Witch - Chapter 5

Posted by AlOmega on November 07, 2001 at 15:08:25:

He seemed to pass through the fenced area as if it didn’t exist. And then he
saw her as, dropping her things deckside, she slid into the pool. The water was
cold despite the heat outside. She sighed, as she began to relax. The only sound
was the smooth stroking of her arms cutting through the water.

He saw her glide across the water, her head kept carefully above. He was
there, in the dark shadows, obviously already hiding on the roof when she had
arrived. She could feel him silently watching her, wicked man that he was. She
had decided that he would be her last in this place. She had to move on.

But there was something about this one, she realized stopping in the middle of
the pool - in the deepest part, treading the water to remain afloat. Her senses
were alert to his presence - her lover - or something more? She felt he could
be interesting though she didn’t know why. Her heart beat a little faster. But
that happened often before she fed.

"Are you going to join me?" she broke the silence between them.

"I don't have a suit," he called back. His voice was muffled by the darkness.

The moon was shining high overhead - high and full. If only he would step
closer, she thought, then she could see his face.

"Why do you need a suit?" She said as if to challenged him. "There's no one here
but you and I."

He chuckled from deep in his chest. "Do you have your suit on?" he asked.

"I think you already know the answer to that."

She started to swim again since staying still in the water was making her
shiver.

"Stop swimming," he said.

"Oh, but its too cold for me not to move. I'll surely freeze since you aren't
coming in." she answered poutingly for emphasis.

He could hear it in her voice and in his mind she knew he could see her mouth
contorting into the shape which had first attracted him. That had happened when
she had deliberately bumped into him in the lounge and spilled a drink on her
dress. Always a good pick-up move, it was particularly handy if a girl planned
to soon get naked with her catch. And in this case it had led to this late night
pool rendezvous.

She was swimming again, this time away from him. He should have called for her
at her room and played the role of escort. Somehow it was like him, she thought,
to keep their meeting a secret from curious onlookers.

"Alright," he gave in, "I'll join you."

Easily, she thought. Most definitely, he'd surrendered too easily.

"You will?" she asked.

"On one condition," he nodded even though she couldn't see it.

"Well?" she took a breath, a loud splash as her hand slapped the water. "What
condition?" she demanded, itching with curiosity now. He was teasing her, she
thought.

"I'll swim with you if you'll throw your suit on deck," he finally said.

She pretended to mull this over for a few seconds. Of course she would do it,
and he knew that.

"But what if someone comes?" she feigned timidly.

He laughed at her mock modesty. His zipper rasped as it slid down.

"You first," she said, slowly tugging at the strings of her halter top.

In her mind's eye she could see his pants, jeans … no, not jeans, khakis maybe,
hitting the deck with a small clack as their buttons bounced onto the cement.
Then his shirt. Buttoned to nearly the top, letting some of the crisp hairs on
his chest poke free. He would start with the shirt’s front buttons, from his
neck down. He would be the methodical sort.

She would have liked to undress him – run her fingers down his chest, to
dart her tongue over his nipples. To move her mouth down his neck and over his
lips, never quite letting him catch hers. She longed to kiss her way down his
stomach further and further until she knelt in front of him, her hands stopping
at the bulge of his underpants. He’d be wearing them, probably briefs. And she
wanted him to then look down and watch her – watch her fingers move slowly over
his erection, pressing hard against the cloth, straining to be free and in her.
Or perhaps in her mouth with her tongue sliding back and forth, up and down his
shaft. In her hot, moist pussy that I knew would fit him a like a velvet glove.

"Your turn," he broke in upon her thoughts, bringing her back to her swim.
The top of her bikini sailed through darkness and hit the deck with a wet slap,
and the bottoms were soon landing at his feet. Another challenge. She prided
herself on artful seductions.

"All ready." She started swimming again.

She heard his feet cross the deck to the deep end of the pool. He poised
for a dive, his hands over his head, pointed slightly down. His erection was
standing straight out. He dove, gliding under the surface and deeper into the
shadowy depths until she couldn't see him anymore. All was quiet. She held her
breath, waiting for him to come up for air. A sharp tug on her ankle made her
scream in surprise. Her pulse fluttered beneath her skin like a trapped
butterfly.

She couldn't drown of course, since she belonged to the water, but his bold
action was startling. He broke surface in front of her. His hands floated behind
her. One move and she would be pressed against him, her legs tangled with his as
they struggled to keep them both afloat. That was how she usually took her
lovers and their life force, drowning them in her arms at the height of their
passion.

His tongue moved over her neck swiftly. She tasted of chlorine and something
else - something supernatural that was uniquely to her - part of her lure, part
of her curse.

She thrust her arms propelling herself back out of his grasp. She laughed in
surprise and secret delight when he grabbed her ankle, pulling her to him.
Pressed against him, she tread with her arms while he tread his legs. Her legs
were wrapped tightly about his waist; and, his arms around her. And then he
truly surprised her by drawing them both under.

Ah! A kindred soul? She thought excitedly.

He moved a little. His cock grazing against her slit as her laughter turned to a
moan. She leaned forward and rested her lips against his shoulder. He moved once
more to the surface. Her mouth opened, and her repressed moan was warm against
his skin. He felt her tongue slide over the droplets of water within its reach.
Gently he pushed her away and tugged at my arm instead. A silent signal to
follow him? Perhaps.

She swam after him until they were standing easily. Her feet touched the
slightly rough bottom, the water just barely covering her breasts. They were
well matched in height, and in their urges to create passion through destruction
- a pair of hunters alone in the moonlit night.

He reached out, touching one of her nipples. It beaded even tighter under
his caressing thumb. He sought out the other with his mouth. She gasped at the
contrast between his mouth and the water - hot and cold. Her hands held tightly
to his elbows as he pushed her further onto her back in the pool.
He stopped. Pulling her so she was nearer to him, he directed her arms around
his neck. His demanding mouth met hers. His tongue implored and insisted as it
pushed through the seal of her lips stroking her tongue with his own as her
fingers twined into in his hair, drawing him closer. He turned, pressing her
against the pool wall - pushing her legs apart and himself inside. She groaned
and squeezed the walls of her tight entrance around him. He moved against her as
tiny pockets of air popped between them, breaking against her throbbing clit.
She wiggled a little, situating herself more comfortably against him. As he
groaned again, she couldn't stifling a small moan.

"Yes," she whispered as he thrust harder into her, making her shoulders bump
against the pool wall.

Was he beginning to succumb? It was as if she were controlling him. But that
didn’t seem to matter as he thrust again and again.

"Yes, more - yes . . . please," her sighs and moans were coming out fast - Her
breathing becoming more shallow. "Oh, yes!"

Faster, faster and faster. She always did this to men: never allowing them to
take their time to make it last for her. He was under her control, she
thought. He had to knew it – just as he should know that now was the moment for
her to take his life and extend her own as she had so many times before. But
something stopped her.

She was beginning to cum. Strong spasms rocked her body against his. She felt as
if she was once more skipping over the blue Aegean, soaring up to the Halls of
Olympus, or playing with the dolphins in the surf. She could feel his burst of
cum flowing between them as her muscles squeezed tightly, quaking repeatedly in
climax. He was like molten lava inside of her - making her shiver as she
indulged herself with him. She took all of his seed and wanted more. Then she
sighed softly as the last of her spasms slowly subsided. One more thrust, one
more burst, and it would be over for him. She was beginning to relax around his
manhood. She tensed herself for him, feeling his one final thrust. Then her
lover was breathing slowly, catching his second wind. The Wheel of Life had
turned once more. She had again crossed the Rubicon.

But the choice had been hers. And in that he was glad. The Ferryman would offer
her passage – and she would return once again to this world but if she
remembered….

His breath was warm on her neck as she closed her eyes and laid her cheek
against his shoulder. Perhaps she would tire and age rapidly. It would not be
for the first time. That was the fate the two of them suffered. He could only
live when she lived. And she could only live if she devoured souls. The Hunt
took too much out of the Hunter for that Hunter to miss many kills. If she did
not remedy the situation soon, she would fade and die.

He slid his arms under her, walking her floating figure to the steps at the
pool's shallow end. She snuggled tightly against him as the night air brushed
her bare flesh. He crossed the deck to fetch her towel which he rubbed lightly
over her skin as she sleepily held onto him for balance. He slipped her arms
into his shirt. It hung open to her thighs. He buttoned it enough for her to be
covered. Not bothering with the towel, he pulled on his khakis. Zipping them, he
forewent the button. That was when she saw the dragon belt buckle and remember.

And she heard the sound of distant singing.
He smiled asking, “Try reading. You have done it with others. Now try it
with me.”

So again she read and finally she Knew. But it was so little. He was
saddened again. Would she never remember?

“You’re a water spirit, too,” she finally said. “I never knew another such as I
lived beyond Ragnarok.”

“Oh, my Dear, there is so much more.” And he opened his thought to her.

“Always you died but were reborn again and again. Why? Because I was your
killer, your lover. Each time you tried to take me and I would let you so that
you would know who I was and Remember. But this time - this night - you
did not seek my life. You thought me human but did not take me as you had the
others.”

He drew her to him once more; and, she clung as only she could. This time, he
though. This one last time. Maybe the Cycle would change. The Wheel of Life
would take another road.

As they clung together like lovers should, he brought his dagger from behind his
back. Tears rolled down his cheeks as the Eldritch dagger with runes etched
from so long ago was stained in red again and again. He had not used this
dagger in over a thousand years but still it struck deep and straight. Her
heart could not beat with the Eldritch blade biting deep within it. As she
died, she looked once at him and smiled. Lifeless she slid from his arms, the
smile still etched into her face. He wanted to make love to her one last time
but he never did. Still this might be their last time doing this, he hoped. He
had always hoped. For Hope was all he could ever have until the curse was
lifted. He looked up at the Moon one last time as he took the Eldritch blade
now stained with her blood and plunged it into his heart.

From the shadows, the three witches emerged. Cheryl stooped and carefully
retrieved the Eldritch blade. In her hands, its color changed from a blue-green
glow to that of tarnished silver.

“And so it’s ended.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes, Mystique. It has ended. Killings will be back to what locals consider
normal. The smell is gone, I believe, forever – though I couldn’t say for
sure. The curse may also have been lifted though that is something only Time
can tell. Whether those sprites will ever return to this Earth is another
matter entirely.”

“By the way, Sonya, did I ever tell you that all men are swine?”

“So…?” asked Sonya with a laugh. “What’s new about that?”

“Oh, nothing,” she chuckled. “So we might as well go down to Bourbon Street and
party. And with luck we can get three young college types so we can get our
brains fucked out. We’re due a fun time in my opinion. Oh, and you might as
well come along, too, Tooth. By the way, Mystique, how did you ever come up
with a weird name like Tooth?”

“Well, it was when I first….”

The answer was lost in the dark as the three witches headed to Bourbon Street.
The youngest was still Mystique. But Sonya had been known in another time and
place as Morgan la Faye. That was nearly a hundred years before Cheryl had
taught her and a young Merlin – a time when Cheryl had still been called…

Circe.