by Spellbound- An Anthology of Erotically Retold Fairy Tales [Ravenous] (epub)
His body shimmered. Cassandra she shook her head to clear the vision. Without tears clouding her sight, he suddenly looked lumpy with a greenish cast to his skin. Disheartened, she looked away, thinking he wouldn’t have a chance of finding her necklace.
“My name’s Jason,” he said, placing Cassandra’s jacket over her hunched shoulders and handing her the boots. “What’s yours?”
“Cassandra Wellesley,” she responded, and glanced up into grey eyes slightly obscured by a scuba facemask.
“Where do you live?” he prodded.
“274 Cambridge Street,” she said automatically. “Do you always carry around scuba gear?”
Jason’s eyes crinkled at the corners, “Only when I’m rescuing damsels in distress.” He walked to the water’s edge, slipped on his flippers, and plunged in.
Curious onlookers gathered and created a loose crowd on either side of Cassandra. She could see two policemen heading her way, and hoped Jason wouldn’t get into trouble. The crowd began to whisper, concern growing louder as the seconds ticked by.
A stocky policeman approached her, “What’s going on here, Miss?”
Suddenly Jason rose up from the depths and came toward them dripping stringy, green slime, looking classically like the creature from the black lagoon. Ugh, Cassandra thought.
The policeman relaxed. “Hey Frog Man, little early to be dredging the pond.” He turned to the crowd. “All right folks, just the parks department taking care of clean-up. Move along.” He and his partner strolled off with the dispersing crowd.
Jason slowly approached, stripping off his face mask and head gear. Cassandra shuddered. The cop had called it right: Jason looked exactly like a frog except, she noticed, his expressive smoky-grey eyes. Everything else about his looks repelled her. She turned away mumbling, “Thank you for trying.”
“Are you a woman of your word?” he asked harshly.
“Wha…what?” She looked back to him. “Are you saying ..?” Sudden hope flared in her breast.
“You did say you’d do anything for your necklace, didn’t you?” he demanded.
“Yes!” she repeated. He held out his soggy hand and dropped the necklace into her outstretched palm. Joyfully she whispered, “Thanks. I owe you,” and kissed the locket.
* * * *
Jason’s lips burned. He fervently wished he could be that small piece of metal. He tore his gaze away from her sweet curving lips and the gentle hollow of her cheek, and tried to control himself. A wrong move from him now would send Cassandra screaming.
She got up and shrugged into her coat. “My father will be more than happy to give you payment for—”
“I don’t want money,” Jason said, walking over to his bag and starting to strip.
She followed him. “Fine. I have lots of other jewelry.”
“I don’t want your jewelry, either.” He toweled off his chest, slipped on a hooded sweatshirt, and peeled off the rest of the wet suit.
Cassandra turned away as he pulled on his jeans. There was something about his voice that excited her; but when she looked at him straight on, he was repulsive. Frustrated but determined to keep her word she said, “Fine. What do you want?”
Jason stared at her. She felt a chill. His reptilian features unnerved her.
“I want you to get to know me. I want to take you to dinner and,” he took a deep breath, “I need to lie beside you in bed.”
Relaxing, Cassandra laughed and looked around, expecting to see some film crew peeping out from the dead bushes surrounding the pond. They were alone. She slowly turned back to face him. He’s serious, and I’ve already given him my address! And her promise. Why don’t I just log onto a message board and post a blog for psychos seeking gullible women?
“I’ll pick you up at eight for dinner,” Jason said. Seeing Cassandra’s stricken expression, he added, “Remember, I said lie beside you, nothing else.”
“How…reassuring. But I—I’m not free tonight,” she said darting around him. “Sorry.” Cassandra dashed away.
At seven that night, she grabbed her overnight bag and ran downstairs to the cab she called. Cassandra came to a halt when she saw Jason calmly standing outside.
“I…I told you I was busy.”
He opened the taxi door and as she nervously got in, he said, “You gave your word. Dinner won’t be all that horrible. I’m quite amusing if you get to know me. I swear, you won’t have to see me after my requests are met.”
“I can’t,” Cassandra said. She jerked the door closed, and gave the driver her friend Holly’s address. As the cab pulled away, it stopped almost immediately at a red light. She saw three teenage kids walk past punching each other. One of them saw Jason and called out, “Hey Frog Head, which one are you? Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, or Raphael?” They cracked up. Cassandra’s cheeks burned. I’m no better, she thought.
As the cab continued down the street, Cassandra wondered if Jason’s demands were some sort of bet. “I need to lie beside you” he said. Need, not want. Maybe, she gulped, he is going to die and wants someone to actually get to know him before he croaks. She winced at the expression. Noni’s voice drifted into her mind, “Never give your word before you think out the consequences.” Sure, Cassandra thought, couldn’t you have thought of that a little earlier! She sat back in the cab feeling unfairly burdened with guilt.
Later that night, Cassandra slept on Holly’s sofa and slipped into a vivid dream. Lying face-down, she felt the pressure of an erect penis pressed against her ass. Someone was kissing the back of her neck, sending shock waves of pleasure through her body. His strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her slightly as hands alternately massaged and tweaked her nipples so they stood up taut and tight, aching for his lips and tongue. Pinned to the bed, Cassandra’s hands dug into the sheets and she arched against him. His hot skin drove her deeper into the mattress and she felt the tip of his penis wet with desire. She groaned as he kissed and gently rubbed his stubbled chin down her back, leaving a tingling rainbow of red stripes in its path. His hands moved with him and found her lips: hot, moist and ready. He opened them, finding her bud, stiff with arousal. Cassandra gasped. He inserted one, then two fingers inside her, and her body shivered with urgency. She squeezed her eyes shut. He flipped her over and pulled her legs apart. The flat tip of his cock pressed against her entrance, poised like a kiss, ready to ram itself straight into her. As his large hands grabbed her waist, she opened her eyes and saw Jason.
Cassandra screamed and bolted upright, shaking from the images she could still see in her mind. “What the hell,” she gasped.
She flung herself out of bed and padded to Holly’s bathroom. Cassandra stripped off her nightshirt and stepped into the shower. A cascade of warm water flowed over her body. It wasn’t helping fast enough. She knew of one way to dampen the fires that continued to torment her.
Cassandra took down the handle of the water massage, adjusted the pulsating rhythm of the water, and leaned against the cold white tile. With her free hand she separated her tender lips to expose her blood-engorged clitoris, and aimed the jettison of water. Cassandra closed her eyes and tried only to think of her pleasure, allowing the water to vibrate against her slit. Her thighs and buttocks clenched and let to bring the heat between her legs to a sharp aching demand. She stiffened and shuddered as the waves of release rolled through her, leaving a faint reminder of the caresses from her dream and a look of passion from a pair of grey eyes.
* * * *
Arriving home from Holly’s, Cassandra wasn’t surprised to find Jason standing beside her door. She felt her nipples harden with the memory of desire, sending pink to her cheeks. Annoyed at her body’s continual betrayal, Cassandra stalked over. Jason kept his face averted.
“If you need someone to hang with,” she said,” why don’t you just call up one of those, um, special services that provide companionship?”
“I can’t,” he said dully, then looked at her. “Perhaps if you just got to know
me.”
There was something about the expression in his eyes that made Cassandra think of a trapped animal. His horrible features seemed to build the longer she stared so she flicked her eyes away. A vague masculine outline shimmered at his core, but when she turned to face him, the repulsive frog image leaped into view, and, much as she tried, she couldn’t stop the shudder.
“Look,” she said. “For a class project I have to go to the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum and sketch her portrait. You can come along if you want.”
* * * *
Jason sat beside Cassandra on a long bench, watching her fingers move expertly over the page. Her upturned bee-stung lips gave him physical pain to look at when it registered distaste; but when her toffee-colored eyes were kind, he allowed himself hope. The side of Cassandra’s palm and tips of her fingers were black from smudging harsh pencil lines as she worked. Jason wanted to kiss those fingers. He wanted to kiss the nape of her neck and the swell of her throat. He shifted, trying to distract himself, and concentrated on her drawing.
A young couple sauntered past, unable to take their eyes off Jason. They nudged each other and snickered between them. The woman let out a squeal of laughter when her companion nuzzled her neck and whispered “ribbit, ribbit.” The pair darted out of the quiet room, laughing loudly.
“That happen to you a lot?” Cassandra asked, keeping her eyes glued to her drawing.
“I’ve gotten used to it,” Jason admitted.
“It’s odd how people’s natural kindness vanishes when they see you. It’s as if your strange appearance reaches out and touches their soul, awakening whatever ugliness was hidden there. I guess you get to see the truth in people, whether you want to or not.”
It wasn’t something Jason had ever thought of before. He didn’t know how to respond. He stood up as Cassandra put away pencils and folded her pad into her backpack. “Would you like to have High Tea?” he asked. “The museum does it right. Small finger sandwiches, chocolate truffles—”
“No, thanks,” she said, watching his shoulders sag, “but a nice dinner somewhere in the North End would be okay.” Cassandra quickly looked away.
* * * *
They were both glad they had been seated at a booth in the back, safe from prying eyes. The heady aroma of garlic, oregano and tomato sauce permeated the air of Mama Maria’s, an upscale Italian restaurant sparkling with candlelight and fine crystal.
During the course of the meal, Cassandra discovered she and Jason had more in common than she would have guessed. He was involved in several causes that promoted Greenpeace, was well read, and loved art. She’d confessed how she always wanted to study art abroad and volunteered at an animal shelter twice a week.
The conversation flowed as smoothly as the mellow cabernet sauvignon he’d ordered. It was an odd request, but he insisted they share each dish, including the entrees, which was fine with Cassandra. She loved variety. And if she didn’t linger more than a few seconds on his face, she could listen to the lush tone of Jason’s voice with pleasure. The sound sent a responsive thrill down her body. She realized with satisfaction that the dinner would fulfill two-thirds of her promise.
Cassandra never thought she’d be able to eat so much, but everything smelled and tasted delicious. The roasted fennel and scallop soup, creamy fresh buffalo mozzarella, spicy arugula with smoked bacon, and aged goat cheese were only the beginning. The leisurely pace of the meal blended beautifully with the conversation and when their entrees came two hours after they’d started, she tucked into the tender pumpkin ravioli, with gusto. At the end of the meal they sat back and sighed, too stuffed to think of dessert.
Cassandra was twirling her wine glass, feeling mellow and contemplating having another, when she sensed Jason stiffen and looked up. There, beside their table, stood the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Her black, shining hair waved down her back, her eyes sparkled green, and she had red ruby lips anyone would envy.
The woman stared at Jason, a thin smile pressed into her lips. “Hello, Frog.”
“Cassandra, I’d like to introduce you to my twin sister, Flea,” he said curtly. There was no warmth in his voice.
“Alfia, darling,” she hissed, and turned her sharp gaze on Cassandra.
Cassandra smiled, extending her hand, “Nice to meet you, Alfia.” On contact, she yanked it away from the cold, corpse-like grip and shuddered as Flea’s gorgeous hair shimmered before her. Its glossiness seemed to turn oily and the tendrils twirled and undulated like a writhing pack of eels ready to strike. Cassandra blinked and the image returned to normal. Alfia’s eyes narrowed into slits as she watched Cassandra grab her wine glass and take the last sip with shaking fingers. I may not be comfortable with how Jason looks, she thought, but it is certainly better than how this woman makes me feel.
* * * *
How ironic, Jason thought. Before Flea had dabbled in witchcraft and cast this curse, he used his charm and charisma to bed countless women. But in all that time he had never lost his heart. He remembered how unfortunate it was that as handsome as he had been, his twin had grown up ugly. Full of bitter venom, she accused him of stealing all her beauty and nurtured one burning desire: to make him feel her pain.
Jason was now a condemned outsider, repellant to all who looked upon him, unable to break the curse—until he fell in love. He had to give Flea credit for being creative, and clenched his jaw when he remembered the last codicil.
“Your love alone will not be enough, Brother. You must convince your loved one to share everything: food, thoughts, desires, and,” she’d said with glee, “although you will be unable to explain why, you must also share her bed!” She’d laughed a hysterical, insane laugh, which chilled him even now to remember it.
Jason resolved to ensure Flea didn’t find out he’d fallen in love. She would do anything to keep the curse intact, including ensuring Cassandra’s death by morning. He groaned inwardly, knowing what he would to have to do next.
“Would you like to join us for a drink?” he asked, signaling the waiter.
Alfia’s suspicious eyes raked over his face before she slipped into the booth beside Cassandra. “How kind,” she cooed.
Cassandra was engulfed by her cloying perfume, gagged, and reconsidered another drink.
“Cassandra,” Alfia started conversationally as the waiter brought her a glass. Jason poured the win. “Did you know that Frog was once voted mostly likely to succeed by his class at Princeton? Now look at him.” She patted his head. “He’s all alone, and working as a park maintenance man.”
“The outdoors and solitude suit me,” he countered defensively.
Alfia smirked then turned on Cassandra maliciously. “And who, exactly, are you?” she asked, taking a deep drink of wine and licking her lips with predatory focus.
Cassandra froze, unable to answer as those green eyes skewered every nerve ending in her body. Jason’s lazy reply took Flea’s intense glare off of her. “Just the sister of an old college friend. I guilted her into dining with me while she’s in town,” he added glibly.
Cassandra shot him a grateful glance and looked away. She could feel the animosity between them, but couldn’t figure out why it seemed more hers than his. Alfia was as magnificently beautiful as he was repulsive. Why does she seem jealous? Cassandra wondered. What could she possibly resent him for?
“Flea,” Jason said politely, “we’d like to be alone to catch up.”
A wrinkle of worry wedged itself between Alfia’s perfectly plucked brows. She slowly stood up, never taking her eyes off him. “All elements must be in place,” she spat cryptically.
Cassandra was glad to see her go.
Watching her retreating back, Jason knew he had only a small window of time before Alfia guessed how close he was to having the elements in place. When he looked across at Cassandra, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, he was overwhelmed with longing. The sexual need for her pulsed strongly within him, but the overpowering urge to protect won out. Alth
ough, he thought, if I spend the night with her, I will be more able to protect her.
Jason comforted himself with the knowledge that if he were successful, the power of the curse would reverse multiplied tenfold, and Alfia would be rendered harmless. But how could this work with someone who can’t even look at me? He knew if he didn’t move quickly, before he got Cassandra to agree to sleep beside him, Flea would come for her like the relentless nightmare she was. He would have to take some risks.
* * * *
“Home sweet home,” Cassandra said nervously as she walked out of her bedroom with blanket and pillow, plopping them down on the couch beside Jason. Oddly enough, because of the strange interaction between the twins, she had told Jason he could stay the night. She hoped this would take care of the last third of her promise. Keeping her eyes averted, she continued to focus on his voice and forget what he looked like.
“I need to lie beside you,” he gently reminded her.
“Why?” she asked for the tenth time.
“I can’t…” Jason stuttered, frustrated that he couldn’t answer. He was close to shattering the curse and disabling Flea, but had to make a decision fast. “Would you like me to leave?” The softening of her rigid shoulders and relieved expression told him what he needed to know. He got up from the couch. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
So, he thought, this is what love is. It demands sacrifice even to one’s own determent. As he walked to the door, he looked in the mirror hanging beside it and saw his ghost-like image imprinted beneath his froggy face and body. Dark blonde hair, grey eyes and aquiline nose blurred a few times, then came into focus. I need to escape. Watching Cassandra shrink away from him was like a physical blow. But more important, Alfia could never suspect how close Jason had come to ending the curse
Cassandra felt a wave of emotion assault her as he opened the door. He is willing to put my comfort before any promise I made. Something in her shifted. “Wait,” she said. “I have an idea.” She felt compelled to allow this intimacy. Cassandra spread a comforter out on the floor. “If it means that much to you, can we lay together, in the living room watching TV?” Nervously she cleared her throat, “Would that fulfill your request? It’s not my bed but I fall asleep out here sometimes.”
