DAMNIT DAMNIT DAMNIT! I updated my writing program and no matter HOW MUCH I try to preserve the formatting when copy and pasting to my blog, it simply refuses to keep any of it, grr... I apologize for the crappy formatting, but for now, this is the best I can do.
“Perfect!” She exclaimed as she held up an elegant nightgown. It was a daintily knitted material that slightly resembled lace, only it was very shear, and made to cling to the body. She slipped it on. It fell to her ankles, clinging all the way, and yet flaring slightly at the bottom. She studied her reflection in a mirror. Her matching thong underwear was clearly visible, as if the material were no more concealing than the screen on a window.
She popped her Wilson Phillips CD into the player, singing along with the group as she brushed her hair, and rolled it in large foam steam curlers. She thanked her lucky stars that the special steaming box was battery operated, in fact she was happy to discover that all her electronic devices were battery operated, for they were all designed to be used while on the go. Except for her TV and etc. They were all solar powered products that her father’s company had designed, right down to the solar powered battery charger that fit every size battery imaginable.
She waited patiently for the curls to set, then unwound them, singing “Impulsive” as it played. She lapsed into humming, as she thought about what she was doing. She was playing dress-up for a man that she just barely knew. A man that she had already had sex with, even though she knew she shouldn’t have, and that he was probably just a rebound fling to soothe her ruffled feathers. It helped his ability to have her that he looked exactly like her ex, a guy she had thought she loved.
She was baffled by her reaction to this man. Normally, she would have taken much, much longer to decide whether to have sex with him, but for some reason, all he had to do was look at her, and she was his. He made her feel everything that Jesse had made her feel, only stronger. Plus, he vexed her, and made her want to beat him to death, which she took as a sign that he was under her skin.
And, even though she felt as if she were jumping into this relationship feet first and blindfolded, she couldn’t make herself stay away from him. Hell! She couldn’t even make herself wait for him to come to her, she was going to go running to him. She finally decided that her whole life for the past few days had to be a dream, a pleasant, and very realistic dream, but a dream nonetheless.
She mentally listed the reasons that she was positive indicated she was dreaming. First, she was over 200 years in the past! Second, practically everyone she came across looked like someone she knew in the future. Third, she was able to hypnotically remove Lucas pain, and a bullet from his wound. Fourth, she was able to recover the stolen property from the midst of a thieves’ camp, without any problems, and lastly, her sex life had been far too good to be real.
A particular lyric caught her attention.
“I don’t wanna think about it, don’t wanna think clear. Don’t analyze, what I’m doing here.”
That’s certainly true, she thought. She cleared her mind of all thoughts.
“I wanna be impulsive, reckless, and lose myself in your kiss. You’re giving me a feeling, it’s a sudden rush, acting on the moment spontaneous…” Brist switched the player off. Those lyrics were true to her life right now too. She rushed to Nicholas’ bedroom, and let herself in without knocking.
He was snoring softly. She began to kiss him passionately. He moaned.
“I can’t think of a better way to wake up,” he mused as he kissed her in return. She heard his stomach growl ferociously.
“Hungry?” She chuckled.
“Only for you,” he answered seductively. He began to kiss her neck and shoulders. His stomach growled again.
“On second thought, I haven’t eaten in…” He tried to remember his last meal. “Was it this morning?”
“Well,” Brist began. “I’d call down to the kitchen for leftovers, but intercoms haven’t been invented yet.”
“What’s an intercom?” He asked as he pulled on a cord next to his bed.
“I’ll try to explain, but it will take some imagination on your part,” she said.
“I think I have a little imagination left in me,” he informed her with a kiss.
“Okay, imagine you could talk to a little box on the wall, and tell it to bring you steak and eggs, and the cook in the kitchen heard you and told you, through the box, that she’d have it up here in a few minutes,” Brist explained the concept to him as one would a child.
“This cord has a similar job,” Nicholas responded. “Only it doesn’t carry voices to the kitchen and back.”
Just then there was a knock at the door. He crawled out of bed, donned a robe, lit a candle, and admitted the servant, who placed a tray on his desk. She informed him that she had anticipated his need for dinner, and had had something ready. As soon as the servant left, Nicholas locked the door.
He attacked the food on the plate with a vengeance that would suggest a much longer period of fasting. Brist crawled out of bed, deciding to rub his back while he ate. He nearly choked as his eyes greedily viewed her attire.
“Problem?” She asked in concern.
“No. I’m just having second thoughts about what to dine upon,” he responded.
“Oh no you don’t! I will not have my night ruined by your rumbling stomach,” she stated playfully.
“Well, we can’t spoil her majesty’s evening, can we stomach?” Nicholas feigned annoyance.
“Ooo!” Brist pretended anger. She retrieved a spoonful of soup, and presented it to him. “Eat,” she commanded.
Nicholas took the spoon from her, and dribbled it down the valley between her breasts.
She shrieked. “That’s a little warm!”
“Did I burn you?” He asked in alarm.
“No, it wasn’t hot, just warmer than I expected,” she explained. Nicholas smiled in relief, then allowed his tongue to retrieve the misplaced soup.
“Mmm, this idea has delicious merit,” he murmured.
“Oh no! You are not going to make me all sticky,” she refused, and took up the spoon. She refilled it, determined to feed him in order to deter him from using her as a plate. Nicholas picked the bowl up, and downed its contents in three gulps.
“Why waste time?” He rhetorized.
Brist giggled as he pulled her close, and claimed her lips in a kiss. He was naked under his robe, which had fallen open to reveal his male erectness. He decided that her outfit was too erotic to remove, so he pulled her underwear to the side, and guided her atop him. His eyes rolled back as he felt her slide to encase him in her warmth. He had found heaven.
The couple spent the entire night discovering the merits of lovemaking using everything but the bed. Until exhaustion found them both snoring on the comfortably rumpled bed.
Two days had passed, and it was the morning of Lucas’ departure. Brist had set her alarm to ensure that she woke up a few hours before Sarah normally did. She didn’t worry that it would wake the child, for it was in Nicholas’ room with her. She had it set as low as she possibly could and still be roused by it, for she did not want to scare Nicholas, who had regarded her as a if she were insane when she explained that its job was to wake her on time. She had selected her favorite song “Possession” by Sarah Mclachlan to play when the alarm went off, for it was a CD playing alarm clock.
Brist stretched, and allowed herself to enjoy the song as it played. Nicholas awoke with a start, causing her to giggle as he examined the “box,” trying to determine how it played the music. After the song was over, she crawled out of bed, and turned off the alarm.
“Tell me again, why did you want to wake up at five in the morning?” He asked.
“Because today Sarah turns four, and I am going to make her a birthday cake, and surprise her with it when she awakes,” Brist explained. It had been awhile since she had been able to test the cake decorating skills she had learned in foods class back in tenth grade. She hoped she could at least make it look decent, not that it mattered, for the recipient was blind, but Brist didn’t think that made a difference. After all, why make an effort at all if she wasn’t going to give it her all?
She dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans, and a form-fitting gray and black “Hooters, Mall of America” tee. She rummaged through her bag until she found her grandmother’s – who had been a famous chef – cookbook, and made her way to the kitchen. The cook was already making the day’s breakfast, for the slaves anyway. She wouldn’t begin breakfast for the family until closer to their normal eating time.
“Missy Brist? What are you doing in the kitchen?” The cook asked.
“I’m going to make a special cake for Sarah’s birthday,” Brist said as she placed the heirloom cookbook on the counter, and opened it to her favorite cake recipe.
“Do you mind if I rummage through your cupboards?” She asked the cook.
“Missy can do what ever she wants,” the slave shrugged.
“Thank you. I promise I won’t make a mess.” Brist proceeded to locate a suitable pan, and all the necessary ingredients. She assembled them next to the cookbook, and examined the pan closely. She loved Angelfood cake, and knew that the standard shape of the cake could not be attained without a special pan, but she also knew that they hadn’t been invented yet, and wondered if the cake would be ruined if made in a different pan. She read and reread the recipe, and finally decided that the wrong pan shouldn’t affect the cake too adversely.
It didn’t take too long to mix the ingredients, even though she had to stir them by hand, and soon the cake was baking in the oven. She flipped to a page describing a whipped cream based frosting. After growing up with grandma’s baking, Brist found that she couldn’t bear anything but butter or cream based frostings.
“Do you have any cream?” She asked wondering how she was going to whip it fast enough, and long enough to create the desired consistency. The cook replied that she could skim the cream off of last night’s milk, which should be separated by now. Brist was slightly taken aback. She had forgotten that it wouldn’t be conveniently ready to use. She nodded in acceptance, and rummaged through the kitchen to see if any of the list of stabilizers were available so that the frosting didn’t melt.
Her grandmother had listed some of the “modern” products, and some of the “olden” products for she insisted on all the ingredients to be “natural,” and tried to use ingredients available in the time of her grandmother whenever possible. She found one, and also came across an instrument that appeared to be beaters, only they were cranked by hand, rather than by an electric motor.
“Interesting.” At least now she knew how she would be able to whip the cream.
“Happy birthday!” Brist greeted the tiny child with a kiss to her forehead. Sarah woke with a smile.
“Good morning,” she mumbled sleepily.
“I brought you something,” Brist informed her.
“Really? What?” She asked eagerly.
“Well, I couldn’t really shop for a present, so I baked you a cake. I even decorated it prettily, and took a video clip of it in case you ever get your sight back,” Brist explained, lighting the four small candles she’d had to make quickly when she discovered that they didn’t make candles that small in these days. Luckily, the cook had all the necessary supplies, and the knowledge required to make them, although she did regard Brist in disbelief when it became apparent that the candles were to be about 2 inches long, and less than a quarter inch thick.
Brist loved the fact that they made their own candles, and vowed to make a lot of them if she remained in the past for too much longer. Only she would make them more like the candles from her time, scented, and decorated prettily. The only thing she needed to do was figure out how she was going to do it. She figured that it couldn’t be too hard, all she would have to do is make a few essential oils to add to the wax when she made them. She looked forward to the opportunity to experiment and learn a new skill.
She told Sarah to make a wish and blow out the candles. The child laughed at such a silly idea, but did as she was told.
“You did it!” Brist exclaimed as all four candles were extinguished by the girl’s breath. “Now, make sure you don’t tell anyone what you wished for, or it won’t come true.”
Brist sliced the cake, and then handed one slice, on a plate, to the birthday girl. She took a slice for herself, and devoured it with extended savoring bites.
Raven and Regan entered the room; they wished the child a joyous birthday.
“You’re just in time to have a slice of cake,” Brist mumbled with a full mouth.
“It’s really quite delicious,” Sarah informed them. Each twin nodded, and accepted a slice.
“This is fabulous!” One exclaimed, and the other nodded in agreement.
“It’s my grandma’s recipe.” Brist smiled.
Later they joined Nicholas and Lucas in the breakfast room. She handed each a piece of the birthday cake, to which they both complimented her profusely, and wished Sarah a happy birthday.
All too soon, Lucas was ready to take the girl and depart. He promised to take good care of the cherub, and indicated a large basket of food he planned to send to the girls parents, but to insure that they didn’t shoot him again, he was planning on riding to the southeast corner of the property, and continue riding until he was well past their camp before he adjusted his course to Atlanta.
Brist moped slightly for most of the day, and soon found that the twins were determined to cheer her up. They insisted that she teach them things from her time, like how to defend themselves, and how to dance to her kind of music. She was grateful for their exuberance, and ended up working up a sweat. After a few hours, she led them to her swimming hole, providing them both with one piece swimming suits. She wore a bikini, which scandalized them, but they had already learned that she wasn’t likely to change to their more modest ways. The day drew to a close, and the trio made their way back to the mansion.
Brist bade them goodnight, and retired to Nicholas’ room, which since the house was his, and his parents weren’t in residence, he had moved into the master suite.
He hadn’t come to bed yet, and so Brist settled into a large and extremely comfortable chair in order to make up a list of things she would need in order to begin making wine while she waited. She prayed that she could find a winemaker from this time who was willing to give her some tips on how to make an exceptional wine, without all the modern equipment she was used to working with. Not to mention, he would probably have a decent culture that she could buy and use as a starter.
Nicholas caught her unawares, for she was absorbed in her work.
“What are you doing?” He asked, nibbling on her neck.
“Coming up with a list of things I’ll need in order to make wine,” she stated. She set her list aside, and allowed him to carry her to bed. She sighed in pleasure, and blew out the candle.
“So, do you plan to go?” Brist asked, referring to the invitation Nicholas had received earlier that day to attend a small soiree hosted by a Miss Amy Johnson.
“Perhaps, I’m not entirely sure. What does it matter? It’s not for a few days.” Nicholas traced the curve of her breast with his finger.
“I’m curious to meet her.” Brist shrugged. All conversation ceased for a few minutes while the couple caressed each other.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. “Nicky?”Nicholas gave a soft disgruntled growl, and then flung open the door.
“There’s a distraught slave insisting to see you,” Raven said, and both twins placed their hands over their eyes. Nicholas realized that his pants were pooled around his ankles, and that even though his shirt covered him, it showed an obvious bulge. He cursed and pulled up his pants. It occurred to him that he could hear a few panicked voices coming from the stairs. He went to investigate, followed by a robe-covered Brist.
They found an old slave crawling up the stairs, gasping and wheezing as he went. The heart wrenching noises sounded faintly like “Massa, Massa.” It was obvious that he had something of great import to impart, but, unfortunately, before he could, the slave collapsed in exhaustion.
“Move him into that room, and lay him on the bed. It is apparent that we will have to wait until tomorrow to hear what he has to say.” Brist directed a few other slaves to place the first one in the nearest unoccupied bedroom.
“Oh no, Missy! We’ll jus’ bring him to res’ on a cot by the fire,” a matronly slave demurred.
“No, you will put him where I’ve indicated,” Brist stated gently, but firmly. The slaves were obviously uncomfortable with this command, but they obeyed because the master hadn’t given them a different order, and seemed to agree with Brist’s order. Once the slave was settled into bed, Brist checked his temperature, he appeared to have a fever, and she couldn’t tell if he was sick, or just hot from over-exertion. Doesn’t matter, she decided, she’d watch over him until morning. He shivered violently and moaned.
“Nightmares.” She sighed.
Soon, she was sitting comfortably in a chair in order to keep an eye on him. Nicholas tried to get her to return to bed with him, but she steadfastly refused, causing him to examine why he felt bereft. In the days since she had started sleeping in his bed, he felt oddly fulfilled, even though he still didn’t trust her, or believe half of what came out of her mouth.
Over the next few hours, Brist comforted the slave during his nightmares, and felt his fever disappear. After a while, she cradled her head with her arms, and fell asleep.
The slave was aghast to find, the next morning, that he had a white lady leaning on the bed he occupied while she slept. To him, it looked as if she had been sitting in the chair to keep an eye on him, rested her head on the bed for a moment, and dozed off.
“Missy Brist?” He tentatively tried to wake her.
She moaned sleepily and stretched. “You’re awake.” She smiled.
“Why ya actin’ like ya cares about an ol’ slave like me?”
Brist eyed him a moment; she had never seen him before, and wondered how he knew her name, so she asked: “How do you know my name?”
“Ya’s the talk o’ the slaves,” he answered plainly.
“Oh really?” She asked in fascination, then she remembered that he had something important to tell them. “So, what is so important that you made yourself sick trying to tell Nicholas?”
“Can’t tells ya,” he replied, frowning as he recalled his message.
“Why not?” She asked.
“It’s bad,” he groaned, and then shuddered.
“Well then, just wait right here, and I’ll go fetch Nicholas.” Brist hurried off. Once inside the master bedroom, which she still thought of as her parents, she climbed atop her lover, and gave him a kiss so passionate, he’d have had to be dead in order to not respond to it.
“I like this,” he said dreamily as Morpheus lost his tenacious grip on Nicholas’ mind. His hands immediately began to wander over Brist’s luscious body.
She laughed and held his hands still. “He’s awake.”
Nicholas cocked his head to the side, and regarded her with a look that resembled a dog hearing a noise he can’t quite place. Then, he remembered the reason he had spent last night alone, instead of curled around his red-haired witch.
“I see,” he sighed, his plans of a moment ago crushed under a mountain of more urgent matters. He rose from bed, and glared down at his groin. He was harder than the bedpost, and couldn’t see any relief in sight. He tried very hard to concentrate on something else in order to soften his hardness, but the harder he tried, the more his mind refused to work. Suddenly, he felt like a Spanish toro that had spotted a matador’s red cape for his mind seemed to see nothing but Brist.
She bent over to retrieve the pants – breeches she corrected herself – that he had discarded on the floor the previous evening. Her rounded bottom wagged gently in front of him, and before he knew what was happening, he had flipped up her sleek nightgown, pushed her panties aside, and buried himself as deep inside her as he possibly could.
Brist gasped at the unexpected taking of her body. She might have protested, had he not firmly grasped her hips in such a way that allowed him to stimulate her with his pointer finger. She lost all reason, and soon melted into the fire raging across her body. He wanted to hold out, at least longer than two minutes, but he felt her spasms, which had come surprisingly quickly, and spilled his seed so forcefully that he was sure that he was the one being split in two.
They sank to the floor in a jumbled pile of body parts, and it took them at least twice as long to recover than it had to do the deed. Finally, Nicholas was dressed, and ready to face the slave.
As they walked to the bedroom the slave was currently occupying, Nicholas thought about all the paper work he had to finish sometime so that his slaves would be freed.
The slave was waiting in terrified patience for the master to come to him. He had been greatly abused by his previous owners, and even though that was almost a year ago now, he couldn’t help shying away from his new master, who had always treated him kindly. Nicholas walked into the room with Brist a step behind him, and the slave degenerated into abject terror.
Brist rushed to his side and tried to comfort him. She pulled him into an embrace, and cooed to him soothingly for a few moments.
“Nicholas you wretched bastard! Have you been beating him? He’s terrified! If I ever catch you allowing abuse-”
“Brist! I do not tolerate abuse to my slaves! If he’s terrified, it’s not because of anything that I have done,” Nicholas said firmly. His heart gave a strange pain that she could believe he’d be capable of such atrocities.
“It’s true Missy Brist. The Massa never… Massa, last night, as I was finishing up my duties at your warehouse…” The slave obviously didn’t want to continue, and Brist noticed that he was speaking fairly clearly now, as opposed to the forerunner of eubonics he was speaking earlier. “A sailor from a ship came to deliver a message, he said that they had come across the “Regina” a few days back, and it was going down, fast. They tried to retrieve survivors, but they had been attacked by pirates, and just as the ship was dead and sinking, so was everyone aboard.”
So, just so you know, THIS right here is what the whole story has been building up to until this point. This is where it starts getting better IMO :-)