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Message-ID: <35472asstr$1014941409@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: elf@drizzle.com (Elf Sternberg)
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Cache-Post-Path: yasure!elf@cascadia.drizzle.com
Subject: {ASSM} Bloody Beth, Chapter 8  (ff, historical romance, slow)
Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2002 19:10:09 -0500
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Bloody Beth, Chapter 8

Beth greeted the knock on her door with relief. The ship's steward had
just come to her with the news that their quick flight had left them
low on supplies. They had planned on stopping at a small island in the
Grenadines which most of the ships around here used as neutral
territory and which had water, but one of her men had spotted The
Medusa, Morrow's ship, and they had steered clear. The water was the
worst news, but even the food had gotten short. Bart had taken to
coaxing rats out of the bilge, smashing them on the head, and tossing
them into whatever Seaburr was cooking that night.

"Come in," she said.

"My lady," came her brother's voice as he announced himself.

"My lord," she replied with some small irony. She had never thought of
herself as a lady in her adult life, and the idea that she should be
considered one now struck her as absurd. Still, that was the title
Jacob insisted upon using about her and she was not going to argue it
with him.

"It is good to see you well," he began as he closed the door behind
himself. "I was concerned when you showed up with a bullet wound in
the meat of your arm."

"It heals. They always do." He cringed at her familiarity with
injuries. She just grinned. "Sit, Jacob." She indicated the one spare
chair, the one she shared every morning with Spike, even now with
Jessica sharing the cabin. Jessica had learned that, on the sea, the
rituals of the sea were as sacrosanct as those of the Holy Church of
England. There was no compromise here, no, not even for love.

Jacob took the chair easily. In his simple breeches and blouse he
looked every bit the pirate. "I am concerned about other things, my
sister."

"I know." She looked at him squarely. She had come to realize that his
concerns were real, and that she would have to deal with them soon
enough. "Your concerns are threefold. One, your sister has been dead
for nine years and suddenly comes back. What story do you tell? To
whom do you reveal the truth? What of the men who followed with her? I
tell you, Jacob, that never did we plunder an English ship that wasn't
bound for Marbry's coffers. Spanish, Dutch, even a few Frenchmen, God
knows what they were doing here.

"Two, your sister has been leading the life of a pirate for all these
years. What kind of man wants her? You know I'm not a maiden, Jacob;
even if I had been taught to keep my maidenhead precious by my nanny
while Father lived, I could not have among these men. It isn't that
they would have raped me, oh no; it just would never have occurred to
me to consider it precious after all. And I have led a life of
adventure; am I now ready to settle down and be wife to some casual
fop who's going to go fat in middle age?

"Three, and this is the biggest problem of all, you sister appears to
be something of an invert. This makes the selection of a husband all
the more troubling because what man wants to marry a woman who is not
interested in him and keeps pinching the fannies of the servant girls
herself?

"Have I got them all right?" She grinned.

"Every one. I should have guessed you were the brighter one in the
family."

"Nonsense, Jacob. You've carried yourself far better than I. You've
even got yourself a hellion for a faithful wife. She is strong, bound
for every adventure, lets modicum work where it must and throws it
overboard when it may, and besides that, she's the most beautiful
creature God has ever made. And I know beautiful women."

"Yes," Jacob said. "And you've become one yourself. So let me ask you
directly, Elizabeth: if we got to England, what would be your ideal?"

"You'll win my heart too readily with that, Jacob. You asked the right
question." She paused, tapping the dry end of the stylus against her
teeth. "I don't know. I want to go and be Elizabeth Harcourt, see what
kind of life I would be leading as a woman of the court. I suppose I'm
rather old and weatherbeaten as unmarried women go."

"Perhaps," Jacob replied. "But don't let that stop you. There are
older and more weatherbeaten men always looking for a second wife
after their first dies in childbirth. It's a sad and common enough
tale." He paused. "I hope you do marry, sister. It is good for the
soul."

"Are you really so very concerned with the state of my soul?"

Jacob looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Although I can find no
mention of it in my teachings, I am sure that you relationship with
the lady Speer is frowned upon by the teachings of the Bible."

"Jacob, I could no more deny my feelings for Jessica than I could deny
my right hand." She smiled. "It is simply something that, if I must, I
shall hide from the bishop. Two girls playing is hardly something for
the church to frown upon."

A knock at the door interrupted Jacob's possibly reply. "Cap'n, you'd
better come ha' a look at this."

"Open it. Trouble, Bart?"

The seaman stuck his head into the room. "Storm, captain. Looks bad.
Could be a hurricane."

Beth had smelled it that morning, but she had thought they could skirt
the storm. "Be right up."

On the deck, she used her Galileo glass and peered through to the
oncoming wave of black clouds and lightning. Bart hadn't been
exaggerating. It did look bad. She jumped up onto the wheeldeck, but
Stede, at the wheel, already knew what she had in mind.

"Gonna be a Hell of a squall."

"Steady as she goes, Stede. We can't outrun her if she's a hurricane,
and we can't outfight the bitch of the sea either. We'll just have to
survive it best we can." She patted him on the shoulder and he grinned
at her.

"How much gold are we going for this trip? It had better be worth it
for going through that thing."

"An honest man's worth," Beth replied. "If I miss my guess, five
hundred thousand pounds' worth for the ship. The rest, for the King of
England. And pardons for all of us."

"Every man has his dream," Stede replied.

"Every woman, too." She eyed the storm again. It loomed from one end
of the horizon to the other, threatening. She had seen storms do that
before, but there was no way to tell how big a storm was once it
reached that size. It could just be a spread-out line squall, or it
could be a hurricane. It was just about the season for it, although
usually such storms struck further north. "Just keep us afloat,
Stede."

"Do m'best," he said. "There're times when I wish Morrow was right."

"Me, too, Stede. Me too." Beth descended into the ship. Jacob had
disappeared into his cabin, she imagined. Spike had grumbled at losing
it to Jacob and Elaine, but there had been no other place to put them.

Still, Elizabeth was gratified to see that the pirate's life hadn't
broken either one of them. Elaine was a miracle with the maintenance
of the sails, and Jacob had learned navigation, knots, and rigging
quite readily. Each did their part to keep the ship running; each
understood that they were part of a compact, and if they failed the
compact it might well fail them.

Jessica fared less well. Seasick in the second week, she suspected
pregnancy. Elaine had become her nursemaid, and both Bart and Patrick
had begun to fawn over her when they learned that she might be with
child. Patrick, Beth could understand, but not Bart. That huge, hoary
black bear of a Scotsman had never turned his eye toward a woman or
womanly kindness in his life. Even some of the sodomites on board were
intimidated by Bart, who claimed he liked to "fuck the way men ought
to fuck!" That he should suddenly go all soft over a pregnancy was not
what Beth had come to expect from him. Still, some of her men had
their secret sides and hidden talents and she didn't begrudge Jessica
the attention.

She walked into her cabin to find Jessica mending clothing. It was
something she had come to do regularly, her way of helping without
getting in the way or vomiting onto the deck. The mending was
something that the men usually did themselves, but this freed them up
for other duties, such as the fish nets they had stolen off a Dutch
galley some years ago. She kept the window open. "How are you feeling
today?" Beth asked.

"Better," Jessica replied. "I think I'm coming over the sickness. I
ate some of your bread." She nodded toward the table, where a hunk of
fresh black bread awaited her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Beth replied. "We're worried that a storm may be
coming. A big one. If you're inclined to be sick, this may be the
worst time for you."

"Is it dangerous?"

Beth laughed. "Every day on the sea is dangerous, some days are just
more so than others. But yes, this is a bad one. Ships get smashed in
storms like this one. But Stede and Renny know their business; they'll
get us through this one alive. They always have."

Jessica held out her arms and Beth fell into them, gratefully. "Oh,
Beth," she sighed, "You have made my life so... queer!"

Beth laughed and kissed her. "And you have made it feel so complete,"
she sighed. "You are so beautiful, Jessica."

"Mind my mending!" Jessica laughed, saving the shirt she had been
patching together. "Later, beloved Beth. We have all the time in the
world."

"Yes," Beth agreed. "We will make that time." She kissed Jessica on
the cheek again. "I must see to my ship."

She checked with Seaburr, the ship's cook (and its barber, and its
doctor, although truthfully he was not much of any of those, but no
man was better). "There are enough to get us to the Brasilia coast,
Captain, but not much besides. We'll be hurting for water if it don't
rain."

"Get your barrels ready tonight, then. It looks to be a Hell of a
storm. We'll crew the pumps in the morning."

"Aye," he growled. Beth walked about the ship, giving orders, making
suggestions, making sure that the Crew and Compact of the Jacob's
Ladder were ready to take on whatever the coming storm, mere squall or
no, held in ready for them. She enjoyed this part of the life. The sea
held a tension that crackled about her even before the lightning that
was to come. The men jumped at her orders because they knew she was
right. She had made them comfortable, and some of them remembered the
promise she had made to make them rich. Now the time was coming when
they would see that promise fulfilled.

The rigging creaked as the men secured the sails with storm-strong
lashing, tied down the lines, cleared the deck of anything they
couldn't afford to lose, stowing tools and lines, and battened down
the hatches.

And then they waited.

Renny took over from Stede and plotted a path at an angle away from
the storm. It would take them toward land further north than Beth had
originally plotted, but there was no helping it. Dinner was eaten in
grim silence. Beth had been fooling herself with the sight of that
blackness on the horizon. However big it was, something that size was
always a killer.

At first, it was just the rain, beating on the one sail left unfurled,
the patter of it against the ship's deck. Then the wind, a soft wind
that grew-- grew like a hunger in the belly grows, at first almost
pleasant, a reminder of meals past eaten, but then the hunger grows,
as the storm's hunger grew, until one is truly suffering. Night fell
about them, and lanterns were lit. The men hauled shut every hatch and
posted a sentry at every one, each with a rope about his ankle, the
other end fixed to a beam, lest he should be swept away. Each man had
a knife to cut the rope as well, although a storm great enough to
drown a man below the hatches was a storm no man would survive.

Waves battered the Ladder as Renny, still on deck, lashed to the
wheel, fought to keep her pointed into the storm. "Bart!" Beth
ordered.

"Aye!" he replied, knowing exactly what she meant. Bart leaped for a
hatch, taking a line with him. The hatch closed behind him as one of
the other men jumped to secure it.

Jacob came back from his cabin. "The womenfolk will care for one
another," he said. "I wanted to come back and see if there was
anything I could do."

Beth's crew, small as it was, looked at him. "This is what it means,"
said Dismas, the blackest man Jacob had ever met, and one who
sometimes spoke in riddles. "You sit with the rats and you wait. You
can no see, you can just hear the ocean. It wants to kill you. Always
it wants to kill you. Now is angry enough to try."

Beth nodded. "We wait. We hope Bart and Renny make it through the
night alive. We hope the storm isn't as bad as it--" A powerful surge
forced the ship upwards and every man held onto something to keep from
being swept to the stern. Timbers creaked. A loud crack rolled through
the ship. "Captain! We've lost the top of the mizzen!" a voice
shouted.

"Nothing we can do 'til morning!" she shouted back. "Hold tight, men!"

Hold they did. Hold until dawn.
_________________________________________________________________

Somehow, the ship made it. The storm had been ugly, but it had not
been a monster hurricane. The rear mast had been showing signs of rot,
so Beth wasn't that surprised to see it go. She stood on the deck as
the men swarmed over it. Bart and Renny had been sent downstairs and
Seaburr assured her that both men had done their tasks without harm.
"Next time," Renny had told her after the storm had passed, "You take
the wheel."

"It's a deal," she told the short man with the charming voice. "Where
are we?" she asked Jacob.

"Closer to the Spanish main than we really want to be. We wanted to be
much further south."

"Beeline for the Amazon," she shouted up onto the wheeldeck. A whirr
of sheeting and a loud thud accompanied the sounds of the mizzen
topsail being dropped. After the mast had broken it had hung there,
bound and useless, through the night.

"Let's hope we don't encounter anyone on the way," she muttered to her
brother. "We've got no place to hang the spanker, and that's one sail
you want if you're to outmaneuver an enemy. We can fix it on the way
back, but with five hundred tons in the hold we'll be in a similar
fix, wallowing. Father overbuilt this ship because it had to be both a
privateer and a cargo vessel from inside Brasilia all the way to
England. But it can't do both at the same time. That's its weakness."

"Father put the family fortune into this ship," Jacob said, "Because
he knew a larger one could well come from it. I'm sorry he had to die
to have it happen."
_________________________________________________________________

They made for Brasilia and headed southwards. Soon, with the help of a
crossstick, Beth announced that they were at the right latitude.
Jessica proved to have the best eyes on the whole ship, and soon she
was standing on the forecastle, watching through the glass for the
sighting of the two stones that would indicate the path to the mine.

"How are you feeling?" Beth asked as she walked up. She handed Jessica
a leathern tankard filled with water.

"Better, thank you," Jessica said.

They sat in silence as Jessica leaned on the rails, watching the coast
sail by slowly. "Will I ever stop being a pirate, now that I've become
one?"

"Of course you shall," Beth replied. "If it's what you want. This will
just be a small time of your life, Jessica."

"That's not what I mean, Beth. I mean, do I want to stop being a
pirate?"

"Oh." Beth sat. "I've been thinking the same thing myself. One can get
used to anything so long as it means staying alive. That's what I've
learned over the years. Staying alive meant being a pirate. So that's
what I've become. Few people are really meant to become a pirate. Look
at these men. They never wanted to be pirates. They just wanted to be
boys, once upon a time. Their mums wouldn't let that happen, so they
became bandits, then pressed into naval men, and finally they became
pirates. It's an accident. A joke of the Lord's, I would imagine."

Jessica said nothing. She took up the glass and peered across the
water to shore, looking for the signs as they appeared on the chart.
Beth watched her, enticed by the stretch of her pretty neck, the long
line that led up to her rounded chin and full lips. It was hard for
her not to notice these things in Jessica.

It had taken her days to sort it out. Jessica's immediate infatuation
with her when they had met at the Coke estate had alarmed her, but
Beth had found, contrary to her own wishes, she could not stop
thinking of Jessica in anything but terms of love. She stretched out
one finger to touch that neck, to trace that soft line of white flesh
down into Jessica's shirt, down to her lovely white breasts and the
nipples that Jessica so loved to have touched. "Beth," she whispered.
"Not in the open like this!"

Beth pulled her hand back, only to replace it with her lips at
Jessica's ear. "Even if this ship is small, Jessica, I imagine that we
are too far away when you are below and I am on deck."

Jessica turned to look at her. "Thinking of you makes my knees weak,
Beth. And if you want me to find this mine of yours, let my knees be
strong."

Beth laughed, and Jessica laughed just as readily. "I will leave you
to your searching," Beth said, getting up. Even as she turned her
back, Jessica said "There!"

"What?"

"There! The stone with the nose! I see it!" She grabbed the glass and
peered through it. "Yes, there it is! And the river! Not large enough
for the Jacob, but it will take the ship's boat."

Beth ran back up to the forecastle. "Show me!"

Jessica handed her the glass and Beth peered through it. She had seen
the chart every day for two weeks now and she knew what it said
without consulting it. Jessica was right; she had found the very
place. "The mine is just a few leagues inland," she breathed. "We'll
take the ship's boat and go get the gold."

The men were efficient enough in launching the boat, and soon they
were rowing up the river. It was a slow, meandering thing, and it took
little effort to counter the flow. All around them, the jungle seemed
to close in. The screeches of colorful birds assailed them from every
angle and, as if that weren't enough, once they heard the roar of some
great animal. "They say there are dragons in these woods," Dismas
intoned gravely. "I would not like to meet one."

"Then keep to your oars," Beth said with a grin. "Soon, we'll have
more riches than you can imagine."

They rowed continuously for two hours, stopping only twice for water.
Beth tapped Dismas on the shoulder. "There! There! To the shore, men!"
_________________________________________________________________

Jacob waited anxiously on the deck. "They have been gone for five
hours!" he protested.

"These things, they take time," Seaburr assured him. "You just wait."

Jacob paced the windward stretch of the deck, taking up Beth's
priveleged position, the captain's pace, but nobody argued with him.
"Husband, you will wear a tread."

He looked up. Elaine had come up. "Here. Have some of this. The locals
call it coffee. It is strong, bitter, and it has the most invigorating
effect. You will enjoy it."

He took the offered cup and tasted. It was truly bitter, but even as
he sipped it his shoulders lighted and his mind seemed to become
clearer. "Good God!" he said. "This is better than the blackest tea
I've ever seen come from India."

"Is it not delightful, despite the taste?" she said, giving him that
soft smile that made any man who looked upon her want to melt into the
ground. Any usual man. The pirates seemed to be more afraid of her
than desirous. At her urging, he had long ago ceased to imagine that
the instant flood of warmth and of pressure that he felt in his sex at
her presence was an affront to her purity. She was so beautiful as to
be beyond such pettiness. That she adored him was a gift he never
forgot. "Look. Here comes your sister now."

He turned to see Beth and the four men with her rowing hard, their
boat laden down with a tarpaulin thrown over their cargo. "Come see!"
she shouted as they reached the Ladder. She threw aside the tarpaulin
and there, underneath, lay bars of gold, as many as the boat could
carry. "There is more there than we could take in the Ladder on one
voyage! Come! We must hurry to fill the hold."
_________________________________________________________________

Work proceeded through that day and well into the night before Beth
decided that her crew needed its rest. The hold wouldn't even be full
before she decided that the weight of the gold would limit how much
they could carry; the last thing she wanted to do was founder, not
when the stakes were so high. Each bar was pressed with the stamp of
the King of England; her father had earned the right to wield the
stamp, and it pleased her to see such an example of his handiwork.

They had found the gold stockpiled in a natural cave, just as depicted
on the chart, at the end of which was a shaft leading downwards. Scars
on the landscape around the cave had indicated a great fire, and here
and there the equipment with which the mine had operated had been
found. She had been astounded at just how large the operation had
been. Where had the men gone? Who had they been? She didn't know, and
she was ashamed to admit it. She wanted to reward them for the
incredible work they had done. Now she was here to pick up the pieces
and go on. There had been more of it than she could have imagined. One
hundred fifty TONS of gold; they could, at most, carry twenty-five
tons on board. She would never have imagined having that much gold.

For each trip: to the Harcourt estate, eight tons; to her men, another
seven tons. She pondered, briefly, what a man would do with a thousand
pounds of solid gold. She decided it did not matter. It saddened her
to think that with such riches these men would soon be the targets of
every other pirate about them. She supposed that their best bet was to
take the Jacob back to England and try to settle down there. But how
could a man like Dismas settle down? And Caflice, with his tattoos,
would never find a peaceful corner of the Earth to call his own.

She collapsed onto her bed, exhausted. She had put her back into
moving the gold along with every other man on board the ship, and she
had paid for that effort with soreness in every joint of her body. How
she wished for Amalynn's strong hands. A moment of guilt crossed her
as she thought about Amalynn's sweet body. She was an invert, yes, but
did she have to be a dishonest one as well? She adored Jessica, there
was no doubt about that. Maybe all she craved was the kind of
relaxation Jessica had no skill in giving.

Jessica, her timing terrible, chose that moment to enter. "Beth?"

"I am here, Jessica. I'm resting."

"Yes. I saw you and the men killing yourselves to load the gold. Is it
really as much as you say it is?"

"Possibly more," Beth said. "Oh, I never thought money should bring
such pain, neither here," she said, indicating her back, "nor here,"
and she touched her head.

"I understand both. You have much to do. Leave it to your brother. I
heard him discussing this with his wife. Together, they seem to
understand what is at stake with the finances."

Beth nodded. A pattering sound arose outside. "The rain I felt this
morning, it's begun," she observed, softly.

"It won't be a storm, will it?" Jessica asked.

"No, not likely. We didn't see one coming on the evening air, and
night-time storms are rare down this way. It's just a squall. It will
rain for a while, then stop, and then a harder rain will begin. We'll
use this time to collect rainwater into the barrels. The men will be
happy to have fresh water again. That river is clean enough, but it's
muddy to drink." She got up out of bed. "And I am going to use this
opportunity to scrape some of the dirt off of my body."

"Beth?"

"I have gotten used to being clean, Jessica. Care to join me?"

"I... I will at least watch." She followed Beth up onto the upper
deck. The rain was coming down only moderately, but she took refuge
under the overhang that covered the galley and protected its coals.
She watched with her own earnest interest as Beth stripped down and
tossed aside her wet clothes. In the dim light of moon, which was
still visible on the horizon, Beth's body shined with a light that
must have seemed magical, perhaps even unholy. She let the rain run
over her body as she scrubbed and scoured her flesh, removing every
trace of the dirt and sweat that was a daily part of her life. Jessica
watched as Beth stepped out under a loose sail that caught the rain
and guided it down to the deck in torrents.

Jessica decided to join her. She dropped her own clothing and joined
Beth. "Wash me?" she said.

Beth grinned and, with a cloth only slightly cleaner than she, began
to scrub Jessica's willing body. She loved Jessica's breasts, large,
soft, and willing as they were, with nipples that stood up at the
slightest provocation. "I wish I had some soap," she sighed.

"We'll buy a ton when we get to England!" Jessica giggled. "We'll
never be this filthy again!"

Beth grinned as she knelt down at Jessica's feet and performed her
ablutions on Jessica's legs, thighs, and sex. She was careful to wash
both front and backsides, and then up Jessica's back. She kneaded
Jessica's hair to get as much water into it as possible, squeezing the
water through the strands in the unlikely hope of getting the hair to
behave as it should for a lady of England.

They were gathering up their clothing and hanging it up to dry, if the
rain ever stopped before morning, when she heard a voice say, "What in
the name of God are you two doing?"

"Washing, Jacob," Beth giggled. "You might give it a try." She took
Jessica's hand and the two of them fled, laughing, into their cabin.
Beth handed Jessica a cloth suitable for drying, and the two of them
went at one another with all the enthusiasm girls reserve for each
others' company.

Beth found herself up against Jessica's naked body once again. "We are
clean again, and together, and naked," she breathed. "By God, I want
you, Jessica."

"And I have been waiting long for you, Beth." Their mouths met in an
ardent kiss, their tongues touching with a new familiarity. The taste
of rum was on each and neither cared. Beth's face warmed with the
touch of Jessica's cheeks; both women sighed as if the whole world had
been made for them to experience this one moment. Beth's hands eased
down Jessica's back until they brushed the first curves of her
buttocks.

Jessica leaned against Beth as the piratess's fingers slipped down
between the taller woman's cheeks and probed and touched in intimate
places where no one, man or woman, had ever gone. The touch was new to
her and she wouldn't have allowed it under any other circumstances.
But now she trusted Beth, and decided that if Beth wanted to explore
her body so completely she would let her.

Beth slowly knelt again, pressing her face to the soft flesh of
Jessica's sweet breasts and belly before she sank completely to her
knees, her mouth level with the thatch of black fur that covered
Jessica's pudenda. She adored the color of it, like a night without a
moon. She thrust her face against Jessica so hard that the other woman
cried out in surprise and grabbed the table behind her for balance.
Beth dug her tongue between the moist lips of Jessica's sex, taking in
a headful of her scent, her soul burning as Jessica's thighs quivered
against her cheeks. Her hands held her to Jessica as she licked at her
sex, coaxing the sweet fluid from her opening, stroking without mercy
at Jessica's already inflamed pearl of pleasure.

Jessica made little "Unh, unh, unh!" sounds as Beth tossed her head
wildly back and forth, her tongue a sea of pleasure against Jessica's
sex. Jessica had longed for this kind of attention from Beth for
weeks; they had not had much chance aboard the ship, not without
bathing, not with the attention that a ship of this size took out of
Beth every night. Jessica grew wetter under Beth's attentions.

Beth slid two fingers into Jessica's sex and pressed upwards, finding
that little spot that Amalynn had taught her about so long ago. It
worked. With a shriek of pleasure Jessica climaxed, her body trembling
as the force of their lovemaking soared through her. "Oh, Beth!" she
moaned. "Beth, Beth, Beth!"

Beth stood up. She waited for Jessica to open her eyes, and as the
other women did so she kissed her on the lips. "You liked that?"

"I love you," Jessica said, kissing Beth just as hard.

"And I love you," Beth sighed, finally mouthing the words that had
been in her heart for days now. "We must rise with the sun, if not
before," Beth murmured.

"Don't you want that..."

"Later," Beth said. "There will always be time for more."
_________________________________________________________________

Bloodybeth' is Copyright (C) 1989-2002 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.
Distribution limited to electronic media not-for-profit use only. All
other rights are reserved to the author.

--
Elf M. Sternberg, Immanentizing the Eschaton since 1988
http://www.drizzle.com/~elf/       (under construction)

Promiscuity, done right, is an inherently nerdlike pursuit that
requires discipline, practice and forethought.  -- Tracy Quan

They swash!  They buckle!  New stories at:
http://www.drizzle.com/~elf/bloodybeth/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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