A Charmed Life


Chapter 1 - The Capture

There are people of great merit and talent who live out their lives shunning their true potential. People with high intelligence or stunning beauty who actually hide their natural assets to embrace whatever benefits obscurity can afford them. Liz was one such person. Though adroit in intellect with a seemingly endless knowledge in a wide variety of subjects, she never chose to use her skill to advance herself professionally. Likewise, her very fit and curvaceous figure was obscured by a very drab and inconspicuous wardrobe while her elegantly chiseled face with lovely, wide blue eyes was hidden behind big, horned-rim glasses and loose strands of her thick reddish-brown hair. She was often chided by what little company she kept to step out from behind herself and flaunt her natural gifts, she remained resolutely loyal to her clandestine persona.

Liz left her bland, mundane job that evening with her usual diffident, subdued manner. That was the way she lived her life, very unobtrusive and discreet. She made it quite plain to everyone that she did not want any undue attention and she worked hard to keep it that way. To look at her one would wonder why she worked so hard to be unnoticeable. She was kind, considerate and likable but she kept her circle of close friends small and all of her relationships cordial but detached. In actuality, it was all a cover up. She had another life. A life she worked diligently to keep secret. It was a life that would bring devastating shame upon her if any of the most apparent facts were revealed and absolute danger if the entire truth were known. Regardless, it was a condition that necessitated regular remedy.

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  Tonight she left her job with particular little fanfare to avoid delaying entanglements. Tonight she would not be going directly home.

Liz sought replenishment. Reinvigoration. Rejuvenation. It was a regular semi-monthly ritual she needed to partake in. It was pleasurable for her but involved enduring certain unsavory places and uncomfortable encounters that a lady should not put herself in, no matter how familiar the practice was to her or how dire her need.

When she finished work she drove far from her familiar territory and ventured to an area where she was sure not to meet anyone who might know or recognize her. The place she was going to was not completely new to her, but a place she took extra care in not frequenting twice within any eight-week period. After a fifty-five minute drive she arrived at her destination. The sign in front read ‘Wicked Wanda’s Pleasure Palace’ and beneath it ‘Adult books, Novelties, XXX Arcade’. It was a den for sexually starved and lonely men to exercise their unrequited longing, no place at all for an attractive, young auburn haired woman with a spotless and carefully guarded social reputation. As Liz approached she took notice of the number of cars in the parking lot before pulling into the lot of the abandoned motel on the far side of the book store. She parked her car and turned off the engine. There were not enough cars gathered yet.

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  More important, it was still far too light out and she couldn’t stand the idea of being seen going into that place even if there were no chance of anyone she knew being in the area. The only car on the road was the one that had been behind her which pulled into the book store lot and parked on the far side. She knew more would come when it got dark.

She took the time to get ready and relax before she made her dash to the door. She took a black trench coat from the back seat and pulled around her shoulders and then plunged her arms into both the sleeves. Off came her glasses which she did not really need but had become a habit to wear. She checked the pockets for her essential supplies; a can of pepper spray, an envelope containing a few crisp five dollar bills, a damp wash cloth, and a small wooden wedge. She pulled a black stocking cap over her head and then tucked her long, wavy trusses up into it. Taking a last careful look around, she hiked up her skirt, arched to lift her rump from the car seat and then pushed her pantyhose and panties down past her knees in one swift motion. She kicked off her shoes and pulled the filmy material down and off of both feet, tossing the balled up bunch on the seat beside her.

Now, she would wait for the right time. In the fresh stillness, her mind wandered over the years, over her situation, over her need. She had been to worse places and had done much worse things to satisfy her hunger. She thought back and was amazed at how calloused she had become to all of this, toward all sexual things in general. Her mind finally came to rest on how it all started; how she was then; that night so long ago when her entire life changed.

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Bess is what she was called then. Her mother had named her Elizabeth, after The Queen, for she was born on her coronation day. She worked as a house servant, a maid, indentured into the house of Lord Cabbot, the county liege and magistrate, to settle her father’s debts. She was a fetching young maiden and she caught the fancy of many a young townsmen as well as traveling merchants.

Her heart had belonged to a strong, handsome young man who had asked for her hand but lacked the money to buy out her servitude. After much discussion and many tears they had settled on his plan to seek his fortune overseas while she waited for him to return and free her.

Every night she walked down to the inn at the crossroads and watched for the arrival of the coach from Brighton; waiting for her love to come home. Every night she waited and every night she went home in bitter disappointment. Weeks passed. Months passed. Years passed and still no word from her love. Many men, young and old, wealthy and more wealthy asked for her hand and to buy out her debt. She would not hear of it. She waited resolutely for her young man to return to her.

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As the years passed, her beauty slowly faded until nothing was left but a tired old woman. Likewise, all of her young woman anticipations had crumbled into old woman regrets. None the less, she continued her nightly vigil out of habit more than hope, the thought of forsaking it was maddening to her. She had emptied herself into her expectations and become a ghost haunting her own life. Children laughed at her for a fool. They taunted her and called her The Seaman’s Wife. She laughed at herself. She laughed until she cried. The promise of her youth and beauty had been wasted on a lost dream. Yet, she kept on with her nightly sentry in front of the inn. A victim of her own faith, diligence and love, she became the very portrait of sadness.

It was on that particular, fateful, moonlit night, she was making her way through town on her nightly watch for the coach when she saw a dark cloaked figure standing at the side of the market square. Bess thought it odd to encounter much of anyone in her nightly walk but this one was exceptionally strange. As Bess approached the square the figure turned to face her but did not move in any other way. Bess passed on the opposite side of the road, the figure stood silently, turning slowly to mark Bess’ passage.

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  As Bess walked by she watched the figure. Under the hood, drawn low over the figure’s face, she could see only a dainty feminine chin and a small mouth smiling slightly as if in recognition.

Bess continued on toward the crossroads and tried not to trouble herself about the encounter. She glanced back to again take note of the solitary figure. To her surprise, the woman had quietly crossed the road and was now following. Bess doubled her pace, her mind pouring over what manner of being was behind her and what did she seek. As she reached the crossroads, she turned to look over her shoulder again and saw that the cloaked woman was gaining on her.

As she looked, she noted the woman’s carriage was so smooth and graceful she seemed to float above the ground, and her step was so light she made not a sound. It filled Bess’ heart with dread as the mysterious figure took on specter-like prowess. She hurried herself to a near trot, seeking the light and relative safety of the inn. Her imagination ran wild over the horrors and mystery of the dark. Each step she made became a struggle for her existence, every breath she took she feared to be her last. She broke into a full run, desperate to reach the inn. She felt as though claws and fangs were just inches behind her, ready to snatch away her life.

When she reached the lantern post in front of the inn she grasped it for support and protection and spun around to find the dark, phantom figure a mere 5 paces behind her, hovering in eerie silence amid the dim shadows.

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“Who approaches?Speak thy bidding,” blurted Bess, unable to bridle her waxing fear!

The cloak parted. One pale, delicate hand raised in admonition while the other drew back the hood. “Courage, gentle heart,” said the woman in a soft, soothing voice. “I bear thee no malice. ”Her manner and diction were that of gentry or at least one who passed among them. The opened cloak revealed a bodice of intricately embroidered silk, trimmed with the finest of French lace. Coils of light golden locks framed the face of a fair, young maiden with skin white as cream and smooth as porcelain, and cheeks glowing in a soft kiss of rose. “I would speak with thee this night,” she continued.

Bess’ fear gave way to relief in the presence of so fine a lady. “Thy pardon, m’ lady. ‘tis the late hour trying on an old woman’s mind,” she offered in her common, cockney brogue and then curtseyed, as was requisite. “At thy service. ”

The young woman advanced a pace and coolly asked, “Art thou she who is named Bess, maid servant to The Lord Magistrate?”

“Aye, m’ lady,” Bess answered obligingly.

“’tis thy habit to greet the coach by the inn every eve,” pressed the lady?

“Aye. I am here… every night,” replied Bess.

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  It was odd to be addressed so directly by a stranger but Bess deferred in light of the woman’s obvious station.

“Thou art she who bade farewell to her love nigh on many years ago,” continued the maiden, still advancing?

“Aye, again m’ lady,” Bess answered sadly.

“And thou art she who waits by the side of the road for his return these nigh on many years hence,” asked the maiden?

“Aye, m’ lady. How knowest thou my misfortunes,” Bess asked with a sob?

“Thy tale of woe forebears thee. Be comforted,” said the maiden, now standing toe to toe with Bess and placing a hand on her shoulder, “I bring thee a gift of great value. ”

“O grace, what gift could this tired old woman value,” asked Bess in a sunken voice?

“A gift that would repair thy broken life. I would impart to thee a new life and lives many times fold,” said the enchanting young lady, her voice rising to a disturbingly sinister mirth.

“I beg thy pardon m’ lady but ’tis folly. Surely thou jests with me,” said Bess, feeling uneasy with so strange a statement and the unnatural evil the notion implied.

“A gift of eternal life and beauty,” persisted the maiden, her face now but inches from Bess’. “I offer thee The Jharum and its many blessings. ”

She brought her lips to Bess’ as for to kiss her. Horror stricken, Bess stepped back and into the road. “’tis devilry!Thou art a witch,” accused Bess!Her eyes were wild with terror and backing further away she pointed a finger in warning. “Fie on thee, spirit!Be gone and let a good soul pass!”In a panic, Bess ran headlong down the road to escape the dreaded menace.

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  She looked back toward the inn as she turned at the crossroads and saw the young woman advancing on her, cloak drawn, and gliding over the wayside in the same graceful, floating canter.

Bess’ heart raced as fear gripped her like never before. She ran now not just for her life but for her very soul. Passing the market square, she tripped on a loosened cobblestone and fell upon the road. As she gathered herself and rose to her feet she glanced back to see the lady in steadfast pursuit, cloak flying behind her and gaining fast. Bess redoubled her pace, darting around corners and through alleys, seeking the shortest way home and trying to evade the caped woman’s sight.

At last she arrived at her master’s courtyard and sought quick refuge. Her mind was in alarm and she expected the terrible specter to spring upon her at any instant. She ran to the open stable door and stumbled again, sprawling onto her back over the bed of straw. She was too weary to run any more and she lay still, hoping she was beyond danger. She caught her breath to stifle any sound and waited; too scared to move.

Then, absolute doom seized her. The dark shadow of a cloaked figure fell across her and blocked the moonlight shining through the doorway.

Without uttering a sound the elegant lady stepped lightly to Bess’ side, untied the cloak and then cast it off her shoulders. She sank slowly to her knees and placed a pacifying hand to Bess’ brow.

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  “Fear not,” she whispered, “All will be well. Thou shalt feel no pain nor lose thy soul. ‘tis not witchcraft, ‘tis the opening of thine own being. Thou shalt have The Jharum. Thou shalt regain thy lost youth. Thou shalt know splendor like none other. Thy reward - a new life. ”

The woman bent over Bess and kissed her forehead and then lightly kissed Bess’ lips. Bess remained frozen, resigning herself to her fate. The woman talked madness and Bess felt fear like damnation tearing her in two. Whatever ruin was to befall her, she hoped it would be over soon.

“Partake of me,” whispered the woman as she pressed her lips firmly to Bess’. The woman’s tongue parted Bess’ lips and entered her mouth. Almost instantly, warmth, strange yearnings, and a lurid awareness swept over Bess. She became immediately filled with a lust like she had never known.

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  She felt for the first time all the wanton urges she had always shunned bursting upon her with a craving throughout her body.

She lifted her arms and wrapped them tightly around the woman’s neck. Strangely, this powerful new lust was driving her to pursue the promise of pleasure in this woman’s contact and she did not want her to escape. As soon as she did this, the woman’s hand began to stray to Bess’ dress. The hand began pulling the dress up higher and higher up Bess’ legs. She gathered Bess’ skirt and petticoats around her waist and then gently probed beneath her shift. Bess was too lost in the overwhelming passion to have any concern at all over sin or impropriety. She welcomed the encroachment with hearty joy. Bess felt the woman’s fingers lightly gliding up her thigh and coming to the edge of her nether region. The woman’s fingers expertly explored Bess’ parted flesh and then centered on the pleasurable button at the top of the cleft.

Bess’ hips began to roll and buck under the ministration of the stranger’s hand. Bess felt herself quickly climbing to that pinnacle of pleasure and then it hit her. The love-death - a climax. A sensation unknown to her in all of her life, a rapture that made her entire body sing with delight. Bess moaned as the sweet thrill overcame her.


  She knew more was to come but for now she would relax and enjoy the ensuing peace.

The woman then rose to her knees and started lifting her own dress. She pulled up her skirt, her kirtle and many fine linen petticoats. Bess watched her carefully to see what would now develop. When the lady had bared her womanhood, she stroked it briefly and then Bess heard a wet smacking sound. In the dim light she thought she saw something emerging from the woman’s cleft. It emerged and dangled like an eel and then it began to twist and writhe with a life of its own like a snake’s tail. Bess knew she must indeed be smitten by passion to not recoil in fear from so strange an appendage. She felt only slight curiosity and a hungry desire as the woman straddled her prone hips and squatted her sex directly over Bess’.

The woman looked deep into Bess’ eyes and with a playful smile said, “Dream. ”Then she fell upon Bess with a tight embrace and another deep kiss. Bess gladly received it as the kiss wove more of its spell upon her. She gently sucked at the beautiful lady’s tongue like a babe at its mother’s breast. Bess became aware of a wet, finger-like tongue licking up and down the gap of her sex. Its touch was so deft and clever, giving the sweetest, most delightful attention to Bess’ sensitive flesh.

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  She gladly parted her legs to give it more access. Its light tickle and the woman’s intoxicating kiss were again pushing Bess to that blessed extreme of pleasure. A crashing crescendo struck her again, causing her to moan in delight.

The snake-like tongue then surprised Bess with another of its talents. It dove into her flesh and gained access to her womb. As it entered her, Bess felt its girth widening, reaching resistance and then a sharp pain. At a ripe old age of fifty nine Bess had finally lost her virginity… to another woman. The pain was brief and in her highly aroused state of mind it was of trivial notice. In an instant after that, Bess felt the queer tongue quickly reaching depths of her body a woman reserves for her beloved husband. Bess was only briefly startled before pleasure washed away all concern. She felt her inner passage completely filled with the delving invader. It massed itself at the very limit of her inner recesses and then she felt a tiny point groping inside, tickling its way around in her until it found passage into a yet deeper niche. It secreted something there and then gained an entry, Bess’ pleasure took on entirely new dimensions. Another climax was approaching, quicker than the last, sending her mind spinning. After it hit, its successor fell in behind.

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The woman remained locked to her in a tight embrace, lightly stroking Bess’ cheek and softly cooing. Never before had she felt so possessed and cared for, it was the most beautiful feeling she had ever known. She let herself be bathed in this strange lady’s wiles and trusted herself completely to this woman’s will. Bess felt herself getting weaker and gradually losing consciousness. Deep pleasure, happiness, peace and then sleep with the most delightful dreams.

Chapter 2 - The Change

Bess awoke the next morning to the rooster’s crow. She was still lying on the stable floor but tucked in a fine cloak of velvet. The last night’s encounter quickly popped into her memory and she bolted upright. She reached down and pressed her hand to the front of her dress over her sex. Something felt strange; inside her; in her womb. She struggled to her feet and found herself dizzy and very weak.

The stable boy, a half-wit, rushed into the stable and passed her. “Cheery day, Goody Bess. Cheery day. ”

She looked about her for any trace of the mysterious lady from the dark.

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  As she staggered across the courtyard she wondered if last night had really happened. She had that cloak still wrapped around her but her mind was so dull and everything so difficult to recall. It had to have happened, she had the cloak but the details were too hard to believe. She went to the privy to relieve herself and found to her horror the dried blood of her stolen maidenhead. For deeply personal reasons she could not quite recall, she mourned the loss. She reasoned the woman must have plied her with some kind of intoxicating brew and then took advantage of her.

There was no time to delve on the injury. She had her chores and duties, the house was waking and there would be hell to pay if she dallied. She forced herself to rise against the heavy weariness and dizziness. Sick or not, she had work to do. She hung up the cloak and set about her day.

As the day passed and she set about her work, her mind kept drifting back to the lady she had met in the night. When she did, her hand always strayed to her lips as if trying to recreate that enchanting kiss.

The weary, dizzy feeling dragged on her and made even the easiest of her daily chores an enormous strain. As the morning wore on, some new sensation arose from the midst of her sense of weakness.

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  It was a strange new awareness that was far too indistinct to really focus on, much like an itch she could not scratch. If she tried her best to describe it, it was like having an extra hand but not knowing where it was. She felt it most strongly when she wanted to touch an object to determine its texture. It felt like she had an inner urge to use some more suitable appendage to feel with. She dismissed it as a passing anomaly and tried to ignore it.

The feeling persisted, though, and by afternoon it started to become more distinct. It seemed to come from her lower body; to be precise, from her womb. She actually felt compulsions to press her hips against things she would usually test by touching with her hands, like the laundry drying on the lines. As silly as it seemed, it felt to her like an urge to reach out with her womb.

It began to become alarming to her during the early evening when responding to this urge, she felt something move within her, within her sex. What really puzzled her was not just the sensation of something moving within her but that she felt what the thing felt. It was faint, at first, just barely noticeable but the more she concentrated on it the more distinct it became. Eventually, at the time the evening supp was served, she felt absolute control over it. If she willed it to push to the left it did so, she urged it to the right and it obeyed. She not only felt pressure upon the left or right side of her inner sex, but she felt what the moving appendage within her felt, she felt the subtle intricacies and contours of her birth canal.

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  She felt it as certainly as her own tongue in her mouth. She should have been frightened into shock and self revulsion at what that strange woman had obviously done to her but she was not. Curiosity overwhelmed her. She became hungry for an opportunity to examine herself and to test her yet unconfirmed suspicions and see the extent of changes in her being.

She got her chance after serving supper. Excusing herself from the other servants she took with her a taper and secluded herself in the privy, lifted her skirts, sat down on the pot and held her open hand in front of her sex. Following her same urge to feel and pressing outward with her new found sensory organ, she felt the pangs of pleasure as a firm presence slid through her birth canal. Outward toward the mouth of her sex it pushed and she gasped aloud at what she saw. Emerging in a sudden rush, a pinkish-red finger poked out from her hairy maiden’s nest. It emerged the length of her middle finger and almost half again as big around, tapering to a point and wet like a tongue. It was like the thing she saw emerging from the woman who loved her the night before. The instant it emerged she felt a coolness like a draft on moist skin, she was feeling the sensation through the red finger. The thing was of her own being!She reached her hand to touch it and in joint ambition she pushed the finger outward and it met her hand. She was astounded beyond fear, she willed the finger to feel its way over her palm. She noticed, of course, the feel of the pointed finger wet in her hand but more acute was what sensations the strange appendage returned to her.

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  It was so finely sensitive as she bade it to deftly wrap around her thumb and rub gently over her skin. She could feel with it the coolness of her hand, the smoothness of her nail, and even count the tiny ridges and swirls on the tip of her thumb.

She marveled at what she could make the weird little finger do. She pushed it out to its fullest length, stretching it out to nearly as long as her forearm, its girth filled her sex. She gently stroked its length with her hand and shivered with delight at the rewarding sensation the tail returned to her. Curious of its potential, she coiled it around her wrist and squeezed. The grip was firm. She balled it up within her palm, closed her fingers around it and then tried to push her fingers apart with it. It was soft but strong and her fingers felt so course and rugged to its touch. She tried to see what the tip could do. She pushed apart two of her fingers with it and then pushed between them. It oozed its own spittle to ease its passage, mostly from the tip. She touched the tip to the tip of her finger and found she could spread the tip open. The tip flared out into a gaping mouth. She opened it wide, wide enough to swallow three of her fingers and then engulfed one of them.

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  The long worm-like tongue slid down easily over her digit all the way to her knuckle. She drew upon it and it suckled gently on her encased finger. In spite of the coarseness of her hand’s flesh, the sensations were very pleasurable to Bess and she was enjoying this unearthly new appendage very much when suddenly the door to the privy was jerked open.

“’ beg pardon, Goody Bess,” said the scullery maid as she quickly let go of the door and turned away.

‘Impertinent wench,’ thought Bess, ‘I shall use her most sorely for that. ’The maid had not seen anything. Bess had drawn in her protruding red tail before the maid had even poked in her head, so fast Bess could scarcely believe it was ever out. Her temper cooled as she assured herself that she had not been discovered. She quickly rejoined the rest of the house staff and rushed to finish her evening’s chores but she kept playing with that strange serpentine finger, testing its prowess, feeling its way inside her and outside her, tempting herself with its pleasurable possibilities, and stirring her curiosity with what it all meant.

When her chores were done, she begged her leave and set out as usual to meet the coach in front of the inn, just like she had done thousands of nights before but this time with a fine cloak of velvet around her shoulders. As she approached the market square she slowed her pace and peered into the darkness looking for and hoping to find last night’s lovely lady. She felt disappointed to not see her but pressed on. At last she came to the inn and stood under the lamppost to wait for the coach. Her aching weariness froze her in place and in the still silence she became part of the night.

Then, piercing the silence, there came a sweet voice from somewhere amid the dark shadows behind her, “I pray this night finds thee well.

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Bess did not move, she almost expected the maiden to be there. Through the numbness of her tired, overworked mind Bess felt comfort and joy to be joined again with the companion of her last night’s wanderings. There were so many questions she wanted to ask and so many more feelings she wanted to share. “Aye, good lady. And thou as well. I have brought thee thy cloak. ”Bess turned slowly to meet her companion, moving like in a dream. She found before her the same beautiful young lass this time clad in the leather jerkin and woolen skirt of a simple servant like herself.

“’tis thine, sweet Bess,” said the lady stepping forward from the dark and taking Bess’ hands in her own. “Thou hast many a question and I shall answer them all. But soft, thou hast much to learn and I have much to teach thee this night. ”

“Aye, dear lady. I am yours. What am I to call thee,” asked Bess, relieved to find compassion amidst all her wonder?

“Thou might call me Kate,” she offered, smiling and stroking Bess’ cheek.

“Well met, Kate,” said Bess and they hugged each other warmly.

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It was Kate who pulled back and bracing Bess by the shoulders said, “There is no time to tarry. I will resolve thy questions when leisure suits us. Now, thou must do exactly as I bid thee for thy need is dire and thy time very short. ”

Bess was alarmed by Kate’s tone. “What must I do, friend Kate,” she pled?

“Prithee bide thy tongue and attend me. We must feed thy hunger ere dawn,” said Kate and she led Bess away by her hand at a quick pace.

They wove their way carefully through town by way of dark alleys and backstreets, cautious to avoid the town crier and the watchman. At last they came to the back stable of the blacksmith’s shop. Kate produced a key and employed it on the lock. Bess began to protest but Kate warned her to silence and pulled her in through the door telling her quietly, “We come to steal naught but dreams. ”

Bess was in grim fear of the jailor for this mischief but she followed as Kate led her to the loft above the smithy where they found the blacksmith sleeping soundly on his pallet. “Behold, his head is clouded with strong drink. ” said Kate, “He frolics at the banquet of Bacchus and shall not waken. Come, assist me. ”

In spite of herself, Bess helped Kate seize hold of the prone man’s hose and pulled them down to his ankles.

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  Kate lifted the man’s blouse up to his chest, baring his manhood. Bess was shocked and embarrassed but she kept her silence and waited for Kate’s instructions.

Kate pulled Bess to the bedside and then stepped behind her. She bent down and took hold of Bess’ skirts and lifted them up to her waist. Confused, Bess stood still and let Kate lead their actions. Kate then reached her hands around Bess’ waist and cupped one hand in front of Bess’ sex while the other hand gently stroked her hair, lightly teasing her. “Pish my sweet, render thy jharum,” Kate whispered. “Come-come, good maid. Meet thy friend’s hand. ”

Bess didn’t know what she meant at first but then put all of the strange pieces of this puzzle together and realized that she wanted her to bring forth her new pink tail from within. Bess reasoned no one should know more of its presence and purpose than Kate and she obligingly pushed her sensitive new organ out into Kate’s waiting hands. Bess was delighted by Kate’s touch. Kate’s hands were soft and tender and she plied them with expert control. Bess was quickly lapsing into a lustful disposition, orchestrated by Kate. Bess grappled with the loving hands, enjoying their pleasure-inducing treatments.


  She entwined the fingers, rolled and twisted the surface of her red, tongue-like appendage over the gentle digits. The moist, slick, nubile rope of flesh made obscene plopping and slurping noises as it tangled and wrestled with Kate’s fingers. Kate indulged her and used her hands to push Bess close to her rapture. And it came, an overwhelming climax that made Bess weak and nearly swooning to the floor. Kate held her firmly and soothed away the tumult with tender kisses and soft words.

When Bess had sufficiently calmed down Kate whispered in her ear, “Kiss him, Bess. Bind his lust to thy will. ”

Bess was again confused but she remembered Kate’s kiss from the night before and the effect it had on her. She understood she was to now do the same thing to the sleeping blacksmith. She bent over the man who smelled strongly of barley and mead and kissed him deeply, pushing her tongue into his mouth. Kate moved with her, her hands still entwined in Bess’ coils, coaxing her onward.

After some time, Kate pulled Bess upright and Bess was surprised to see the blacksmith’s member swollen, elongated, and lying stiffly over the man’s belly. Bess was mesmerized by the organ, it was quite substantial. An intricately contoured pole of flesh spanned by many dark, swollen veins yearned eagerly in the dim light. Kate pushed her by her hips, forcing her onto the bed and over the smith’s body.

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  She kept directly behind Bess, following her every move like a dance. Bess followed Kate’s direction until she was straddling the man, kneeling with her sex directly over his. Kate freed one hand from Bess’ tangling grasp and reached down to the man’s erection and held it upright. She enclosed her other hand around Bess’ slippery tail and pulled it outward, seeking its tip. She found it and poised it over the erection in her other hand.

She whispered again in Bess’ ear, “Open Bess. Seize him. Swallow him. Take him in, deeply. ”

A curious wonder seized her, Bess knew what to do. She opened the mouth of her new appendage and closed it entirely over the standing man-flesh. It felt wonderful, even more wonderful than Kate’s hands. It was so soft and smooth to her touch. She wanted more of it. She wound several coils around it to sense more of its delicate texture.

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  Kate removed her hands and Bess slid her coils up and down the shaft. It felt so good. The intense pleasure was chasing her to another extreme sensory explosion. She pumped her coils up and down a few more times, moistening its length and alternating her grasp to expose more of her tender flesh to his. Another small climax tore through her and if not for Kate’s firm embrace she would have fallen upon the sleeping man.

The blacksmith’s hips began to thrust upwards as though plunging himself against a randy maid’s loins. “His crisis approaches, Bess. Thou must receive his seed,” said Kate urgently in Bess’ ear. Bess began pumping her coiled grasp up on him. She spread the coils to grip his manhood all the way to its base and smearing copious amounts of her tail’s slick fluid over him. She twisted and alternated her grasp on him, enjoying both the feel of his flesh and the touch of her own.

Suddenly, the man gave a strong lurch and froze still. Bess could distinctly feel the head of his member swell slightly and then a welling of fluid within the maw of her tail pressed over it. It was his release. In that brief instant Bess experienced a man’s climax like few women ever had.

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  Within her new appendage, using its vastly superior sensitivity, Bess measured his emission. She felt its volume, its temperature, its texture, and its weight. In the next second she felt a second spurt to join what she had collected, then another.

Before she had too much time to toy with her new gift, Bess felt Kate’s fingers around the base of her appendage. Kate’s finger tips touched lightly around the tail and then pulled gently toward her sex as if to coax her. Kate said, “Partake, Bess. Drink his seed. Swallow it deep into thy womb. ”

Slightly dumbfounded, Bess did as she was asked and sucked the pooled fluid up her tail. It felt delightful as she gulped it up around all the coils and then with one big pull she squeezed it inside her and felt it pass into her inner self. Once consumed it was like a cool draught of water on a parched throat. It was soothing, satisfying, almost like a dispelled fast.

Kate held her close and laid her head on Bess’ shoulder. The room got still and quiet. As her passion ebbed, Bess used the time to take inventory of her situation.

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  She was in the arms of a beautiful woman, crouched over the naked loins of a sleeping man in whose house she had trespassed. She could scarcely believe it, but then everything had been unbelievable since she had met the mysterious young Kate. To her dismay she was not afraid, she trusted Kate’s judgment to protect her.

The smith’s erection was slowly shrinking and he began to snore. Kate was the first to move. She began to tenderly stroke and caress Bess’ tail. Bess responded, she relinquished the man’s wilting manhood to engage Kate. Kate worked her masterfully while Bess drew the mouth of her groping serpent over Kate’s thumb and gently suckled it. They enjoyed their play a few minutes, Bess’ passion climbed again to a level of hungry lust.

“We are not yet through with yond stout giant, Bess,” whispered Kate. “Give him thy kiss, ply him once more to thy dance. ”

Bess understood exactly what to do this time. She bent over the man and gave him her deep, intoxicating kiss. She pulled her snake-like tail free from Kate’s hands and then she stroked his manhood with it, testing his response, waiting for his return. She kept her lips locked to his while she coiled around his quickly swelling member.

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  When he was completely ready, she caught hold of his tip with hers and enveloped it. She undulated her appendage around his length, slathering it with her slick fluid, enjoying the delightful contact until the time was right.

She raised herself upright into Kate’s embrace. Her red tail slowly swallowed his entire length like some skinless snake devouring its prey. With every little margin she engulfed she was treated to even greater pleasure. Deeper and deeper, more and more of her finely sensitive flesh was exposed to such divine joy. She swallowed it up until the entire exposed portion of her length had engulfed him and the mouth of her serpent was bunched up around his manhood’s base. Kate’s hands were still under her skirts and she was using one to lightly stroke up and down the surface of Bess’ gulping serpent while the other hand sought the tender button of flesh at the top of Bess’ cleft. Bess really did not need any encouragement but she reveled in it just the same. A huge climax overwhelmed her before she could prepare. She grunted as it took hold of her, wave after wave of pleasure, sapping her strength and making her quiver throughout.

Undaunted, Bess pressed on to greater rewards. She had crouched down over the smith until she was on her hands and knees, using all of her strength to hold herself up, her mind completely consumed by the influence of this tremendous pleasure. She had enough presence of mind to keep her tail sliding slowly up and down on the man’s shaft as she gently squeezed it in varying rhythm. Her breathing became shallow and desperate.

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  She trembled from the strains of her ordeal and the grip she maintained on the prone man’s member became a spastic torrent of twitches and pulls. She was determined to capture her bliss one more time and bring her captive with her.

Kate, now kneeling beside her, noticed her struggle. She stroked Bess’ hair aside and whispered in her ear, “Kiss him, sweet Bess, and receive his reward. ”

Bess bent down her head and planted another deep kiss on the man’s mouth and he immediately began to lurch his hips at her. Then came his expression. Bess felt its approach from root to tip. She felt a throb go through his shaft, bigger than the surge of his blood. It started down low, pushed its way through and end with a great push of fluid at the end where Bess held him deep within. She sucked it in, pulled it in all the way up her length, gulped it into her body. As soon as she felt his fountain shoot within her a tremendous climax took her whole. Her body went rigid, the feeling was so intense she felt like screaming. Her body shook and quaked, the only muscles she still controlled were the ones that sucked his emission into her womb. She sucked until there was absolutely no more.

Kate caught her from falling, picked her up and held her fast.

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  It took her a while to recover and when she did she found herself still crouched over the blacksmith, cradled in Kate’s arms. It was such a soothing, peaceful calm that followed her storm. And she particularly enjoyed Kate’s tender but firm embrace. Again all was silent in the room. The blacksmith’s member slowly shrank as did Bess’, they reluctantly let go of each other and fell limp. Bess’ mind was lost in confusion but she trusted herself to Kate, whose guidance was now crucial.

Kate let Bess rest a spell but when the blacksmith’s snores became loud and long she gently shook Bess’ shoulders and whispered, “Come, Bess. We must get thee home. ”She helped Bess climb off of the smith and together they pulled up his hose as best they could and tucked down his shirt. When he was settled, Kate took Bess by the shoulders and sat her down on the bedside before kneeling in front of her. She parted Bess’ knees and lifted her skirts. Bess’ tender, new organ dangled weak and shriveled between her thighs. Kate gathered it up in her palm and pushed it firmly against Bess’ sex. “Thou must draw it in, Bess. Keep it warm against the chill night air,” she said quietly but with some urgency.

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Bess tried to comply but with some difficulty. The thing was bloated and swollen from its travails and weak from its tumult. Bess herself was still recovering from her arduous strain. Kate helped by applying gentle pressure with her knowing hands. Bess felt warm compassion toward Kate at that moment. She felt grateful for this gift and, surprisingly, for the fruits of this daring adventure. “Wilt thou give me thy kiss, good friend Kate?” she asked, wanting merely to bond with her more than any pursuit of pleasure; a moment’s cheer for her fearful heart.

“I dare not, sweet Bess. I must keep my wits about me yet this night,” replied Kate. She patted Bess’ cheek. They had nearly gotten Bess’ tail completely retracted, Bess would have to satisfy herself with that intimate contact alone.

“This,” said Bess, “This is the gift thou hast given me?This is the Charm of which you spoke?”

“Jharum. Aye, Bess. ‘tis mine no more. ‘tis thine,” answered Kate with a hopeful smile.

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“As thou hast told me, it gives eternal youth,” queried Bess?The complicated riddle was quickly solving itself, astonishing Bess with how easily she was grasping it all.

“Aye, Bess. By the taking of a man’s seed,” answered Kate.

The two peered deeply into each other’s eyes for a long moment and Bess grappled with a new mystery. “Dear Kate, why wouldst thou part with such a gift,” asked Bess with a note of concern on her voice?

“I will tell thee at another time,” said Kate. “Now, we must be gone. ”She stood up and helped Bess to her feet.

Bess noticed very distinctly, the pressing weariness she had fought all day was gone, as too was her dizzy head. In fact she felt, to her amazement, quite fit and vigorous. She collected her cloak and they quietly crept down the stairs and to the door. Kate peered out carefully and listened. When she was sure all was clear she drew Bess out behind her through the door and then reset the lock. After another cautious trek through alleyways and courtyards they made their way back to Bess’ master’s stable.

On the way home the gravity of what she now possessed began to weigh upon Bess. This jharum, or Charm as Bess called it, truly was precious.

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  Kate had shrugged off eternity in exchange for mortality; Man’s greatest fear. Why?Kate had forsaken immortality and bestowed it upon Bess, a complete stranger. It begged so many questions of why but Bess could not draw them into a single line of query. “How long had thou the Charm, Lady Kate?” asked Bess, which was all she could think to say.

“I know not for certain,” came Kate’s reply after a long thoughtful pause. “’twas many hundreds of years ago. Thou would not recognize this land nor the people I was born into. ”Her brow furrowed as if recalling something painful. “‘twas a hard time, coarse and mean. ‘twas a time even before the Saxons. ”

Bess had no idea how long ago that was but she surmised it to be very ancient. “Why wouldst thou relinquish a life thou hast held on to for so long,” she asked?

Kate turned her back to Bess and stood very still. “That is for another time,” she said. “Thou must rest. I will meet thee again on the morrow.


  Sleep well. ”She walked away into the darkness leaving Bess very concerned. It was either an answer Kate did not want Bess to have or one Kate was pained to discuss. Bess decided not to press, surely Kate must have her reasons and they would certainly reveal themselves in time.

Chapter 3 - The Legacy

The next day passed uneventfully but with Bess feeling much better than she had in years. The morning stiffness and body aches that usually greeted her were gone, a new vitality surged through her she had long forgotten. She met Kate again in front of the inn and like the night before they paid a visit to the blacksmith. They continued this routine another fortnight. Always finding him in the same condition, they slipped in, used him and slipped out. Kate monitored Bess’ progress and was anxious for Bess to have a solid start and practice. They found that the stable boy could be plied with a feeble ruse into thinking it was all a dream and the two women began visiting him every night after their visit to the blacksmith. The boy easily fell for their ploy. Bess had only to squat upon his body and spread her skirts over him. She accessed him without using her hands, with the Charm alone, so that he never saw her secret. He was a rich source of what they needed and could be tapped two or three times in a night.

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Bess was responding very well with newfound vigor and a fresh glow to her skin. Meanwhile, Kate carefully schooled her at every opportunity about the weighty responsibility that came with this unique gift. She reminded Bess repeatedly that people’s first reaction to strange things they did not understand was fear and that witches were still burned at the stake for mere superstition. She admonished Bess not to reveal her secret to any one she did not have absolute trust in and then only if they could cope with the knowledge. She stressed that the Charm was a gift that could not only provoke fear but jealousy as well. She told Bess not to use her kiss too freely because it alone could draw suspicion. That it must only be used to bind a man’s lust to her need or to blind an adversary and affect an escape. Most importantly, Kate stressed the precaution of not remaining in one place long enough for people to notice her regressing age or that she did not age at all.

Finally, the night came when Kate announced it was time for her to go.

“But… what will become of thee,” Bess asked?She had grown very fond of Kate, she felt fear for Kate’s well-being and, of course, being alone without Kate’s council.

“I will return to my betrothed whom I miss and wish not to be apart from any longer,” replied Kate.

“You give up immortality for a man,” asked Bess, incredulously?Distress was overwhelming her, she wanted Kate to stay with her, she felt too weak to go on without her. “Why?”

“I want the life I was meant to have; mother and wife; hearth and home. I have found a good, kind young man whom I love very much,” said Kate. “I am to be his wife.

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  I will cleave unto him, share his life, bear him his children, and grow old with him. ”

“And die,” asked Bess?

With tears in her eyes Kate replied, “When thou hast lost count of men thou hast given thy heart to, watching them all slowly grow old and die, then thou might understand my choice. ”She sobbed and began again, softly, “I will take again my place in the family of man…”She was overcome with emotions, obviously very deep ones. Losing her composure, she blurted out, ”I love him!… Were he ever to part from me I would await his return by the roadside for the rest of my life!”

Kate’s blunt but familiar insinuation struck Bess hard. The sadness she felt for herself was eclipsed by a new sadness for Kate. Bess had lost only one love and had grieved on him for years. Kate had lost so many she could not count them all and had grieved on them for centuries. And now she was facing it all over again.

“My apologies, but I carry a great lethargy, young Bess,” continued Kate, regaining her self control. “’tis the sum total of much pain and loneliness. For many hundreds of years I have stood apart from humanity and watched it struggle. For all of those many years I have helplessly observed, an indifferent sentinel, neither helping nor hindering. Now, I shall rejoin history and play my part in it. I have had a rich, full life. I regret nothing.

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Bess strove to understand what Kate had said. Comprehension involved placing herself outside her common day to day existence, the only frame of reference she had ever known, and looking at life as one who did not really live. She thought it odd to want to be a part of her world, the toil, the uncertainty, and the inevitable doom of death, but if she tried very hard, she could vaguely perceive the alienation of which Kate spoke. She let that feeling sink in a bit, wondering what effect it might have on her. Nevertheless, a question still gnawed at her. “Why me,” she asked?

“When first came to me word of thy sad tale I understood thy grief,” said Kate. “Thou art worthy of this gift. Make for thyself a fresh life, anew. If thou wishest, pass the jharum on to another, but I meant for thee to have another chance for happiness. Make it so, good Bess. ”She smiled earnestly and clasped Bess’ hand to her cheek.

“May I find thee and impart it onto thee again,” asked Bess, longing desperately to keep Kate in her life?

“Nay, good Bess,” said Kate in distress. “Do not tempt me. My path is set. ”She hugged Bess tightly.

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It was Bess who cried but she knew there would be no dissuading Kate if she had already gone this far. It was something she had obviously thought on many long years.

Kate made her farewell short and simple. After saying goodbye and good luck followed by another warning for caution, she kissed Bess, on the cheek, and she was gone.


The first few weeks after Kate’s departure Bess felt lost. She missed Kate very much and her guidance through this extraordinary mystery of life was priceless. None the less, Bess kept up with her practice almost every night, using the strategy and precautions set forth by Kate. She eventually lost count of how much life-giving semen she had taken from her quarry.

Then, one evening, while cleaning a window pane, she noticed her reflection. Having not looked upon herself in some time she was shocked to see a woman she had not seen in years. Most of the extra lines and sagging flesh were gone. Also gone was a great deal of gray streaks in her hair. Her age was indeed slowly reversing!As the delight of her returning youth swept over her, close behind came the fear and dread that anyone else might have noticed. Luckily, being a common maid, few people took any heed of her at all but at this rate it would soon be apparent to everyone. It was time to disappear, and fast.

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That was over four hundred years ago. Liz found it hard to believe that after all she had been through she could still recall it all so vividly. The wealth of experiences filling a 460 year life was immense. Liz had lived all over the world and had seen its many wonders. She had witnessed four hundred years of man’s triumphs and tragedies; four hundred years of conquests and defeats; four hundred years of progress and regression. In all those four hundred years of patient observation she had found the answers to questions the wisest men on Earth had never even thought to pose. She knew the human race very well.

Personally, she had made many fortunes and frittered them all away. She knew the rewards of patience, caution, hard work and diligence and she also new the paralyzing debilitation of indolence, inebriation and depravity. She preferred the former. She kept herself busy with work and learning. She had studied at the finest institutions in the world and mastered all the sciences, world history, art, language, and literature. Meanwhile, she kept her personal life pristine, tidy and manageable. She was always ready to pick up and move at the slightest provocation.

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  She had become a master in controlling her life and guarding her safety.

“Guard ye well, Bess,” she could remember Kate’s dire warning. Liz had followed Kate’s advice very carefully. She made the rules an implacable creed from which she never strayed. She never remained in any place long enough for anyone to notice she did not age nor get sick and she never returned to any place she had previously lived. She used her kiss sparingly, only when she had to or when its effect could be attributed to some other cause. If she ever used it defensively she made sure to avoid that person forever. She did not expose her secret to anyone she did not trust, in fact she had never deliberately exposed it to anyone at all.

The one lesson Liz had held highest was one Kate had never intended to impart. Liz had never given her heart to anyone. She feared the pain of losing a cherished love so much that she had kept all relationships with men to a very cold, distant impartiality. She, of course, had taken many lovers, she needed them, but she kept them from garnishing too fond a place in her life. She had made herself very safe but also very lonely.

It was a dilemma that tore at Liz - To relinquish herself to love and face loss or to protect her heart and dwell in cold isolation. To nurture her emotions that end in grief or to shun anguish at the cost of perpetual longing.

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  The thought of Kate and her countless broken hearts was her constant reminder. She missed Kate so much. There was so much she wished she could have asked her. Kate was the last person she had ever trusted. Dear, kind Kate. The only one of her personal rules she ever violated was her every five-year pilgrimage to Kate’s grave. Kate had learned something Liz had not and she had given her life for it. After four hundred years, Liz was at a complete loss as to what exactly that lesson was.

What Liz had learned was how to get what she wanted from men. She needed their sperm and the best way to get it was sex. She found she could pull her Charm completely out of the way and engage in normal sex. Although she was always tempted to engage a penis for the shear pleasure of engulfing that tender flesh and pulling it deep into Charm, she refrained for fear of discovery, unless her lover was very drunk. She would suck up the man’s issue after he withdrew but there was usually a lot of waste. This up-front approach was safer than skulking around in the dark for her quarry but it meant placing herself as a man’s love interest, the kind of attachment Liz had tried to avoid. She often resolved it by temporarily becoming a prostitute.

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  It was degrading and sometimes just as dangerous but it got her what she needed, earned her a living, and fit in with her low-profile, gypsy lifestyle.

Another hurdle Liz had to overcome was her age. She had found that her age played a large role in what society expected from her and the influence she exerted over other people and situations. There was behavior a young woman could engage in that would draw strong objection if an older woman tried. Likewise, there was authority and credibility older women commanded that younger ones could not wield, not even with money. Liz had found it practical to let her apparent age hover around late twenties to early thirties for most of her life. Of course, that all changed in the early twentieth century when social norms came crashing down. Now that Liz could assume any age she wanted and still enjoy a broad range of acceptable behavior, she kept her apparent age in the early twenties.

The advent of detailed record-keeping, however, was a bane to her existence. It made her ability to relocate and establish a new identity very complex. Mass data storage and computer assisted retrieval made it even worse. The freedom to give herself a new identity by virtue of her own word got replaced by an international system of verifiable facts, stored evidence, near instantaneous communications, and traceable history. As the world grew, her options and freedom were rapidly shrinking.

Photography also terrified her. She feared some day of coming face to face with a very old, undeniably identical photo of herself and the questions it would raise.

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  Running away from an old identity was hard enough but the difficulty of hiding from her own image, if it ever became widely distributed, would impose dire measures. It would mean getting lost in places no one wanted to go. She no longer had to worry about being burned as a witch, now she faced the horror of being kept like a guinea pig in a lab, or worse - dying on some cold dissection table.

Chapter 4 - A Night in an XXX Arcade

The honking horn from a passing car suddenly jolted Liz from her meandering ruminations. It had turned dark and the parking lot in front of the book store now had many cars. It was collection time.

Liz looked around to see if any one was about and then lifted her skirt up to her waist. With her knees spread and her hand cupped in front of her pussy she pushed Charm out into the open. The tender tentacle spilled out easily into her hand. All out, she stretched Charm to its fullest length, enjoying the respite from the cramped confines of her uterus and feeling the cool night air. With both hands she gently clasped her prize and lightly stroked it. Yes, this is what she needed, some self indulgence and gratification to pique her mood before sex. She caressed it up and down the entire length, teasing herself toward fulfillment. She opened up the tip and engulfed her middle finger as deeply as she could while lightly stroking Charm up and down with the other. Faster and faster she stroked, sucking her finger in a matching rhythm.

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Charm played itself into her stimulation as well. She liked to swell up its base to increase its girth and firm up its overall malleability like an erect cock. She could surge it up and down within her cunny just like she were being fucked. She could also bend back a coil toward her clitoris and deftly massage her other pleasure center into absolute distraction.

Liz plied all of these techniques to manufacture the perfect climax, quick and satisfying. The pleasure crept through her, she started bucking her hips uncontrollably under her own stimulation. She made a ball within the length of Charm and rolled the bump up and down, round and round in her vagina. Her rapture was quickly pressing her into an uncontrollable extreme. Higher it climbed, to her release, over the point of no return. She let go and braced her hands on her knees, she closed her eyes tight and shuddered in her orgasm as Charm coiled and twisted between her thighs in the throes of her bliss. Her hips jerked in a spastic twitch and she suppressed a high squeal while straining muscles slowly relaxed.

When it finished its course, Liz blew out a long sigh and fell back against her seat. That put her in the right frame of mind. She paused a minute for her strength to return and then she pushed down her skirt, slipped on her shoes, opened the car door, and stepped out into the night. She bunched Charm up against her vulva to keep it warm and out of sight but ready for an encounter.


  She walked boldly toward the parking lot with her coat drawn tightly around her.

Across the parking lot, a car door opened and someone stepped out. Remarkably, it was the same car that had pulled into the lot when she first arrived, the one that had been behind her. Even more curiously still, it was a woman who stepped out. She was wearing a black leather coat over a short, red dress. The woman started walking directly toward Liz. As they closed in on one another, Liz noticed the woman was of slight build with very shapely legs and neck length hair parted low on one side. Her stride was bold with a frivolous bounce as she walked. Liz made the corner of the bookstore and turned toward the door and the woman changed her course to match. Watching the woman, Liz could now distinguish that she was very attractive with large, merry eyes. The low sweep of hair across her face gave her a roguish, playful appearance. All the time the woman was looking directly at Liz with a very mischievous smile.

The woman got to the door just an instant before Liz. She snatched the handle and pulled the door open for Liz. Standing to the side she said, ”Amusez-vous, ma soeur,” in flawless French.

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‘A frog’, thought Liz. She was puzzled as to why this strange woman was calling her ‘sister’ and what she was up to, but this was not the place to start trouble. “Merci bien,” she said and stepped in through the door.

The inside of an adult bookstore is an entirely different world than the one outside. It is a clearinghouse of sexual ambition, where a man’s lust is temporarily assuaged for a price and the resulting shame washed away with disinfectant. As soon as Liz crossed the threshold, she was met with curious glances by half a dozen men scrutinizing the erotic magazines displayed along the walls. They all quickly averted their gaze when their eyes met Liz’, too ashamed to confront an object of their desire’s strayed quest. All except the store’s operator behind the counter, a big, burly man covered with dark fur. He stared at Liz with a frown, a lip curled in disgust, and an incredulous shake of his head.

Liz felt a nudge as the French woman stepped in behind her. She turned to look at her and found the same wicked smile as before. In the full light, she looked fresh and young, much too pretty of a thing to be on a perversion excursion. The woman stepped around Liz and then waded directly into the midst of the porn perusing patrons with a mock look of fascination; causing them to shuffle away in uncomfortable silence. Liz swore to herself that if she lived another 400 years she would still not understand the French.

Liz’ objective lay beyond the store area, in the arcade.

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  The XXX arcade was an area toward the back behind a pair of swinging doors. It was an array of private, coin-operated video viewing booths where clientele could seclude themselves to watch a variety of X-rated movies playing on several closed-circuit channels. This was where Liz fed her need.

She made a bee-line for the arcade and pushed through the swinging doors. On the other side she found another half-dozen customers examining a display of current features playing along side the number of the channel on which they were to be found. All of these men gave the same reaction to Liz’s presence as the ones outside but with a little added curiosity. Liz gave no notice to the display, she was not here to see movies. She proceeded directly to a particular booth at the end of the corridor being careful not to confront any of the customer’s gazes. She did glance back at them with a brief but well-practiced alluring smile before secluding herself behind the booth’s door and latching it.

The booth was a dimly lit, four by four foot cubicle with a plastic chair in the center of its sticky floor and the overwhelming odor of pine-scented disinfectant. Opposite the door was a video screen with a speaker, a volume knob, a channel selection button and a coin/bill register beside it. Just below waist height and in the middle of the wall to the adjacent booth was a hastily cut hole about 4 inches in diameter. This was called a ‘glory hole’. While viewing a movie an occupant could arrange for the exchange of oral sex with the occupant of the adjoining booth through this hole. This glory hole is how Liz satisfied her needs without exposing her secret.

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She needed to get to work quickly before someone entered the booth next door and peeked in on her. She pulled the wooden wedge out of her coat pocket and set it on the floor pointing to the door. She gave it an abrupt kick to jam it into place and secure the door shut from intruders, in case the latch was not sturdy enough. Next was the video screen. A closed door without the steady feed of money into the video machine would alert the store attendant and draw an angry knock at the door with the possibility of expulsion. Liz pulled out a five and slid it into the bill register. The light overhead went out and the video monitor came to life with a sex scene already well under way.

On the screen, an implausibly attractive blond woman with breasts shaped like a muffin-tin was being ravaged by a dubiously virile man who, ironically, lacked any trace of body hair. It was the standard porn faire, washed clean of passion and romance, served on top of a melodramatic chorus of expletives, and with plenty of biologically concise close-ups for verification of the act. Liz took particular note that their faces never got closer than 3 feet. ‘How could you call that making love?’ she thought. But then, having become an expert in detached sex, she really could not judge.

Liz quickly took off her coat and draped it over the monitor, not out of modesty but to make the room dark. She backed herself tight against the glory hole w.



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