10: Angelique

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id53.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: New Orleans"><U><B>1:  New Orleans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id54.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: Mary Margaret"><U><B>2:  Mary Margaret</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id55.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Rumrunners Row"><U><B>3:  Rumrunners' Row</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id56.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Speakeasy"><U><B>4:  Speakeasy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id57.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Sys Deal"><U><B>5:  Sy's Deal</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id58.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Reunion"><U><B>6:  Reunion</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id59.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Disaster"><U><B>7:  Disaster</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id60.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Petofi"><U><B>8:  Petofi</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id63.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Cuddeback"><U><B>9:  Cuddeback</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>10:  Angelique</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id65.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Making Plans"><U><B>11:  Making Plans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id66.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Chicago"><U><B>12:  Chicago</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id67.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Nora"><U><B>13:  Nora</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id68.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: The Gypsy"><U><B>14:  The Gypsy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id69.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: The Trap"><U><B>15:  The Trap</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id70.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="16: The Gift"><U><B>16:  The Gift</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id71.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Beth"><U><B>17:  Beth</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id74.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Together Again"><U><B>18:  Together Again</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id75.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="19: Petofi Strikes"><U><B>19:  Petofi Strikes</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U><B>Taking Wooden Nickels</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> 10:  Angelique</div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div>      The sound of familiar, almost mocking laughter filled the room.  Dave had had enough.  He jumped to his feet just in time to see the form of what must be a beautiful woman moving in the shadows of the corner of the cottage.  He bolted for the door and was gone before Quentin could tell him not to be afraid--he thought he knew who'd come.  With dismay, he realized he did know this person, and had really hoped she wouldn't be the one to come.  He didn't think she'd been all that powerful against the count and might not have prevailed at all had it not been for the combined efforts of Julia and Barnabas as well.</div> <div>      The woman stepped into the firelight, removing all doubt.  She was still as beautiful as ever, with thick, flowing blonde hair and large blue eyes.  A face to die for.  An angel's face hiding the black soul of a spiteful witch.  She was dressed in a filmy gown.  Is that what the demons wear in hell?  Quentin wondered.</div> <div>      "Actually, I'm just not sure when we are," Angelique answered, reading his thoughts.  "It was too tiresome to figure out something more appropriate for so insignificant a call.  Well, Quentin, I might have known it would be you.  What is it this time?"  She sat down on the corner of his bed.</div> <div>      Quentin picked up and threw his book down, irritated and embarrassed.  "Had I known my request would be viewed as trivial, I wouldn't have bothered.  I expected more substantial help."</div> <div>      He could tell his barb had wounded Angelique because her eyes flashed at him.  "What is it you want?  Maybe I'll help you."</div> <div>      "Well, I don't know if you are capable," Quentin answered honestly, fully aware that he was angering her further.</div> <div>      "Don't try my patience, Quentin!"</div> <div>      "Okay, okay," he said placatingly.  He really was intimidated by her and knew that although she might not be as powerful as Count Petofi, she was no force to scoff at.  He remembered what she'd done to Laura and to him, as well.  "It's Count Petofi," he began.  He stopped.  He couldn't tell it all.  "I want to get rid of him, to make a long story short.  I need help doing that."</div> <div>      "Well," Angelique said, as if to herself.  "I wondered how long it would be before he made it known he survived the fire."</div> <div>      "Fire?"  Quentin repeated, puzzled.</div> <div>      "Yes, there was a bit of drama the night you left.  That night when Count Petofi was trying to regain possession of you.  It's a rather long, tedious story, Quentin.  I suppose he is trying to regain possession of you and that's why you need to get rid of him?"</div> <div>      "You might say that," Quentin answered.  Angelique gave him a peculiar, knowing look.  He looked away from her penetrating gaze, feeling that she was seeing too much.</div> <div>      She patted the bed beside him.  "Come and sit down, Quentin.  It's been so many years since we last saw each other."</div> <div>      Reluctantly, Quentin complied and sat down beside her.  "I didn't think you'd want to see me again," he said nervously.</div> <div>      "Oh?  And why is that?  Aren't we friends?"</div> <div>      "Well, yes," Quentin answered, feeling confused.  "But, ah--"</div> <div>      "Ah, the engagement?  Well, after all, I broke off with you, didn't I?"</div> <div>      "Yes--"</div> <div>      Angelique laughed again softly.  "I have no grudge against you, Quentin.  Why don't you kiss me?"  Surprised, Quentin looked at her.  Her eyes were such a deep blue, they were almost violet in the dim light.  They looked huge; hypnotic.  "You've always wanted to, haven't you Quentin?  We haven't seen each other in nearly 30 years.  Don't you want to kiss me?" </div> <div>      Her eyes transfixed Quentin.  Did he want to kiss her or was he under a spell?  Enchanted, spell or not, he leaned over to kiss her mouth.  Her lips were soft beneath his and had a sweet taste, like the wine he'd gotten drunk on.  Angelique was kissing him, too.  Her mouth had parted a little, and he felt her tongue tickling his lip.  He liked it, and immediately responded by opening his mouth to her.  She slid her tongue along his teeth and then inside his mouth.  This was getting interesting, he thought, forgetting about revenge.</div> <div>      He slid his arms around her and gently leaned against her to push her back on the bed.  She had withdrawn her tongue, but following her lead, he now explored her mouth deeply.  Now he put one hand on her breast, which was soft and naked under the filmy gown.  He felt his face flush with heat.  He was becoming very aroused.  She had broken off the kiss and was now exploring his ear with her tongue, blowing lightly into it. He shivered, feeling goosebumps of pleasure rising on his arms. Then she was lightly biting and kissing his throat, her hands reaching into his shirt to lightly rub his nipples with her fingers.</div> <div>      He ripped the gown, exposing her breasts.  He took one into his mouth, gently suckling at it.  Angelique moaned and ran her hands over his back, raking them with her fingers.  He caressed her other breast with his right hand; the left hand massaged the breast in his mouth.  Angelique suddenly raised her head and nipped his ear.  "Let me touch you," she breathed into his ear.  </div> <div>      He raised up on his knees, fumbling with his pants.  She sat right up, helping him, and they were both pulling his clothes.  She had her hands on him, stroking him.  Once again, he pushed her down, ripping her gown off as he did so and moved between her legs.  She responded by raising her knees and spreading them so that he could move on top of her. He slid into her easily, and he marveled that she'd wanted him this much.  She drew in her breath sharply.</div> <div>      "What?" he asked, concerned.  He wanted it to be good, not painful. He looked at her face.  She looked ecstatic, very much like a sensuous cat.</div> <div>      "It's wonderful, Quentin, I want you in deeper," she purred.</div> <div>      Excited, he lifted her legs around his waist so that he could penetrate her more deeply, and she sighed with pleasure. He didn't think he'd be able to last much more than a few seconds. "Deeper, deeper, my darling," Angelique gasped.  She put her hands on Quentin's buttocks and squeezed them hard, almost parting them.  Abruptly, Quentin went limp.  He'd had a flash of the meaty hands on his buttocks, spreading them and immediately filled with terror and shame.  </div> <div>      He sat up, abruptly separating himself from Angelique.  He sat on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands, trembling all over.  Angelique sat up, staring at him.  Quentin winced, expecting her to castigate him or belittle him or turn him into a toad or something.  He didn't expect what she did next. She moved to sit next to him, putting an arm around him to hold him.  She kissed his cheek and then leaned her head against his.  "Quentin, don't you think you should tell me what he did to you?" she asked with quiet compassion.</div> <div>      He was still trembling uncontrollably.  His teeth chattered.  "D-d-don't you kn-know?"  he finally managed to ask.</div> <div>      "Does it matter?"  she answered quietly.  "Perhaps I do and perhaps I don't.  I think you need to tell someone what happened.  Why don't you tell me, Quentin?"</div> <div>      "I-I-c-c-can't," he said with great difficulty and great embarrassment. </div> <div>      She turned his head to look at her.  "I will not laugh at you, despite what you may think.  Tell me what it is, and perhaps I can help you."</div> <div>      "He-he-he-" Quentin began, and then indicated that talking was still too difficult.  Angelique patted his shoulder and got up, crossing to the dresser.  She returned with a large glass tumbler in her hand.  Wordlessly, she pressed it into his hands, and he raised the glass to his lips and gulped at it.  He didn't remember that there'd been any liquor in the cottage, but this was definitely brandy.  Good brandy.  It burned his throat soothingly.  He took another gulp.  Angelique took the glass and went back to the dresser.  When she returned, the glass was full again.  </div> <div>      He looked up at her, wonderingly.  He expressive blue eyes looked huge and glittered in the firelight.  Not with cold, though, her eyes flashed with feeling.  Compassion, maybe?  It was hard to believe Angelique had any feelings for him, yet she had just made it very clear how much she wanted him.  He'd been in her, and she'd liked it.  Everything was fine until she'd grabbed him and he had the flashback.</div> <div>      Now she was sitting next to him again, handing him the glass.  "Slow down, darling, you need to relax, but I don't want you to drink this too fast."  He nodded, sipping at the drink.  He felt himself beginning to relax.  She was rubbing his neck and shoulders with both hands.  "Can you tell me about it now?"</div> <div>      "It's a long story," Quentin began.</div> <div>      "They usually are," Angelique answered, not without a trace of humor.  She smiled at him gently, and he found himself smiling back.  Yes, he was beginning to relax.</div> <div>      "Well, all the details aren't important.  To make a long story longer, my friend Dave and I--"</div> <div>      "Dave?  Oh, you mean the frightened colored man who ran from here?"</div> <div>      "Yes, him.  Well, we were rumrunning.  We started out down south, and then we came up to New York."  Quentin paused.  He thought he should explain what that was all about.  "You see, there's a constitutional amendment against drinking, if you can believe that's possible, and rumrunning--"</div> <div>      "I know what it is, Quentin, I'm from Martinique," Angelique interrupted.  "We've had our share of pirates."</div> <div>      "Well," Quentin said, unsure how much he liked being compared to a pirate.  He went on, "Well, Dave and I met this fellow, Larry Fay.  He'd made a lot of money running booze out of Canada in a taxicab."</div> <div>      "How intriguing."</div> <div>      "It was.  He was getting out of the business, going 'legit' with his cab business but he leant a cab to Dave and me.  He took a liking to us.  We used to go and play out at his place.  Big house on Long Island.  Play--I mean music.  I play the piano--"</div> <div>      "Do you?  Perhaps you'll play for me."</div> <div>      "It was all fun, Angelique.  You have to understand.  We didn't think we were like these gangsters.  It was just like a game for us, just fun.  You know, we'd go into Canada and pick up the booze and then sneak back across the border into the United States.  That was the fun of it--cutting the deal and outrunning the cops.  We didn't care if we made a lot of money on it.  We were supplying a lot of little guys and we'd play there at night.  It was all just supposed to be fun..."</div> <div>      "Yes, I can believe that," Angelique said.  "You are still a child in so many ways, Quentin."</div> <div>      He hit his knee with his fist.  "I know!"  He'd become darkly angry.  He took another gulp of his drink.</div> <div>      "Quentin, shh," Angelique said soothingly.  "I am not laughing at you, do you understand me?"</div> <div>      "No," he replied bitterly.</div> <div>      "I may find some of your antics amusing, but not YOU.  All right.  I understand that you are telling me that this was just a game to you and that you are not a gangster like Mr. Al Capone." Quentin looked at her sharply.  "Well, after all, once you mentioned Prohibition, I did get my bearings.  This is the 1920s, isn't it?"</div> <div>      "Yes," Quentin replied.</div> <div>      "Well, I am know of Al Capone," Angelique said.  "He may prove useful."</div> <div>      Quentin groaned.  More gangsters.  "I don't want to meet the guy, thank you.  That's how Dave and I got into trouble.  There was a speakeasy that we liked, and we got to know the owner pretty well.  His name was Sy."  Quentin began to pick up the story, telling it faster.  Telling the part about his involvement in Jamison and Ruth's accident was painful, but Quentin got through it swiftly, as well as his reunion with Edward.  He told about his summons to see Larry Fay and explained about the fixer.  "I found out this fixer was going to square it with the bad guys to leave the family and Dave and his family alone."</div> <div>      "And this 'fixer'--this was Count Petofi?"</div> <div>      "Yes, but I didn't know it then.  He wanted to meet with me to discuss terms--" Here Quentin broke off again, unable to go on.  He took another gulp, and the glass was empty again.</div> <div>      Angelique got up and refilled the glass again.  As she gave him the glass, she gazed into his face and said, "Just say it straight out.  It'll be easier."</div> <div>      He still needed the drink first.  "I was alone there.  But he wasn't alone.  He had these wiseguys that are always around him.  They overpowered me."  Quentin stopped again.  He was ashamed now, because he could feel his emotions getting in the way again.  He felt the tears rising in his eyes; felt them beginning to choke his throat.  He also felt the accompanying rage because he felt they were so unmanly.</div> <div>      Reading his mind again, Angelique said mildly, "Never be ashamed of your tears, Quentin.  They are what makes you human."</div> <div>      "But not a man!"  Quentin ground out between his teeth, enraged.</div> <div>      "What did he do to you?"</div> <div>      "First he--he tried to force me to--" Quentin thought he was going to be sick.  "He wanted me to--" He made a back and forth motion with his fist at his mouth.  Angelique nodded, understanding.  "So I told him I'd bite it off."  At that, Angelique laughed, and Quentin smiled briefly in appreciation. Angelique stopped laughing and looked at him with what seemed to be compassion.  His face flamed with humiliation.  He wasn't going to be able to tell all of it.  "He said he was a sadist; that he enjoyed inflicting pain. I tried so hard to fight them off, but I just couldn't. He made the other men go away, and I fought him again, but he just knocked me down like I was some weak puppy dog..." Quentin voice dropped to a whisper.  "He raped me."  He covered his face, trembling violently.  "I couldn't stop him.  He just did what he wanted, and he laughed the whole time."</div> <div>      Angelique put her arms around him.  "Surely you don't blame yourself for what he did to you?"</div> <div>      "If I had been man enough, I should've stopped him."</div> <div>      "No, that's not true. You are a man, and you resisted him the whole time.  Don't you understand?  He is a monster who was able to overpower your body and take it and use it.  But you fought him every step of the way, even when he was violating you, you didn't give him the satisfaction of crying out or begging for mercy or agreeing that you really did enjoy it--"</div> <div>      Quentin looked at her dully.  "You knew about all this, then."  It was a statement, not a question.  "Why did you make me tell it?  Don't you know how it makes me feel?  I feel like I can never wash the filth of him off me.  Dave looks at me sometimes like I'm some kind of weakling--I think he knows what really happened to me.  I can't tell him, because I know what he'd think.  It's what I think--I should've done more to stop him.  I have these dreams, Angelique.  I dream that I have the scimitar and that I've got him tied up before me.  But I'm not going to just cut off his hand, no, I'm going to save that part for last.  First, I'm going to cut it off--that gross thing of his--and his balls too, and I'm going to stuff them down his throat.  Then I'm going to gut him--I don't even care about his damn hand--" He stopped.  "I guess it sounds foolish.  That's why I called you--"</div> <div>      "Not so foolish from one who has been raped," Angelique said.  "I understand it."</div> <div>      "Do you?"</div> <div>      "Quentin, I was raped too, by a monster very much like Count Petofi. "  Surprised, Quentin gaped at her.  "Yes, it's true.  I was hardly more than a child, and already a servant to Josette DuPres.  A man of great wealth came to see Msr. DuPres.  This man was a sexual predator--a fiend.  He especially liked young girls or young boys, it didn't matter to him which--the important thing was that they be innocent--inexperienced.  He was very much taken with me.  On Martinique, it is unusual to have a servant such as myself, thick blonde hair and blue eyes.  He saw me, and he wanted me.  I was just a servant, and this was an important, wealthy man--Msr. DuPres saw nothing wrong with it.  Oh, I won't give you all the details, Quentin; you can imagine them all too well I am afraid.  I tell you this only because I had the same thoughts of revenge you did."</div> <div>      "Why didn't you turn him into a goat or something?"  Quentin asked.</div> <div>      Angelique looked at him a little suspiciously and then realized he wasn't teasing.  "I didn't know how to focus my power then."</div> <div>      "Oh.  So you just fantasized about it, like me?"</div> <div>      "Yes."</div> <div>      "How long?  When were you able to forget?"</div> <div>      "I never really forgot.  It's just that I decided that although that man had taken over my body and used it, I wasn't going to let him break my spirit.  I wasn't going to let him take over and break my mind.  I think that's what you need to do, too, Quentin.  Oh, I realize you called me here to help you destroy that man.  It can be done, somehow, I am sure, but I don't think you will get the satisfaction you are seeking if you don't decide in your head right now that your spirit will not be broken by this."  She and Quentin looked at each other.  Finally she said, "You've become rather drunk.  How would you like me to give you a backrub?  That will help you relax further and then perhaps you will be able to sleep peacefully."</div> <div>      "Without the dreams?"  Quentin asked.  He considered.  "I think I'd very much like for you to rub my back."  He paused, embarrassed.  "I wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed--I mean--" He blushed.</div> <div>      Angelique laughed lightly and put her arm on his.  "Not to worry, darling.  I am sure you will feel that way again soon--after you get some rest and some sleep.  Now, why don't you lie down?"</div> <div>      He had one more flashback.  Lying on his stomach on the bed, he suddenly stiffened when she straddled his back.  "Ssh, Quentin," she said soothingly, stroking his shoulders.  She'd gotten up onto her knees immediately so that there was no weight on his back at all.  "I promise not to hurt you.  We won't do anything you don't want to do."  Her fingers continued to lightly stroke his shoulders and neck, encouraging his muscles to relax. To his relief, they did begin to relax.  Between the brandy he'd drunk and the gentle massaging of his muscles in his back, Quentin began to feel very sleepy and drifted off.</div> <div>      The nightmares came back--the piratical face with its death head grin was terrifying enough.  Worse was the sound of the laughter and the reaching hands.  The voice:  "I always get what I want, Quentin."  Struggling to consciousness, Quentin became aware of what felt like wings fluttering across his face.  It was familiar--the memory behind it was pleasant and soothing and he allowed himself to focus on that memory as he moved further up to wakefulness.</div> <div>      "Edith, that tickles," he murmured.  When he was a very little boy, he'd had an older sister who loved him very much.  Not Judith--this was Edith, named for his grandmother.  Sometimes she liked to tease him awake by fluttering her eyelashes on his cheeks and forehead.  It tickled.  She called them something special..."Butterfly kisses," he said, and woke up.  It was Angelique, and that was exactly what she was doing, giving him butterfly kisses with her eyelashes.  He drew his breath in.</div> <div>      "Relax, darling," she was saying.  "Do you like this?"</div> <div>      "Yes..."</div> <div>      "Good.  You just lie back.  Don't move.  I won't do anything you don't want me to."</div> <div>      The innocence of the butterfly kisses became slowly erotic.  She was using her tongue to outline his ear and jaw, and then softly blowing on him.  Then she moved down along his neck, slowly and languorously nipping and sucking and lightly kissing.  He turned his head, wanting to kiss her.  "No, no," she said teasingly.  "I want you to lie still and not move."  Now she used her fingers as well, lightly scratching his shoulders as her mouth moved to the base of his throat.  He was lying on his back, and she was now moving across his chest.  She rolled one nipple between her fingers and flicked at the other one with her tongue.  He was fully aroused now, and shivering with delight.  He didn't think he could stand to lie still.</div> <div>      She seemed to sense that, her tongue tracing a light line down to his navel.  She reached down with her hand, gently stroking his erect penis.  "Angelique..." Quentin began huskily.</div> <div>      "Yes, yes, darling," she said, and put her mouth of him, drawing him in.  He gasped.  She was doing things with his tongue he hadn't imagined possible.  He felt the explosion building in his groin and rushing forward.  He moaned, almost whimpered with pleasure.</div> <div>      "I can't stop," he gasped to her, and felt himself go off like a rocket inside her mouth.  "God," he said reverently.  Angelique looked at him with a smile and very slowly and deliberately swallowed.  Quentin filled with wonder.  "Angelique," he began softly.</div> <div>      She moved up to lie in his arms.  She kissed him very softly and lightly on the lips.  "I don't understand," he whispered.</div> <div>      "You will last all the longer next time, and I will have my pleasure then," she explained.  He was amazed.  That wasn't what he meant.</div> <div>      "Why are you doing this?" he asked, still filled with wonder.</div> <div>      "Well, I think we're both entitled to a little passion and fun, aren't we?" she murmured into his ear.  "And I always did find you attractive, you know.  Very charming, very handsome.  And, it turns out, very pleasing."</div> <div>      He flushed.  He kissed her, more passionately and more deeply this time.  He could already feel himself beginning to stir again.  They locked their bodies together, exploring each other with their mouths and hands.  Within a few minutes, he was fully ready for her again--one of the advantages of eternal youth, he thought.  She pushed him back over on his back, playfully.  Straddling his hips, she slowly lowered herself onto him.  She was still teasing him, lowering herself and then raising up again.  He couldn't stand it anymore, grabbed her hips and pushed himself up.  At the same time, she lowered herself all the way down. She smiled at him seductively, moving up and down and around in circles very slowly.  "You're going to kill me, Angelique!"</div> <div>      "No, you'll just think you've died and gone to heaven, darling," Angelique replied.  Her face was very flushed with pleasure, too.  "Do you have any idea how good it feels to have you up inside me like this?"  She leaned down and whispered into his ear.  "You absolutely fill me up.  You can't possibly imagine how this feels--" He felt her beginning to move faster, contracting around him.  He began to move with her, feeling himself moving rapidly toward another climax.  They exploded together, rocking and holding onto each other tightly.  Angelique was the first one to recover, kissing him on the mouth again, very gently.  Then she looked around and laughed.  "Look at what we did, Quentin," she said.</div> <div>      Quentin looked around, and his mouth popped open.  Angelique laughed harder.  They'd moved the bed several feet away from the wall.  He looked back at her with absolute disbelief.  "I'm really having a hard time believing any of this--that you are here and that you want to do this," he said.  "Am I dreaming?"</div> <div>      She snuggled up against him.  "Don't bother about wondering about the whys and hows.  Just enjoy what is."  She took his hand and put it between her legs.  "Does that feel like a dream?"</div> <div>      He laughed.  "One of my wet dreams, yes."</div> <div>      She pushed his shoulder playfully.  "Well, this is no dream.  This is real enough for now."</div> <div>      He kissed her hair.  He still wondered how this could be happening to him.  He was still wondering when he began to feel sleepy again and drifted off.  The next time he woke up, it was on his own and not because of a nightmare.  He felt wonderfully content, looking up at the ceiling first, and then looking around for Angelique.  She was sleeping peacefully beside him; her golden hair spilled around her on the pillow and a gentle smile curved her lips.  She looked incredibly beautiful in the early morning light.  Quentin felt overwhelmed with gratitude and awe at her vibrancy, her generosity toward him, her sexuality, and her real beauty. </div> <div>      Having gotten a great deal of his sexual experience in the West Indies, Quentin had learned much about giving and receiving pleasure.  His selfish and self-centered attitude toward the women he was attracted to and who were attracted to him didn't extend to the sexual act itself.  He was not so vain as to believe that it was only his satisfaction that was important.  He realized part of his irresistible charm (especially once he'd bedded someone) lay in the fact that he was not only willingly but eager to please a woman.  Another thing he'd learned was that what his lover did to him was usually what she wanted done to herself.  Looking at Angelique now, he felt a growing longing and thought what better way to start the day than by repaying her for what she'd done for him.  What better way than to start with butterfly kisses himself?</div> <div>      Angelique stirred, and rolled onto her back.  Quentin began to tease her with his tongue, gently outlining her ear.  He was right; she liked it and sighed--it sounded almost like a purr.  He moved to her throat and felt her fingers in his hair, twining themselves and pulling gently.  He stroked her very gently, almost teasingly.  As he kissed her throat, his fingers moved lightly over her breasts.  At once, her nipples became rigid.  She opened her eyes and looked at him with a sultry expression.  "What are you doing?" she whispered.</div> <div>      "What do you think?" he answered, covering her mouth with his.  Then he moved on, covering her body with light kisses and nips, running his tongue around her breasts and down her belly to her pubis.  She moaned with pleasure, clawing her fingers and running them over his back.  Her body arched when he put his mouth on her.  It might have been surprise, because he knew that many men didn't want to do this act for a woman--or it might've been that she just enjoyed what he was doing.  He hoped it was the latter, but whatever it was was working.  She was almost thrashing around, around of control, and he found that he was excited by the thought of being able to arouse her so.</div> <div>      "Quentin, you are driving me mad!" she said huskily.  "Please stop and come inside me.  I want to feel you in me."</div> <div>      He considered teasing her a little further, but her fingers went into his hair again and pulled, hard.  She meant business.  That was fine, too, because he was more than willing and ready to enter her again.  It was like going into a cauldron--if he could possibly imagine that.  No sooner had he slid into her than she began bucking against him and crying out.  He realized she was clawing and scratching his shoulders, but it didn't really hurt.  He hung on, trying not to lose control and climax himself.  That wasn't easy, but he managed.  When she'd subsided a little, he began to move, slowly.  She put her arm around his neck and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him deeply, moving her tongue into his mouth.  Her legs circled his hips, and she used her legs to urge him to penetrate into her further.  She moved to meet him as he thrust into her, and he felt her muscles gripping him tightly and then letting him go.  He was overwhelmed and began to move faster.</div> <div>      "Quentin, let me feel you explode inside me," she was moaning. Once again they were rocking together wildly.  Afterward, he felt as if all the energy had drained out of his body and that he was like a rag doll.  He'd never felt so wonderful.  He kissed her.  She was looking at him, quietly, an unreadable expression on her face now.</div> <div>      When he could, he sat up.  His head was crowded with thoughts of what was happening here.  He couldn't believe how much they were enjoying each other.  He smiled a little smugly, content with the thought that he really could please this imposing and beautiful woman.  Not bad at all.  In fact, it was all pretty wonderful.  He was aware that she was sitting up, still flushed all over her body and still breathing a little heavily.  He turned toward her, thinking he would like to kiss her again.  There was a strange expression in her eyes he couldn't read.  He leaned toward her.  "What?" he asked, puzzled.</div> <div>      Without warning, she boxed his ears.  He fell back, stunned. Without thinking, he stood up and slapped her, hard.  She jumped up, too, and with a roundhouse blow, punched him on the jaw with equal, if not more, force. He fell back onto the bed.  His jaw exploded in pain and hurt more than his stinging ears.  He looked up at her, shocked.  She was standing over him, panting, her eyes filled with rage and her hands clenching into fists.</div> <div>      He didn't want to fight her.  He wasn't proud of his sometime physical abuse of women, and he was ashamed he'd hit her without thinking.  This was a new attitude he supposed he'd learned from Barnabas and had internalized it.  He put his hands up in front of his face in supplication.  "Please don't hit me again," he said. "I'm sorry I slapped you, Angelique.  I won't do it again."  Angelique dropped her fists to her sides, but she continued to glare.  He put his hands down, too, and regarded her with an injured expression.  He was not only shocked; he was also very hurt by the way she'd turned on him.  "Why did you hurt me?" he asked, in his best wounded-little-boy voice. It'd always been effective with angry women before, but this time there was a great deal of sincerity in it. "What did I do?"</div> <div>      She stamped her foot at him.  "Quentin!  You are always complicating everything!"  She shouted at him.</div> <div>      He was bewildered.  "I'm sorry," he apologized.  He had no idea what he was apologizing for.  "I don't understand," he continued, still using his wounded little boy's voice.  "Why are you so angry with me?  I thought you liked it."</div> <div>      She stamped her foot at him again in rage and frustration.  Then she turned her back on him and sat down on the bed, facing away from him.  "Oh, Quentin, don't you understand?  That's what's wrong.  I did like it.  I liked it a lot.  I liked it more than anything I--" she broke off.  She sounded like she was going to cry.</div> <div>      Quentin would've burst out laughing in relief if it hadn't been for the ragged sound of her voice.  He sat up and moved next to her.  He started to reach out for her, but then pulled his hand back as if it had been burned.  She sensed his movement and reached back to clutch his hand.  She wanted to be comforted.  She was crying now.  "What's wrong?" he asked softly.</div> <div>      "Quentin, I love Barnabas," she wept.</div> <div>      The implication was beginning to dawn on him.  "Oh," he said and gulped.  He hadn't thought of that.  "But Barnabas isn't here," he said, trying to comfort her.</div> <div>      "I know that.  But don't you realize that we will see him again?"</div> <div>      Quentin hadn't thought of that, either.  Now that he was thinking of it, it occurred to him that Barnabas would not give a damn what Angelique did.  Barnabas always said he'd hated Angelique.  He thought about pointing that out but stopped himself before he opened his mouth.  Quentin knew that she loved Barnabas even in spite of his continuing hatred for her.  He didn't want to hurt her; she'd done so much for him in just these few short hours.  "We don't have to tell him," he said, finally.  He hoped that would work.  When she didn't say anything, he added, "I won't tell him.  I promise."</div> <div>      She looked at him and gave him a tiny smile.  Her eyes were still spilling over with tears.  "Thank you, Quentin," she said.  He pulled her head onto his shoulder, still trying to comfort her.  "I appreciate your discretion."</div> <div>      "Why are you still crying?" he asked, concerned.</div> <div>      "It's hard to explain, darling.  I feel so mixed up.  I love Barnabas.  I want to be with him, always.  Yet, you made me feel in a way I've never felt before.  This was totally unexpected and unplanned for on my part."</div> <div>      It was a good thing Angelique couldn't see the expression on his face, Quentin thought with a little smirk.  She'd slug him again.  "Oh," he said.  "Well, um, if it makes you feel any better, I've never felt this good about sex either."</div> <div>      "Well, I DON"T feel better!"  Angelique sobbed.  "This is awful!"  Quentin held her close, trying to understand.  Actually, he felt pretty good about the whole thing.  This beautiful creature was telling him that he was a good lover, and he didn't really have to worry about any rival (like his good friend Barnabas) being angry with him.  What could be better?  "Would you be so proud of yourself if your precious Amanda Harris were to walk into the room?"  Angelique sounded angry, as if she'd been able to read his thoughts.</div> <div>      That was enough to deflate his good feelings as he considered that.  No, he wouldn't be proud of himself at all.  But still and after all, Amanda wasn't here.  He didn't want to think about her.  "They're not here, Angelique," he said softly and reasonably.  "I don't know if I'll ever see Amanda again," he continued sadly. "Beth is gone for good." He added, "And as for Barnabas, that's something you don't have to think about for another forty years."   That struck him as amusing, but he decided it wouldn't be wise to laugh.  "Come on, don't be so upset.  There's just you and me right now.  I know how you feel about Barnabas.  But we also know we're pretty damn good together.  So why don't we just enjoy each other while we can?"</div> <div>      Angelique was still.  She'd stopped crying.  After a few moments, she raised her head and looked at him.  She was smiling again, which was a real relief, and even better, there was a lustful look in her large and luminous eyes.  She parted her lips a little and then whispered, "If you really feel that way, what are you waiting for?"  As he pulled her to him, she turned her head to whisper into his ear, "I have never felt such a fever for anyone before, Quentin, and I WILL turn you into a toad if you ever tell anyone!"</div> <div>      He laughed and kissed her.  Then another thought occurred to him, one that was much more troublesome.  "Umm, Angelique?  I need to ask you something--" he hesitated, embarrassed.  She was looking at him, curiously.  If she could read minds, she wasn't going to let him off the hook on this one.  "I--ah--I don't know much about witch anatomy..."</div> <div>      Angelique laughed in delight.  "Quentin!  What on earth are you talking about?  I'm just like a woman!"</div> <div>      "Well, that's what I'm thinking about.  Usually I make sure--I mean, before I have sex with a woman, I make sure that either she or I uses something, you know, to stop a baby from being made.  I don't want to pass the curse on.  Can you get pregnant?"</div> <div>      She'd stopped laughing and was looking at him with compassion.  "I don't know if I can or not," she said.  "But, dear Quentin, I do know that YOU can't make anyone pregnant."  He reacted very strongly, as if he'd been struck again.  "You can thank the portrait, I suppose," she explained.  "You didn't know?"  At his expression, she smiled.  "No, obviously you didn't.  Well, as you know, you can still function normally, but when you ejaculate, there isn't anything to make a baby.  Either that, or they don't swim."</div> <div>      Quentin's consternation had changed to amazement and then to supreme amusement.  He threw his head back and laughed. "Was this intentional?" he asked.</div> <div>      "I don't know," Angelique said honestly.  "I only know what is.  And I don't think you want to ask the person who would know."</div> <div>      Immediately, Quentin's face clouded over.  Angelique leaned over and blew into his ear.  Then she whispered, "So you can throw the little packages away.  You don't need them."  Quentin laughed again.  The second best news he'd received in less than half an hour, he thought.  What an amazing day!  Even more amazing was this woman who threw her arms around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss. </div> <bR> <div>      Eventually, they had to come up for air, and Quentin realized it must be past breakfast time by the growling of his stomach.  He also began to worry about Dave.  "I'm starving," he told Angelique.  "Why don't we go to the house and get something to eat?"  He realized that he'd torn her gown off.  "You don't have anything else to wear, do you?"</div> <div>      "Unfortunately, no," Angelique answered.  "But fortunately for you, I am not overly modest-especially when I haven't had anything to eat, either.  Give me your shirt, and I'll be fine."</div> <div>      Quentin had been hunting through the chest of drawers in the cabin.  "Well!" he said, pleased.  "It's as if someone knew we were coming!"  He'd found a pair of khaki shorts and a tee shirt.</div> <div>      "Whose are those?  They look like a boy's uniform," said Angelique, not as pleased as Quentin.</div> <div>      "Boy Scouts," said Quentin.  "There's some Boy Scout camp around here somewhere.  I don't know whose it is.  Someone in the family, maybe Nora's family or some friend who stayed here.  Think they'll fit you?  I mean, just temporarily."</div> <div>      "I'm sure they will," Angelique answered, holding her hand out to take the clothes.  The shorts were okay, but the shirt was too tight and so Quentin ended up giving her his own shirt after all.  "Are you a good cook, too, Quentin?"  </div> <div>      He blushed.  Her eyes were bright and twinkling, and he still couldn't get over how all this could be happening to him.  "I guess I do all right.  But maybe Dave's cooked something already.  I hope he's okay.  I guess he was pretty scared."</div> <div>      "Don't worry about him.  He's fine."</div> <div>      Her lack of concern bothered him.  "He's my friend, Angelique."</div> <div>      "I know that, darling.  But he's really all right.  Why don't we go and see?"</div> <div>      They walked together to the main house.  Entering through the back door, Quentin saw that the kitchen was dark and cold.  No breakfast cooking yet.  He heard loud snores coming from the living room.  He found Dave sprawled on the sofa, passed out, an empty bottle lying on the floor near his dangling arm.  "You see?"  Angelique said.  "I told you he was all right."</div> <div>      "He must've been really scared," Quentin said.  He realized he'd been with Angelique all night long, hours.  Maybe Dave had not only been scared but worried.  Angelique waited impatiently while Quentin patted Dave's cheeks, trying to rouse him.  "Dave, Dave!  Wake up!  You all right?"  Quentin called to him.</div> <div>      Dave began to stir.  He groaned and then opened his eyes and saw Quentin.  "Ah, jeez, kid, I had the most gawd-awful dream-"  He broke off as his eyes rolled up and he saw Angelique.  "Damn!  And it ain't over, yet!"</div> <div>      "It's all right, Dave.  She won't hurt you.  She's an old friend of mine."</div> <div>      "Old friend?  How old?"  Dave struggled to sit up.  He reeled over to one side, and Quentin pulled him upright.  He groaned again, and put his elbows on his knees to support his head with his hands.  "Frank, you are gonna have to tell me what's the real story here.  Are you one of them witches, too?  That why you look so young when you're brother looks so old?"</div> <div>      "I'm not a witch, Dave, I swear," Quentin answered.  "And as for why I look so young, it's a long story and you won't believe it."</div> <div>      "Oh, no?  Well, if I have to believe in her, I guess I'll believe anything now," Dave muttered.</div> <div>      "Can we wait to explain everything later?"  Angelique interrupted impatiently.  "I really am quite hungry."</div> <div>      Dave looked  at Quentin.  "She eats?"  Behind him, Angelique rolled her eyes in exasperation.</div> <div>      "Frank, her name is Angelique.  Angelique, this is Dave Fisher, my friend."</div> <div>      Frank glanced at Angelique and then looked down again.  "Ma'am," he said.</div> <div>      "How do you do.  Quentin?"</div> <div>      "All right, all right.  I'll go make us something to eat."  Quentin got up and went into the kitchen.</div> <div>      Dave raised his head a little and looked around.  When he saw Angelique standing there, staring at him, he shuddered and groaned, covering his face again.  "Stop being ridiculous," Angelique said irritably.  "I'm not going to hurt you."  She sat down, watching him.  Dave made no movement.  "Well, why don't we have a little talk while Quentin makes our breakfast?"  No answer.  "I already explained I won't hurt you.  Won't you talk to me?  At least look at me!"</div> <div>      "Ma'am, even if you wasn't a demon or a witch or whatever you are, I wouldn't feel comfortable talking to you or looking at you all alone like this."</div> <div>      "Whyever not?"</div> <div>      "You're a white woman, that's why."</div> <div>      "Oh, please!"  Angelique snapped with impatience.  "I don't have time for this nonsense!"</div> <div>      "I guess you never had no relatives of yours hung, neither.  Well, I have.  It's not something I seen with my own eyes, but my mama did and she moved us up north.  But it's not something I can forget about just like that and just cause you're here.  You're still white."</div> <div>      "Well, let's at least be civil to each other.  We both want to help Quentin."</div> <div>      "Frank.  That's who I know him as.  And I ain't so sure about this, ma'am.  I'm a God-fearing man, ma'am.  I don't hold with no devil."</div> <div>      "I am not a devil.  Quentin called upon my Master for help, and I responded."</div> <div>      "Maybe yes and maybe no.  But while he was doin that chantin, I was doin some heavy duty praying myself.  But you have to tell me whether he got his way, or I got mine."</div> <div>      "What did you pray for?"</div> <div>      "An angel."</div> <div>      Angelique smiled, even though she knew Dave couldn't see her.  His head was still buried in his hands.  She said, very softly, "What do you think `Angelique' means?"</div> <div>      For the first time, Dave lifted his head and really looked at her, open-mouthed.  "You ain't trying to tempt me under your power are you?  I told you, I'm a God-fearing man.  I don't hold with no demons and that stuff."</div> <div>      "I am here only to help Quentin.  I am not here to steal your soul or his, either.  You can make of that what you will.  But I really think we should at least be civil to each other if we are to be allies."  At Dave's cautious expression, she added, "We are allies only in that we want to help Quentin.  I know he is in serious trouble with a very dangerous enemy.  I would like to help extricate him from that danger, and you would too, wouldn't you?"</div> <div>      "Yeah, I would."</div> <div>      "So we can be allies in that sense of the word, can't we?"</div> <div>      "Yeah, I guess that would be all right.  You know what's bothering him?"</div> <div>      Angelique hesitated, then answered, "He's talking to me.  I'm doing what I can to help him.  You must help him too."</div> <div>      "I want to.  But I don't know what to do."</div> <div>      Angelique leaned in close.  "Be his friend, always," she whispered.  "He needs his friends."  </div> <div>      Before Dave could respond, Quentin called from the kitchen, "Breakfast's up!"  He'd made a quick and easy breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast.  He was pouring out some orange juice when Angelique and Dave came into the kitchen.  The smell of perking coffee was in the air.  </div> <div>      Angelique looked impressed.  She went to Quentin and put her arms around his waist.  "Why, darling, I had no idea you'd become so domestic."  Quentin reddened with pleasure at the compliment.  Dave observed their behavior silently.  They all sat down to eat.  Quentin and Angelique talked easily, and Dave even managed to join in once or twice although he was obviously uncomfortable.  He seldom looked at Angelique directly and when he did talk to her, he usually didn't look at her.  </div> <div>      After they'd eaten, Angelique said, "Since you were kind enough to cook for us, the least I can do is clean up.  Besides, darling, I really do need some other clothes.  Perhaps you can shop for me?"  Quentin blushed again.  "Oh, come now, Quentin.  I know you.  You know what a lady needs, don't you?  I'll tell you what size I take."</div> <div>      "I could use some stuff too," Dave mumbled.  "Guess I'll ride in with you, if you don't mind, Frank."</div> <div>      "Of course not," Quentin said, writing down the measurements Angelique told him.  He put the piece of paper in his pants pocket.  He was going to have to get another shirt and then they could go.  As he started to rise, Angelique leaned down and kissed him, very passionately.  He felt her tongue between his lips again and opened his mouth.  He didn't want to get too stirred up, though, so after a moment, he pulled away.</div> <div>      "Find something nice for me," Angelique asked seductively.  Quentin felt himself flushing again.  He realized that Dave was staring at him, and he felt the heat in his face increase as embarrassment crept in, too.</div> <div>      In the car, they both spoke at once.  "You go ahead first," Quentin said.</div> <div>      "Well, Frank, I just don't know what to make of all this.  I don't know if that lady is a witch or an angel.  I never expected nothing like this to happen to me in my whole life.  And I see that there's a lot more to you I don't even know about.  I just don't know what to make of it all," Dave said.</div> <div>      Quentin was silent.  "I'm sorry," he said finally.  "It's hard for me to get close to people for just that reason, you know?  And you've been the best friend I ever had since Barnabas.  I've been so lonely most of the time.  I'll tell you everything you want to know, Dave.  It's just that I'm afraid it'll change everything, and then we won't be friends anymore."</div> <div>      "Everything's changed already," Dave pointed out.  "Yeah, I'm sure things'll change.  But I don't think I'd stop being your friend, Franky.  You been a good friend to me, too.  I wouldn't forget that, not unless you tell me you're in with the Devil.  I told that lady I don't hold with that."</div> <div>      "I'm not in with the Devil, Dave, I swear," Quentin said earnestly.</div> <div>      "And I see how it is with you two," Dave went on.  "I guess we need to talk about that.  I didn't know such things went on with-with-just what is she, anyway?"</div> <div>      "A friend.  Let's just say, a friend," Quentin answered.</div> <div>      "Well, I didn't know such stuff went on like that," Dave continued.  He looked a little embarrassed.  "I guess I better tell you, Frank, that I came back after I run off like I did.  I was scared, sure, but I came back to make sure nothin had happened to you…" He trailed off.</div> <div>      Quentin looked over at him, expecting him to go on.  He thought back.  He didn't remember Dave coming back at any point, unless…He threw his head back and laughed.  "You peeked, didn't you?"</div> <div>      Dave scratched his head, looked sheepish, and then laughed, too.  "You looked like you was takin care of yourself all right.  Didn't appear to need none of my help, so I came back down to the house and got myself drunk.  Didn't know what to make of it all."</div> <div>      "Well, I'll tell you everything you want to know," Quentin promised, knowing already that he was lying.  He'd tell Dave most of it, but not everything.  Not about the curse of lycanthropy and not about Barnabas' vampirism.  There was no way he could bring himself to tell that.  But he could tell Dave that the curse was horrible, and about the portrait.  He was willing to do that.  He told the story as they drove into Port Jervis, between shopping trips, and in the parking lot of a drug store they'd stopped at to buy cokes.  "So, you see, I'm really much older than Little Joe and you both," he concluded.  "I'm not in my twenties at all. I'm actually in my fifties."</div> <div>      "Lord have mercy," Dave whispered.  "I never thought I'd to see the day I'd hear such an incredible story and believe it, too.  You sure don't act like a man your age."</div> <div>      "I guess I just never grew up," Quentin said ruefully.  "I should know better, but I always seem to keep getting myself into trouble.  And getting other people into trouble, too, although I don't mean to.  I really don't."</div> <div>      "Well, you know what they say about old dogs, don't you Franky?" Dave kidded.  Quentin laughed and threw a pretend punch at his friend.  "About this lady, now…I guess maybe I oughta move out to Buck's Head or into one of the cabins?"  Quentin looked surprised.  "Listen, Frank, I think it would be kind of hard for me to be there when you two…you know…besides, I'm kinda scared of that lady."</div> <div>      "Angelique wouldn't hurt you, Dave.  And as for the two of us…" Quentin paused.  "Well, I don't want you to move out, that's all.  There's no reason for it."</div> <div>      They were still arguing about it when they pulled up to the house.  Angelique wasn't there, though.  They found her at the cabin, making herself completely at home.  "Let me see what you've brought me, Quentin!" she cried in delight when she saw the packages.</div> <div>      "What are you doing here?" Quentin asked, bewildered.</div> <div>      "Well, I assume you want me to stay here," Angelique said, smiling sweetly.</div> <div>      "But-"</div> <div>      "Well, you didn't think I would stay at the house with you two, both unmarried men?  It wouldn't be proper."</div> <div>      Quentin and Dave looked at each other, pop-eyed.  They were both equally astounded.  Dave recovered first.  "Look, I guess you two want to talk.  I'll go practice some tunes."  He nodded a little toward Angelique.  "Ma'am."</div> <div>      Angelique barely looked at him.  He was no sooner out of sight than Angelique was pulling Quentin into the cabin with her, shutting the door.  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.  She moved to his ear, nipping at his lobe.  "Show me what you've brought.  Would you like me to try anything on?"</div> <div>      "Well, actually, I'd rather you try them OFF," Quentin answered, unbuttoning his shirt, which she was still wearing.  She was already at his belt.  He grabbed her hands, and she looked up, puzzled.  "I don't understand this," he said.</div> <div>      "You mean about me staying here?  I'll explain it to you later.  Right now, I have something else I want to explain to you."</div> <div>      "What's that?"</div> <div>      "What it is I'd like for you to do to me now.  And what I'd like to be doing right now."  She removed his hands and finished unbuckling his belt.  She slowly went down on her knees, pulling his zipper down as she went.  There was no way Quentin was going to stop her from what she wanted to do now.</div> <div>           </div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id63.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Cuddeback"><U>9:  Cuddeback</U></A>    <A HREF="id65.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Making Plans"><U>11:  Making Plans</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U>Taking Wooden Nickels</U></A>    <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <div>                      </div> <div>  </div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>