Sunday, December 6, 2009


     Flustered at being tardy to a guest lecture, she quickly gathered her notebook and purse before slamming the car door shut. Of all the days to be late. As a grad student in her last year, she’d never been late before and this was a lecture she didn’t want to miss.  Imani Aliyah walked frantically down the hall as her thick two inch heels clacked loudly on the marble floor. She cursed under her breath for insisting on having waiting for her chai latte from Starbucks on the way. The drive thru line had been long and she’d wanted a chai so badly, now she was five minutes late and these types of lectures almost always started on time.

Dr. Isaak Silverman was giving a lecture on Ethiopian Jews and their journey to Israel. He is also going to cover the history and lineage of the Ethiopian Jews. Dr. Silverman, a noted professor, anthropologist and speaker, works for the IAEJ, (Israel Association for Ethiopian Jews). This organization was established in Israel to work exclusively in advocating for the full and rapid integration of Ethiopian Jews into mainstream Israeli society.

Imani, whose father is an Ethiopian Jew, and part of the Kessim, the Ethiopian rabbis of their small local community in Atlanta, reached the lecture hall in two minutes from the student parking lot on the other side of the campus and in heels no less. She opened the doors and stepped in. To her surprise, the room was only half filled. When the door slammed shut behind her, everyone turned around to see what the commotion was. Imani felt her face burn with embarrassment as Dr. Silverman looked directly at her.
“Ah, sorry, sir,” she mumbled as she picked the closest seat to her and sat down.
“That’s quite alright Miss….” Dr. Silverman smiled at her. He’d noticed her even before the door slammed. A tall, slender brown skinned woman in an elegant navy linen suit with a gold colored blouse that seemed to match her tawny golden eyes. They were so familiar, she drew his attention immediately.
“Aliyah…Imani Aliyah sir,” she spoke up nervously.
There were a few murmurs and whispers as she settled into her seat with her chai latte in hand, notebook on her lap.
“Aliyah, that’s Hebrew, isn’t it?” he smiled. For a moment it seemed they were the only two people in the room.
“Yes, my father is from Ethiopia, he is also Jewish,” Imani beamed, proud of her heritage. Her mother was a Polish Jew born in New York City. Her unusual eye color came from her grandma on her father’s side.
“Ah, then you have a personal interest in my lecture. Would you like to sit closer? I’m sure no one will mind.”
Imani paused a moment, she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than she already had. With deep sigh, she decided to accept his offer. She stood gracefully gathering her things and walked to the front of the room, taking a seat on the half empty front row.
Dr. Silverman continued his lecture after Imani was settled in her new seat. He was tall, medium build with salt and pepper hair. Though in his mid forties, he looked to be in his early thirties. He’d been a keynote speaker for last five years and a strong advocate for Ethiopian Jews in
Israel for fifteen years. Every time he looked Imani’s way, she held his gaze, loving the honey brown color of his eyes.

He spoke eloquently and passionately about Ethiopia and Israel. He was born in a suburb of New York to Jewish parents and his maternal grandparents had died during the holocaust. Both of his parents died in a car accident ten years ago. He’d never married, his focus always being on his work.
Imani listened intently as Dr. Silverman spoke of the history of the Ethiopian Jews. Because there are no historical data or written records only oral traditions, there are three possibilities of how the Jews came to Ethiopia. One, the Ethiopian Jews is the descendants of the lost ancient Israelite tribe of Dan. Secondly, they may be the descendants of Menelik I, the fabled son of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, as set down in the folkloric, biblical and aggadic Ethiopian Kebra Negast. Thirdly, they might be descendants of Jews who left Israel for Egypt following the destruction of the First Temple in 586 BCE.
His personal belief is the third possibility; he believed the Queen of Sheba had been Ethiopian and that she had a son with King Solomon. Isaak loved the people he worked with both in Israel and Ethiopia. He helped many to find housing, learn Hebrew and assimilate into life in an industrialized society after coming from a rural one.

When the lecture ended, Imani purposely stayed behind to speak with Dr. Silverman. She wanted to know more about him, picking his brain. She was also attracted to him, his warm smile, his voice and his passion for his work.
Isaak had hoped Imani would stay behind. He wanted to ask her to stay but wasn’t really sure how to go about it. He wanted to know more about her. Only one woman had captured his heart once, but she’d died years ago.
“Aliyah, you aren’t related to Obadiah Aliyah, are you?” He asked curiously.
“Ah yes, he is my father.”
Isaak couldn’t believe his luck!
“I thought your last name sounded familiar. I’m headed to his house this evening for dinner, will you be joining us?”
Imani laughed sweetly. Her father asked her to come to dinner tonight that he had a gift for her, but he mentioned nothing about a guest. Now she really wondered what her father was up to.
“Yes, I will be there.” Imani’s eyes lit up.
“Good, I’m going to be here for two weeks and your father kindly offered for me to celebrate Hanukkah with him and his family.”
Imani’s heart skipped a beat; this gorgeous man was going to be in her father’s home for the next eight nights of Hanukkah! Her father had never allowed anyone to stay before and she wondered what made Dr. Silverman so special. They began to walk to the staff parking lot.
“That’s very interesting, he’s never mentioned you, and how do you know my father?”
“We met in the 80’s in Ethiopia, when several Ethiopian were trying to cross the Sudan, making their way to Israel. I convinced his family that it was not safe to go that way and I promised to make other arrangements. His family waited and made it safely to Israel due to Operation Moses in 1984. I only wished my girlfriend’s family had waited.” The deep sadness in his eyes made Imani want to hug him.
“Your girlfriend was a refugee?”
“Yes, her father insisted they go by foot. About 4,000 people, including my girlfriend, perished during the journey.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Silverman, you must have really loved her.” Imani brushed his arm.
“Please, call me Isaak and yes, we were to be married in Israel.”

Imani could stand it no longer; she pulled him to her and hugged him. He smelled of soap and Old Spice aftershave. She nuzzled his face and neck with her cheek.
The hug caught him by surprise, but what surprised him even more was his reaction. He dropped his briefcase and held her. She was warm and soft as he held her tightly. He leaned into her, feeling the curve of her body against his. The sweet smell of her short black curly hair and the softness of her skin stirred things low in his body. She made a sound that sounded almost like a purr.
If she’d had the strict Jewish upbringing like he did, she would know that what they were doing at this moment is wrong. He didn’t care, but he didn’t want her to regret it. He pulled away suddenly.
“I’m sorry; I don’t know what came over me. You are a respectable woman and I …”
“Shhh,” Imani pressed her index finger to his lips. Her eyes glowed like a cat’s eyes in the darkness.
“It’s alright, “she whispered.
Isaak blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He took a step back and jumped when Imani’s cell phone went off.
“It’s my dad, we better get going.”
Isaak picked up his briefcase and sighed heavily. There is something about her that unnerved him a bit, yet he felt drawn to her even more.
“Do you know the way or do you need to follow me? I’m parked in the student parking lot.” Imani said after telling her dad she was on her way.
“Why don’t I give you a ride to your car and then I’ll follow you?” Isaak smiled.
“Works for me,” Imani laughed.


For the full story go to:

Blessings and Happy HanukkahSolticeChristmasKwanzaa!


Monday, November 9, 2009


She closed her eyes while laying her head back against the pillow on the bed in what was once her bedroom as a child. She hugged her favorite stuffed animal to her chest, a red fox with a large fluffy tail named Kit. Her father had given it to her when he came back from a tour of duty in Japan. She was sorry she’d left Kit here in her parent’s home and vowed to take him with her when she went back to her home.
She was grateful to get away from the noisy crowd that was her family just beyond the bedroom door. Thanksgiving holidays or any holidays for that matter, were always hectic, especially with her family. She loved them but after being on her own, she'd grown accustomed to the peace and quiet so locking herself in her old bedroom gave her some respite.  She was the eldest of ten children and still the only one of the grown children that still remained unmarried and childless. At thirty-eight years old, her parents didn’t seem to care that she’d graduated in the top ten from M.I.T. or that she was currently an integral part of their CSBi,(Computational and Systems Biology), program. They also didn’t seem to understand the importance of bioengineering. She, along with the staff and students in the cancer biology research department were making great strides in combating this killer disease. The only concern her parents seemed to have was that she wasn’t married and her biological clock was ticking away.
"Having a career is great, but having love in your life is just as important", her mother advised.

Myra sighed and rubbed her throbbing temples. She couldn’t win an argument with them. Living and working in Cambridge, Massachusetts, she dreaded coming home to her quiet little hometown in Georgia where her parents, Robert and Margaret Watson, a retired military officer who was now a civil service worker and a housewife, raised her and her siblings. Although she loved growing up in a small town, she hated the small town mentality. Her siblings all stayed there, going to college locally, with the exception of Leonard, who went to college in Atlanta, but she had been the only one to leave Georgia. She’d always felt that she must have been adopted or something. Her parents were so open minded and loving that she couldn’t understand why they had accepted her brother Leonard's male partner of three years but not her decision not to marry or have kids. 
Myra was strictly heterosexual but after having her heart broken by a man she loved in college, she’d stopped dating and almost quit school. Roger White was a brilliant young black neurosurgeon, they had been serious and he’d asked to marry her. She nearly jumped at the chance but something held her back.  He was quite handsome and charming, a bit too charming as she found out one day after returning to her dorm to find him in bed with her roommate. When she asked him why, his answer had been that he was a man and clearly he couldn’t be wrong for being attracted to beautiful women. Besides, he added, her roommate is only a woman he would fuck, not marry. Myra on the other hand, with her ordinary looks and bright mind was better suited to being a wife, but not sexy enough or good enough in bed to be someone he would fuck on a daily basis. Therefore, he would need to find women like her roommate occasionally to fulfill his sexual needs.
Her roommate, being totally insulted, jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom in tears. Myra was embarrassed and shocked beyond belief, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, so she told the surgeon to get lost and never spoke to him again. She eventually forgave her roommate but still felt the sting of the doctor’s words. She never dated again and after deciding that success would be the best revenge, she stayed in school and became one of the best in her field. She also decided that marriage and children were just not for her. She couldn’t bear the thought of being a wife to a cheating husband. Maybe not every good looking man thought the same as that surgeon, but she wouldn’t take the risk in finding out.
Myra knew she didn’t have the supermodel looks of her younger sisters and brothers, another reason she felt she’d been adopted. Her parents were both African- American, her father a handsome dark skinned man with strong features and her mother a beautiful light skinned woman with delicate features and cat like hazel green eyes. All of her siblings were tall, slender with delicate features while she was shorter and slightly heavier having worn a size fourteen for as long as she could remember. However, she was the only one with her mother’s hazel green eyes. Her skin was a smooth cocoa brown color and she kept her black hair in a soft short natural afro.
Myra loved her job and could talk about cancer research and bioengineering all day but when she came home to her family, her siblings and their spouses and children, her world was just as foreign to them as theirs was to her. She was closest to her thirty-six old brother Leonard, who took after their mother with his light skin and wavy hair, worked as a pharmacist at the one of the local Walgreens drug stores. He was the only one who seemed to get her, often going to bat for her with their parents.
She’d known since they were kids that he was gay as he would often dress up in her clothing. It didn’t matter to her or the family, they all loved Leonard.  Leonard arrived late for Thanksgiving dinner this year, his boyfriend of three years, Gregory, a handsome white dramatic arts teacher at the local high school, in tow along with another man that no one in the family knew or had seen before.  They brought a third man with them. As soon as Myra heard her brother’s voice downstairs, she ran out to greet him.

“Lenny!” she yelled, giving him the biggest hug.
“Well I’m glad someone is happy to see me! How you been stranger?” he laughed he kissed Myra’s cheek.
“Who you calling a stranger? It’s only been a few months since you saw me last,” she laughed.
“More like a year girl and I see you still workin that fro! You need to come home more often so I can at least fix your hair!” he teased.
“Boy quit, ain’t nothing wrong with my hair, it’s just fine!”
After releasing Leonard, she hugged Gregory next and complimented his new haircut.
“Oh girl, please don’t tell him he looks good, his head is big enough as it is!” Leonard beamed.
Gregory elbowed Leonard, “oh don’t listen to him, you can tell me how good I look anytime and I think your hair is fierce!”
The third man could only smile as he watched this beautiful brown skinned woman laugh and joke with her brother and Gregory. He agreed, Myra’s hair was as lovely as she was. Leonard spoke of her often to him, but his description of Myra didn’t do her justice. He noticed the way her eyes sparkled, the smoothness and flawless look of her skin, her tight fitting plum sweater that accentuated her full breasts and the black leather skirt that fit her curves and round bottom as if they were a second skin. He was definitely glad he’d accepted Leonard’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner with his family.
Myra pretended not to notice the handsome Asian man, but she immediately honed in on his bright smile and his slanted light golden brown eyes as he watched her. Are they contacts? Most Asian men didn’t have eyes like that and she surmised that he was of mixed heritage.  Either way, she found herself drawn to him, but wait, what if he is gay too? Being a friend of her brother’s and he wasn’t here with a female but then he wasn’t here with another man either. Maybe he was single. She decided to put it out of her mind, after all even if the man was straight, why would he be interested in her?
“Hey sis, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine, we went to college together in Atlanta. I ran into him last weekend and convinced him to come down since his family went to Japan for the holidays. This is Kentaro Nakamura. Ken, this is my beautiful sister, Myra,” Leonard said proudly.
“Oh stop Lenny,” Myra chastised as she reached out her hand to Kentaro.
“Beautiful indeed, nice to finally meet you Myra, I’ve heard so much about you,” Kentaro shook her hand with a slight bow.
“All good I hope,” Myra blushed. His hand was warm and his handshake firm. He placed his other hand on top of her hand, cradling it as if it were a delicate object he adored. He sniffed her hand like a cat and rubbed it against his face.
Myra swallowed hard at his reaction to her and felt a heat rise from her nether regions to the top of her head. He smelled of musk and it was sweet to her. His eyes held her in a gaze that made her want to melt into him. She wanted to kiss him, touch him and explore his lithe body from head to toe, although she had no idea why there was such a strong attraction to him. His medium length jet black hair was pulled into a pony tail. His black sweater did little to hide his lean and muscular shoulders and arms. Myra wondered if his skin felt as smooth as it looked. She also noticed the bulge between his legs thanks to the tightness of his black jeans. Something he didn’t try to hide nor did he seem embarrassed by it.

Leonard and Gregory noticed the reaction between Myra and Kentaro and winked at each other. Leonard wanted them to hit it off. From the moment he ran into Kentaro in Atlanta and found out he was a biochemist, something that was right up Myra’s alley, he knew they would be perfect for each other. It also didn’t hurt that he was attractive, well spoken and well dressed.
“Hey Ma, we brought my famous pumpkin pies!” Leonard shouted.
“Boy you know I been waitin’ for them pies! Get on in here!” Margaret called from the kitchen as Leonard and Gregory headed into see his mother.
“Lenny…” Myra began not wanting to really be alone with Kentaro. She was unsure why she felt so drawn to him, something about his eyes seemed so familiar to her and yet, she’d never met him.
“I’ll be back, don’t worry, why don’t you keep Ken here company while I put my pies in the kitchen and talk to Ma. Give him a tour of the house or something,” Leonard grinned devilishly.
Myra groaned to herself realizing she’d been set up. She’d been set up before with disastrous results, usually the guy losing interest once they met face to face and yet, Kentaro seemed to still be interested.
She gingerly pulled her hand away from Kentaro, who was a bit reluctant to let go, smoothing out her sweater and skirt trying to calm her body down. Kentaro made her nervous and excited at the same time.
“I c…could show you around the house, if you’d like”, she smiled feeling awkward as she tried to keep it together.
“I would like that,” Kentaro beamed at her. The scent of her sex was becoming heavier with every second and it lingered in the air like perfume to his nostrils. He was having a hard time keeping his own body and animal instincts under control. He knew she was nervous and wanted her to feel at ease. He followed behind her silently as her nieces and nephews rushed past them playing a game of tag. He enjoyed the way she moved and the way her hips swayed when she walked. She was the loveliest of creatures to him. He’d been searching for his life mate for some time now and Myra was the one. If only he could convince her of that.

When they walked into her old bedroom, Kentaro was surprised but very pleased to see the stuffed red fox on her bed as well as the various pictures and figurines of foxes all around the room on the walls and on the book shelf.
“I take it you like foxes?”
“Oh, um yeah, they are my favorite animal, always have been,” Myra suddenly felt embarrassed and didn’t know why. After all, this was only her childhood bedroom.
However, she had more fox figurines and even another stuffed fox at her apartment in Cambridge as well.
Noting his interest, Myra shared with enthusiasm her love of foxes and when it began. One of her favorite Disney movies as a child was “The Fox and The Hound”. She liked how foxes were territorial, monogamous creatures, predators, but not of humans and the foxes in Europe and Asia are larger than the ones in North America. Plus her father had told her of the ‘Kitsune’, a fox spirit in Japan folklore when he returned from a year in Okinawa. They were believed to be intelligent beings possessing magical abilities that increase with their age and wisdom. They could also take on a human form and were also known for their tricky behavior. Kentaro was impressed that Myra knew so much about this.
She had a collection of these stories on her shelves and her favorite was about a Kitsune that fell in love with a human and married her. She became truly enamored with foxes because of these Kitsune, wishing they were indeed real. The more she talked, the more she realized that she may be talking too much or worse, boring poor Kentaro with her childhood obsession. But Kentaro gave her a knowing smile as he listened intently. He knew of every story she spoke about. More and more, he knew this was the woman for him.
“Have you ever pictured yourself as one?” his eyebrow slightly raised as he came very close to her.
“Being a Kitsune? Well yes, as a child I did, but you know, childhood fancy and all…” Myra laughed nervously. Why was he asking her about this? Did he like foxes too?
She was uneasy being this close to him. Didn’t he realize he was in her personal space? She could easily kiss him right now. He was so close she felt his breath on her face. He was taller than she at five foot nine and Myra being only five foot four. She looked into his eyes, his pupils looked vertical, almost cat like. His iris changed to a more yellow color, like eyes she had seen before. She blinked, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her. Was it her imagination or did Kentaro have eyes like a fox?
“Something wrong Myra?” Kentaro leaned closer, pinning her against her bedroom door, his arms on either side of her. His scent overwhelmed her.
“Ah nothing, I…I just thought I saw…” she stammered.
“Saw what?” he whispered as he nuzzled her neck and kissed her earlobe.
Myra swallowed hard as Kentaro made his way to her mouth for a kiss.

A hard knock on the door made Myra jump as Kentaro quickly pushed her behind him, his eyes narrowed, body poised and muscles flexed to strike whatever danger lie behind the door.
“Hey Myra, everyone is at the table, it’s time to eat!” Her younger sister, Elizabeth called. She’d seen Myra go into her old bedroom with the handsome Asian man that Leonard had brought home. She was upset that Leonard hadn’t even bothered to introduce the man to her, plus she liked to annoy Myra.
“Ok, be down in a minute!” Myra yelled her mind racing. She felt confused and disoriented. What just happened?
Kentaro eased his body and turned silently to face Myra, a smile on his face.
“I guess we…we better go down for dinner,” Myra felt her heart beating much faster than usual.
“Are you alright?” Kentaro cocked his head to the side with a look of genuine concern.
What is going on with me? Myra thought surely she was losing it. She looked into his eyes again to find them perfectly normal and light golden brown.
“Ah yeah, I’m fine,” she shrugged and turned around to face the door. She took a deep breath and blew it out. She opened the door and Kentaro followed her down to the dining room with a mischievous smile on his face.
All through dinner, everyone noticed how Kentaro only had eyes for Myra. Though he joined in the conversation with the others, his main focus was Myra. Myra felt the heat of his gaze and tried her best to ignore it. After dinner, Myra snuck out to the guest house while Kentaro was talking to Leonard over coffee and a slice of pumpkin pie in the living room.
As soon as she walked outside, the brisk wind made her shiver and she cursed to herself for not grabbing her jacket before coming outside. She opened the door to the guest house and turned on the light. It was  warm and she quickly closed and locked the door with a sigh of relief.
“Hiding out are we?” a voice behind her said.

Myra jumped and turned around quickly to see Kentaro sitting on the couch. On the coffee table in front of him was a slice of pumpkin pie, a white ceramic bottle and two small matching ceramic cups with Japanese writing on them.
“Uh no! Kentaro you scared me! What… what are you doing in here anyway? I could have sworn I just saw you talking to Lenny…” Myra finally gasped after a few seconds.
“I’m sorry to have startled you Myra, I thought maybe you would like to share some Sake and pumpkin pie with me,” Kentaro grinned ignoring her question.
Myra would have laughed at the way he pronounced ‘pumpkin’ with his heavy accent if she hadn’t been so rattled.
“How did you know I was coming here?”
“I didn’t, but figured you wanted to be away from everyone and what better place than here?”
“What, are you stalking me now?” Myra suddenly felt upset. She’d had quite enough of being nervous and acting like a teenager with a crush and now his being here, waiting for her, as if he knew her, knew what she wanted, it unnerved her even more.
Kentaro stood up and in flash, he was at her side.
“I didn’t mean to upset you or offend you. I apologize. I’m just very attracted to you. Please, forgive my boldness.” Kentaro smiled sweetly and bowed.
Myra didn’t know whether she should punch him or kiss him. She was amazed at how quickly he seemed to move and wasn’t quite sure what to say. There was certainly something mysterious about Kentaro. Everything in her was dying to know more about him, but at the same time, it frightened her.
“It’s alright I guess.  I’m just not used to anyone paying me this much attention. I’m not beautiful or skinny like my sisters.” She said after a few awkward moments.
Kentaro suddenly looked serious. “You mean no one has ever told you how beautiful you are?”
“No, just my family, but even they tease me sometimes about my weight.”
“Well then everyone else is either blind or a fool. I happen to like a woman with curves,” he whispered so close to her that she felt his breath again lightly on her face, his musky scent overwhelming her once more. It had to be pheromones, musk cologne never smelled this good.  She swallowed hard and eased back from him, walking toward the couch.
“You’ve only brought one piece of pie, don’t you want any?”
Kentaro laughed and the sound of his laughter echoed in her ears.
“I’m going to share this piece with you,” he smiled.
“Oh? And what if I wanted my own piece thank you?” Myra sat on the couch.
“Then I won’t touch it, it will be all yours and I’ll get another piece for myself,” his voice softened as he slowly made his way to her, sitting down next to her.
“Ok, well…I don’t mind sharing since you did bring it out here for me. Ah, what did you say was in the bottle again?” she asked with coy smile, directing his attention to the coffee table.
“Ah yes, this is Sake, a Japanese rice wine. You drink it warm, perfect for cold weather outside. Would you like a taste?”
“Yes, please.”
Kentaro poured some in one of the small cups and handed it to her.
“The cup is so small for wine.”
“It is not like wine from grapes, it’s much stronger,” he laughed.
Myra smelled it and took a sip. It was warm and strong. She coughed and gasped as it burned the back of her throat. It was sweet, not bitter, with a nice after taste, once she stopped coughing. Kentaro laughed again but stopped when she looked up at him.
“You find me almost choking funny?” she said, looking defiant.
“Yes, I mean, you weren’t really choking and your reaction was funny, but I am not making fun of you, I promise.”
“Uh huh, sure.”
This time they both laughed and Kentaro took the fork and cut into the piece of pie, lifting the tasty morsel to Myra’s lips and fed her. The pie melted in her mouth. She loved Lenny’s pie it was always moist and smooth, sweet, with just the right hint of spice.
Kentaro watched lustfully as Myra chewed and swallowed and when she licked her full lips, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He wanted to kiss the lips that looked so soft, sweet and inviting like the piece of pie she just ate.
“Lucky piece of pie,” he smiled boldly leaning closer to her.
Before she realized it, Myra leaned in the rest of the way and kissed Kentaro. He pulled her in tasting her, probing her mouth with his tongue. She tasted of pumpkin pie and Sake, sweet, yet tart with hints of cinnamon, allspice and nutmeg. After a few moments, he pulled back and Myra stared into his eyes. Once again she saw the eyes of a fox.
“What are you?” She asked breathlessly.
“I am Kitsune, or as you might say, a fox.”
Myra couldn’t believe her ears! She jerked back in fear and disbelief. She thought maybe the Sake was getting to her.
“Are you serious?” Now she really thought he was mocking her.
“I’m afraid so, yes.” Kentaro said calmly.
“You mean those stories are true? “ She looked deeply into his eyes.
“You are not human?”
“Not totally, no.”
“Not …mortal?”
“Yes, I can be killed while in human form, though we can live quite a long time.”
“How old are you?”
“Much older than I look.”
Myra looked suddenly annoyed. Now was not the time for him to be evasive.
Kentaro cleared his throat and continued, “I’m a few hundred years, give or take ten years and my grandmother was human.”
“You mean like the woman in the stories?”
“One in the same actually.”
“Oh my gosh!” She always dreamed of this as a child, but to find out that it’s true and here was one who wanted to be with her, not one of her obviously beautiful sisters, but with her!
He moved to touch her and Myra pulled back out of fear. He silently withdrew his hand. He didn’t want her to fear him or reject him.
“I will not harm you,” he assured her.
Somehow she knew that he wouldn’t. It was just a little much to take in, him being a real fox spirit and all. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and kissing him moments ago felt so wonderful, so good so…right.

She looked at him and took his hand placing it around her waist as she kissed him again, deeply this time. He lifted her up easily as one would pick up something small and light and carried her to the bedroom of the guesthouse. He set her down in front of the bed.
He wanted her naked, wanted to suck on her luscious breasts and nuzzle the richness of her sex, kissing her entire body, lap her like cream. He began to pull her sweater over her head. She let him, her body trembling with anticipation her cheeks flushed and her nether regions warm and damp. It had been years since she’d had sex and she wanted Kentaro more than anything at this moment and best of all, he wanted her.
When she was fully naked, he stared in awe at her beauty. He marveled at her full breasts, her thick waist, her hips, curves and shapely thighs. He stripped down quickly, his throbbing hardness now free, hanging thickly between his legs. Myra stared at him in amazement as he lifted her again, laying her on the bed, spreading her legs with his knees. A bottle of Sake appeared suddenly in his hands. Myra watched curiously as he began to pour a bit of it onto her nipples before sucking and licking them. She moaned in response. He poured a little more and followed the liquid with his tongue as it made its way to her down to her moist center. The bottle disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Kentaro nestled comfortably between her legs, where he nuzzled, licked and sucked causing her to moan and whimper. Her sounds urged him on and he continued until her essence flowed like water, her body trembling and jerking in blissful orgasm. The Sake mixed with her juices intoxicated him and excited him even more. He longed to be inside of her.
He sat her up slowly, bringing her into a deep kiss where she tasted her juices and the Sake on his lips and she kissed him harder. He sat back, wrapping her legs around his waist. He rocked against her, lifting her hips and sliding his thickness hard inside her waiting, slippery, hot body. His shudder shook them both. Face to face, body to body, they moved in a rhythm all their own, kissing and touching. Kentaro held on, neither of them wanted this to end. Kentaro, having found the woman he searched for, and Myra, having found a loving, faithful man, rocked together in total ecstasy. It didn’t matter to them that they came from two different worlds or that one was human and one was not. They were one in this moment, joined together.
With a soft cry, Myra jerked and tightened around him again and again. His heart raced, his blood rushing in his ears. He wanted to make her his, she had to be, he wanted no one but her. He struggled to hold back his release.
“Myra,” he whispered, “Will you be mine forever?”
“Yes,” she cried.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
With her answer he bit into her neck, clamping over the wound, marking her as his. He gave himself up to her, releasing hotly, deeply inside her, making her completely his.
He released his hold on her neck and it began to heal quickly leaving a small scar, his mark to show the other Kitsune that she was his. Myra didn’t feel any pain from his bite and he kissed her again, softly stroking her back. After a few moments, she began to feel hungry again.
“Would you like some more Sake and pumpkin pie?”
“Yes please,” she laughed.
Kentaro held up his hands and the bottle of Sake appeared in one hand and a plate of pumpkin pie appeared in the other.
“Oh I could get used to this,” she laughed.
“You will be able to do this yourself soon.”
“Yes, I will teach you everything.”
Myra beamed as Kentaro smeared some of the pie onto her chest and nipples, licking and sucking happily as she sat on his lap, her head leaning back against a pillow. Then he poured them both a cup of Sake and raised his cup after handing the other to Myra.
“Happy Thanksgiving my love, the first of many we will spend together,” he whispered.
Love, she thought to herself. Yes, this year she could definitely be thankful for that.
“And to you as well my love,” she said softly as they toasted and drank the warm Sake.

The End

Copyright: © 2009 Mahogany SilverRain

Thursday, November 5, 2009


     Dressed in a red oval neckline wool tunic and blue wool apron dress, she stood watching alone as the bitter cold snow beat against her face. Though wrapped in fur pelts fashioned into a cloak with a hood, she shivered. The brass circlet she wore on her head felt like ice and her hands had grown numb with the cold. That didn’t matter to her one bit. It was hell, the waiting.  She stood this way, bracing the elements, every day since she’d heard that her beloved, the king, was on his way back home with another victory to celebrate. And celebrate they would. Not only with feasting and merriment, but with love making that lasted for days, locked away in their bedroom in the palace. The servants would leave food and wine outside the door as they were not to be disturbed.
     It’d been two full moons since she’d seen him last, her beloved. Her body ached for him and she longed to hear his voice. Every night she whispered his name, softly chanting, praying to the gods for him to return safely to her. Around her neck she wore his symbol, a Viking dragon pendant, between her breasts and close to her heart. She wanted no other, only he could satisfy her. Her tastes were wild and extravagant, matching his own. Their lust and love for each was so intense, some envied it while others feared it.
He was ruthless with his enemies but fair and kind to his court and subjects. No one dared interrupt them or speak ill of either one, not even in jest, for fear the king and queen would hear of it and have them killed. They made no apologies for who they were. Though the queen was not liked by many in the palace, she’d born the king ten sons, a feat not done by any other queen before her, earning the people’s respect and no one could deny her right as queen. The king saw to that.
     After what seemed an eternity, she spotted the soldiers and their triumphant king in the distance. Her heart beat faster as she lifted her tunic and coat and broke into a run.
“No my queen, you must wait!” Her ladies called behind her but she just ignored them.  Faster and faster she moved easily through the snow even though she was weighted down with the fur coat she wore.
     The king pulled the reigns of his horse and stopped as he watched his beloved queen running toward him in an unladylike manner. It didn’t matter to him, only that she loved him as much as he loved her. He laughed as he ordered his men to make way for the queen. He eased off his horse, wincing as the cut on his right side stung him. He stood proudly as she approached him at last.  Covered by a cloak of fur pelts held together by golden dragon head shaped clasps over his green wool tunic and furry animal skin boots, the king cut a dashing figure. Even with his windblown strawberry flaxen hair that hung past his shoulders and slightly dirt smudged face, he was indeed handsome. His beard was long, blonde with bits of gray and red mixed in and braided into two braids, one on either side. His body, broad shouldered with arm muscles hard as steel and the strength of ten men to along with them despite his age. His legs were chiseled works of art rivaling that of an Adonis.
“My lord, you have returned to me,” she said slightly out of breath as she stopped short in front of him wanting to jump into his arms but realizing it may not have been the proper thing to do.
“Indeed I have my lady, I will always return to you, not even death shall keep me from it,” he beamed as he grabbed his queen, his hands on her ass, pulling her to him for a kiss.
She threw her arms around his thick neck, breathing in his musky scent as he gently picked her up, wincing slightly.
“My lord, you’re hurt!” she cried.
“Aye woman, just a scratch, tis all, nothing you can’t heal with your good lovin,” his voice deep and playful despite his discomfort.
She clasped her hands on his shoulders, “Put me down sir, so that I may attend to you properly.”
“Not before I’ve had my victory kiss woman!” He grunted as he let her down, pulling back her fur hood to reveal her raven hair. She stood out among the flaxen haired women in their territory and not just with her hair, but with her dark skin. Most women with brunette hair bleached it with lye often resulting in red or red-gold hair. The king adored her dark hair that she wore gathered into an elegant knot in the back of her head. Though most married women covered their head, the king allowed the queen to go without a headdress, so that he could admire her lovely raven hair. He also treasured her dark brown skin, smooth and soft to the touch.
     She was an exotic beauty, purchased in Egypt and brought as a slave to his land by two druid priests who taught her the arts of magic. He found her on one of his journeys and rescued her from the sadistic priests who also used her as a sex slave. They often punished her by tying her up and flogging her when she refused to comply with their sex rituals. She was quite spirited and the moment the king saw her eyes, eyes that were green in color, sparkling like emeralds against her dark skin, he knew he had to have her.
     He brought her home and announced to his father, the old king, that this was the woman he would marry.
His father knew well enough to let his son have his way or there would be hell to pay, especially in matters of the heart. Since he was the only heir to the throne, the old king gave him his blessing.
     The king looked at her now, those eyes beckoning him as her full lips enticed and enflamed his loins. With one hand around her waist and the cradled around her soft hair, he kissed her good and hard. The king’s men all turned their heads away in respect of their king and queen. The happy couple lingered a bit in that kiss before the king finally released the queen turning her away from him to give a swift pat to her behind. She gasped and giggled like a school girl. Then he lifted her up onto his horse.
“Now this, my lads, is the proper way for a wife to greet her husband, queen or not!” he boasted laughing. The laugh was full and hearty and the queen smiled; her heart full of love.
“To the castle men, the feasting awaits!” He roared. Turning to the queen and patting her thigh, “I shall save the best feast for last my love!” He winked and the queen’s body trembled with expectation.
     The queen patched up the king with an ointment made of her special herbs and she bandaged his side lovingly before going to the feasting hall. The eating and drinking heavily lasted for a couple of hours before the king picked up his queen and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her off to their bed chamber.
The chamber consisted of a large four poster bed with wool sheets and fur skinned covers, a huge fire place and a huge wool rug mixed with furry animal skin. Once there he set her down and removed her apron dress and tunic, her nakedness moved him.
     Even after birthing ten sons, the queen’s lovely shape was still intact. Her skin glowed in the firelight. Her slender waist gave way to her curvy hips with thickly muscled legs and shapely calves. A low throaty, lustful sound came from the king as roughly slipped out of his own clothing almost ripping them to shreds. As the queen started to move toward the bed, the king stopped her.
“No, just stand there, let me look at you,” he bellowed. He wanted to savor her, this moment forever. Then he remembered the drinking horn of blood from the battle kills.  The horn, topped with brass depicted Viking lovers kissing at the base and the tip was topped with brass in the shape of a dragon’s head.
He quickly retrieved the horn, taking only a sip, letting some of the liquid drip down his chin to his smooth tanned skin. The queen’s eyes lit up with pure lust. She licked her lips as she watched the blood trickle down his skin. She dared not move until he told her too.
     Seeing the wild look his queen’s eyes, the king beckoned her with his finger and she rushed to him, growling as she licked the blood from his chest. He moved her back a bit pouring blood onto her breasts. Smearing the blood of his enemies on each other was the part of the ritual known to the king and queen as the “Victory dance”. The queen, blood soaked, danced sensually for the king, touching him, teasing him, grinding her body seductively against him.
     He fondled her breasts, throwing the horn to the floor and sucked her dark pointed nipples. She pulled from him, turning her backside to him, gyrating in a sensual dance against his swollen cock which throbbed eagerly. The king bent her forward, undoing her raven hair from its knot. He yanked her hair pulling her against him roughly as she continued to grind her hips against him.
“Damn you woman, no more teasing, on your knees!” He ordered. He couldn’t stand it anymore, he wanted her, needed her, missed her, loved her.
She quickly obeyed, getting on all fours on the soft rug by the fire, hoisting her butt in the air as easy access for her king. He dropped to his knees behind her rubbing his hands over her smooth bottom now slick with blood. His member heavy and throbbing sought her entrance. He took her slow at first then pounded her hard with quick thrusts till she screamed and clung tightly to the rug below.
     Flipping her onto her back, he pushed her legs up and licked the insides of her thighs making his way to her cream filled center. The taste of her excited him all the more, but he refrained from release so he could continue to tease and please her. Using his fingers as well as his tongue, he probed her insides bringing her to orgasm so many times that she lost count. Completely soaked by blood and her juices, he climbed up her body, keeping her legs over his shoulder and shoved the bulbous head of his cock inside. Deeper and deeper he pushed himself inside of her. There was no other who made him feel this way. She excited him in ways he couldn’t comprehend. He was as thrilled with her as the day they met some twenty years ago.
     The queen writhed gloriously beneath him, matching his stride, urging him on with her hips, tightening her legs around his neck. He rode her this way, wild and hard, changing positions, laying her on her side, letting her ride him as he rubbed her clit with one hand while twisting her right nipple with the other. She loved the sensation in both breasts but favored the right one. More intense was the right side. This dance would continue for three days straight with only a few breaks in between for sleeping, eating, drinking and bathing each other. On the final night as she lay against the king’s broad chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her, she thanked the gods for bringing him home and even more so for the “Victory Dance”.

The End

Copyright: © 2009 Mahogany SilverRain

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Halloween Bash 09

3RD Annual Halloween Bash on October 30th, 9am -12am EST.  Come and party with me and other authors and publishers, free reads, games, contests and lots of prizes!  Where you say?

Go to   Hope to see you there! 

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