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Subject: {ASSM} RP "Witchcraft" [1/2] John A (fant. train) (MF Rom, humor)
Date: Sun, 28 Nov 1999 18:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "WITCHC~1.TXT" begin>
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real
persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental. If you
are below the age of 18, or 21 depending on your locality,
stop reading right now. If your government prohibits erotic
literature, stop reading now and delete this. If you choose
to continue, that is your decision -- and your
responsibility -- not mine.
This is intended solely for adults, and any other
rebroadcast, retransmission, and account of this game is
strictly prohibited by the National Hockey League. Wait
--The NHL doesn't care --I care. Any unauthorized
redistribution of this is in violation of copyright. I
authorize this to be archived in its entirety, except in
those cases where a fee is charged.
Do Not Repost.
-------------
This is Copyright 1999 by
John3365A@aol.com. All rights reserved.
-------------
Author's note: This story is based on a current fantasy train
theme that was started in the ASSD discussion group. A lot of
the characters are part of the discussion group and some of
the bits of humor within are inside jokes, All that being said,
enjoy. Comments, both positive or negative, are welcome and
encouraged. My email address is John3365a@aol.com. Thanks.
Witchcraft (1/2)
by John A
The loud screech preceded the train car's tumble by a matter
of seconds. There was hardly enough time to grasp what was
happening let alone brace ourselves for the impact that
followed. The car removed itself violently from the magical
tracks and tumbled several times, tossing its passengers
into the floor, roof, and walls until the rolling finally
stopped and the car settled sideways into the soft mud of a
riverbank.
The five of us groaned and spat out expletives as we
recovered from the derailment.
"Is everyone all right?" I asked, rising to a standing
position on the train's windows. I pulled a suitcase off of
Allison and tossed it aside, looking around the train car at
the mass of bodies that was tossed around as a result of the
accident.
A chorus of grunts acknowledged that everyone was at least
none the worse for wear as Maria kicked the rear door open
and crawled out of the now horizontal door opening. The
worst injury that anyone suffered was a deep bruise to
Wijit's shoulder.
We gathered aside the toppled train car as it sat in a
clearing about twenty feet from where the remnants of the
magic train's rails were.
"Wijit, that shoulder looks awful. That's one hell of a
bruise you have there." I examined his shoulder as if I
actually knew something about medicine. "It's as purple as
Virago's prose." I joked.
"Can you move your arm?" asked Allison.
"No, the damn thing hurts like hell -- I can't lift it at
all."
"You're going to have a pretty big lumpen there, Wij." Maria
added.
"I don't mean to interrupt," interrupted Virago, "but what
the hell is going on with our train tracks?"
We turned and looked with astonishment in the direction that
Virago was pointing. All that was remaining of the magic
train tracks were two twenty foot lengths of rails floating
about five feet above the ground. The rails had no beginning
and no end and looked to be just long enough to hold our
train car and nothing else.
"What the fuck?" I said indecorously.
"Where are the rest of the tracks? And what about the
train?" Maria noted that the rest of the train was no where
to be seen.
"I think I know what happened -- kind of," I proposed.
"Unlike regular train tracks that cover a physical distance,
these tracks cover a distance in time. They started in the
late 20th century and presumably ended at our supposed
destination -- Rome in 40 ad. So one section is
theoretically only in one time period at one time, so when
we derailed, our section of track was frozen in this spot in
time."
"But there were cars behind us, where are *they*?" asked
Virago.
"Probably at some point in the near future -- from wherever
it is we are." I guessed.
"So what about the rest of the train?"
"If I follow the logic, if the train derailed like we did,
then each successive car from ours is probably at some point
in the past along the timeline we were traveling. So the
engine is probably furthest in the past and each car is just
a bit more in the past than the car that was behind it."
Allison chimed in.
"But what if the rest of the train didn't derail?" asked
Maria.
"Then they're blissfully on their way to ancient Rome for
two weeks of drunken debauchery under the hospitality of
Caligula while we're stuck in God-knows-where just waiting
for some savage to hack us to pieces." I kicked the mud off
of my boatshoes, splattering some on the khaki shorts I was
wearing in the process, causing me to mutter
incomprehensible swears as I did.
"Which brings us to another question, John's hysteria
notwithstanding," Allison snickered. "Where is *here*?"
"Well, how long did that screwy little leprechaun say the
whole trip would take?" Wijit moaned, trying to use a towel
he retrieved from the train as a makeshift sling.
"About four hours, why?" Maria plopped down on a rock near
the toppled car and stretched, pulling her DKNY sweatshirt
tight against her large breasts. This was the first that I
noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra beneath the
sweatshirt. How did I miss that before?
"Maybe we can figure out what year we're in based on how
long we traveled."
"I think we traveled for about an hour, at the most, before
the accident," added Virago, adjusting the sheath for her
broad sword and straightening out her laced leather vest
which did little to hide the swell of her breasts. They were
certainly impressive breasts, but all that leather was a
little intimidating. "So where does that put us? About the
year 1500, maybe?"
"Possibly, probably a little later than that. But that
assumes that we were traveling back through time linearly,"
I continued as if I knew what the fuck I was talking about.
"That is, any given amount of time that we spent on the
train would correspond to a set amount of years of time
travel, and that relationship would be constant for the
entire trip."
"But we really don't know, and that leprechaun was too busy
playing with his lucky charms and downing the bottles of
Irish whisky that Shon got him to bother explaining any of
the details of the trip to us." Allison fumed.
"And that's another thing about the little prick -- sorry, I
mean wee person," Maria said snidely. "What was the deal
with the assigned train cars? The veterans got to sit in the
front few cars -- first class -- and as the seniority in the
group got less and less the rest were pushed to cars in the
rear. Did you see the car that Denny and those guys had to
ride in? That was like a cattle car. At least we had padded
seats. None of the other segments of the trip were like
that. I think someone pissed Louie off."
"Don't look at me. I've tried to stay out of his way. I'm
not the only wise-ass on the train." I jumped to my defense
-- someone had to.
"The car Uther and Bronwen and those guys were in was
great." Allison interjected, straightening out the skirt of
her navy blue Anne Klein suit. "I caught a glimpse of it
when shorty was shuttling us back to our car. They had maids
and manservants and maybe even a concubine or two -- *and*
full bar service. What did he give us? A case of Molson.
What a sport."
"Uh, actually I brought that along," said Wijit, the
Canadian, "that's just aboot the best beer there is oot
there, eh."
"Thanks Wijit. So the cheap little bastard got us nothing --
oh, excuse me -- cheap little wee person." I sat on the
grass, trying hard not to be conspicuous in his ogling of
Maria's tits, Virago's ass, and Allison's legs. I don't
think I succeeded.
"He was an odd little guy, but right about now he's the only
thing standing between us and being stuck in wherever-we-are."
Maria said glumly while pressing her chest out a bit
further, as if to give me a better look. God, she's such an
exhibitionist. "What should we do?"
"Why don't we just wait here for a while," suggested Wijit,
rubbing his shoulder. "With any luck they'll realize what
happened and the train will come back for us."
The five of us waited around for the return of the magic
train, idling the time by talking, joking with one another
and finishing the rest of the case of beer that Wijit had
brought along. After two hours, with no train in sight, we
started to get restless, hungry, and a little worried about
the helplessness of our situation. Privately, I began to
worry that we might actually be stranded somewhere in the
past and was disconcerted by that thought at the least.
Somehow I didn't picture this hapless little group of ours
as a Swiss Family Robinson.
"I can't take any more of this. We need a plan, we just
can't sit around waiting for something to happen!" Virago,
the warrioress, paced with frustration, smoothing the
leather leggings over her muscular thighs. "This forest
affords us a fair amount of concealment and the train car
can provide shelter, but we're going to need to find food if
we're here for very long."
"I agree. I'm already starting to get hungry, but should we
go too far away from the train car?" asked Allison.
"If we want to eat we do," I added. "I somehow don't think
we can get takeout."
"Well, there aren't any fruit trees or edible plants around
here. We're either going to have to go foraging or try to
venture into a village." Virago offered.
"Does anybody have any military training or survival skills
training or anything like that?" Maria queried, her breasts
still straining against her sweatshirt.
"Well, I've had toilet training, does that help?" I thought
a bit of humor would lighten everyone's tense mood.
"Yeah, great. Now we're all happy that you won't soil
yourself when the locals are stringing us up from the
trees." Allison stuck her tongue out playfully at me.
"Seriously," I continued seriously. "We're going to have to
be careful if we wander too far from here, we don't have
much a frame of reference for finding our way around."
I privately worried about what we'd meet up with when we
left our secluded area. We could very well have been dumped
in the middle of the civil war and get caught in a
crossfire. Or perhaps we were in the middle of the English
civil war and a loyalist mistook us for parliamentarians. Or
even worse, we could have been in the middle of Spain during
the Inquisition. I had no doubt what those extremists would
have done to a group who looked like we did. We'd be burned
at the stake faster than we could say Auto-Da-Fe.
Aside from the physical dangers we may have been facing,
there also was the potential damage to the timeline that we
could be doing. The leprechaun had said that nothing we did
when we got to our destination would affect the timeline,
but this was an unscheduled stop. I worried that something
we did would have a minute effect that would snowball over
the years into something tragic. I didn't want us to be the
cause of the Allies losing World War Two, or slavery not
being abolished, or, heaven forbid, disco not dying when it
did.
"We're probably not in too much danger from attackers.
Nobody's going to mess with us with Virago wielding that big
sword of hers," Maria piped in, snapping me out of my
paranoid reverie, then continued sarcastically. "Also if
we're attacked John can just say some smart-ass remark that
will be sure to win over the natives."
"What's going on? When did this become pick on John day?'"
I whined.
"We do have one problem," Virago added, her warrior's
instinct obviously much more attuned to tactics than the
rest of the group. "Someone's going to have to stay here,
just in case that leprechaun realizes that some people are
missing. This section of forest seems pretty remote and
untouched, so I don't think whoever remains should be in any
danger."
"I'll volunteer," volunteered Wijit. "With my arm like this
I'm pretty useless anyway."
Wijit headed back into the train coach to try to fashion a
spot to relax and rest his shoulder. The rest of us wished
him well and followed Virago's lead as she forged a path
through the dense forest. When the underbrush became too
thick, Virago unsheathed her large sword, and began to hack
at the flora as we tried to avoid the swath of the blade on
her backswing. I made a mental note never to piss her off.
After fighting our way through the heavily packed forest for
about an hour, we emerged into a clearing. We walked on past
a field and climbed a hill to get a better view of what was
surrounding us. When we reached the top of the hill, for as
far as it seemed there was nothing but wheat fields. Our
hearts sank.
"Is that a town over there?" Maria pointed to a tiny spot
near the horizon, past some farms that spotted the
landscape.
"What, that?" I pointed to a little rise in the distance.
"No, that looks like a pile of shit," Maria indicated an
area in the distance. "Over there."
"I think so...about how far do you think that is?" Allison
strained to see in the distance. Our spirits lifted at
Maria's sighting.
"I'd guess maybe an hour's walk, give or take." Virago
estimated. "Remember, ideally, we don't want to interact
with any of the locals, we might not exactly fit in. We
should try to limit out contact. The ideal situation would
be to find some fruit trees and bring a large supply of them
back to the train car and wait for the others to come and
get us. Failing that, we might try to make some discrete
contact with one or two townspeople and try to get their
help."
"Sounds like a plan -- let's get moving while we still have
some good daylight." I looked at my watch, it was just after
two in the afternoon -- with luck we could get to the town,
get some food and return to the train car before nightfall.
"Another hour? My feet aren't going to last another hour,"
Maria complained before we had taken three steps off the
hill.
"Yeah, my feet are killing me too," Allison whined. "I knew
I shouldn't have worn heels."
"Zha Zha, Eva, stop complaining," I said sarcastically then
added to no one in particular, "will somebody please get the
Gabor sisters a limo."
We walked down the hill and headed toward a dirt road. As we
got on the path we agreed that we needed to keep our eyes on
the lookout. We really needed to try to avoid the locals as
much as possible. We knew that we'd probably need to
interact with a couple of people, we just didn't want to
become the talk of the town -- provided that there *was*
some sort of town anywhere nearby.
"What if we can't find anything to eat?" Maria asked,
kicking up the dust of the road.
"Donner, party of four." I snickered.
"Don't even joke about anything like that," Allison said. "I
mean, I *love* being eaten, but not *that* way."
"Remember, we have to try to use our best diplomacy if we
meet up with someone," Virago admonished, looking at me for
some strange reason as she said it.
"Hey, I can be diplomatic." I was hurt by the implication --
well, not really, but I tried to pretend to be hurt to
engender sympathy. It wasn't effective.
"Yeah, just like you were diplomatic in 1960s Las Vegas?"
Allison reminded.
"I *was* diplomatic in Vegas, I was just trying to have some
fun, that's all."
"You almost got your ass kicked by Sinatra." Virago chimed
in.
"Hey, the man hung around with Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr.,
and Joey Bishop. You'd think he'd have a sense of humor
about things." I protested.
"Listen to me closely, you don't go making mafia jokes to
the chairman of the board." admonished Allison.
"I realize that *now*. It would have been nice if you would
have said something *before* I got us kicked out of the
Sands." I gave a look of mock indignation. "Although I'd
like to think that I would have turned him into Old Black
and Blue Eyes."
Virago just shook her head, "Ok, here's your warning. Don't
piss off the locals."
"Don't worry, I won't insult any of the farmers here in
Hooterville."
"Hey, watch what you say about farmers," Allison chided. "My
uncle's a farmer. This is so pretty out here, it looks just
like his farm. He's been in Oklahoma for years."
"Well, once you get in a road show, it's tough to get back
on Broadway." I chortled.
The path narrowed as we approached a small farm house that
probably measured just twenty feet square. It answered the
question as to whether or not there were any people around
us, but it confronted us with having to make the decision as
to whether or not we wanted to make diplomatic contact, such
as it was, with the occupants of the house. That question
was answered for us when a man dressed in a plain black suit
came riding up behind us on a horse. My first thoughts were
that we could be somewhere in Amish country. Swell, the
Amish were real open with outsiders -- especially outsiders
dressed as we were.
"Hail, strangers." The man alighted from his horse and
greeted us with a wary smile.
"Hi, uh, hail." Maria greeted him with a warm smile.
"You all do not look as if you are from these parts. From
where do you come?"
"Well, *I* come..." I was cut off by an elbow in the
midsection by Allison, who muttered something about
diplomacy.
"We have traveled from far away and are merely looking for
some food and somewhere to rest." Virago answered vaguely.
"Such strange garb you all wear. You certainly do not come
from anywhere near here."
"Uh, no. We come from....France. Yes France. These are the
current fashions in France this year." I stammered. When in
doubt, claiming you're from France always seems to excuse a
certain amount of eccentricity.
"Ah, but you are so far from home. What are you here for?"
Our Amish friend looked at us warily.
"Well, out boat was shipwrecked and we were given passage on
another ship which deposited us...here." I still didn't know
where *here* was, and didn't think that letting on to that
fact was a good idea with the suspicious way buckles was
eying us. I just hoped *here* was somewhere near water.
"Well, the town is a short walk down this road. There you
can find food, and lodging, and . . . suitable clothing.
Farewell, my chores call to me." Our new acquaintance jumped
back up on his horse and galloped down the road without
looking back at us. I wasn't at ease with out first contact,
but it didn't go as badly as some of the scenarios I'd
imagined.
"Here we come, walking down the street," I sang, doing a
poor impression of the Monkeys. "We get the funniest looks
from everyone we meet." Ok, I thought it was a tension
breaker.
We continued down the road for another twenty minutes before
we started to see what seemed like the outskirts of a town.
"Look at the houses. What period of time do we seem to be
in?" Allison asked no one in particular. "They all look like
small boxes with high pitched roofs."
"They look as if they could be in the federal or early
federal style of design, common to the American Colonies in
revolutionary and pre-revolutionary days." I said, feeling
pretty proud that I was able to identify our general period
of time and location.
"So, you do know something other than how to make smart-ass
comments." Maria snickered. "Do you know anything else that
could be of use?"
"Probably not, unless anyone has a burning need to know the
all the winners of the American League Most Valuable Player
award."
Allison scratched her head as she gave me a look reserved
for the mentally ill.
"Then I guess I've ceased being useful on this journey. You
can all just use me as your sex tool now." They ignored me.
We walked along the side of the road, trying to stay close
to the woods that bordered it, and staying out of plain view
of the local populace. We still hadn't seen any of the
locals and were pretty happy with our luck. As we got closer
to the town, I felt a pressure in my bladder from all of the
beer that I had drunk while we were sitting around the train
car.
"Uh, guys...I have to, uh, pee." I stammered.
"Oh, for crying out loud," Allison shook her head at me.
"Guys are always talking about *women* needing to go to the
bathroom at the most inconvenient times," Virago chuckled.
"Hey, I had about eight of Wijit's Molsons, I'm amazed that
I haven't gone before now."
"Oh, you've been gone for years," Maria giggled.
"Just hurry up, John," Virago urged.
"I'll just head into the woods. I'll be done in a minute." I
ran about fifteen feet into the woods and hid behind a tree
before I started to do my business. "No peeking." I shouted.
I heard some sort of comment and snickering from the women,
but I thought it was better that I not know what they were
saying.
Just as I was finishing with my last shakes I heard some
commotion from where the girls were waiting for me. I
crouched down and kept under cover as I got nearer to try to
see what was happening. Crawling within earshot, I peeked my
head up and noticed four constables, one of whom had
confiscated Virago's sword, surrounding my friends. In
addition to the constables, our buckled friend was there,
pointing menacingly at the ladies.
"Look gentlemen, at the brazen way these hussies dress. Look
at these two, exposing their legs in such an immodest way.
And the third -- what kind of woman carries a sword? And
look at what she's wearing. She's barely covering
her...her...womanly areas. The trollop. See, I told you what
they were...." The farmer went on hysterically about the
women's lack for modesty in their dress.
"Hey, listen stubby," Maria interrupted him. "We're not
trollops and we're not hussies. Pendejo."
"Yeah," agreed Allison. "Just because we're not covered from
head to toe with clothes doesn't mean we're easy."
"That's right," Maria added. "But it doesn't mean we're
difficult, either."
My heart sank as I realized that my friends were being
arrested for prostitution based solely on the way they were
dressed. I would have like to have raced in to the rescue
but I realized that to the locals I was dressed just as
oddly as my companions, and if I tried to approach the
constables, I'd most likely be arrested for being their pimp
-- or something like that. I certainly wouldn't be any good
to them if I were locked up too.
"Silence!" The constable who seemed to be in charge shouted.
"We will not hear any more of your prattle as you try to
while your witchly talents to our detriment."
"Our what?" Virago stood open mouthed, not sure if she heard
correctly what he had said.
"Who else but witches would dress as brazenly as the three
of you? The royal governor's tribunal will try them for
witchcraft in the morning. Take them to the stocks, men."
The officials began to lead the ladies away, most likely to
be placed on public display.
"I could use some socks, my feet are killing me in these
heels. I think I'm getting a blister," said Maria. "I knew I
should have worn my Nikes."
"Maria, we're going to the stocks, not socks." Virago
corrected quietly. "Empalizada, not calcetines." Virago
stressed.
"What??? Stocks??? They're going to put us into stocks,
like... like...prisoners? Let me go, you bunch of wankers.
This story needs a much better Spanish-English dictionary!"
Maria yelled as the guards led them away.
Fuck! We didn't need this. I needed to formulate a plan, and
quickly too, before anything happened to them. Witches?
*Witches*? I thought that being arrested for prostitution
was bad enough. But witchcraft. This was some serious shit.
Of all places for a bunch of erotica writers to be dumped.
If being in the middle of the puritanical colonies wasn't
bad enough, we had to end up in the middle of the Salem
witch trials with those paranoid lunatics. They burned
witches, didn't they?
I started to take off in the general direction of where the
guards took my friends, hoping to find out where they were
taking them. I stayed under the cover of the woods so I
wouldn't be caught too, although that was slowing me up
quite a bit. I'd be no good in stocks myself -- not that I'd
be much good free, either. What the hell was I going to do
to get them out?
I continued walking through the woods and before I got more
than twenty five feet from my original location, I was
tapped on the shoulder. I jumped and let out a shriek before
turning around and noticing a young woman giggling slightly
at my panicked reaction.
"Who are you?" I tried to recompose myself.
"I should ask that of you. We do not often get strangers in
these parts, and certainly not ones who are dressed
so...oddly." she looked me over with an almost humorous
gaze. I suppose it was the way you'd look at any
anachronism. "My name is Samantha. Samantha Corning. And you
are?"
"John, uh, John A."
"A? Your last name is A? What an odd name."
"Well it's more of a nym than a name. See I really didn't
take the time...never mind."
She giggled at my awkwardness and I couldn't help but smile
at her.
"I saw what happened to your companions. It has gotten
terrible here in Salem these past few months. Everyone can
accuse anyone else of being a witch with no proof
whatsoever. Those two poor sisters were arrested for being
witches. The reverend testified that they were panting and
screaming out incantations when all they were doing together
were...oh, my. Pardon me." Samantha blushed when she
realized what she was alluding to.
She sighed, quickly trying to change the subject. "You and
your friends dress strangely, where do you come from?"
"Uh, France. The style of dress is much different there."
"I'm sure it is," she said matter-of-factly. "I don't
believe you, but I don't think that you're lying to conceal
a malevolence, but rather to protect me. Besides, it doesn't
matter. I have a keen sense about people, and I trust you.
Come with me. You need shelter, you can come with me to my
home."
"I appreciate that, but I have to do something about getting
my friends out of the stocks."
"There's nothing that you can do for them during the day, My
sister and I will help with your friends, but we'll need to
work during the cover of darkness. Now come with me, before
you're captured too."
Samantha led me through a path in the woods that led closer
to the town's center, we approached a small nondescript
federal style house at the end of a cobblestone street. We
managed to slip in through the back door, unseen by anyone's
eyes.
"Samantha, can I ask you a question?" I took a seat in her
sparse dining room as she nodded her assent. "What were you
doing in the woods before?"
"I was gathering wild mushrooms for my... for cooking." She
turned away and walked into the pantry.
There was a lot to this girl that I couldn't figure out but
she was my only hope to help me free my companions, so I had
no choice but to trust her. I told her about our
predicament, leaving out a lot of the pertinent details like
coming from the 20th century or the messy bit about the time
travel and the leprechaun. I'm not sure she believed my
story -- she seemed to be tremendously perceptive -- but she
didn't challenge it, anyway. During the middle of my
account, her sister Tabitha came in and cast a suspicious
glance in my direction. They talked for a couple of minutes
before Tabitha volunteered to take some food to Wijit. I
gave her rough directions to the train car and she seemed to
know the area well enough to find it. I tried to explain
that it was our carriage that overturned and the horses had
fled -- after all, train travel was a good 150 years away.
I'm not sure either one of them believed me, though.
"Don't forget your potions, Tabitha."
"Potions. What do you mean potions?" I was a little wary of
what they had planned for Wijit.
Samantha just laughed. "I said potions, but you would think
of them as medicines. Tabitha and I have quite an extensive
supply of ... medicines that have great healing power.
She'll bring some salves and your friend's shoulder will be
as good as new. Tabitha has a ...sense about what people
need. She's very intuitive."
That pacified me a little and I thought that if she really
had any evil intentions, all she'd have had to do was to
turn me into to the constables and I'd be up in stocks with
the women.
"You must be hungry, John. I was just about to make the
evening meal. Would you care to join me?" Samantha asked.
"Yes. I'm starving. Thank you."
"I thought I'd make brown bread, corn and boiled mutton. Do
you like boiled mutton?"
"Does anybody?" Diplomacy, diplomacy, I reminded myself. "I
mean, anything will be fine."
What the hell animal did mutton come from, I wondered. Not
that it mattered; I was hungry enough to eat a horse. Wait a
minute, it couldn't be, could it? No, I think back then
horses were too valuable to eat. At least I hoped so.
All through the meal I found that I couldn't help but gaze
at Samantha. I hadn't noticed it before, and it was
difficult to see because of all of the layers of thick black
clothing that she was wearing, but she was a stunningly
beautiful girl. Her black hair peeked out teasingly beneath
her bonnet and her blue eyes sparkled with everything that
she said.
"So, how is it that two women come to own a house by
themselves?"
"This was our parents' house. But they passed away last
year, so now Tabitha and I take care of it." She brushed
some loose hair out of her eyes and there was just something
so innocent yet seductive in her action.
"That's an awful lot of responsibility for two women back
th...now, how old are you?" It was difficult to tell with
all of the clothing that she wore, but I wouldn't have
guessed that she was a day over twenty five.
"I am nineteen and Tabitha is eighteen. It *is* hard work
for women without husbands -- but we don't want them either
-- we have skill at dressmaking, and grow our own
vegetables in the garden out back, so we can provide for
ourselves. But not having husbands is why my sister and I
are looked down upon. All those men; they're all hypocrites.
Narrow minded idiots. Tabitha and I were raised by very open
minded parents. You could say we're a little different than
most other people here in Salem. They're so intent on
finding that someone isn't as pure as they *pretend* to be.
One of these days, they're going to accuse the wrong
person..." she stopped herself after working up her
emotions. "But enough of me, what about you? Is one of those
women your wife?"
I laughed, maybe a bit too loudly. "No. They're just
friends. We were traveling and sort of got sidetracked
here."
"The clothing they wear, and you too. It's all
so...revealing. This is truly the way you dress where you
come from?"
"Pretty much -- well, except for Virago. She has her own
unique way of dressing. But the rest of us are dressed
normally." Actually with the leather leggings and vest she
was wearing, Virago could have fit in nicely on Hollywood
Blvd. But I wouldn't be the one to mention that to her. I
had learned first hand that Virago had quite a temper, and
I'd just as soon have her on my side than against me.
"It's so fascinating. So...so revealing. They all look so
wonderful, though."
"I'm sure you look just as nice, you're just covered with
this heavy clothing." It was more like draperies that she
was wearing. These puritans certainly had modesty down to a
science. "You should allow yourself to get more comfortable.
You could at least take the bonnet off."
I reached over and gently removed the bonnet that was
restraining her hair. She had a look of apprehension as I
did, but as soon as it was off she smiled and shook her jet
black hair out, letting it flow smoothly to her shoulders,
shining as it caught the rays of the late afternoon sun that
filtered in through the window. It was amazing how beautiful
she looked with this simple transformation. I took a wisp of
hair in my hand and brushed it back, grazing my hand lightly
against her cheek as I did.
We stood breathlessly next to each other as I let my hand
linger on her face.
"You're so beautiful. It's a shame you don't show more of
yourself. I'd very much like to see you dressed
more...casually."
"I'd like to, but I don't know. It all seems so...wicked."
Samantha blushed.
"You just need to relax. Just because they say it's wicked,
it doesn't mean they're right. You said yourself how narrow
minded they are. Look at me, do I seem evil?"
"Isn't that what the devil would say? 'Trust me, you can eat
the apple'." Samantha threw her head back in laughter. She
had no idea how lovely she was. "I'll be back. Wait right
here."
Samantha skipped out to a back room, an impish grin
brightening her face. After a couple of minutes she emerged
from her room, wearing nothing but a simple white cotton
evening gown. As plain as it was, the gown was so much more
flattering to Samantha than her black dress and I was
overwhelmed.
"You're beautiful, do you know that?" I smiled at Samantha
and her face boiled crimson. Her breasts pressed against the
front of her dressing gown and rose and fell with her deep
breathing.
"Do you really think so?" Her voice was almost a whisper and
she was shaking like a scared little girl.
"Absolutely." I brushed her cheek with the back of my hand
and leaned in for a kiss. She hesitated at first, pulling
back slightly from my advance. I held her firmly and tried
to steady her nervousness. After appearing to be wrestling
with her conscience she looked deeply into my eyes and took
a deep breath as she brought her lips to mine. We kissed
standing in the middle of the room for what seemed like
hours. Her unsupported breasts pressing against my chest
felt heavenly and I think I could have stayed like that
forever. I slid my hands down to her firm ass and kissed her
neck. I nibbled on her earlobe and she began to writhe in my
grasp, trying to grind her pussy against my thigh. I don't
even think she realized what she was doing; she was acting
solely on instinct.
"Why don't we go lie down. We'll be more comfortable," I
suggested.
"Oh, I don't know what I'm getting into. This is so wrong."
She pulled away from me slightly, yet was still staring in
my eyes.
"Come on," I whispered. "Trust me. Has anything felt bad, so
far?"
"Well, I suppose not. But relations with a man I'm not
married to seems so...so..."
Not waiting for her for finish her protest, I took her hand
and led her to the bedroom. When we approached the bed, I
gave her a tender kiss on the lips and placed my hands by
her sides and began to lift off her dressing gown.
She was shaking like a leaf, and I had my doubts about what
I was going to do. She was a virgin after all, and her first
lover was about to be someone 300 years younger than her.
This was not a late 20th century girl with late 20th century
morals and ideas about sex. For Samantha, this violated just
about all of the social mores of 17th century Puritan
society and I had some serious doubts as to whether or not I
was willing to accept that responsibility. All that having
been noted though, my rational side was still quickly losing
out to my lust for this girl. I'm sorry, I was years away
from home and had expected to be at a Roman orgy right about
now. I was horny. Not that my circumstances affected my
lust. I'm pretty much horny all the time. And being with
this incredibly sexy young woman was certainly not doing
anything to quell my passion.
Just as I was questioning my resolve, she gave me a shy
smile that let me know that whatever her doubts may have
been, she wanted this to happen.
I pulled the garment over her head and was taken aback by
her utter beauty. Her puritan skin, untouched by the light
of day, was a silky alabaster and was unimaginably smooth.
She had beautiful flared hips and wonderfully firm breasts
that stood out proudly, their nipples puckering in the
slight chill of the room.
Samantha lay on the thick quilts of the bed as I took my
shorts and shirt off. She giggled slightly at the sight of
my erection, and I was taken aback by her reaction. Hell,
it's not the most comforting thing for the ego to have one's
wood laughed at by a woman, a virgin no less.
"Surely you can't expect *that* to fit inside me, it's so
big." I smiled broadly, knowing that there aren't many
things a woman can say to a man that are as ego boosting as
'it's so big.'
I assured her that it would, indeed, fit and I sidled next
to her on the bed. Samantha took a deep breath as I began
kissing her body from her neck down to her navel. I wanted
to show this girl how pleasurable that sex could be, but I
thought twice before bringing my mouth down to her pussy. I
wasn't sure if cunnilingus was even done *anywhere* in 1692
-- although I was pretty confident that those kinky puritans
didn't go around eating pussy. I was trying to relax
Samantha, not frighten the bejeeses out of her.
I reversed my direction and began climbing back up her body.
I clamped my lips over her left nipple, and then the right.
The rosy peaks stiffened at the contact with my tongue and
my she started writhing under me and moaning as I took turns
nibbling each one.
I positioned myself above her and ran my cock over the lips
of her now engorged labia. She was much wetter than I
thought she'd be as I began to press myself into her. She
smiled nervously as I pressed my cock inside her slowly. I
was determined to be gentle with her; it had been years
since I'd made love to a virgin, and I didn't want to repeat
the mistakes I made as a bumbling teenager.
She winced a bit as I stretched out her vagina. God, she was
tight. I had forgotten what a virgin pussy was like,
especially after being on the train for the past week. The
women on the train whom I'd been with were all wonderful and
incredibly sexy, but let's face it, I was definitely not
their first. However, this girl's vagina had a vice like
grip on my cock and I had to concentrate my utmost at not
losing it too quickly.
I was kissing her neck and brought one of my hands down to
play with her clit as I drove my cock in and out of her sex.
The added stimulation from my fingers was all she needed.
Her moaning increased and she started thrusting up at my
cock, trying to get as much of me inside as possible. As her
orgasm neared, she had a look of terror in her eyes that was
quickly replaced with ecstacy as she surrendered to the
pleasure she was experiencing. She began to pant in orgasm,
and I lost all hope of self control and just three strokes
later was emptying myself into her pussy.
I rolled off of her and pulled a quilt up to cover us as we
snuggled together. She laid her head on my chest and I found
myself absentmindedly running my fingers through her shiny
black hair. She was still breathing heavily when she looked
up and smiled contentedly at me.
"Remind me to trust you more often. That was amazing," she
looked at me lovingly through heavy eyelids and placed a
brief kiss on my lips. She may have thought I was amazing,
but then again, I was her first, she really had nothing to
compare it to. Damn, I hated it when self-doubt crept in. I
placated myself that amazing was amazing, no matter how
little experience that she had. In addition, she considered
me 'so big'. I really, *really* liked her.
I smiled as I returned her kiss and realized at that point
that it would be hard to leave this girl. However, 300 years
would be stretching the definition of a long distance
relationship, and Louie had made it clear that we couldn't
bring anybody from the past back on the train with us.
Fucking wee bastard.
We laughed together as we snuggled, tickling each other,
playing footsie, and pretty much just enjoying the
proverbial post-coital bliss. I checked my watch and saw
that it was just shortly after nine o'clock.
"Is that a time piece on your arm?" Samantha marveled at my
watch. "That's such an odd looking item. Nothing like the
time pieces we have here."
"Well, like I said. I come from far away." I really didn't
think she could ever really comprehend exactly *how* far
away.
"We still have the matter of rescuing your friends," she
reminded. "Although I have half a mind to keep you in this
bed with me forever."
"As tempting as that sounds, I can't let them stay in stocks
any longer. It's night now, and I need to go out and try to
rescue them -- although I have no clue how I'm going to do
that."
"Don't worry, John. I have everything all worked out. The
two guards now on duty get replaced by one at midnight. At
that point, we'll go out and I'll distract the guard while
you sprinkle some powder I'll give you at the guard. Then
he'll go to sleep and we'll take his key and free your
friends."
"What kind of powder are we talking about? Your sister had
some special salve that she was going to use on Wijit, and
now you have some powder that's going to knock the guard
out. Is there something about yourself that you'd like to
tell me?"
"Let's just say that I oppose the witch trials for a more
personal reason." Samantha smiled sheepishly as it dawned on
me that I had just finished having sex with a witch. Well, I
didn't have warts on my face, and my dick hadn't fallen off
so I figured that I was probably safe. It's funny, witches
don't have cold tits after all. It's amazing the things time
travel teaches you.
I convinced Samantha that we could take a little nap and
wake up in time for the changing of the guard. I tried to
explain to her what a watch alarm was, but I resigned myself
to ask her to take my word on it. She was so tired that it
didn't take much convincing at all and within a minute she
was fast asleep. My only thoughts as I was drifting to sleep
was that I hoped I remembered how to set the alarm properly.
The last thing I wanted was to wake up to the light of day
to get a ringside seat for my friends' hangings. There was
no hope that they wouldn't be convicted. I had a funny
feeling that these people knew the outcome of the trials
before they actually took place.
end part 1
-------------
This is Copyright 1999 by
John3365A@aol.com. All rights reserved.
Do Not Repost.
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