AUTHOR'S NOTE: The second part of this chapter contains STRONG adult themes. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 17 OR FIND SUCH THEMES OFFENSIVE.

HEAT!

Chapter 3

Now let us go to the present day.....To an elegant two-story deluxe apartment...Jamie and Paul Morrow receive some shocking news...
He didn't want to believe it, but what the detective said was all true. His father, Lawrence Morrow, wealthy and eminent tycoon, died in a mysterious fire. Paul Morrow, the eldest of Larry's two children, felt a tear trickle down his cheek. At present, his sister Jamie, had gone to lie down. Just hearing of her father's tragic death was too much for her to bear.
"Mr. Morrow," the detective said, "we have reason to believe the fire was not accidental. The fire chief has yet to complete his investigation, but there the initial evidence shows that the fire was deliberately set."
Now Paul was taken aback. Who would dare kill his father, and in such a hideous, painful way? He thought of Dad's many business and personal acquaintances. None of them, at least to Paul's thinking, hated his father enough to kill him. Naturally, Larry Morrow had made a few enemies along the way, but that's how business operates. The last man to have his business taken over by Larry was an Evan...Paul couldn't recall the man's last name. That man, once he lost his lucrative mail order business, did threaten Larry but never voiced bodily harm.
"Detective," said Paul, "I can't think of anyone else who could've done this crime." Paul wracked his brain, trying to think of someone with whom Larry might have dealt within the last six months. Then it came to him!
"There was a woman Dad was dating...an Astrid...I can't remember her last name."
"Astrid Hämasko. That's her name."

Jamie Morrow carefully descended the grand spiral staircase, her eyes still quite blurry with sleep and grief. Deep down inside she was seething. She overhead what the detective said, about her father's house a possible target for arson – with Daddy still inside. She never cottoned to Daddy's new girlfriend, Astrid, although Paul thought she was wonderful. To Jamie, Astrid was just another gold digger seeking to marry into wealth and status. But to Paul, the woman was far from destitute. Judging from the way she dressed, she had plenty of money and style. Not every "common" woman, as Jamie so often put it, can pull herself together like that and make it not look cheap or tawdry.
To Jamie, however, there was something very mysterious about Astrid. The woman never told them where she came from; Larry and Paul assumed Astrid hailed from Sweden or Norway – the name alone and Astrid's blonde good looks certainly attested to her Scandinavian heritage. But the woman didn't speak with an accent!, thought Jamie as her brother conferred with the detective.

"The last time I spoke with Daddy, he was with her," Jamie said to the detective. "He and Astrid were going to the opera then out for a late supper."
"Is this true Mr. Morrow?"
Paul replied, "Yes, because Astrid told me much to that affect the afternoon before the fire."
The detective flipped through his notes, laying out all eyewitness evidence of that tragic night. "There were witnesses. One of your neighbors, a Peter Darden, said that he saw a woman leave the house shortly before the fire broke out."
Paul Morrow was more than mildly shocked. Why didn't Peter tell us this before? All the while he and Alice helped us with planning Dad's memorial service, they never said a thing about a woman leaving the house.
"Could this woman be Astrid? How can Peter be so sure? He's only met her once, and that was at a party the Dardens gave for their daughter's graduation."
The detective then went on to explain that Peter Darden couldn't give a positive ID, much less an adequate description, of the woman. "All I have to go on is the woman was tall, about 5'10", blonde, and wearing a black leather coat. She got in her car and took off moments before Darden noticed the fire."
"Then, detective," said Jamie, walking to the bar and pouring herself a strong vodka on the rocks, "I can give you an exact description."
"Jamie...," Paul protested.
Jamie was livid. "Come on, Paul! That woman had to do it! She had to set that fire. Don't ask me why but she had to do it. I want to see her get what's coming to her." She glanced up at the portrait of a medieval nobleman, one of the Morrow's ancestors, or so the story went. Something about that portrait gave her pause, and the will to see Astrid Hämasko punished for killing her father.

Damned stuck-up bitch! Tempting and seducing Daddy like a common whore. She even dressed the part...like one of those nasty women in porno movies...latex and leather...skintight dresses and shoes with mile-high heels...showing off her body like the shameless tart she is...Oh, if and when they find her, convict her, and give her that needle, I want to be there watching her die...and I hope she dies slowly, painfully, gasping and choking for breath...She deserves everything that's coming to her!

Jamie then, over Paul's protests, agreed to come to the precinct to give the sketch artist a full description of Astrid Hämasko. She then said she'd put out a lucrative reward for anyone knowing Astrid's whereabouts. To this Paul, growing more disgusted with his sister's vindictiveness, said, "Jamie, I don't think that's a good idea. I mean while the reward might help, I think we should let the cops handle this."
"OK, Paul," said Jamie, taking a long stiff swallow of Grey Goose, "I have no problem with that." She turned to the detective who was preparing to leave and said, "No offense, lieutenant. I'm sure you will find her, but I still feel the reward will help things along, if you know what I mean."
The detective nodded in agreement, saying, "If a reward is what you want, be my guest. Just a word of caution: Money has a way of bringing out all kinds of crazies. Folks who claim they know the suspect personally but never laid eyes on her in their lives. And said reward might hamper our investigation what with false leads."
Paul Morrow said, with conviction, "Lieutenant, we will cooperate with you any way we can. Just find Astrid. While I don't believe she would do such a thing, maybe she's not the woman Dad, and we, thought she was."

******

Not the woman they thought she was? Oh, kids, if you only knew! Now let's journey to the distant past, to the wood...
"Ah Samira...Yeeeesssss!"

Medra sledged her body under the dragon's relentless tongue and claw. She squirmed, rolled her full hips in a steady rhythm, all the while moaning aloud with every wave of passion surging throughout her body. This is so wonderful, to be mastered by a dragon, especially one so skillful, so desirable.
She felt Samira's hot breath upon her womanly secrets, then the long, wet, forked tongue probing deep inside. That tongue teasingly played and stroked Medra's swollen vaginal walls; she could actually feel that tongue press up against the cervix, sending the sorceress into a frenzied writhing mass of satisfaction.
"Mmmmm, Samira...ooooh, my love...Ahhh, give it...to me...my love....Oooooh!"

Samira loved that, the way Medra responded to her every caress. It was always like that with them, just as it was with her draconic mate Morib. Samira lived for the thrill of sex, that explosive lust that drove her to the breaking point. She adored how both Medra and Morib responded to her hot, unbridled sexuality. Too bad one of her many lovers, that human male, didn't quite know what to make of Samira. When she pinned him the first time, he was quite perturbed as this man was not used to aggressive, assertive women in his bed. His own wife had kowtowed to his relentless control much too often. Pity on that woman, Samira thought as she continued to tease Medra, her claw fiddling with the sorceress' clit, once again sending Medra into another endless throe of squirming passion.

That wife, no longer standing to suffer under his cruel thumb, finally took her own life, leaving behind a child -- No, two children, a daughter and a son...Alas, one child is NOT his...Ha! That's one bit of information we could use in our campaign to stamp out Theodoric and Edgard!

The thought of bringing down Lord Fairfax and the Blue Knight caused Samira to work that tongue faster, rapidly stroking and kneading Medra's womanly depths. Medra wildly thrashed about with intense enjoyment, moaning and screaming her satisfaction over and over. When it was over, Medra rested a bit, then it was Samira's turn to receive...

******

What is this? What is this? How disgusting! Totally unnatural, unholy...It's like looking into the pit of Hell itself with all the licentiousness, lasciviousness...and with a dragon! She's coupling with a dragon! Bad enough if she was making love to another woman...most of those witches do that...but this 'lover' is a savage beast!

Well hidden a few feet away, Archel, hoping to find a new trail to the dragons' lair, stumbled upon this scene. Not wanting to be discovered lest he risk being burnt to a cinder, Archel remained hidden in the dense brush just a few feet from where Medra and Samira indulged their passion. Turning away, Archel slipped quietly back to his horse. He quickly mounted, spurred his steed to action, then sped to Fairfax Manor.

******

He saw it too, and he saw Archel spying on the dragon and sorceress. Now was the time to put his plan into action. There was little time to lose, and he really didn't want to wait for the tournament to bring down the Blue Knight. He knew it was a matter of time before Archel alerted Edgard and Theodoric of this latest revelation, and it pained him to think what they would do to Samira and Medra. He thought of his own son, who also suffered at the hands of one of Theodoric's kinsmen.
He traced his way back to the dragons' lair, uttered the password, then disappeared behind the thick overgrowth. Once inside he found Morib and told the dragon what he saw, and his concerns.

******

"How did he find us? No one, other than Alice, and she vowed never to tell, knows of our secret place but Samira and myself..."

Medra, now safely back in the dragons' lair, fumed and sputtered as Morib and the stranger revealed that Archel espied the woman and dragon in their love nest.
"I suppose he accidentally stumbled upon it," reasoned Morib, "but I will not put it pass Edgard or Theodoric that they had Archel search the wood for Samira."
"And kill us in the process!," fumed a highly enraged Medra.
"Now, Medra, my dear," said Samira gently, "do not fear."
"Do not fear? Of what? Of whom?," said Medra with an ominous tone, "Do you know what could happen if Theodoric gets wind of this? He'd have me hunted down, declared a witch, and burn me at the stake. He'll force the password from me, then he'll send Edgard to slay both you and Morib!"
She collapsed in a heap and sobbed uncontrollably. Samira tried to comfort her friend and lover, but Medra could only sob over and over, "It's all gone...Our plan is ruined!"

"No it isn't." The stranger, that same tall, lanky, red-haired gentleman who Alice said 'gave' Edgard the secret password, finally spoke. "Medra, I saw you and your draconic lover in the wood, and I saw Archel watching you. By now he is either at Fairfax Manor or the Nine Raven relating all. We have no time to lose. I have a son to think about, a son who only recently has learned of his true parentage. He has suffered – still suffers – under Theodoric's cruel nature, in more ways than one."
Then, "Edgard is set to marry, three days following the tournament. Why wait until the games to bring him down? I say let us find a way to lure Edgard and his minions – and Theodoric – here, before the games. We cannot allow that marriage to take place!"

******

Meanwhile, in a bustling medieval city...
She tried to concentrate on the book she was reading. A nice tome of love poems given to her by her beloved husband. It was nearly dusk, and her husband would soon return from another successful business deal. She had the good fortune to meet such a good man since her timely arrival to this city. He wined and dined her, gave her the most beautiful, flawless, costliest precious jewelry, expensive clothes of velvet and silk. He was amazed that she could read and write, so unlike most women, so he built a fine library filled with books on every subject imaginable. She particularly loved poetry, music, history, and epic tales of romance and gallantry. He indulged her as if she was a spoiled child, thoroughly enjoying the pleasure such gave him, and to her.

How long had she been here, in this city? Nearly three years, three years that seemed to go by with lightning speed. So many happy changes! Not unlike the bleak existence she'd known before. She never told her husband about her family, her childhood. Instead she told him she was an unfortunate orphan, forced to eke out a living on the streets. She said that she would never resort to prostitution, to which so many parentless waifs turned in desperation. She was too refined and learned for such a vile profession. No, she wanted to marry a good man, bring forth strong sons, and spend the rest of her life in domestic bliss.

She heard the familiar voice calling from the great hall downstairs. In an instant, she dropped her book, ran down the stairs, and greeted her husband with passionate kisses and warm embraces. "Oh, good husband, I waited forever for you to return. How did your meeting go? Will you get to take on Wilhelm's wine business?"  Her husband fumed, and this was rare as he was normally an even-tempered man who seldom raised his voice in anger, "My dear, everything was going splendidly until that Lord Fairfax showed up and nearly ruined it all. He said that since Wilhelm worked for HIM, that HE will now take charge of the winery!"
She stared in disbelief, saying, "No! How can this be? Oh! That Theodoric! He has ruined so many a good family with his cruel grasping. If I was a man...!"
He took her into his arms, kissed her tenderly, and said, "Now, now, dear wife, do not speak like that. There will be other ventures, but I really wanted..."

He stopped himself, thought over a few things then said, "We are going to Ninegates come Tuesday week."

She panicked at the mention of the village's name. "Why? Whatever for? I don't ever want to set foot in that place again–"
"What did you say?"
"I m-mean..."

No time to keep avoiding the issue now, she had to tell her beloved the truth. She loved her husband and it pained her that she felt compelled to live a lie for three long years.
"Dear husband, I must tell you something. A secret, about me. Promise you won't be angry when I tell you."
"Never, dearest. Now, what is this secret?"

She commenced to recount a life of hardship and pain. She started at the beginning, working her way through the times her own father suffered at the hands of one man, then concluding with a story of unspeakable violence. "My sister and I were in the wood, gathering berries. We stopped to take a swim, it was getting quite warm. When we dressed and started for home, we were taken by surprise by..."

He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Is this true? A knight and his companions...a vicious rape...a dragon?!

"My darling Mirinda, your long nightmare is over. This is why we must travel to Ninegates at once!"

TO BE CONTINUED...go to chapter 4!

Copyright©2003, 2004 by Pepper Shriver*. All Rights Reserved.
*My pen name :-)


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