by Rebecca Foxx
“You, my lady, are an absolute delight,” he praised her, adding as he cupped her flushed cheeks in two tender hands, “Just be forewarned that I intend to take up much more of your time before you go home to America—that is, if I do indeed decide to let you go home.”
Escorting her back to her hotel room and dropping her off at the door of her suite, Jeremy asked her to meet him at dusk the next evening on the banks of the River Thames; joining his celebrated Werewolf in London tour.
“Although I fear that I cannot guarantee you the same amount and degree of thrills and excitement that we shared together this evening,” he admitted with a cheeky wink, “I guess I can always try.”
Chapter three
These words echoed in Sidney’s psyche at dusk the next evening, when she joined a small group of people on the banks of the River Thames; uniting with a diverse collection of college students, senior citizens, and middle aged tourists who all came prepared to learn the legend of the London werewolf.
Jeremy, much to her disappointment, greeted her with a warm but less than intimate kiss at the moment of her arrival; bussing her forehead as he took her hand in his and introduced her to the crowd.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am honored to inform you that joining us for tonight’s tour will be none other than Sidney Lange,” he told the gathered group, adding as he made a broad gesture in Sidney’s direction, “I’m sure you recognize her as the author of some of the best werewolf romances ever written.”
A flattered Sidney smiled and nodded as she acknowledged both Jeremy’s praise and the ensuing applause of the crowd; at the same time questioning the way in which her previously passionate lover seemed to be avoiding her gaze—quickly moving to the head of the group to commence the evening’s agenda.
“I do have to remember, of course, that he is on the clock right now. He has to stay professional at all times, for the duration of the tour,” she reminded herself, adding as she pursed her lips in the direction of the spiral bound notebook clasped in her own hands, “And, for that matter, so do I.”
Seeing the Werewolf in London tour as a prime opportunity to research her own paranormal reads, she listened attentive as their knowledgeable guide chronicled the legend of the werewolf; recalling everything from the ancient werewolf legends of ancient Greece and Romania to retellings of those legends played and portrayed in the pages of paranormal novels and the frames of horror movies.
Elaborating on this theme, Jeremy took them on a tour of several gothic houses that had served as the setting of a number of books and films included in this canon, as well as an extensive tour of some of the filming locations for the popular movie “An American Werewolf in London”; sites that included the Tower Bridge, the London Zoo, the Tottenham Court Road Tube Station, Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus.
Throughout the course of the tour, both Jeremy and Sidney paused to answer questions regarding the legend of the werewolf; talking and laughing with the crowd as everyone present seemed to enjoy the tour thoroughly.
Yet even as she both reveled in and learned from the Werewolf in London walk, Sidney couldn’t help but ache inside as her ever professional tour guide avoided her attempts at personal conversation at all times throughout the evening; even ducking off in the other direction when she tried to hold his hand.
“Is he indeed just trying to remain as professional as possible?” she asked herself, adding as she felt her cheeks flush to embarrassed effect, “Or did he decide that the sample was ample last night, and he just doesn’t want any more of me?”
Finally, as midnight approached and the tour neared its close, Jeremy struck a tall firm stance before the group as he told them, “So now I have taught you everything that you need to know about the werewolf legend—from the ancient myths to the modern retellings that we see in books and movies. Does anyone have any questions?”
A wave of total silence met this request; one that Sidney was tempted to break by asking, “Why are you being such a royal douchebag, Jeremy?”
Yet for once in her life she chose to remain silent; joining the rest of the crowd as they shook their heads in response to the guide’s request.
“All right then,” Jeremy assented with a sharp, all too professional nod. “So I guess that brings us to the final and most exciting part of our tour; a little interlude that I like to call Interview with a Werewolf. That’s right, Ladies and Gentlemen; on this evening you will get to meet a real live werewolf. All you have to do to access this illusion is close your eyes and believe.”
“Cha, that’s exactly what got me into trouble last night,” Sidney murmured, even as she joined her fellow and sister tourists in closing their eyes tight; many of them taking in their breath as they awaited the arrival of the phantom werewolf.
Sidney jumped in her place moments later, as the sound of a high pitched, blood curdling howl rent the air above them; bringing her eyes open and her shoulders square as she witnessed the impossible.
Standing now before the gaping crowd was, as promised, a ‘real live werewolf’; a statuesque creature covered from head to toe in thick tufts of cinnamon brown fur, as well as sporting a long angular nose, pointed claws and razor sharp fangs.
The group gasped as one as the phantom werewolf pitched his head back in a leonine fashion; letting loose with a mighty howl that seemed to serenade the full golden beacon that loomed high above them.
“Great make up effects,” A young man hovering close beside Sidney whispered in her ear, all the while casting an admiring gaze at the costumed performer who pranced and growled before them.
“Only I’m not so sure that the man before us is indeed a costumed performer,” Sidney mused in silence, “Or that his transformation has anything at all to do with makeup effects.”
Indeed, she immediately recognized the long cinnamon hair, the wide dark eyes and the full, soft lips of the werewolf before them; as well as the long fingernails and the telltale growl that the man behind the wolf had displayed last night.
And when his deeply accented voice bid them all good night, accenting his words with a second loud howl that sent all of the other tourists running for cover, she knew without a doubt that the werewolf before her was indeed a man she knew all too well.
“Why don’t you run from me?” Jeremy demanded, shaking his shaggy head from side to side as his sole remaining spectator remained glued to her spot.
Sidney shrugged.
“Is there any reason why I should?” she asked him, arching her eyebrows in a show of keen inquisition. “Do you want me to go, Jeremy?”
Her lover shook his head.
“No, Sidney. I don’t want you to go. As insane as this sounds, I think I’m falling in love with you,” he revealed, adding as he bared his fangs and claws for her cool inspection, “Yet now that you’ve seen me for the monster I am, how on earth could you want to stay?”
Sidney pursed her lips.
“Well let me answer your question with a question,” she suggested, adding as she cocked her head sharp in his direction, “Are you going to hurt me, Jeremy? Have you every hurt anyone?”
Jeremy shook his head.
“No, love,” he insisted. “Although my body may appear monstrous, I maintain the mind and heart of a man—and I always have, since the first time the fever of the moon came to claim me five years ago.”
Sidney nodded.
“What happened to you, Jeremy?” she asked, voice softening as she moved closer to him.
Jeremy sighed.
“I was working my way through college as a tour guide when I lead my first night tour of the London countryside,” he began, tone low and haunted. “Suddenly a vicious howling wolf dog emerged from behind a tree, biting into the arm of an innocent little boy while his parents stood by helpless.” He paused here, adding as he trembled outright at the memory, “I tore the wolf away from the boy and was attacked myself for my efforts—its sharp fangs tearing into my throat. And although the creature did not take my lif
e, it did manage to claim my soul.”
With these words he cast his gaze upward; observing the glory of the luminous full moon as it shone above them.
“With every passing of the full London moon, I undergo this awful transformation,” he revealed, voice barely above a whisper. “It is then that I become a monster.”
His eyes flew wide as a pair of all-encompassing arms flew suddenly around his waist; drawing him into the unmistakable bounds of a kind, loving embrace.
“You’re not a monster,” Sidney assured him on a whisper, burying her face in the luxurious soft fur that covered his massive chest, “You’re a hero. You saved that little boy from a terrible fate.”
Yet even as Jeremy wrapped two loving arms tight around Sidney’s back, he shook his head brisk in response to her words.
“Only to suffer the same fate myself,” he murmured, adding as he pulled her closer to him, “On that night, Sidney, I gave up on the idea of ever finding the love of my cursed life—someone who would truly understand me.”
Sidney nodded.
“So that’s why you tried so hard to push me away this evening,” she told him, adding with arched eyebrows, “You forget, though, that I just so happen to fancy werewolves.”
With these words she reached upward to touch his lips with a whisper soft kiss; lingering just long enough to pour all of the love and affection that she could muster into this simple but meaningful expression of love.
Then she pulled backward to open her eyes; beholding in full the beautiful face of the man she adored.
Once again she beheld the beauty of Jeremy, as expressed through his bronzed skin, chiseled cheekbones, full moist lips and wide dark eyes; effervescent gems that now shone forth with the dearest, deepest affection for the woman before him.
Oh, and she also couldn’t help but notice the fact that—now that her lover was totally devoid of the fangs, fur and claws that had plagued him moments earlier—Jeremy now stood gloriously and conveniently naked before her admiring eyes.
“Sometimes when you kiss a frog, Miss, he surely does turn into a prince,” Jeremy whispered, adding as he swept her up in an all-consuming embrace, “And when you kiss a wolf, he just might turn in to a man who is falling madly in love with you.”
Sweeping his lady off her feet with a low impassioned growl, he tossed her into the softness of the whisper soft grasses that bordered the River Thames; covering her body with his as he seized her lips in a binding, passionate kiss.
Her breasts crushed the surface of his hard massive chest as their hips and thighs interlocked between them; their tongues also entangling as their joined bodies immersed themselves in the rays of the moon above.
Plying her lover’s lips with adoring kisses as she stroked and massaged his bare planed back, Sidney smiled as he bowed his bronzed head to her neck and nipped her skin with his infamous fangs; pulling her body closer than close as she ran her adoring hands through the strands of his luxurious cinnamon brown hair.
“My darling,” he growled out, hoisting his hard hips suggestive against hers as their legs interlocked between them. “Do allow me to devour you.”
With these words he again seized her lips in a white hot passionate kiss; his hard planed body losing itself in the wonders of her feminine softness.
The song of low flying nightingales and harmonious crickets arrived to christen their newborn love; serenading the couple with an ethereal melody as they rolled together across the surface of a thick grassed knoll.
Running an attentive hand across her full breasts and down the surface of her rounded stomach, Jeremy stroked open her feminine folds and kneaded her hungry clit; all the while settling himself between her parted thighs.
“I would at this point like to thank you, my lady, for your trust, your acceptance, and most importantly your love,” he whispered against her lips, adding as he layered these lips with a sound resounding lick, “Also I want to show you that it is all worthwhile—that no earthly experience can compare to the act of making love with a werewolf.”
With these words he surged his long hard cock to the very depths of her wet femininity; all the while continuing to knead and stroke the skin of her inflamed nub.
Squirming outright in his arms as he coddled and cradled her fully made back, Sidney ran her hands down his hard muscled torso as she braced her legs on his rock hard thighs.
Her eyes flew wide moments later as Jeremy moved and shifted within her; the tip of his stiff cock seeming to seek the source of her ultimate pleasure.
Soon enough he found it, his shaft making divine contact with a soft fleshy spot situated just inside her feminine entry.
And just then, he hit the spot.
An enraptured Sidney screamed outright as Jeremy found and ignited that magnetic source of pleasure known as the G-spot; clawing her lover’s shoulders and back as he brought out the animal in her.
Soon enough Jeremy joined her in the throes of passion that threatened to overwhelm them both; surging deep and hard within her as his own ecstasy arrived in grand fashion moments later.
The two rolled wild and free in the beams of the moon as they exploded in a haze of pure, incredible pleasure; clinging to one another as they shared a secret smile that seemed to speak volumes.
“You’re incredible,” he praised her, adding as he cradled her easy in his arms, “I have to see you again, Sidney.”
His love grinned.
“Well seeing as to how your job is here, and I can technically write anywhere,” she reasoned, “I might just stay on here in London, which really would be an ideal place to research a werewolf novel.”
Jeremy nodded.
“Especially when one considers the fact that your boyfriend is indeed a werewolf,” he reminded her, adding with an appropriately wolfish grin, “One who knows better than anyone just how to devour you—and make you howl.”
THE END
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Inferno
Chapter 1
When she thinks back on it, Tiffany sees her life in two parts. Part one consisted of her life before turning fifteen; she was a nerd in middle school, but had a large group of friends. She wasn’t ugly, but she was a straight-A student and the boys tended to ignore her. That all changed when her mother got remarried to Hunter. This was part two—when Tiffany met Clarke.
Clarke was Hunter’s son, and only one year older than Tiffany. He was tall and lean, obsessed with working out and taking runs on the beach. On more than one occasion Tiffany would wake up early on a Saturday or Sunday and walk past Clarke’s room only to find it empty. She would then proceed to walk over to the enormous glass window that overlooked the ocean. Her family lived in Orange Reef, Colorado, in an enormous pale yellow mansion that overlooked the sea. It was a luxury her mother could afford, as she worked as a criminal defense lawyer. Tiffany’s bio father worked as a painter, and for a while things worked out well between her parents. That all changed when the fighting started.
They disagreed on almost everything, from what color to paint the walls to whether or not they should move to a smaller house. The arguments escalated the older Tiffany got. Her father wanted to quit his day job to make paintings on the beach every day, but her mother had other ideas. She told him that he couldn’t just live off her money like some sort of child. Tiffany at the time was a child. She had no idea what to do about her parent’s fighting, so she spent her days hanging out on the dock. It was an aging strip of wood built back when Orange Reef was a fishing port.
She spent hours dangling her legs over the water while squinting into the horizon. On bad days, she could hear her parent’s arguing all the way on the dock. But on good days all she could hear was the rush of the ocean and the swell of her lungs as they expanded and contracted in her growing chest. Though she started out young adulthood as a skimpy blonde, her body began to grow outward. She wasn’
t as skinny as she once was, and her chest began to expand. She started out chubby in her legs with larger breasts than all her friends. Her eyes were dark green and she had long, blonde hair that she kept pulled back in a messy bun.
The day her father moved out, he gave her his oversized jean jacket that was covered in paint splatters. She wore it almost every day, using it to cover up her voluptuous body. That was when she was thirteen, almost ten years ago. Her parents split that summer, and she met Hunter the August before Tiffany’s fifteenth birthday. She was a Libra, born in the middle of October. Like her father, Libra women were artistic and emotional.
Her mother introduced her to Hunter Alpert before his son, Clarke. They had a dinner on the veranda and Hunter cooked burgers and hot dogs. Tiffany liked Hunter; she didn’t have a problem with the fact that her parents were divorced. It was exciting to have two homes to go to, and Hunter was pretty cool for a dad. That winter, he moved in with his sixteen-year-old son, Clarke. And after that, there was no turning back.
