Chapter 18: Succubi
Amy lay on her back in the field of flowers. Petunias spread out from around her. Deep purple centers faded to pink and then almost white near the edges of the petals. Lavender rose petals drifted on the breeze. Some landed scattered across Amy’s exposed skin. Her maid outfit already lay unbuttoned and pulled open, exposing her corset. Somebody had unhooked her bra and it lay loose across her breasts.
Behind Amy crimson roses bloomed. As I watched, the roses lightened to a sunburst orange. Amy looked at me with wide eyes. She blushed and put a hand to her breast.
“Ren, please,” She whispered, “Don’t make me wait like this.”
I smiled and licked my lips, “Don’t make you wait? Well, how can I refuse you?”
I straddled her, my red maxi dress flaring out in a circle around her hips. I realized I wasn’t wearing a top, only a lace red bra. I leaned forward and took her face in my hands, cupping her cheeks. The roses behind her rippled from red to orange to red to orange. I stared into her crystal blue eyes. She met my gaze.
I wanted her.
I lowered myself onto her and we pressed together, skin to skin. I kissed her, tracing the outline of her lips with my tongue. I traced my fingers across her shoulders and down across her breasts. She shuddered and arched her back as I leaned down to take her nipple in my mouth. I reached a hand under her petticoat and traced patterns on the skin of her inner thighs.
She moaned.
“Do you want more?” I whispered.
“I want everything,” She whispered.
“I can help.”
Startled, I looked up to see Fiona walking towards us. The roses shifted to a daffodil yellow as I watched her. She wore her breeches and riding boots. She wore her claw hammer coat unbuttoned, and nothing else. I stared at the curve of ribs and the visible edges of her breasts.
“Do you want me to share?” Amy asked, biting her lip.
“No,” Fiona answered, “I want to join you.”
And then another voice interrupted, an unfamiliar woman’s voice, “I need you.”
I looked around. Amy and Fiona seemed not to have noticed. Then I realized that neither was moving. They had frozen in time, Fiona freezing mid stride.
The voice interrupted again, “I need your help. I am trapped. I am a prisoner. And they use me as a weapon against you. Help me!”
I jolted up in my bed, panting and slick with sweat. My nightgown lay wrapped around my waist like one of Fiona’s sashes. And thus, save for my panties, I lay naked on the bed.
“Well then,” I said to the empty room, “Something is messing with me here. It could have at least waited until I finished.”
That had been quite the dream, and not just in how arousing it had been. It felt prophetic, important. I knew floriography, the symbolism of flowers. I knew that red roses symbolized romantic love. And I knew that lavender roses meant love at first sight. But the whole dream seemed laden with meaning, too much for me to pick apart easily. I wished briefly that I still had access to Google.
I looked out the window. It was mid-morning. Amy would be here soon to wake me. And the state I was in would be a lewd way to greet her.
I slid to the edge of the bed. Dangling my feet off the bed, I stepped onto the carpet. I wobbled, and then my legs crumpled underneath me, and I fell to my knees in pain. I tried to stand and couldn’t manage it. My arms were too weak, and my legs still wouldn’t obey me. I couldn’t get any weight under me without my legs giving out. I made two more attempts to stand, and then gave up.
And that was where Amy found me. Crumpled on the floor, almost naked, flushed and sweating.
“Lady Ren! Are you hurt!” Amy dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close.
“My pride is. Otherwise, I’m just embarrassed.” I said, not moving in her arms.
“I’m here Ren.” She pressed my face against her chest. She held me tight. “Don’t move. I’m here. I’m here. Tell me what happened.”
I flushed tomato red, “Do you want the whole thing? Because there’s no dignity in this story.”
Amy furrowed her brow in surprise, “What do you mean?”
I took a breath, “I was having a dream about you and wanted to clean up before you saw me.”
“You were dreaming about me? What sort of dream?” Amy asked.
I gestured with weakened arms to my exposed bosom, “What sort do you think?”
Amy looked down, and seemed to register my state of undress, and flushed red.
“Oh. Oh!” She whispered, “This was about me?”
I nodded.
“Oh Ren, you don’t have to hide from me! I’m here for you. Don’t ever be ashamed. I don’t care.”
Amy helped clean and dress me. And I did my best to assist her, without much success.
“Why don’t the other gifts exact such a cost do you think?” I asked Amy as she helped me into a honey yellow sleeveless A-line dress with a boatneck neckline. She fastened a butter rum orange belt and helped me with a pair of yellow citrine stud earrings.
“I don't know. But it’s generally considered the most powerful of the gifts. You see the future, after all. Let’s stick to the earrings. I don’t want you catching on things while you’re feeling weak.”
I nodded, disappointed. But I agreed with her.
“No more toys for me,” I said.
“Oh, toys! That reminds me. I have something for you. A gift, actually.” She paused. “Here. This belonged to my grandfather. He was a scrivener. This was his.”
She held out a beautiful silver fountain pen. I took the pen and popped the cap. The pen had a silver- or silver-plated nib, which had an English Ivy design engraved.”
“Amy, thank you,” I said. “You didn’t need to do anything like this. But thank you.”
“I wanted you to have something that will remind you of me, when I’m- you know- not around. That’s all.”
The nib felt anachronistic as well, but I was acclimating to that part of the game world. And it was a gift from a lover. So, I wasn’t going to complain. I replaced the cap and hid the pen in one of the pockets in my dress. I may have mocked the designers for other negligence. They had included pockets to justify an inventory system but including pockets in my dresses made me grateful.
Read more in "Daughters of the Digital Empire," Available soon!
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