slightly lower to bring them into alignment, then he took his cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against her anus. She gasped. “Yes!” He pushed forward, but he couldn’t penetrate her. His cock was a good deal larger than his fingers had been, and the tiny ring of muscle was tight. “Relax, Anne,” he said. “Just relax and…” “Just push, damn it!” she spit, cutting him off. “Push it into me! It’ll go in!” He increased his pressure but still couldn’t gain access. “Harder!” Anne cried. “I won’t break! Fuck me!” Angus grabbed her hips and held her and leaned all his weight against her. He felt her part 133

Elliot Mabeuse and the head of his cock slid into her well-greased anus. “Oh God! Angus! Angus! Oh God!” she wailed. Angus held stock still, waiting for her to adjust. She trembled on his cock. Her voice was a whisper. “God you’re so fucking big!” “Am I hurting you?” he asked anxiously. Knowing he wouldn’t understand, Anne just said, “No. No, but don’t move, don’t move…” In truth it did hurt, but this is what she wanted. The intensity of feeling, the sacrifice for her lover. Tentatively she pushed her hips back slowly towards him, feeling his incredible rigidity as he slid into her. She moaned as she took him into her, felt him sinking deep into the virginal depths of her belly. He was incredibly huge, unending, and it seemed like inch after inch of him must be entering her. She was sure she would feel him nudge her heart, or choke her throat, but she pushed back with a single-minded purpose to take him completely no matter what it cost. “Oh God!” she breathed, “Oh God!” Finally she was stopped by the pressure of his thighs against her buttocks. She had done it. It was all in. There was no place left to go. She felt incredibly filled, filled more than she would have imagined possible. She felt it down to 134

The Croft her toes and up to where her nipples pressed into the bed cover, in the trembling muscles of her legs, as an ache in her back. She felt totally and utterly possessed, and the thought made her groan in willing subjugation. “That’s all there is, Anne,” she heard him say in a strangled and wondering voice. “That’s all of me, darling. Every last inch. You have it all.” Eyes clenched tight against the pain, Anne couldn’t repress a single, short laugh. She had done it. She had taken him all. “God, I can’t stand it you feel so good!” he hissed. “You’re so tight! Anne! I don’t think I can last long!” His hot words made her smile with a strange pride. She tried to laugh again through her pain, but it came out as a sob. She suddenly found that her trembling legs would no longer support her. She had to lie flat. She wanted to warn Angus, afraid that he would be pulled from her when she fell, but she couldn’t speak other than to moan again. Her legs bucked and she fell forward flat on the bed. But Angus stayed right with her, and she felt him on top of her, his weight somehow easing some of the pain. “Oh it’s good, my Love! It hurts, but it’s so good,” she moaned. “Anne, Anne, my Darling Anne!” was all 135

Elliot Mabeuse Angus could say as he showered her back with fevered kisses. He raised himself up slightly, planting his hands on either side of Anne’s shoulders. She immediately reached out and grasped his wrists, wanting to touch him, wanting to keep him close, as if he were going anywhere. “It’s alright now, love,” she said. “It…feels good now, Angus! You’re so deep!” Angus could only groan again. He glanced down to where Anne’s lovely buttocks were flattened by his own hips. He could not see where they were joined, but he did not have to. He could feel how incredibly tight she was, tighter than anything he’d ever felt before. He could feel everything, every tremble, every shudder, everything she did. He felt he couldn’t be closer to her if he were inside her himself. It took his breath away. “Oh, darling,” he groaned. “I’ve got to…” “Yes!” she said excitedly, turning her head back. “Do it to me now, Angus! Fuck me! Fuck me, my darling!” She felt him stir within her, so intimate, so close. He withdrew the slightest bit, and she felt as if he were drawing her very soul from her body. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” she chanted as he came back into her. It was more intense, more intimate than she had ever imagined possible. She had expected 136

The Croft pain and discomfort, she had not expected his every move to fill her with such overwhelming feelings. Anne felt his thigh muscles flex and he began to fuck her in earnest, his strong hips lifting from her and pulling him out of her just the barest amount, giving her a dizzy and vertiginous feeling in her gut as if she were falling, then pushing back into her and filling her with his solidity, his maleness. She squeezed his wrists to hold herself steady, the hardness and strength of his arms filling her with erotic heat. She tried to say something, to encourage him, but her voice was useless to her. Her breath came in great raw gasps as he plunged into her bowels. Now he was fucking her the way she loved, with animal heat, implacable and determined to have his pleasure in her. She loved this, the feeling of no escape, of being used like this, enjoyed like this. She could hardly breathe from his weight on her, but she didn’t care, feeling his passion, hearing him groan and grunt in pleasure. This is what she wanted, to give herself to him entirely. She was his bitch, his mare, his woman, and all that she had and all that she was his, to do with as liked. She would withhold nothing from him. Whatever she had, she would give “Oh yes, Angus! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me!” She felt his hand suddenly beneath her body 137

Elliot Mabeuse and knew what he was trying to do. She rolled slightly to the side to allow him access, and then felt the sweet touch of his hand at her vagina, felt his finger trace up and down between her lips. She tried to open her legs to him, but he held her fast., She tried to squeeze his fingers, but that only squeezed his cock as well, and he groaned in her ear. “Yes! Angus! Touch me there! Touch me!” His touch drove her mad. With unexpected strength she cocked her hips up to him, hollowing her back as she presented her ass to his plundering cock. His fingers now held the top of her labia between them, with her sensitive clit prisoner between her own softness. As he pumped into her ass, he squeezed rhythmically, sending shivers of desire running through her body. As stuffed and helpless as she was, she began to fuck her ass back at him, showing that she could meet him on his own terms, that she could take whatever he wanted to give. Still, the feel of him moving in her very belly was more intense than anything she had ever felt. That and the feel of his thick and rigid cock as it slid through the sensitive ring of her anus was more consuming than anything she had ever known, and with his hand squeezing insistently against her engorged clit, it was soon more than she could bear. 138

The Croft She felt the fires start in her toes, run up along the insides of her legs, merging with the pleasure in her ass, the excitement in her vagina. It took only an instant, much faster than it normally did, and she realized with a shock that she was about to climax and powerless to stop it. She raised her head to try and tell him but it was already there slamming down on her in waves of delicious fire, and all she could do was stare sightlessly ahead and squeal as her body convulsed in a terrific spasm of rigidity, trapping his cock within her. “Oh Anne! Fuck! Darling I can’t…Oh God!” Angus groaned. Through her orgasmic paralysis, Anne felt his phallus balloon inside her and she knew he was about to come in her ass. She managed to suck in one breath and scream before she felt him throb within her and heard him gasp, then she was seized by another convulsive shudder as he emptied himself into her, his body jerking against hers in ecstatic release. Instinctively her hips cocked up to him and she concentrated all her energy on feeling her lover ejaculate into her body, her lips quivering with every pulse of his spewing cock as she sobbed out her rapture, and with every spasm her anus clamped down on him filling her again with pleasure and bringing another wave of orgasm over her as she thought how she was taking his 139

Elliot Mabeuse semen into her very bowels. It was all too intense, and she began to weep for joy as he was still in her, still frantically clutching at her ass as he poured his seed into her. She was no longer aware of any pain, of anything but the wonderful feeling of Angus giving her what she wanted, his body to hers. Moaning and sobbing as well, Angus lay atop her, his ass clenching fiercely with each jet of release he shot into her body, his face a rictus of passion, coming so hard it was almost painful; a wonderful, soul-searing pain. Anne waggled her ass at him in excitement as she felt him begin to deflate within her, still borne on waves of pleasure. Before he was quite done he too was overcome, and he pulled himself from her, the last few jets of come spraying across her ass and the back of her thighs. “Too much!” he gasped, “It’s too much!” She lay there shuddering, weeping, as he rolled next to her and took her into his arms, covering her face with mindless kisses and rubbing his open mouth over her face. “Anne! Anne! Anne!” he kept on repeating as he kissed her and she presented her face to him, proud, joyous, satisfied, making no effort to hide her tears. He held her tight as they calmed down. Still she imagined the weight of his body on her back, his 140

The Croft presence inside her like a ghost of what they’d done. She felt incredibly close to him now, almost a part of him, as if she had no more secrets, as if there were no longer anything that separated her from him. They belonged to each other totally. With her head on his chest, listening to his heart and feeling the slow rhythm of his breathing, Anne finally stole a look at his face. He was looking at her. His eyes gentle and filled with wonder. “Was it good?” she asked tentatively. Angus looked at her and his face melted into a look of tender astonishment. “Do you have to ask?” he said. “My god, Anne! Do you really have to ask?” She kissed him and ran her hands through the hair on his chest. She hesitated a moment, then asked him, “Are we done with this now, this seducing thing?” Angus lifted his head and looked at her. “That’s up to you Anne. But yes, I think we’re done. One day you’ll be ready. I mean, truly ready. You’ll want to do it. And then you’ll decide. But for now, yes. We’re done.”

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Chapter 7

T

hen one day Anne was ready. As simple and as unexpected as that. She slept late after a somewhat restless night, and was nervous and distracted all morning. Everything upset her, including Angus, and it was this that convinced her that something was indeed wrong with her. She finally excused herself and retired to her room where she paced back and forth trying to find the cause of her agitation. She realized with that she was hungry in some way, hungry as she had been hungry for Angus that day in the car, but this time not for sex exactly, though that was part of it. But the urge to be touched, the sensual expectancy that always accompanied her desire for sex was eclipsed by a different feeling, a need to possess and consume. She was hungry for something more solid than pleasure, and this time it wasn’t Angus she wanted. She wanted someone new, someone she 142

The Croft didn’t know, someone she could pickup easily and discard easily. She wanted someone as food. The realization hit her with startling clarity and once she knew it for what it was, she didn’t hesitate. She knew that this was something she had to act on and act on now, and as she examined her feelings she was surprised to find that she actually felt ready. She felt a strange and uncharacteristic confidence, an aggressiveness and a strength that was not normally part of her personality. She also felt a biting impatience to get started. She bathed and dressed quickly, choosing something bolder and sexier than what Angus had chosen for her, then put on her makeup as if it were war paint. For the first time in her life she had no doubts about what she was wearing, and everything she put on seemed exactly perfect. She felt powerful and strong, and when she looked at herself in the mirror she knew was irresistible, charmed, and she had a confused moment when she actually felt attracted to herself. She looked like a huntress, and even her laugh of delight at her own image in the mirror seemed to have more than pleasure behind it. She felt strong and dangerous. Angus came looking for her and stopped in the doorway of her room still in his sloppy painting clothes, shocked. He seemed to know immediately 143

Elliot Mabeuse what had happened to her and said nothing. She looked him right in the eye and knew that she could have him right now just by willing it. He knew it too. And though he’d been pushing her towards this for so long, now that it had happened he was dumbfounded. But Anne only smiled at him. He wasn’t her target tonight. “You’re going into town?” he asked. “Yes,” she said casually, checking herself one last time in the mirror. “I thought it might be nice.” “Wait, Anne. Let me change and I’ll go with you,” he said. “That’s really not necessary, darling,” she said. She wanted to add that he’d only get in the way but she held her tongue. Instead she said, “I won’t be too long. Don’t wait up.” Anne decided against wearing her usual winter coat. Instead she chose the dramatic cape that Angus had bought her as a vampire joke, only this was no joke, and she felt entirely confident wearing such a dramatic garment. Angus watched her and realized that indeed she could pull it off. He marveled. She left the Croft with Angus following behind her, concerned and worried, but at the front door she stopped him with a look. Angus saw a woman he knew and didn’t know, confident, glamorous, 144

The Croft almost haughty. He knew there was nothing to say. He had been urging her to do this, and now she was, and now he was the nervous one. She drove herself and again chose the Hotel Kincaid as her target, it being the place she knew best. She gave the car to the doorman and ignored his stare, stepped into the lobby and just stood there looking about, looking at the people—her game. Again they were almost all men, a few women, and she saw now that some of these were certainly hookers of one kind of another. The last time she’d been here, with Angus, she’d been too preoccupied and nervous to notice much but now she was deliciously aware. Men were staring at her as surreptitiously as they could, but instead of making her uneasy, she now found their looks mildly amusing. She felt strength and hunger surging through her, and she looked at the men differently than she had then. She was no longer looking for kindness or empathy in a man, she was looking for someone seasoned and virile, someone with power and status and sexual energy. She didn’t know why such a man appealed to her now, but she knew she was capable of handling whomever she chose. She found her man standing alone by the elevator, waiting for the car. He was dressed in a 145

Elliot Mabeuse tuxedo, obviously on the way back from some long and boring formal dinner. He was late forties, early fifties, with thinning salt and pepper hair and a trimmed mustache. He showed the beginning of a middle aged paunch but was still fit—executive material. She was aware of the peculiar sensation of somehow knowing this man, not personally, but as if she could sense his personality and character. It was almost as if she could psychically taste him. Some sense not on her tongue could sense his aura, and she found it sharp and masculine, yet not without some sophistication, just meaty enough. He would do. Without a second thought she walked over to where he stood by the elevator. She had no idea of what she’d say, but she didn’t worry about that. Something would come to her, and what ever it was, it would be perfect. She noticed his glance at her,, taking her in. Their eyes met and he smiled, then he turned his gaze reluctantly to the dial indicating the car position. “It’s so nice to see a man in formal wear,” Anne said to him. “You see it so rarely these days, especially up here, with the oil and all.” The man regarded her with a smile. “Why, thank you,” he said. “No, I don’t have much occasion to wear my monkey suits up here. Just 146

The Croft coming from an awards dinner.” “Really?” Anne asked. “How nice. Did you win?” He laughed. “No, I’m afraid not. I wasn’t in the running. I’m the guy who gives them out. I’m John Loren, VP of operations for NSE: North Sea Explorations. We’re the ones tramping the mud all over your town, I’m afraid.” “Oh, it’s not my town,” she said. “American?” “Yes. Expatriate, really. I’m Lynn Martin. I’m in antiques.” The name and occupation came to her easily, without conscious effort. Her sense of confidence thrilled her. “Well, very pleased to meet you, Ms. Martin.” “Please—Lynn,” she corrected. “And it’s Miss. I’m old fashioned that way.” The car came down and the doors whispered open, and they entered together, John Loren gallantly holding the door for her. He blushed just slightly and his grin widened. “Then I beg your pardon, Lynn. But I’m still very charmed to make your acquaintance.” He punched in a floor number and turned to her. “Are you a guest here?” Anne turned on her smile as the door closed. “I don’t know yet. Mr. Loren. I certainly hope to be.” By the time they got off the elevator at John’s floor, Anne’s heart was racing. It had been so 147

Elliot Mabeuse incredibly easy. Angus had been right. These executive types had no more intelligence when it came to women than did the most common stable boy. If anything, they were even easier to seduce since they were egotistical enough to assume that any woman would naturally be attracted to them. They figured it came with the title and the income. Anne could have laughed at how simple it all was had she not been so intent on other things. His only reservations had been about whether she was a professional or not, and those fears were easy to allay. He did not question why this beautiful woman had so blatantly attached herself to him. He acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I have to make some calls,” he said as he let them into his suite. “Damned business. It won’t take long. The bar’s stocked. Make yourself something and I’ll be with you in a minute.” Anne went to the bar. All the bottles were brand new, unopened. The ice bucket was full. She splashed something clear into a glass and added some ice, then sat down with her drink. The thought of actually drinking it was strangely repulsive to her. Her mental clarity was delicious. She had no desire to tamper with it. She didn’t feel nervous as much as she felt impatient, fidgety. She would take the sex, but she didn’t think she’d enjoy it, not as much as she’d 148

The Croft enjoy what came with it. She had no real feelings for John Loren aside from a bit of amusement at his presumption of his own desirability and worth. If anything, she felt a mild antipathy towards him, the sort of dislike a mugger might feel for his victim for making himself so available. She wondered suddenly whether she should do something to arouse him herself. Angus had always brought her slowly to a pitch of excitement, playing with her and teasing her. Should she do the same to this stranger? She really had no desire for that kind of thing, nor had she the patience. He came back in rubbing his hands together. “There. So much for business. And I see you have a drink. Fine. Now I’ll have something too, and then you can tell me about yourself. What are you drinking?” Anne kept her eyes on him. “I have no idea,” she said. She crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward. Her lips were red, her eyes were chilly green. “Listen, John,” she said, “I lied to you before. I’m not really a Miss. I’m a married woman. My husband and I are no longer sexually active, but he keeps tabs on me. I came to you because you look like you know your way around a woman. But I don’t have much time. I’m sure you 149

Elliot Mabeuse understand.” He was in the middle of pouring a drink. Now he looked at her with one eyebrow cocked and a sly smile on his lips. Of course he understood, a man in his position. He laughed sharply. “I like your attitude, Lynn,” he said. “And I like someone who knows what they want and will lay their cards on the table, no dicking around.” He came over to her and stood in front of her, offering his hand. “Let’s go in the bedroom, then.” She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet and into his arms and kissed her hotly. His lips felt dry and dead to her, despite his excitement. He smelled strongly of cologne, an aggressive, overly macho scent that she didn’t care for. As he kissed her he held her too tightly, and he ground his pelvis into hers. She felt his big log stir in his pants. He broke the kiss and seemed oblivious to the fact that she didn’t react. Holding her hand, he drew her into the bedroom, and Anne started stripping as they went, kicking off her shoes. It was absurd that she should let him pull her along, when she knew she should have been pulling him. He turned the lights off and with a rush of excitement she heard the sounds of him undressing. In the darkness she felt immensely powerful and in control. She stripped off her 150

The Croft dress, stepped out of her panties and shrugged off her bra. She heard the bed sag under his weight, and then he snapped the bedside lamp on. He had already slipped under the covers and was looking at her with that same asinine knowing look on his face. Anne could tell that it was a studied look, his seductive look. The man was an fool and quite taken with himself. But that wouldn’t stop her. She picked up her dress and folded it over the back of a chair, letting him have a look at her. She was totally unashamed. She knew that what he was looking at wasn’t her, but her hunter’s body, as separate from her as her clothes. She threw back the blankets and got in bed, sidling over until their bodies touched. He was lean and muscular, but without the softness of youth, and his body was covered with thick salt and pepper hair. He immediately kissed her, and his hand went to her breast. She endured his kiss, his probing tongue, but for the first time she had reservations. She felt some emanation from him she hadn’t noticed before, something small and greedy and mean. She instantly realized how this man had reached his high position, and it hadn’t been through competence and ability. He was, quite simply, a son of a bitch. The realization stunned her with its clarity, but she was not afraid. She still felt well in control of 151

Elliot Mabeuse the situation, even as he squeezed her and slid his hand between her legs. He was a clumsy lover, everything he did was for his own pleasure. His caresses and his touch were only to get her ready for him, though really, Anne gave him little encouragement or reason to be more gentle. When he kissed her, she kissed him back, when he touched her she opened her legs and moaned softly for him, but her mind and her senses were not on his touch or upon his aggressive kisses. Instead she was totally occupied with feeling his mind and his character in the most extraordinary way. Aside from Angus, she had never seen into someone so clearly, and she was fascinated by both this novel view and by what it showed her as well. It was something she could not have described. She didn’t actually see anything different in him, but it was if she could taste him in her mind. Her perceptions were immediate and beyond doubt, and she knew what they meant even before she could find words to describe them. She could tell for example that he was self absorbed and accustomed to giving commands, but she could have deduced that just from observing him with her normal senses. But she felt other things, hidden things, an entire spectrum of emotions and feelings that were within him. There was something vaguely unpleasant about him, 152

The Croft like a sour, lingering scent which she recognized as an echo of the greediness she’d sensed before. He was petty and selfish. He was a bully. But over all this was a wonderful envelope of pure lust that Anne found thrilling. She understood everything now, how to feed from him, how to ingest his excitement and turn it into strength, and she knew that it would grow much stronger shortly. “Oh, hurry!” she whispered hotly. “Take me, fuck me! I can’t wait any longer.” Grunting, he rolled between her legs. “You got it, Baby!” She felt his cock probing at her and she spread her legs. He found her opening and plowed into her with one rude shove, making her grunt in surprise. He immediately starting humping her, and Anne had to focus to try and feel him that special way. She might have to do this quickly, he didn’t seem like he was going to last too long, not at this rate. But then he stopped. “Feel good, Sugar?” he asked. “You like my big cock?” “Oh yes,” she lied. He tried to make it seem that he had stopped for some dirty talk and to savor the moment, but Anne knew that he was temporarily out of breath, that he’d started out too fast, trying to impress 153

Elliot Mabeuse her. She took the break to get her bearings. He did feel very good inside her. He was something her body wanted, and her sexual need didn’t care if he was a jerk or not. He had his hard dick pushed inside her pussy and it felt good. She closed her eyes and concentrated until she could feel his lust and energy. For all his defects as a man, he was still potent and strong, and it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. He seemed to throb with a sexual male fire, and the recognition made her gasp. She exhaled slowly, concentrating on that fire, and as he began once more to stir in her, she began to suck that energy into her body, breathing it in. She was too greedy. The richness of his lust made her dizzy and she fed too fast, and above her he emitted a strangled cry. He’d felt her. She had to control herself. She began to move her hips to meet him, fucking up at him as he came down. He grabbed her breasts and gazed down at her. “You’re a hot little bitch aren’t you?” he whispered hoarsely. “Fuck me!” Anne said “Harder! Harder!” He swung into action again, ramming into her as she ran her hands up and down his body, feeling his hardness, his maleness. She planted her feet on the mattress and spread her legs wide, then 154

The Croft rocked her hips up to absorb him as he plunged down, and she felt his energy grow again, like a glowing bubble. She sucked it in. “Oh Christ!” he groaned. “What the fuck are you doing? You’re sucking it right out of me, you little whore!” Again she was feeding too hard, too fast. She knew that he could sense his strength ebbing each time she did. And she couldn’t control herself. It was too good, too powerful, and it made her swell with strength of her own. Everything around her was crystal clear, and she had never felt more alive. “Let me!” she said. “Let me.” And with no trouble she managed to roll them over without his cock slipping from her body. She positioned herself atop him with her knees on either side of his hips and began to fuck him as he had done her, hot and hard. He was surprisingly easy to move, she realized, whether because she was suddenly so strong or he so weak she didn’t know, but he merely groaned as she began to move on top of him, his hands resting on her smooth, muscular thighs. Now with her on top she could control the action. She rocked her hips back and forth, making him slide in and out of her at a speed that kept them both aroused, letting his lust and pleasure grow like a balloon around them before sucking 155

Elliot Mabeuse that energy into her like breath into her body. Each inhalation of him gave her a rush of strength and pleasure like a little orgasm, a surge of spiritual power. But something was wrong. Angus had said that the victim could hardly tell when a vampire was feeding on him, but John Loren was growing weaker and weaker. It was Anne who was doing the fucking now, and her lover just lay moaning beneath her thighs. He reached slowly for her breasts again, but Anne was having none of it. She wasn’t interested in his clumsy mauling anymore, not while she was experiencing such triumphant pleasure. She took him by the wrists and easily pinned his arms over his head as her hips continued to pound over his loins His face was pale, his eyes closed, but Anne didn’t care. She wanted his come now. She wanted him to orgasm. That would be the final cap on this feeding. His orgasm would be pure energy, clean and sweet, with none of his personal flavor to taint it. “Come on, you son of a bitch!” she hissed down at him. “Give it to me! I want you to come, baby. I want you to come in me!” He groaned weakly. He looked suddenly old, shriveled and small, as if he’d been deflated. Anne felt an unexpected but familiar tingle in her belly, 156

The Croft sparks race through her thighs. Could she do it if she came too? Yes, she knew she could. She redoubled her efforts, clamped her pussy on him tight and began bouncing up and down on his cock as if he were no more than a piece of meat, growling in her throat. She was close, close. Loren's head fell back, his eyes sightless, mouth open in a rattling groan, but she just needed a little more, a little more of his cock, a little more of that delicious sexual energy she sucked out of him in great, greedy mouthfuls. A little more, a little more… “Anne! Anne! Stop!” It was Angus. She whirled around in alarm. Angus reached for her but she wouldn't be stopped now. She snarled at him and twisted away from his grip, thrust her pussy down onto Loren's twitching cock and ground herself against him, her stomach rolling with pre-orgasmic spasms. Angus grabbed her, wrapped his arms around her and tried to pull her off the comatose man. She growled at him, the orgasm that was just about to break over her began to slip away, dissolving into cold and agonizing frustration. “Damn you! What are you—?" “Stop it Anne! Stop it!” Angus shouted, “You’re killing him! Let him go!” She struggled in Angus’ grasp, managed to 157

Elliot Mabeuse twist around and strike out with her hand, her nails raking his cheek. “You fucking bastard! Let me go! He’s mine! He’s mine!” Angus seized her with superhuman strength, his arms like steel cords. He pulled her off Loren's twitching body and threw her aside so that she stumbled across the floor and fell awkwardly near the wall, her mind a blue of confusion and rage. She leaped to her feet, nails bared, ready to charge at him and claw his eyes out, but suddenly Angus was gone and what she saw in his place made her fall to her knees in fear and horror. She saw again the monstrous Angus she had seen on the balcony of the Croft—the huge, looming, terrible figure—so tall he had to bend his head to keep from hitting the ceiling, as wide as the bed, filling a full quarter of the room with his massive presence. His eyes in his expressionless face glowed green and yellow so brightly they even illuminated the dim room with their eerie light. Anne was frozen on her knees, naked, transfixed by this horrible sight. She forgot where she was, forgot what she’d been doing, forgot even John Loren who moaned softly on the bed, oblivious to everything. And again she heard Angus’ voice in her head. “Don’t look at me! Close your eyes! Close your eyes, Anne!” But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything but 158

The Croft stare at this horrible apparition until she felt like she would pass out from pure fear when one of Angus's giant hands reached out at her in slow motion and she watched it glide towards her face. She felt the sharp pain of a slap to her face and she fell over, closed her eyes and screamed. Then Angus, the Angus she loved, was at her side, holding her, calming her. “Annie, Annie! I’m sorry, Annie! I’m sorry!” But she would not be consoled. She couldn't stop the welter of feelings that ran riot in her brain, her body. She didn’t know where she was, who she was, and she couldn't control the violent sobs that threatened to tear her apart. Angus picked her up by her shoulders and pushed her into the bathroom, then into the shower. He held her there while he ran the water on full, and Anne screamed again as the spray drenched her, the water like icy fire on her skin Angus kept her in there until her hysteria ceased, until the water felt like water once again, then he pulled her out and started drying her briskly. He turned her to face him and looked deeply into her eyes, searching for something. He spoke to her as if she were a child. “You're all right. You're all right, thank God! Take off your stockings. Put them in your purse, do you understand me, Anne?” She nodded. 159

Elliot Mabeuse He left her in the bathroom and raced around the suite, threw the drinks down the sink, put the bottles away. He picked up her clothes and brought them to the bathroom. “Get dressed,” he said. “Quickly. We’ve got to get out of here now. We’ve got to hide every trace that you were here.” In a haze, she dressed, stuffing her underthings into a bag with her soaked stockings. The hysteria, the feeding frenzy were all forgotten now. She was not very clear in her mind but she knew she was in trouble. She could tell by the concern on Angus’s face. She hurried out of the bathroom to find Angus leaning over John Loren’s body on the bed. She cautiously looked over his shoulder at the immobile form of her recent lover. “ Angus…” “Shhh. He’s not dead. He should be all right, more or less, I think.” “Angus I didn’t mean to…” “I know Anne. I didn’t think you could do something like this. I’m just glad I tagged along. Another minute and that would have been it.” He turned to her. “You’re very strong, Anne. Much stronger than I gave you credit for. You just don't know how to control it yet. “Now hurry. Get your coat. Did you bring anything else with you? A hat, an umbrella, a 160

The Croft scarf?” “No, no. This is all of it. Just what I have on.” “Get your shoes. They’re in the hall.” She hurried out and found her shoes. In the midst of her panic she suddenly felt a pang of excited glee stab through her fear and had to repress a nervous giggle. t was insane, unbelievable. She wanted to laugh or cry, do something. Angus pulled her along. They locked the door behind them and rode the elevator down. She couldn’t repress her excitement, and she kept on breaking into a broad grin despite Angus’ dark glances at her. Finally he smiled at her. “”I know how you’re feeling,” he said. “Just try and control it till we get out of here.” Anne put her hand over her mouth. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel terrible but I can’t stop smiling.” They reached the ground floor and Angus said to her, “Make yourself invisible.” “What?” “Hide yourself,” he whispered. “You know how.” To her surprise Anne knew exactly what he was talking about. She felt something inside if her, in her chest, that she could somehow pull in or retract, and when she did so she felt that she was 161

Elliot Mabeuse enveloped in long grayish-black petals, as if she were standing in an unopened flower. She gasped in astonishment. Through the petals of the flower everything seemed dim but distinct, as if seen though a yellowish-gray haze. She looked at Angus and could see him also enveloped in a sheath of petals, and she knew that they were obscured from the sight of those still in the lobby, and she knew as well that this was a vampire’s trick to go about unnoticed. Angus guided her calmly to the front door, Anne’s mind a blaze of excitement and wonder. This had been so easy, like everything on this remarkable night. She simply couldn’t hide the broad smile on her face as they walked through the crowd, her hair sopping wet, naked beneath her dress and coat. She again felt the surge of power and confidence, if anything stronger than it had been earlier. Near the door Angus said to her. “Keep your cloak up and wait for me. I’ve got to report this.” Before Anne could ask him what he meant she saw the petals seem to peel from him and he was fully visible. He strode up to the desk and spoke quickly to the desk clerk, who immediately went into the back room. Angus then joined her at the door. And the petals again enfolded him. “Okay,” he said to her, “Let’s go.” “What did you say to him?” she asked. 162

The Croft But Angus just put a finger to his lips. He did not speak until they were in the car and pulling from the lot. Then the petals disappeared from him again. Anne felt inside for that special place, and rearranged something inside of herself, and her cloaking fell away as well. It was remarkable, and so easy. She at once turned to Angus, but he anticipated her. “I told the clerk that your boyfriend had taken ill and needed an ambulance,” he said. Anne was so full of questions she hardly knew where to begin. Angus finally gave a sharp laugh. “So now you know what it’s like, don’t you Anne? It feels pretty good, doesn’t it?” “What does? What happened?” “You fed on him, your boyfriend back there…” Anne cut him off. “Don’t call him that, Angus. Please.” “Okay. Sorry,” Angus said, “Whatever his name was. You seduced him and you fed on his energy. And damn near killed him. I should have warned you. But I’ve never heard of anyone doing what you did the first time out. That’s most remarkable.” “I could have killed him?” Anne asked, although she already knew the answer. She knew she’d been killing him at the time, only she hadn’t given a damn about it. The memory of that 163

Elliot Mabeuse selfishness and greedy pleasure now came back to her and filled her with horror. “It was your first time,” Angus said. “You couldn’t distinguish his sexual energy from his life force. You just sucked it all up like soda through a straw. You’ll learn though. It’s not hard to learn.” “My God, Angus! I didn’t know! Why didn’t you tell me?” He shrugged and started to explain, but then Anne noticed the welts on his cheek. “And your face! What did I do to your face!” Angus felt his cheek where a few small beads of blood had oozed through the vicious scratch she had given him. His finger tips came away red and he showed them to her. “You are a feisty little piece when your blood’s up,” he said. “I’ll be all right. I’m sorry I had to slap you though.” The memory of the monster Angus came back to her. She deliberately shut it out. She did not want to see that again, did not want to think about it. “That was so horrible, Angus! It was just horrible. The whole thing!” “But how do you feel?” he asked. She looked at him in surprise for a moment. “Why, I feel terrible. That wasn’t me. None of it. It’s like I turned into some sort of monster or…” He shook his head. “No. That’s not what I 164

The Croft asked. I asked you how do you feel. Right now. And when we were crossing the lobby.” Anne thought. “I feel wonderful,” she said. “I feel just fantastic! I feel like I could do anything right now. I feel like I could fly. And I could too, couldn’t I Darling? I could just fly home if you showed me how.” Angus laughed. “That’s all I need. You flying around the countryside. I’ll bet you probably could fly right now too, Annie. I’ve never seen anyone quite as strong as you, and after only one feeding. It’s quite remarkable. I don’t know what to think.” “I’m also horny as hell,” Anne said, her eyes sparkling. “Let’s go home and make love, darling. Let me screw your brains out.” Angus laughed and raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. “And do to me what you did to him?” It was a joke, but it stung her deeply. She collapsed back into the seat, remembering all the details of the night, how she had so brazenly picked him up, insisted on sex, how she had very nearly sucked the life from him. She didn’t recognize herself. It hadn’t been the Anne she knew. “It was just horrible, Angus. I never want to do that again. Ever. I’ve done it and shown you that I can, now I’m done with it. I don’t care how good it 165

Elliot Mabeuse makes me feel.” They drove some distance in silence, the headlights the only lights on the forlorn moors. Angus wrestled with how to tell her, but he could think of no graceful way. “I’m afraid it’s no longer a choice for you Annie. It might not be for days. It might not be for weeks or even months, but eventually it'll be something you'll have to do. Something you'll want to do." He looked at her sitting next to him in the darkness. He reached for her hand and took it in his. "You’re one of us now, darling. I’m sorry.”

166

The Croft

Chapter 8

I

t might not be for days, and it might not be for weeks, and so as much as she was able, Anne put the entire matter out of her head. Tense days passed as they waited for news of a mysterious death or illness at the Kincaid, but when they finally heard that a Mr. John Loren was resting comfortably after a bout of what was thought to be food poisoning complicated by overwork and nervous collapse, they both relaxed. Angus was satisfied with her skills as a hunter, and if she was still somewhat clumsy in the execution of her powers, time and patience would take care of that. For now things were good. Angus was there every night when they went to bed, and he was with her whenever she reached for him in her sleep. Their lovemaking was infused with tender yet insistent heat of a steady-burning hearth fire, intense yet controlled. It warmed her to the core of her being. Her powers simmered within her, 167

Elliot Mabeuse nourished by the breath of his love, and she was content. If on occasion she was awakened by a coal popping on the grate or a loose shutter flapping in the wind and found Angus already awake and gazing at her with a look of concern, she merely assumed he’d awakened before her and was worried for her sleep. She would doze off again, never noticing that his look and his concern persisted long after the minor crisis had abated. She never remembered that it was a small thing for Angus to induce in her a spell of deep sleep, sufficient so that she would not notice his absence from her bed while he saw to certain affairs of his own, affairs in which Anne figured quite prominently By December, Angus had finished most of the vital restoration to the ground floor of the original Croft, the portion that had originally been the medieval castle keep. They now had, in addition to their bedrooms and a lavatory upstairs, the kitchen, a downstairs lavatory, dining hall, library and most of the front sitting room. It was more than enough room for the two of them, and Angus proposed that they invite some friends up to celebrate. Ian Woods and Amy Leese had been old friends of Angus’ not only since he’d moved back to the Croft, but at school in the States as well. Anne had 168

The Croft heard him talk about Ian often and looked forward to meeting him and his girl. And so it was that on the evening of a blustery and bright day in late December, Anne was surprised to hear someone using the immense knocker on the Croft's front door, a sound she’d never heard before and one that sounded ominously loud through the halls of the old building. “Ian!” Angus said immediately. He dropped the book he’d been reading and rushed to the front door, Anne at his side. Ian Woods was a wiry little man, muscular and compact, hardly Anne’s own height, with an engaging and slightly wicked smile. He was medium complected with sharp features and excited eyes, and seemed to give off energy as a fire gave off sparks. Anne was taken by his sheer sense of excitement and his effortless charm. His girl or companion—Angus hadn’t specified the exact nature of their relationship—seemed to be his exact opposite. She was as tall as Angus, elegant and beautiful, and projected an air of ennui or jaded sensuality which by itself Anne might have found a bit affected, but which was such a perfect compliment to Ian’s restless ebullience that they seemed perfectly matched. Anne was so engrossed in the business of introductions and the gathering up of their luggage that she didn’t even notice that they had 169

Elliot Mabeuse no car, as if they’d appeared out of the thin air. She took their hats and coats, though Ian didn’t remove the little tweed deerstalker hat that gave him the appearance of an impish Sherlock Holmes. There was much talking and laughter as she and Angus gave them a tour of the place, and Ian was just delightful, clowning and teasing Angus for all the labor he’d put in, though he truly was impressed by the results. As the four of them descended the stairs to the dining hall she heard Ian say to Angus, “This is truly wonderful, Angus. You’ve just done wonders with the old pile. Better even than I’d hoped. There just aren’t many places left like the old Croft, and we really appreciate it.” For once, she knew, Ian wasn’t joking, and she was struck with his sincerity. She didn’t know what to make of it. Angus got two bottles from the cellar, and they finished one before the tour was even over, then ended up in the kitchen as old friends often tend to do. Someone said something about dinner, and Anne got up to see what she could find. Angus had recently ordered a good deal of food, but she wasn’t sure what he’d bought. No sooner had she stood up, though, than Ian was pushing her back down in her seat, insisting that she allow him and Amy to prepare dinner. Angus concurred, but Anne was horrified at the idea of their first guests 170

The Croft having to prepare their own meals. “It’s okay, Anne. Ian’s a very good cook,” Angus said, then quickly added, “Not that you aren’t, of course, but…” “Really,” Ian said, feigning indignity. “I’m one of the few inhabitants of this wretched and barbaric nation who doesn’t cook with vats of Bisto sauce. Besides, I’ve brought you a special treat. Amy?” Amy had already gone to her bags and pulled out a parcel wrapped in brown paper, which she gave to Ian. Making a great show of untying the parcel, Ian opened it and held it out before him as if it were a bouquet of flowers. Anne blinked. She didn’t recognize the mess of blackish golf balls that sat in a small pile of dirt on the paper. But Angus exclaimed, “Ian! You genius! Where did you steal these?” Anne looked at him in confusion and Angus smiled at her. “They’re truffles! Real, French, truffles!” he turned back to Ian. “I’m afraid to ask where you got these! At this time of year.” “I have my ways,” Ian sniffed, then laughed. “Now all I need from you are some eggs and cheese, maybe a splash of brandy, and for you two to stay out of my way. Cede the stage to a true artist and watch a master at work.” Working as a team and with Ian as comedian and Amy as his foil, the two of them cleaned and 171

Elliot Mabeuse cut up the truffles and in short order had a beautiful truffle timbale ready on the table. Anne had been laughing so much that she was giddy and her cheeks ached by the time they sat down to eat, so she was relieved at the appreciative silence that settled over the table when the food was finally served. Perhaps it was the wine, the excitement, the richness of the dinner, or all of these, but by the time Angus poured them all snifters of an ancient Armagnac, Anne was feeling very warm and relaxed and pleasantly sleepy. Indeed they all seemed to be feeling the same way, and no one spoke, but no one felt uncomfortable in the silence either. It was a delicious and satisfied silence, and even through her haze Anne knew that there was something magical about this moment, and that it would become a special memory for her. Ian took out a pipe and filled it, and began blowing lazy smoke rings, and Anne seemed to slide down the years until she was a child again in her childhood home, safe and secure, surrounded by loving adults and the comforting smells of the kitchen. She leaned against Angus’ warmth and watched the smoke rings, and then became aware that Ian was looking at her. And so was Amy. She was not alarmed. There was something calm and peaceful in their eyes. They wished her no harm. In fact their eyes were heavy lidded, 172

The Croft only a slit of pupil showing that seemed to gleam in the dim light of the old, nineteenth century kitchen. At last she realized vaguely that they were doing something to her, and she thought that she should find out what it was. But she felt too good to bother. It was easier to just bask in the curious glow of their eyes and… When next she could think she realized that she was not the Anne she knew. She was in the same place, in the same body, but she didn’t recognize herself. The normal things that buzzed in her mind, the usual thoughts and nagging worries simply were not there. It was as if someone had removed all the normal furnishings in her mind and left the rooms bare. Everything had lost its familiarity. She knew who Ian and Amy were, and Angus too, but she wasn’t sure who she was. She couldn’t move. Or it was more like she could move, but she simply had no desire to do so. More than being frightening, it was exciting and novel, liberating. She found it an excellent state to be in, and she could hardly wait to find out what would happen to her next. “How is she?” Ian asked. “Oh, she’s there,” Amy said. “She’s definitely there. She can hear us and see us, but she won’t remember a thing. I’m certain of it.” “Then go ahead, Amy,” Ian said. “Let’s see what we have here, shall we?” 173

Elliot Mabeuse Amy sat back and closed her eyes and Anne was suddenly aware of a soft prickling in her scalp. Not her scalp, but beneath her scalp. It was a delightful feeling, very warm and intimate, and the next thing she knew, Amy was there in her mind with her, standing in the empty rooms of her new personality. Anne could feel a comforting warmth and tenderness from the other woman, and she was not afraid. Without speaking, Amy asked her if it was all right to look around and invited her to follow. She then had the bewildering impression of the two of them wandering about in her mind like sightseers, though the sights they saw were strange and indescribable to her, feelings and ideas, tangled clusters of memories and dreams. It was like a dream within a dream, and, had she been capable in her state of feeling fear, she no doubt would have been terrified. But Amy radiated such care and gentleness Anne felt nothing but an amused interest in what they saw together. At some point she lost sight of Amy and, with nothing to do, she brought her attention to the outside world again. Amy still sat with her eyes closed, hardly breathing. Ian sat, chin in hand, gazing blankly at Anne, and Angus stared at her as well, but in his eyes was a look of concern. Then she felt the prickle again beneath her scalp. She felt Amy leaving her. She stopped and 174

The Croft gave Anne a smile and thanked her, then told her everything was going to be fine. And then she was gone. She was sorry to feel her leave. At the table Amy suddenly stirred. She opened her eyes, made a thoughtful face, then picked up their plates and took them to the sink. Amy’s usually dour and reserved expression was replaced with a look of pure happiness. “She’s for real, Angus. She’s as sweet as they come. Pure love. Just lovely.” “Who does she remind you of?” Ian asked. Barely hesitating, Amy said “Angus.” “Yes, that’s what I thought as well. Furious love. Passion, eh?” “Well, that’s very nice.” Angus said, “But that’s not why you’re here. You’re supposed to tell me what to do with her now.” Ian got his pipe going and puffed away on it. “Well I’m not sure. Just what do you expect us to do? What you need is a vampire like yourself, not me. Or are you finally having second thoughts?” Angus blew out a breath of exasperation and ran his fingers through his hair. "Damned if I know,” he said. “But don’t start that again, Ian. Please.” Ian shrugged. “Tsk, tsk. So touchy! Well what have you told her? That you’re a vampire, right?” “Yes. I told you. It was the easiest explanation, and true enough.” 175

Elliot Mabeuse “So make her a vampire,” Ian said indifferently. “No, I can’t. I can’t take that risk. I don’t want her with other men. I don’t want to take the chance of her becoming like the rest of them. You know how the women always end up.” “Well it’s never bothered you before.” Angus glared at him. “I told you. This time it’s different. I really love her, Ian.” Amy laughed. It wasn’t a sarcastic laugh; it didn’t sound like a laugh at all, more like a melodious purring sound. “He does love her, Ian. Help him.” Ian looked at her in irritation. But his eyes soon softened. “But what can I do?” he asked Amy. “He’s the one who chose to be a vampire. He knew very well what he was getting into. It’s a little late for him to change now, isn’t it?” Then back to Angus, “And what is it you want, Angus? Do you want me to take her with me? Do you want her to become a spirit? A sylph? There’s still time. But what will you do then? Are you going to be a vampire spirit-lover? That’ll never work out.” Angus stood up in frustration, and Ian and Amy exchanged glances. Ian saw a special plea in her eyes and he sighed. He thought for a moment and said, “So you want her, but you don’t want her to be a vampire. If she becomes a spirit lover, 176

The Croft she’ll probably be lost to you…” “Why?” Angus exclaimed. “How do you know that? Just because it hasn’t happened before? Amy’s not like you, but you’re together.” Ian raised an eyebrow. “Amaryllis and I are different,” he said, “but we’re of the same kind. Both spirits, or sprites, or whatever they’re calling us these days. But an incubus and a spirit…” “Don’t use that word,” Angus interrupted angrily. Ian shrugged. “Sorry. A vampire and a nature spirit then. That’s an unlikely mix. I’ve certainly never heard of such a thing.” Angus sat back down heavily, leaned his head against the wall and blew a stream of breath into the air. “What about this,” he said. “What if you introduce her to the nature spirits? She knows nothing about them now. Perhaps she would be accepted…” “It’s possible,” Ian said. “But do you think she’d come back to you? We spirits are very seductive. And our world is a truly wondrous place, as I always tried to tell you.” Angus closed his eyes. “Spare me the lecture, Ian.” Now Amy chimed in from the sink. “She might be yours from the world of the spirits.” The two men looked at her. “I mean, she could be. I’ve seen her. She’s 177

Elliot Mabeuse remarkably pure. She might surprise all of us.” “Well, then you’d save her from becoming a vampire whore,” Ian said, “but she’d become a spirit nutcase.” Angus glared at him. “Don’t look at me,” Ian said. “That’s what you always called us: nutcases. That’s why incub…vampires were so much more appealing to you.” “All right,” Angus said wearily. “You’ve made your point, Ian. In fact, you made it years ago and keep on insisting on making it every time I see you.” Ian smiled for the first time in a long time. Angus turned to Amy. “What spirits are about now that you know, Amaryllis?” Amy folded her arms over her chest and closed her eyes for a moment. “You still have quite a few tree spirits here, and some gnomes in the basement that I can sense. The biggest fish is the young one down in your pond.” “The pond?” Angus asked. Amy opened her eyes and looked at him. “Come on, Angus, I’ve been telling you about him ever since you came back to the Croft. You’ve got a very powerful water sprite down there. Quite a sexy one too. And quite fond of Anne he is.” Angus looked hurt. Amy recognized male pride and smiled. 178

The Croft “I would strongly suggest that you don’t send Anne down to him alone. As I say, he’s powerful and he has a real liking for Anne. She must have been spending time down there by the pond on her own. So you might have a terrible time getting her back if he takes her physical body. Vampires don’t impress us spirits much.” “What then?” Angus asked. “Amaryllis can set something up on the psychic,” Ian said. “What do you mean?” “I can arrange for Anne’s spirit to meet the Water Sprite’s on a psychic level. It’s almost as good as the real thing, but then he would have a hard time keeping her against her will.” Ian gazed at Angus, taking the measure of his friend. “But you do know what will happen. And what can happen.” “Yes,” Angus said. “He will make love to her, in whatever way you spirits do. But she won’t fall in love with him, if that’s what you mean. I know she won’t” “We are very good lovers, you know,” Ian said slyly. But seeing Angus’ worried look he laughed. “But I wouldn’t worry. Most of them aren’t as good as I am! Isn’t that so, Amy?” “Well most of them don’t have such a high 179

Elliot Mabeuse opinion of themselves, that’s for sure.” “But you will help her, won’t you?” Angus implored. “Both of you. I’m really in over my head here.” “Of course we will, Angus,” Amy said. Ian just smiled. “What are friends for?” He turned to Amy and gestured towards Anne. “How is she, dear? Still out?” “She’s not out,” Amy said sarcastically. “She’s just under a spell, Ian. I’ve told you that how many times?” “Yes, yes,” Ian said impatiently. “Whatever you say. But she won’t remember any of this? I don’t want to upset her.” “No, dear, she’s fine.” Amy came over to the table and looked at Anne with concern. “Poor baby. Angus she’s really so lovely. And I can tell you’re so happy. I know things will work out.” “Thank you, Amy,” Angus said. “I hope you’re right.” Ian cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. “Now,” he said. “Would you mind? I’ve been dying to get comfortable.” Angus smiled. “No, no, I don’t mind. But I thought you had all that under control.” Ian stood up. “I do, yes. But when around friends it’s still nice to let one’s hair down.” “Or out,” Amy teased. 180

The Croft “Whatever.” Ian unbuckled his belt, opened his pants, and let them fall, revealing his legs; the legs of a goat, covered with long, luxuriant tawny brown hair. He stepped out of his special shoes, and ran his hands through the furry pelt that covered his thighs. “Oh, does that feel good!” He next removed his hat, throwing it aside, and shook out his curly hair, revealing a pair of budding horns just below his hair line. “It does get tiring having to keep them concealed.” Amy giggled. “We were at the cinema last week and Ian got so involved he forgot his spell and his horns began to emerge!” “I didn’t forget!” he said. “I just needed to stretch the old head gear a bit.” “All right, all right,” Angus said, laughing. “This is what I get for having a Satyr as a friend. Meanwhile what about Anne?” Amy crouched down in front of Anne and gazed into her face. “She'll stay in this mild trance until we're ready for her,” Amy said. “We don't want to rush into things. I’ll take her to her room. I’ll stay with her tonight.” “May I come?” Angus asked. Amy stood and held out her hand to Anne, who took it and got to her feet. Together the two 181

Elliot Mabeuse women walked towards the stairway. “I'm just going to talk to her, Angus, and put her to bed. This is a female matter and you'd just be in the way." Angus sighed resignedly as Amy put her arm around Anne and led her from the kitchen. The vampire and the satyr watched as the nature spirit led the enchanted human woman up the stairs.

182

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Chapter 9

O

ne evening about 4 o’clock, after tea, with the sky steel gray and thick with bruised clouds, Amy came to Anne’s room while she lay in bed.. Anne, in that golden torpor that surrounded her always now, smiled at her. The fact that this strange and beautiful woman sat next to her and ran her hand across Anne’s brow might have upset her, but she did not object now. “You are very beautiful, Anne,” Amy said to her. Anne smiled and thanked her. She would have returned the compliment, for Amy was indeed beautiful, but she sensed that Amy had not come to her to exchange comments. “And your love is so pure,” Amy said. “That’s really a remarkable thing. Did you know that?” Again Anne said nothing. She knew Amy had come for a reason, and she dreamily waited for it to be revealed. 183

Elliot Mabeuse “Not only for Angus,” Amy said, “but your love for this place, for everything in it. There is no selfishness in you, no greed, no grasping after things. Just love like water upon stone.” Anne liked that image. She could see her love as a clear stream, caressing Angus, this place, with a soft and sensuous touch, embracing everything without judgment or reservation, like water flowing over smooth stones. Amy placed both of her cool hands on Anne’s brow and smiled a deep and mysterious smile. Then slowly she brought her hands down to cover Anne’s eyes. Anne saw the darkness descend, soft and gentle. She opened her eyes and gasped. For a second she couldn’t breathe. She was no longer in her bed, no longer in the Croft at all. She stood on the side of the stream that ran through the woods beyond the Croft on a soft and placid summer day. She knew this spot well, had often come here in her first days to read or organize her thoughts. An old willow tree hung over the bank here and dipped its frond into the flowing water, and the bottom of the stream was covered with smooth round pebbles. Just beyond the willow the stream widened into a quiet pool, half-covered with water lilies, the edges curtained with sweet rushes and cattails. The dim light that filtered through the willow was as green as the deep ocean and shone 184

The Croft in patches on the placid surface of the water as dragonflies stitched through the air and bees went about their slow and drowsy business. She knew instinctively that this spot was sacred. But what was she doing there now, in the dead of winter, the warm air caressing her, the scent of growing things in her nostrils? She could hear the drone of the insects and smell the amaryllis growing wild at the edge of the pool. And as she looked at the pool she saw the waters gather up into a column, rushing up foaming and standing there before her startled eyes, and turn into the form of a man. Not a man, a god. So perfectly formed, so handsome, with such wisdom and desire in his eyes and such quiet joy on his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful and Anne felt herself grow weak with some unnamable longing. His eyes met hers and caught her soul tight, and she could not look away as he read every thought in her mind. “Come,” he said to her in a voice like liquid silver, “I know your mind, and it is one with mine.” Anne could not speak, but she did not need to. Her eyebrows raised in question. He laughed, “Why to love, of course.” Again she did not understand how this could be happening. Was it a dream? If so, how could 185

Elliot Mabeuse she feel so awake, every sense alive to her surroundings, aware of every detail. And yet if she were awake, why was it so difficult to think clearly? Why was every thought suffused with a delicious summer laziness, as if every detail of the drowsy and pastoral scene before her was occurring inside her head as well? Now he laughed, a sound as gentle and sweet as water bubbling over a rill, a rich and thrilling sound that made her long for him in a way that was much more than sexual. “Come Anne!” he chided, “The waters in this heart are pure. They bring life.” And in a flash she was beside him and gazing into his eyes, two pools of lapis lazuli within which sparkles of gold and silver danced like sunlight on the ripples in a pool. She smelled him, wet and sweet and delicious with the scent of flowers unknown, underwater plants whose perfume was spent only beneath the surface. She put her fingers to his chest and felt his softness and strength, His skin seemed to flow softly beneath her fingers, yet at the same time she felt a tremendous power concealed within his magnificent frame. He put his hands on her arms and stepped closer, holding her eyes with his, his smile glowing like a long summer day. Slowly he pulled her close, closer, impossibly close, and she fell into 186

The Croft a green and blue cascade of liquid warmth, so sweet and intoxicating that she swooned. She opened her eyes and realized that she was underwater in a world of blue green and startling clarity. She could clearly see the delicate fronds of underwater plants, the silver flash of small fish as they darted around, the languid rise of bubbles. Everything had that strange, otherworldly grace of the underwater world where nothing was hurried and the very water seemed bursting with life. Her clothes waved idly about her in the gentle current, and shafts of sunlight illuminated the scene in swirling patches of yellow and silver. There in front of her was her Spirit of Waters, her Nixie, her Undine King, standing naked and potently erect, without a hint of either shame or pride but just as he was, a simple force of nature. When he raised his head in greeting and her clothes floated lazily from her body she did not wonder at his magic. Nor did she wonder how breath came so easily to her down in this watery world. It was all magical and all real, and, just as he was, too beautiful to be a threat. She knew she was again under some sort of enchantment, in a world beyond reality and illusion, but it was a state she had come to accept without questioning. He took her hand and laid her down upon a bed of green, shimmering fronds that supported her on a cushion of softly undulating softness and 187

Elliot Mabeuse he took a long moment just to gaze at her. Anne gazed back at his wondrous body dappled with gentle shafts of yellowish sunlight from the surface. Her soul went out to him, dissolved in his beauty. She was ready, just like that. As he knelt between her legs, she knew what to do and she spread her thighs, waiting for his touch. She was not as aroused as she was desirous to give herself to him, to take him inside and give him the pleasure of her body, for he was so enchantingly beautiful, strong and commanding and yet obviously gentle to those he loved. And he entered her so easily, so gently, it was as if he had been there all along, a natural part of her. She felt filled with his life-giving warmth and potency, thrilled in a way she had never known. And then she felt him swell and harden inside her, a delicious, full and sweet feeling. There was no pain or discomfort of any kind, just his passion within, touching her centers of pleasure with the calm insistence of flowing water. He did not contend with her, did not force or exert himself. He did not pant or gasp or show anything other than a deep and quiet satisfaction with their union. He flowed deliciously inside her. He was alive all over, and she knew that he was in fact close to the spirit of life itself. She arched herself up to meet him, to open herself to him, and felt his touch flowing over her 188

The Croft body, running over her breasts and throat, streaming over her face. She knew he was taking her, but it was like no sex she had ever known. It was the power of love and life filling her up, threatening to burst her heart with joy. He was all waters, all the sensuous pleasures of water, its flowing strength and its foaming exuberance, its quiet and its tempest. He was fertility itself, powerful and fecund and deep with mystery, yet soothing and protective of her as well. She cried out. Somehow underwater with her hair waving like seaweed about her face, she managed to cry out. She felt his hardness now as he took her, his pulsing power as she was filled with him. He pressed her to him with his powerful arms, covering her face and breasts with kisses as sweet as petals fallen into a stream. He called out her name as if he were calling his own powers to witness his pleasure. Water streamed from her mouth and over her eyes and filled her nostrils, and then she felt him surge inside her in a way that took her over the edge of all imagining. She felt him gush inside her, a huge, rich, and never-ending jet that washed everything coarse from her and left her filled with the glow of life reborn. Her ecstasy was beyond physical, deeply emotional and spiritual and unending. He was in her veins, in her body, he possessed her as much 189

Elliot Mabeuse as she possessed herself, and he burst into her in a thousand ecstatic streams In the midst of her pleasure she opened her eyes and saw Amaryllis poised over her, stroking her head gently, her face filled with a joy of its own as she gazed at Anne and comforted her. Anne realized now that Amy had never had designs on her, but that she had only wanted to share an extraordinary lover with Anne. The sweetness and compassion she saw in Amy’s face made her sob with thanksgiving. “Shhh,” Amy said softly, “I know, he’s wonderful. There’s nothing like him, is there? But be careful, Anne. You must be very careful, or he will take you and you will never come back. Do you understand?” Anne tried to speak, tried to nod, but her eyes were filled with tears. But she did know what Amy was saying, she knew it in her bones. He was too sweet, too lovely for a mortal woman to bear. She knew instinctively that great danger accompanied such intense beauty and transfiguring pleasure. She closed her eyes, letting the hot tears roll down her cheeks. She heard Amy now as if from afar, calling her name, “Anne, Anne! This way, Anne!” Then she felt herself grow dizzy and fall, float upwards, towards the light, towards the surface of 190

The Croft the pond, away from his touch, away from his magic. A coldness enveloped her, and when she opened her eyes, it was to the darkness of her own bedroom. Amy sat just where Anne had seen her in her vision, her hands caressing Anne’s temples, a smile on her lips. Anne cried out in anguish. She felt so cold, so empty, so sere and dry and heavy with her own flesh. Where was her spirit, her underwater lover? She made a move to get up from her bed, to throw on her robe and run out to the very spot she’d seen in her dream, but Amy held her down. “No, Anne,” she said. “You cannot get there like that. Don’t even try. It would be very dangerous. He wants you now. He wants you for his own. You must be careful.” “Rest now,” Amy said to her. “Go to sleep and see what dreams come. You’re very tired, dear, and you’ve experienced much. Sleep now, and later I’ll answer your questions and tell you what you want to know. Later.” Amy got up from the bed as Anne began to weep for what was gone, for what had been so absolutely beautiful and transcendent. She looked up suddenly to ask Amy what had happened, but she was already gone.

191

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Chapter 10

A

nne awoke before dawn to find Amy sitting on her bed, waiting for her. “How do you feel, Anne?” Anne immediately sat up. “What was that last night?” she asked urgently. Amy smiled. “I introduced you to the water sprite who lives in your pond.” “Water sprite? You mean like a spirit?” “Yes,” Amy said. “Exactly. A nature spirit.” Anne tried to make sense of this. Angus had occasionally mentioned spirits to her, but she’d always assumed he was talking about the ghosts, and since the subject didn’t seem to concern them, she hadn’t taken it very seriously. She slowly raised her eyes to look at Amy. “Who are you?” Anne asked. Amy smiled, anticipating her question. “I’m a nature spirit as well,” she said. “Not as powerful as your friend in the water, but we’re neighbors, 192

The Croft he and I.” Without thinking Anne said, “Amaryllis.” “Yes,” Amy said. “That’s me. Pretty corny isn’t it? Amy Lees, Amaryllis.” she shrugged in apology. “And is Ian…” “Ian is something different,” Amy said, then laughed sweetly. “But I suppose you already know that.” “But what?” Anne insisted. Amy turned her head in thought. “It gets complicated. Ian is a master of the woods.” She waited to see if Anne would understand this. “A spirit?” “Doesn’t he wish!” Amy laughed. “No, dear, Ian’s too gross to be a pure spirit. Rather, he’s like part spirit, part human, part something else entirely.” Anne looked puzzled and Amy laughed. “He’s a satyr, dear.” “A what?” “A satyr, a faun, a Pan. Playing his little pipes in the woods, chasing after those sleazy nymphs and whatnot.” Anne’s mouth hung open. “You mean like in mythology? With the legs of a … With horns and all?” “Yes. From the waist down he’s awfully goatish, though he does manage to keep it 193

Elliot Mabeuse hidden…usually. The horns too. Do you remember seeing him last night?” “No,” Anne said. “I don’t remember anything until I came in here and you… I mean, the pond. It was summer. We…” “Yes, I know,” Amy said gently. “He took you. The Spirit took you.” “I don’t understand. Was it a dream?” “Well, not exactly,” Amy said. “But it was something like that.” “It was summer,” Anne said, as if talking to herself. “It was warm. I could feel the warmth. I could smell flowers.” Anne nodded. “It’s always summer with him. Summer or spring.” “Were you there?” Anne asked in surprise. “No, I was here with your body. But I could tell what was going on. And I know what it’s like. It’s quite overwhelming, like nothing else.” “My God!” Anne exclaimed. Amy’s words had jolted loose more memories of last night, and Anne shivered as she recalled the intensity of her experience. “Why?” Anne asked. “What does it mean?” Amy chose her words carefully. “Angus is worried about you. He loves you very much. But he’s worried about making you like himself.” Anne listened raptly. Anything about Angus 194

The Croft immediately commanded her full attention. “But unless you become like him,” Amy went on, “he will not be able to remain with you, nor you with him. Angus is partly what you’d call spirit too. He calls himself a vampire, but what he calls himself is really not that important. Vampires are mysterious and romantic, and that’s how he wanted to appear to you. He thought—thinks— it’s easier for you to accept.” Anne didn’t know what to say. “But, why didn’t he tell me?” Amy looked at her sympathetically. “Oh, I suppose because it’s too hard to explain otherwise. I’m certain he didn’t mean to deceive you. And really, it doesn’t matter that much how we express our…talents. Angus, at an early age, decided he liked the idea of being a vampire, so that’s what he became and that’s what he is. And he is a lovely vampire, isn’t he? “The important thing is that he has reservations about taking you down the same path. You see, female vampires are not usually like males, especially if they’re made rather than native born, as Angus is.” Amy stood up and walked to the window. It was still dark outside but the day promised to be cold and windy. She sighed. She had no love of the cold. “To be perfectly blunt, this type of vampire 195

Elliot Mabeuse tends to become promiscuous, coarse, and ultimately evil. Angus doesn’t want that to happen to you. He’s been purposely ignoring this, but your recent experience with seducing a mortal in that hotel in Dumfries frightened him. You're very powerful, Anne. That means you have a lot of latent talent yourself. The more powerful the woman is, the quicker this…degeneration…sets in.” This was all unbelievable, but Anne had learned to accept the unbelievable. She accepted it every day, her life was based on it. “Then what am I to do?” she asked. Amy turned around and looked at her, and once again Anne was struck by her loveliness, slim and as graceful as a flower, with flawless skin and an inner glow that all but lit up the area around her. Just being in her presence was soothing. “We thought we might be able to have you realize your powers as a spirit rather than a vampire,” Amy said. “You see, you haven’t yet traveled far down the vampire’s path. There still may be time for you to change what you will become. You could become a naiad—a water spirit—or a dryad, of the trees, or any other of a number of spirits. Or you could just stop now and go back to being human. You still are mostly human.” “But then I would lose Angus?” 196

The Croft Amy nodded gravely. “Yes, you would. Eventually. If you continue on with Angus you will become more and more vampiric, just from association with him. And, as strong as you are, the degeneration would set in. “And even if you abandoned all this and reverted to being human, you’d still lose Angus eventually. We all hunger to be with our own kind, human with human, spirit with spirit…” Anne shook her head in bewilderment. “I just don’t understand. It’s just all so insane! Even the insanity is insane!” Amy went to her, sat down on the bed and took Anne’s hands in hers. “I know,” Amy said. “It must seem bewildering to you. But this is the way things are for us. It would almost be funny if it weren’t so serious…” Suddenly she stopped. She cocked her head to one side and seemed to be listening to something, something Anne could not hear. “What is it, Amy?” Anne asked anxiously. “Amy, what is it?” Amy signaled her to be quiet, then looked about the room curiously, as if trying to locate the source of some sound. The smile faded from her lips. “Amy?” Amy recovered herself, and when she looked back at Anne her eyes showed a sudden concern, 197

Elliot Mabeuse perhaps fear. “It’s nothing, Anne. There’s just two more things I must tell you, then I want to you stay here and sleep some more, all right?” Anne nodded. Amy’s sudden distraction had unsettled her even more. “The first thing is that we all love you, Ian and I—and of course Angus—love you very much, and we will not let you two be separated, ever. We will find a way through this.” “Oh Amy, I’m so grateful. I’m so lost…” “Secondly,” Amy said, cutting her off. “It is your love that gives you such power, Anne. It is your love and the strength of your feelings that is your talent. It is your love for the Croft that has made the spirits of this place accept you so completely. That is why they love you. And never forget that.” Anne felt tears welling in her eyes. She wanted to thank Amy again, but the other girl stood up. “I must go now, Anne. Please try to sleep, and I will be back soon. I’ve told Angus he’s not to disturb you until I say it’s all right, and I want you to sleep. And this time you won’t dream about water.” Anne blinked. “How did you know?” Amy stopped at the door and smiled. “I know lots of things. Now go to sleep.” She snapped off the lights then stopped, half out of the room. “And Anne, above all, don’t go 198

The Croft anywhere near the pond. Not for anything, do you understand.” “Yes, but…” “Not for anything!” Amy said, and she closed the door behind her. When Amy came downstairs, Angus and Ian were already waiting for her. Ian was unusually quiet, which made Angus uneasy. He hadn't liked the idea of giving Anne to the pond spirit in the first place, and now he feared that something had gone wrong. Seeing Amy’s troubled expression as she came down the stairs did nothing to allay his fears. “He’s looking for her,” Amy said. “He wants her.” “Who?” Angus asked urgently. Ian sighed and raised his eyebrows. “I was afraid of this. I think I know the spook. And he’s not just some local bloke. We might have trouble. I should have checked first.” “Who?” Angus asked again, but he already knew the answer. “It’s the pond spirit, isn’t it? He wants Anne again.” “Seems to,” Ian said. He started to say something more, then thought better of it and closed his mouth. “Is she in danger? What can we do?” Amy smiled at him. “Angus, she’s all right for 199

Elliot Mabeuse now. Really. This may all be nothing. Ian and I just have to talk.” “No,” Ian said. “No reason Angus shouldn’t know what’s what.” Ian took his pipe from his mouth. “I know this sprite. I thought I recognized him last night, but I had a stroll this morning and when I got close he was unmistakable. He’s down from the central lochs, parts of the highlands. He’s big time. Powerful stuff. I should have checked last night before we went mucking around and dangling a tasty little morsel like Anne in front of him.” “What do you mean?” Angus asked anxiously. “What can he do?” “He hasn’t had any worship in a long time,” Amy said, purposely cutting off Ian’s more alarming comments. “He hasn’t had any outlet for his…creative energies. He’s quite taken with Anne, Angus. He wants her for his own, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, we should have…” “Well he’ll not get her, will he?” Angus exclaimed. “He’s just some little pond sprite. He can’t do anything out of the water, right? He’s powerless. I’ll get her out of here! We’ll go in to Glasgow or…” Ian sighed. “Come on, Angus. It’s not as simple as all that. This is an Elemental you’re dealing with. You’d have to take her to the center of the freaking Sahara to get away from him, and even 200

The Croft then he’d probably make it rain. He’s in every damned faucet and kitchen tap all over the world. She takes a bath and he’ll pull her under!” Angus stared at him angrily. “It’s fucking happened!” Ian said. “How powerful is he, Ian?” Amy asked. “I don’t rightly know. Like I say, he’s down from the highland lochs so you know he had the big stuff once. But we all grow weaker without worship and followers and all that, and he’s been doing without for what? Three, four hundred years? “How deep is the pond, Angus?” Angus grunted. “It’s deep. It’s very deep.” Ian tapped his pipe stem against his teeth. “That’s bad.” “But can’t you deal with him?” Angus asked. “Can you talk with him? You’re master of the woods. And Amy’s a spirit.” Ian frowned and nodded. “Well, Amy has no real power of her own. She’s just a seer, and thank God for that. I could try and speak with him, but I’m a woods and he’s water. He’s got no reason to listen to me. But yes, I’ll try.” Amy said. “Well, we should get her to the highest point in the house. I don’t think he can do much without taking his waters with him. And that should buy us some time. If he’s really after her, I should expect a storm to blow up. Rain and 201

Elliot Mabeuse all that.” “Yes, you’re right,” Ian said. “Damn it! We should have checked him out first.” “Ah, never mind that,” Angus said resignedly. “How could you know? What’s a big-time spook like him doing in a scummy little pond down here anyway? Who’d have thought he’d come down here?” Ian looked at him and gave a rueful smile. “But that’s where we were so stupid. This is the Croft. This is the last safe place. It’s like a fucking spirit refuge, isn’t it? A regular spook preserve!” **** They moved Anne to the top room of the old tower, an ancient strong point in the old original castle, now more than half ruined. Angus had not yet started any reconstruction on it and hadn’t even included it in his plans, but now they would take shelter in it just as his ancestors long ago had done against the raiders from the north and south. There was no sense in trying to hide the truth from Anne, and they told her everything. She was now so disoriented and so far beyond being surprised that they could have as easily told her that down was up or that the moon was a balloon and she would have accepted it. She was more interested in examining Ian’s legs and horns and 202

The Croft hearing him play his styryx. She thought she had never heard anything so beautiful and she couldn't help but notice that his playing moved Amaryllis to tears in spite of the danger they faced. They found a patch on the topmost floor where there was sufficient roof to offer protection from the weather. Angus cleaned the birds nests and garbage from the ancient chimney and lit a fire in the hearth while Amy and Ian swept the years of trash from the floor. The woodwork in the old tower had been refitted by Angus’ greatgrandfather so that the floors at least seemed sound enough, although the roof above their heads had been stripped of its copper cladding in the first world war and now had great gaps through which the angry clouds could be seen scudding towards the east. The wind picked up and the sky grew dark as iron, and from their high perch they could see the ocean, black as night and dotted with whitecaps as the wind picked up from the west. As Amy had predicted, snow began falling about midday, and was then replaced by a nasty freezing sleet, driven almost horizontal by the wind. It would be what the locals called a hard blow, but such storms were common to this rocky coast where the wind roared in from the broad wastes of the North Sea, especially at this time of 203

Elliot Mabeuse year. In fact the weather was so typical of what Angus had come to expect that he wondered whether it was really the work of an Elemental or just nature herself. Still, such a storm was far beyond Angus’ powers to control, and he didn’t even try, saving his energy for what he was afraid would come were Ian and Amy right. And they were rarely wrong when it came to these matters. In the early afternoon, Ian took himself over to the pond to see what he could accomplish by way of negotiation, but none of them was very hopeful. They watched him from the tower as he left the Croft and ran across the lawn towards the pond with astonishing speed. In seconds he was lost from view. At one point Amy told them she could hear his pipes, but Angus and Anne heard nothing but the howl of the wind and the rattle of the sleet as it battered the old tower. Far too early it grew supernaturally dark and Angus lit storm lanterns and placed them around the room. The cold didn’t seem to bother him, but Amy and Anne huddled together in front of the fire, blankets and quilts wrapped around themselves. Angus left them alone while he ran downstairs to get some food and drink, and returned with provisions as well as a sword and an ancient pole-axe he had taken from above the great fireplace. He knew the weapons would be useless, but still he felt he had to have something 204

The Croft in his hand should it come to that. The anxiety and the boredom worked on Anne to make her unusually sleepy, and after they ate she nodded off in front on the fire with Amy sitting protectively beside her. Angus was alarmed at this, but Amy signaled him to let her sleep. Angus took advantage of Anne’s sleep to ask Amy, “What do you think will happen?” “I don’t know, Angus. I’ve never dealt with something like this.” Seeing his frustration, she added, “But I think as long as we stay away from the pond and the ocean, there’s not much he can do but blow water at us.” “He can come in the rain?” “I don’t know. Possibly. I’ve never heard of something like that. But then I’ve never heard of a water spirit coming up on dry land to seek someone out. They’re usually not like that.” “Well, where is he now? What’s he doing.” Amy shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t see him.” Above the keening wind and clatter of rain and sleet they suddenly heard the distant but distinct rumble of thunder. Angus jumped to the window and pulled the wooden storm guards from the unglazed opening facing the distant sea. Wind and rain immediately poured through the window and Angus gripped the sill and peered out through the 205

Elliot Mabeuse lashing rain and sleet to see lightning plunge into the ocean not five miles away. The sight chilled him and raised the hackles on the back of his neck. He manhandled the heavy storm guard back in place and battened it down, then looked at Amy. He didn’t have to say anything. They both knew that there was no lightening or thunder during a winter storm. It was not normal. “Ian’s back,” Amy said abruptly, and soon they heard him pounding at the solid oak trapdoor in the corner. Ian was soaked, the hair on his legs coated with sleet and rime, but the cold didn’t seem to bother him unduly. He wiped the water from his face with his hands as he walked towards the fire, then shook his head. “No one home,” he said. “Either that or he just isn’t answering the bell. He’s up to something, no doubt in my mind.” Sitting so close to Anne and with her arm around her, Amy just looked at them and nodded her head almost imperceptibly in agreement. “Yes. Soon, I think.” Angus started to say something when there was a terrible gust of wind that struck the tower and did not abate but seemed the strengthen and grow fiercer, as if something were leaning its terrible weight against the ancient stones. There was a grinding, rending sound as the huge timbers 206

The Croft parted and splintered under the unrelenting pressure and the entire roof lifted up at one corner and hung suspended over their heads like the lid of a toy box lifted enough to let a child peek inside. Angus shouted and leapt to his feet as the entire roof undulated in the gale then cracked and tore in two with a terrifying sound, showering them with dust and debris. The wind picked it up like so much chaff and sent it sailing off into the blackness, taking half of the east wall with it in a shower of brick and mortar. Rain and wind immediately blew in, soaking them all, and just then a bolt of lightening hit the earth so close that they were all temporarily blinded. Angus clapped his hands over his ears as a terrible peal of thunder knocked them off their feet like ten pins, knocked the lanterns from their perches and blew the storm guards clear out of the remaining windows. It took Angus a moment to come to his senses and when he did felt Anne clinging tightly to his waist, hiding her face from the storm. He saw Amy on her feet standing in the pouring rain staring through the yawning gap in the east wall towards the pond, her mouth and eyes wide with horrified wonder. He could barely hear her scream through the fury of the wind and the ringing in his ears. “There he is! Oh my God! There he is! He’s 207

Elliot Mabeuse taking the whole pond with him!” Gazing through the driving rain Angus saw a sight he could not believe. Above the pond, towering above the trees and lit by the flicker of lightening stood an enormous column of sickly green water, standing upright and slowly revolving as if with a life of its own. It was moving towards them, undulating slightly as if unsure of itself, but as if moved it seemed to strengthen. Angus could see it drenching the trees below it as it moved, flooding the already soaked ground. “Holy Shit!” Ian gasped. “I don't believe it!” “Take her down, Angus!” Amy screamed. “Get her out of here!” But Angus was frozen to the spot, his arms tight around a trembling and weeping Anne, unable to move, unable to take his eyes from the amazing sight. As if in a dream he shook his head, knowing instinctively that there was no place to go, no where to run. He pulled Anne from him and pushed her at Amy, then stepped closer to the edge of the tower to meet this thing. It was on them in a heartbeat, a crushing deluge of water that broke over the tower, smashing the floor they stood on and sweeping them all away. He heard Anne scream and had just time to gulp a deep breath of air before the wetness pushed him down and he felt the irresistible force of the water crushing him, driving him away. 208

The Croft When next he dared open his eyes he lay on his back on the roof of the dining hall, looking up at the ruined east wall of the tower as water gushed through the structure as if the very gates of the sea had been opened. Sleet, wind-driven and sharp as ice blew in his face and lightening stitched through the black sky lighting the howling landscape in garish green and yellows. Without thinking he pushed himself up and flew like a shadow to the tower to find the top floor missing entirely. Anne was nowhere to be seen, nor Amy nor Ian. But he knew where she was. Gathering his powers and filled with more rage than fear, he launched himself upwards, spread his vampiric wings and flew into the face of the pouring rain and dark clouds. And there she was, his Anne, naked and unclothed in the furious storm, floating aloft in the wind and the rain, lying on her back as if in the hand of some invisible giant, her arms and legs dangling as she was drawn upwards and swept away from him. “You goddamned motherfucker, put her down!” he screamed. And there, in the rage of winds and water, he saw his enemy. A body appeared before him in the storm-wracked air, the body of the spirit, his own size, perfect in every way but for his glistening and silvery skin and the swirling water 209

Elliot Mabeuse Angus could see within him. He held Anne’s limp form effortlessly in his powerful arms and regarded Angus with calm detachment. “Oh it’s you,” he said in a voice strangely at odds with the maelstrom around him. “You are the human of this place.” “That’s right,” Angus said, hovering in the air not ten feet from him. “Only not human. And she belongs with me.” “No,” he said. “This one is mine. She desires me, and I her.” Calm in the face of the furious storm, he turned and began to move away without hurry, without fear of what Angus might do. A voice suddenly broke through Angus’ rage and confusion. It was Amy. “You own his place,” she said. “You are his host. Tell him. Tell him that.” Angus sped after him. “Son of a bitch! I own your place! I’m your host. Is this how you repay me? By stealing my woman?” The spirit stopped and turned. “No one owns me,” he said. “I go where I will.” “Yeah well I’ll fill in your fucking pond and build a goddamned parking lot! How would you like that? Huh? I‘ll build condos. I’ll tear up the whole damned forest and pave it over!” The spirit stopped and regarded him. Angus 210

The Croft swept the rain from his face as he waited for the spirit’s reply, the two of them hovering in the storm. The spirit now looked at him with some interest. “Who is she to you?” he asked. “And what are you? You have some power, but I perceive you to be some type of clown or entertainer.” “Don’t worry about me,” Angus shouted. “And she…she is my wife. In my world, we are married. I love her and she loves me.” At this the spirit showed a smile. “I think not. You can not please her as I can. I am the power and sweetness of life itself. I know neither grief nor sorrow, and I am stronger than death. All creatures love me and cry out for my touch. Why should she want a mortal thing like yourself?” “Because I am of her kind and she of mine. You are something else.” The spirit looked down at Anne, unconscious in his arms. “I have had her once in spirit. If I have her now in body, she shall be as me and be my queen. Perhaps we should let her choose.” Quickly the spirit turned her in his arms so that she was lying on her back, and Angus watched in horror as the spirit leaned over her suspended body and kissed her gently, his mouth open against hers, his hands holding her face pressed to his. The spirit’s hands trailed down from her face 211

Elliot Mabeuse to caress her breasts, and Anne stirred. “Angus…” she said. The spirit did not look up. He spread her legs and took his rampant member in his hand and guided it to her vagina. Then, smiling down at her, he entered her with one plunge. Anne grunted and her head fell back in rapture, her arms dangling down as the spirit supported her back with his powerful hands. “Oh yesss!” she murmured. “Take me, take me!” Angus could not control himself. He was on them instantly, getting behind Anne and grabbing hold of her shoulders to pry her away, but the jolt of erotic energy he received as soon as he touched her hit him like a bolt of lightening, knocking him back and sending him reeling. The spirit laughed. “See how she loves me. There is nothing like my love. And one so beautiful deserves nothing less.” Nearly unconscious, Angus began to fall but caught himself. Another peal of thunder sent a fresh squall of rain over him, rousing him, and he flew back to the couple where they were joined in this unholy lust. He could see that Anne was gone, her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth open in wordless ecstasy as the spirit had his way with her. The sight of the watery figure’s lean hips 212

The Croft pummeling into his beloved in a frenzy of lust drove all thought from his brain and he grabbed hold of Anne once again, and once again a bolt of overwhelming power ran like a jolt of electricity through him, sending him rigid with pain. But this time he managed to hold on to her as he felt consciousness slipping away from him. How can she stand it, he thought. He’ll kill her with pleasure! For it was truly pleasure that he felt, though so intense it crossed the boundary into pain, excruciating pain that was more than a mortal could bear. “Release her!” the spirit commanded in a voice now thick with passion. “Leave her to her pleasure. Leave us, we are almost there now. Almost there!” Angus held on, and almost by instinct he did what he knew how to do. With a great breath he began to suck up their sexual energy, to feed on it, to imbibe the terrible power the spirit generated in supernatural lust. He felt it would kill him. He opened his mouth and cried out as the energy surged through his body, threatening to burst him asunder. His heart hammered in his chest and he went blind and deaf with a mighty roaring in his ears. Yet at the same time he felt the spirit’s shock as it felt its own energy being sucked from its body. “Don’t Angus, don’t!” he heard Amy’s voice in 213

Elliot Mabeuse his head. “You cannot! It will kill you! He’s too powerful for you!” But he didn’t know how to stop. He clung to Anne’s trembling body as he drank up this incredible energy, energy that took him to the rim of death. Every fiber in his body screamed in exquisite pain and he knew he was doomed. His body was about to explode and he felt himself fleeing the pain and retreating, falling into darkness like a stone in the ocean. Then above the racket of his own body’s pain he had a sudden vision of the Croft—the land, his ancestral home. He saw the woods and fields, the streams and rocks he had known from his earliest years; felt the joy he had known as a child, the intimacy he had felt with the secrets of hill and valley, tree and flower; the rhythm of the sea and the solid comfort of the rock and stones. He felt the peace and deep tranquility that connected him to his land and to the ancient castle that commanded it. He felt the love that held him to this place, and in that love was Anne, a part of it. He knew in that instant that he could not let her go. And now he felt Amy, inside his mind, there with him in his thoughts. He heard her cry of exultation: “Yes, the earth!” she cried inside him. “Give it to earth, Angus, to the land you love! She won't refuse you! That power he gives you, send it 214

The Croft to the earth! Only she can take it! She's stronger than any spirit!” Angus was dimly aware of what she said, but he no longer had the will or control to obey. This was far beyond anything he'd experienced before. This was not the sexual desire of some human woman that filled him now, but the power of the thunderbolt, the creative energy of an Elemental Spirit and he couldn’t bring himself to so much as touch it. It burned, it killed, and there was nothing to do but let himself go and die; let her go, let the spirit take her. And at that thought Angus remembered what he was fighting for. He could not let that happen. He rallied the scattered shreds of his mind and bent his will towards refusing this terrible power, sending it down into the earth far below him, and as he did he felt the welcoming sweetness of the earth rush up to meet him with open arms. He felt the pain and the incredible energy rip from his body and streak to the earth in a bolt of green and blue fire where it spread and sank into the ground with a sustained yet muted roar. At once the excruciating pain stopped and he felt the strength return to his limbs, a terrific strength, the strength of the spirit’s own desires. He felt the spirit’s surprise and puzzlement and for the first time in this struggle Angus saw a glimmer of hope in the darkness. The hope too 215

Elliot Mabeuse gave him strength as he sucked in another breath and steeled his aching body for yet another jolt. Again the raw power burst into him like an explosion of the very cells in his body. His blood seemed to boil in his veins and his bones twist in their sockets but he fought with all his will to ignore the screaming in his body that told him to let her go and end the pain, and he forced himself to hold on to Anne and take the Elemental’s raw power into himself. Through the maelstrom of pain he then concentrated on sending the energy down again to the soil of the Croft below. Suddenly they were falling. As Angus recovered from the last bolt of energy he felt them fall, saw the walls of the tower rushing by lit ghastly blue and green by the energy he’d just sent to the earth. Yet still both of them clung to Anne’s limp body. “Stop!” Angus screamed. “You’ll kill us all!” “What are you doing to me?” The spirit shouted back. “You are stealing my powers!” Filled with a new strength and fury, Angus exerted his will and brought them to a halt above the roof, easily holding the three of them suspended in the air. He could feel the Elemental now as if he were so much dead weight, his strength depleted. That was when he knew that he would win. That he was more powerful now than the spirit he fought with. 216

The Croft But yet another surge of power stabbed through him and he braced himself for the pain, squeezing his eyes shut and hanging on to Anne for dear life. But when it came it was almost sweet, a flood of pure desire, sexual, yet more too, and more intense than anything he’d ever felt. He felt the spirit’s deep and terrible love for this place, and his wrenching sadness for the lost lakes of his home; the deep mysteries of quiet water ands the silence of wet places; the exhilaration of the storm and the satisfying power of waves battering rock. For an instant he knew the Spirit’s mind, and had it been anything else, had it been anyone but Anne, he might well have let go. But he also knew now that he was stronger than his enemy. He felt the spirit loosing his grip on Anne and as it did Angus wrapped his arms desperately around her as if he would never let her go. He buried his face in Anne’s wet hair, covering her with tears and kisses as the spirit finally released her and stepped back. He felt the cold and sodden ground suddenly under his feet and he collapsed, still holding Anne tightly to his chest. “You deny me,” the spirit said. “I do not know how, but you have denied me. I will not contend with you for this one. I cannot. I will respect your desires.” 217

Elliot Mabeuse The spirit looked at Anne, then at Angus. “May I kiss her goodbye?” he asked. His eyes brimming with tears and his throat thick with weeping Angus said, “Yes.” The water spirit got on his hands and knees and pressed his lips to Anne’s mouth, a long, lingering kiss of farewell. As he broke away rivulets of sparkling water ran from her mouth and down over her neck. “The two of you shall be my honored guests always,” the spirit said. “I will not molest you again, so let us henceforth be friends.” Angus could not speak. He nodded his head. He suddenly noticed that all around the Croft, where he had discharged the bolts of energy from the spirit, the grass was green, the flowers in full bloom, the trees in leaf, and the weeds in the garden were brilliant green with life. Even in the stygian darkness of the storm, the ivy was green and vibrant and seemed to be curling around itself in pleasure before his eyes. He looked up and the spirit was gone. At once the heavens opened and rain streamed down, pouring in a thundering flood on him where he huddled with Anne amidst the blooming flowers. But he knew that this was just rain. Cold winter rain, but common, normal rain nonetheless. The rain of the Croft. And then came Amy and Ian from the bushes 218

The Croft by the old orchard. walking slowly but steadily through the downpour. Angus tried to speak but Amy silenced him with a smile and tears of her own as she knelt by Anne and stroked her face. Amy’s beautiful smile. He looked up and saw that Ian was eating a pear plucked fresh from the orchard, and the sight was so incongruous yet so normal that at once it suddenly all spilled out of him, the rage, the fear, the triumph and joy. He wept and laughed at the same time, overcome. “Well,” Ian said. “That was something, wasn’t it?”

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Chapter 11

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iven the fury of the struggle and the energies involved, the eventual aftereffects were surprisingly mild. The upper floors of the old Tower were ruined and there was considerable damage to the roof of the west wing caused by the falling debris, but Angus hadn’t yet begun restoration on that section of the Croft, having had doubts about the integrity of the Tower even before the battle with the pond spirit. He decided now that he would not restore the Tower, but rather leave it as a monument to that night. The eerie blooming of the flowers and trees did not last through the remainder of the night. Like the spirit’s energies, their growth was spectacular but short-lived. Ian, who knew about such things, told them that the energies of water are capable of giving life, but not of supporting it. For that you need the energies of the earth, the air, and fire as well. But he assured them that the plants would 220

The Croft all forget about this brief interruption in their slumber and would bloom again in the spring as always. The effects on the four of them were also rather trivial. Ian was silent and thoughtful for some hours afterwards. Amy explained that this was always the case when he ran into the power of an elemental, for his relationship with nature spirits was personal and complex, and basically satyrs liked play and folly, but not real trouble. They were not suited for serious matters or anything requiring resolve and steadiness of purpose. But the same qualities that made Ian of dubious value in a sustained conflict also gave him a child-like resilience, and by the next morning he was back to his usual self and full of belated excitement about the night before. Amy had taken a worse beating than Ian, as sensitive as she was to all others’ thoughts as feelings. But she too had the flexibility of her namesake and was able to recover almost as soon as the storm blew itself out. Then too, she’d had more experience with the Spirit’s temperament and was more familiar with his capabilities. Of the four of them, ironically, Anne seemed to have suffered least. She was unconscious during most of the battle and in fact had only been semi aware of what was going on since the previous night in the kitchen when Ian and Amy had put 221

Elliot Mabeuse her under their spell. The worst thing she had to deal with was her embarrassment at having been unconscious and helpless and of no use during the very struggle which she herself had caused. There was also the small matter that Anne was no longer human. The Spirit had been true to his word and had been kind to her, and bestowed sufficient power on her that she was now fully transformed, fully realized, and she was now one of them, whatever she decided to make of herself. Amy, of course, knew this first, but she didn’t feel it was her place to inform Anne of this fact. Instead she informed Angus with no more than a glance. He was the one who should have the privilege of telling her. Angus had borne the brunt of the spirit’s anger, and he suffered from a strange mixture of exhaustion and tremendous vitality, the aftereffects of the power he had absorbed. The most obvious manifestation of this was in his privates, where he found himself with a huge erection that simply would not go down. He could not hide it, and simply could not be taken seriously while he had it. Amy assured him it was a temporary condition, and his affliction was really the thing that finally allowed them all to deal with the unnerving events they’d just endured, and by the time they went to bed in the early hours of the morning they had all laughed 222

The Croft themselves into exhaustion. But when they got into their room and Anne closed and bolted the door and stripped off her clothes, she wasn’t laughing any longer. And when she unexpectedly grabbed Angus, who was in the process of disrobing, and pressed herself feverishly to him, covering his strong back with kisses and reaching around to tweak his nipples, he stopped laughing as well. “Anne!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Hush!” she commanded, reaching down to grip his hard penis. “Everyone thinks this is so funny. I don’t think it’s funny at all. I think it’s beautiful and I want it, Angus. I want it.” He turned to her but she was already on her knees, pulling his shorts out and over his enormous pole, her eyes gleaming. There was no doubt that the spirit’s energies had infused her with new life, a new lustiness. She looked and felt like a veritable goddess of sex and fertility, ripe and succulent and aching to be taken. His cock stood out huge and hard, almost like a caricature of male virility, His balls too seemed full of male potency and power, and just looking it at made Anne feel as if she were the very embodiment of female sexuality. She needed him as she never remembered needing him before, with a supernatural desire. With a strangled cry of joy she opened her 223

Elliot Mabeuse mouth and impaled herself on his huge cock, sucking it in as far as she could and rolling her tongue over its imposing bulk. She felt him throbbing in her mouth and groaned with lust, sucked him deeper, opened her throat and took him down into her gullet while her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure and her fingernails dug into the tightly balled muscle of his ass. Angus seemed suddenly overwhelmed by lust and he shoved his cock convulsively into her mouth, reached down and tangled his fingers in her disheveled hair, pulling her to him with desperate urgency, trying to force all of his stalk down her throat. Anne did not move, she just sucked, sucked him in with her entire body. She felt his secretions trickle down her throat but she wanted his seed. She would not let him go. She brought one hand around to heft his swollen balls, and their weight and potency almost made her swoon. Her nostrils flared as she sucked a hurried breath through her nose and returned to sucking him, her tongue massaging his throbbing cock. “Oh Anne!” He breathed, his stomach muscles locked and trembling, “Oh fuck I’m going to come! Oh Anne, Darling…” She screamed around his muffling cock and felt him swell, went nearly insane with desire and he 224

The Croft cried out and she felt his heat pour into her mouth and down her throat. She sucked, and with each suck it was as if she drew his semen through a huge, fleshy straw. It just poured into her as he groaned and bucked into her mouth, holding her head tight against him. She swallowed again and again, but it felt as if it would never stop, and finally she couldn’t breath. She pulled her face off him, coughing, his unswallowed come dripping in streams from her lips. Angus reached down and pulled her roughly to her feet, then all but threw her on the bed and was on top of her before she knew it. Quickly and urgently he pushed her legs apart, raised himself up and plunged his enormous tool into her. Anne’s eyes flew wide open at the pleasure of having him inside her again, and as he began to fuck her she gasped in astonishment. He couldn’t still be this hard. Not after he ejaculated like he just had. “Angus…” she said. “I know, I know,” he panted. “I don’t know what it is either. I only know I’ve got to have you, darling. I’ve never needed you so much!” “Oh Angus! Yes!” she screamed, wrapping her legs around him and holding on to him as if without him she would die.

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They are there still, somewhere up near the Northern border and not far from the sea. The old ruined tower stands still, the rambling and empty corridors of the Croft, the restored rooms, the garden still thick with weeds and the ivy still curling and wandering up the ancient walls. The pond is still there, deep and still, and the water runs smooth and clean over the stones. The neglected orchards and the dark and wild wood are there too, all standing in the sweet light of summer and the somber days of winter. The shadows still lie thick on the old stones, deep and eloquent with mystery, and there are yet voices within, and from the dark on occasion comes the sweet and familiar sound of the styryx, and Ian’s ribald laughter.

The End

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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lliot Mabeuse is an award-winning author of adult erotica whose stories are known for their depth and insight as well as their singularly passionate intensity. His interest in exploring the psychological aspects and transformative power of the human sexual experience give his writing a unique place among his contemporaries, and result in works of literary erotica that are sensual, insightful, and deeply satisfying.