The Icicle Maiden and the Spider King
Once upon a time in a faraway place there was a mountain, tall and black and cold, its upper reaches perpetually wreathed in snow and mists. In this region, in a crystalline cavern that glowed with diamonds, pale wool and sliver, lived a silent, slender woman known to most only as the Icicle Maiden.
She was pale, with alabaster skin and hair so blonde it was almost white. Her eyes were sometimes silver, sometimes blue, sometimes a pale hazel the exact colour of beach sand in winter. The lines of her face were flawless, and her expression often so distant, as if she were listening to distant music, that most of those she met mistakenly assumed she wasn’t completely human. She rarely ventured forth from her cavern, only doing so when icy weather reached the regions below the mountaintop.
Below the mountain were high meadows dotted with tiny wildflowers and the occasional goat, and even further below that was the forest. The forest was huge and filled with giant, moss-covered twisted oaks and hawthorn, holly and ash; brambles and mushrooms thrived far below the canopy on fallen logs and drifts of crumbling, fallen leaves. In the forest were spiders, and amongst the spiders lived a man known to most only as the Spider King.
The Spider King was slightly above six feet in height, with shoulder-length raven’s-black hair, a faint olive complexion and dark, bright eyes. He smiled often and easily. It was his custom to dress entirely in black on most occasions, save perhaps when protocol demanded that he attend some wedding or christening or other happy event, or when he hadn’t had his laundry done in a while and started running out of clothing. On these occasions he wore gray or brown.
Today he was wearing his usual head-to-toe black, with his long sweeping cloak made of black feathers strung with gossamer. He paced back and forth outside the gnarled hollow oak that was his home, glancing occasionally up at the canopy but seeing none of the shifting green leaves that were there.
“Renfield!”
“Yes, boss?”
A fat black and green-striped spider wearing a red top hat and spats on all eight of its legs waddled out of the shadows.
“Whassup, boss?”
Still pacing, the Spider King ran his long white fingers through his hair.
“It’s just that… I don’t know. I’m bored. I’m lonely. Everyone I care about seems to be someplace else. Except for you, that is.”
The spider clacked his mandibles.
“So whassup, boss?”
The Spider King sighed.
“I think I need to go on a quest,” he said.
Renfield wobbled in horror.
“What for?”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve been thinking about,” the Spider King replied. “I think this time it will be for True Love.”
“That’s what you went looking for last time.”
The Spider King paused his pacing for a moment.
“And I didn’t find it, did I?”
Renfield frowned, thinking. The Spider King resumed his pacing. After a few more moments, the arachnid brightened.
“Er, what about Bambi?” he said.
The Spider King’s nicely shaped mouth formed a moue of distaste.
“Please. Don’t mention her to me again. Or any of the other dozen or so Barbie clones that have tried to lure me into their webs. Fake hair and fake boobs, ugh. ”
Renfield scurried around in a little circle.
“But they’re all hot for you,” he squeaked. “Doesn’t that count?”
The Spider King sighed.
“It’s certainly gratifying to know that I’m not completely repulsive to the opposite sex,” he said, “but that’s as far as that goes. No, this time I want a woman with brains as well as sex appeal, a real woman with nothing fake about her. Someone I can respect as well as love.”
Renfield bobbled.
“Er, then there’s. Er.”
The Spider King looked at his aide quizzically.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“Er. What, boss?”
“Forget it,” the Spider King said.
“I said nothing,” Renfield wobbled, truthfully.
The Spider King folded his arms.
“You want me to call her up again,” he said. “No deal.”
“She’s really pretty,” Renfield said in a wheedling tone.
“So are Black Widows. No way.”
“I’ve heard you calling her name in your sleep,” the spider said.
“So? Maybe I was having a nightmare.”
“But she lives just up the mountain,” Renfield wailed. “I mean, it’s a bit of a hike but it’s better than traveling overland to the desert or the ocean, you could spend half your time at home after you were married, and—”
The Spider King’s eyes widened.
“Now you’ve gone too far!” he said. “Marriage? Are you insane?”
“It’s a fairy tale,” Renfield pointed out.
“Bugger that,” the Spider King replied.
Up on the mountaintop, the Icicle Maiden was pacing back and forth in her gleamingly spotless living room. A white owl watched her pace from a perch constructed of silver arabesques.
“Bugger that,” the Icicle Maiden said. “Tameter, if you think I’ll go near him again you’re insane.”
Tameter blinked his round orange eyes.
“They say he’s very charming once you get to knooow him.” The owl’s voice was deep and strangely accented, with emphasis placed on long O vowels.
“No,” she said. She crossed her arms. “Out of the question. He’s totally wrong for me. There was no chemistry.”
“Are you sure? The busy season’s just starting, and quests can be a little extreme. I mean, he’s practically next dooooor.”
“No.”
“If there was no chemistry why dooo yooou talk about him in your sleep?”
The Icicle Maiden stopped pacing.
“What do you mean?” she asked. Her throat flushed a pale rose.
“I’ve heard yoooou sighing for Tule at night, and he’s the only Tule you’ve ever met. And why do you keep drawing spiders in the frost?”
The Icicle Maiden tossed her platinum hair.
“Well,” she said, then paused, chewing her lower lip. She brought her hands up to her face.
“Ohhhh, well, fine,” she mumbled from behind her hands, then lowered them. Tameter blinked placidy in response to her glare.
“Fine,” the Ice Maiden snapped. “I find him attractive. No— I find him downright, incredibly sexy. But it just wouldn’t work. We’re too different. Understand?”
Tameter cocked his head.
The Icicle Maiden’s glare intensified.
“Forget it,” she snapped. “I’m sick of disappointing dates with untidy men that have tempers and don’t understand me. I’m going on a quest for True Love.”
She strode past an assortment of bleached teak Danish Modern furniture over to a window, unfastened it and let the large spotless panes of glass swing wide.
“Fine me someone who knows what direction I should take to find True Love,” she commanded, and moments later Tameter flew past on silent white wings, out into the icy daylight.
Down below in his forest glade, Tule the Spider King smiled as a pair of familiar black ears emerged from the rustling undergrowth.
“Hello, kitty— come on out.”
“No, you’ve confused me with the Japanese kid,” a sensual female voice purred.
A sleek black panther with startlingly green eyes unfolded herself from the shadows. She sniffed at Renfield, wrinkling her delicate nose.
“I’m Felicia, remember?”
Renfield puffed up.
“His Majesty will be addressed according to his station—” the spider began, rearing on its four hindmost legs and waving the other four randomly about in the air.
Felicia snorted.
“Silly spider,” she wandered up to Tule and rubbed herself against his legs, waving her long black tail in his face.
“Don’t you know that cats don’t recognize kings?”
“But— but—”
Ignoring Renfield, Tule reached down to pat the sleek soft fur.
“So, Felicia,” he said. “What brings you back here?”
“You obviously need some good advice,” she purred. “I’m here to give it.”
Tule grinned.
“So do you like my quest idea?”
“I love it,” Felicia nudged his legs. “A pity we’re so fundamentally different, or I’d solve it my own way.”
Tule shook his head.
“That’s waaaay too complicated,” he said.
“Yes, I know.”
Felicia sat down and began to lick one paw.
“At any rate, what you need to do is head due east.”
Tule’s face fell.
“The mountain is due east,” he replied.
“Yes, I know,” Felicia replied.
“If I didn’t know better I’d swear you two were collaborating,” the Spider King snarled, turning himself on one heel and beginning to stalk back and forth again.
“Intala’s not in the picture! Forget it! I can’t love someone like that!”
Felicia paused in her licking.
“Of course not,” she replied patiently.
Tule looked back at her, quizzically.
“All I said was that you had to go due east,” she purred. “You can go further than the mountain, you know.”
The Spider King cocked his head.
“I could go around the mountain,” he mused to himself, but Felicia shook her head.
“You might miss a clue to your quest that’s on the other side of the mountain, going back down again,” she said. “No, I’m afraid that if it’s true love you’re looking for, then you’ll have to head straight east— up one side of the mountain and down the other.”
“How do you know?”
Felicia shrugged.
“Cats just know these things. But don’t just take my word for it— go east and see for yourself,” she said.
Tule sighed. He considered the merits of spending another night in the oak tree, playing games on his computer, then squared his shoulders.
“All right then, I’m off. The sooner I start, the sooner I’ll find True Love.”
He turned to Renfield, who was bobbling indecisively a short distance away from Felicia.
“Take care of the paperwork for me while I’m gone,” he said. “And check the mail.”
He reached down to give Felicia one final scratch behind the ears.
“Oooh,” she purred. “You make me wish I was human. And that’s saying something.”
The Spider King smiled, then strode back to his oak tree to make his travel preparations. A short while later he left his home, laden with a small black pack on his back and a wallet containing various credit cards, all good in a variety of magical locations. He wore his sturdiest leather hiking boots and black leather gloves, along with an extra cloak of black wool. If he were headed due east, it was going to get cold.
It was a fairly lonely leavetaking, with only Felicia and Renfield to see him off, but that was fine with him. This was a personal quest, after all.
The forest, as he traveled eastward, became less and less wild and tangled, the canopy thinner, the sky brighter. The roads began to incline upward as he strode along. When the sun became too bright Tule put on his designer sunglasses, wishing there were someone else around to notice how cool they looked on him. There were few villages between the forest and the mountain and little commerce in the area, meaning the roads east of the forest were virtually deserted, except for squirrels and mountain goats. He paused a moment when it occurred to him that She would probably be the next woman he encountered- She would see his new sunglasses. He brightened. If he had to face her again, at least he would do so knowing that he looked good.
“Do I look good?”
Intala, the Icicle Maiden, posed in a pale blue journey cloak that shimmered in the sunlight streaming in the tall windows. Her sunglasses were a pale lavender that couldn’t have done much to block the bright light.
Tameter squinted.
“Maybe draw the blinds first,” he suggested. “I can’t tell.”
Intala drew the cloak off and folded it neatly over a bleached teakwood chair upholstered in cream leather.
“Are you sure you didn’t get it backward?” she asked. “Due west? I mean, the forest is due west.”
Tameter nodded his head.
“Duuue west,” he said. He held up a shred of parchment in one talon. “She wrote it down for me. You can check it yooourself.”
Intala nodded, but made no movement toward the parchment.
“I trust you, Tameter. I suppose it’s convenient, too- there’s going to be a cold snap to the west.”
The owl’s gaze softened.
“You don’t have toooo go right away,” he said. “Stay here and finish your icicle designs.”
Intala shook her head, then gazed out the brilliantly sunlit windows to the blue skies beyond. Her hands played absently with the shimmering fabric of her new journey cloak.
“No- the sooner I start, the sooner I’ll find True Love,” she said. “I’ve waited up here alone long enough. I can finish my designs on the road.”
“Let me at least arrange the packing,” Tameter replied. “Yooou work on yooour designs now, while that’s being finished. Then yooou can set off.”
Intala nodded, absently.
“I’m sorry Tameter— it’s just that I’m kind of nervous about this. I mean, the forest is due west. What if I run into Tule?”
“Tuuule?” The owl shrugged. “Just go around him. Or ignore him.”
Intala nodded again, then drifted off to her workroom. Once there she sat down at her worktable, which was covered in sketches of icicles ranging in size from tiny to immense. She sat and tapped her pen absently for a few minutes, then shook her head, took a deep breath, and began drawing.
The Spider King
adjusted his sunglasses. He looked upward and estimated that it was about
He looked up at the mountain, looming to the east, and cringed a little. What was it, he wondered, about Intala that irritated him so? He cast his mind back to their first, and only, date- an unmitigated disaster.
First of all, she was blonde. Pale, ice-white hair with a bluish sheen to it, falling like mist down past her shoulders; but it was her actual hair colour so he supposed that wasn’t really it. No, she was nothing like the bleached-blonde Bambis he had encountered in the forest. She was tall, nearly but not quite as tall as he was, fairly slender and incredibly pale. Perhaps that was it— she looked almost bloodless.
No, Tule decided. She was bloodless— any woman that could stare coldly at him through all of his best jokes had to be.
It had started out well enough— they had met at one of the Meadow Queen’s masquerade balls. She had been charmingly costumed as a butterfly and he, naturally enough, as a spider. When he asked if she might step into his parlour she had laughed, openly and naturally, and when they danced together she was like a feather in his arms. Well, not entirely featherlike— she was clumsy— but the clumsiness had been charming and he hadn’t minded one bit. The night had been carefree and happy, and when he left afterward he was drunk on her image, he couldn’t stop thinking about her and couldn’t wait to see her again.
Then he saw her again.
The night had started badly. First she had refused the mojito he had Renfield make up for her on the grounds that it might contain liquefied meat (she was a vegetarian, of course). Then during the tour of the oak tree and surrounding grounds he caught her looking about at the comfortably familiar cobwebs and mushrooms with a moue of distaste that distorted her features. Things became worse when he finally convinced her to down some alcohol— instead of becoming more cheerful and chatty she became quieter and colder, to the point where she didn’t even seem to notice whenever he made a joke. Everything he could think of to entertain her fell flat, and she offered no entertainment of her own— gone was the magic of that first night, the spark that had drawn him to her was smothered under her dull scowling visage and now he wanted nothing more than to just forget that he had ever been in love with her.
The forest finally gave way to the meadows. Tule amused himself by watching the flowers and grasses swaying in the breeze as he strode up the increasingly steep and rocky terrain. Every now and again goats would magically appear from amongst the rocks and blaat complacently at him before vanishing again. The spiders of the meadows were smaller, their webs strung tenuously between rustling grasses, and he found himself stopping often to examine them.
On her sketchpad, the Icicle Maiden found herself drawing intersecting lines and spirals, again and again. She tore those sheets off and cast them crumpled into a corner. What was it, she wondered, about Tule that irritated her so?
He had completely swept her off her feet at the Meadow Queen’s ball, dazzling her with his dark good looks, his charming smile and dancing ability- she hardly ever danced and could barely keep up with him, but he didn’t seem to mind when she stumbled a few times. Conversation had been effortless, he seemed interested in everything she had to say and had the most fascinating things to say about himself- not that they had a chance to do more than shout at each other over the general din. She had left the ball giddy with happiness, certain she had found a soulmate.
Their first date together showed her otherwise. Tule’s oak tree in the forest was claustrophobic compared to her mountaintop aerie, and she wasn’t comfortable with the way spiders would appear, dropping from nowhere on invisible threads, and crawl up his arm or across his shoulder. Then there was the mojito— the spider with the spats had been joking, but how was she supposed to know? She’d never heard of a mojito before, and when he said he’d made hers medium rare she assumed there was meat in it and refused to go near it. Didn’t spiders liquefy meat? Tameter would never play such a joke on a visitor. She had been horribly embarrassed when Tule explained that the drink contained primarily ice, rum and fresh mint, and no meat whatsoever. And that damned spider just sat there, clacking its mandibles, as if it didn’t realize it owed her an apology. She had been too humiliated to say anything, but that had simply ruined her good mood.
Well, that and Tule’s messiness. He couldn’t seem to put things away, just piled them on top of other piles and moved the piles around. His home was utterly chaotic, with the mess and the constant flux of visiting spiders, crawling from a corner whenever she least expected it. She was so distracted by the mess and the spiders she couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying, and in such an environment his charm was greatly diminished. She just couldn’t keep up her end of the conversation, and the long awkward pauses grew longer and colder until he finally lost his temper— at a visiting spider that had frightened her by landing on the back of her hand, thankfully, and not at her. At least, this time it wasn’t at her. In the future, who knew? After she finished her last drink, she was relieved to be going home at last.
The sun was low on the horizon when Intala finally left her studio, her icicle designs rolled up inside a tubular carrying-case upon one shoulder, the shimmering blue cloak swirling about her. A cream-coloured pack containing changes of clothing and toiletries floated in the air behind her on a small cloud of mist. She turned and waved at Tameter.
“Why don’t you set out tomorrow?” he hooted over the rising wind. “There’s a storm brewing!”
“I told you, I don’t want to wait any longer,” she called back. “Besides, I have my hotel cards if things get rough.”
She flashed a grin, then set out upon the path that would take her down the western face of the mountain.
The day was waning when The Spider King finally reached the twisting rocky path that would take him up the western face of the mountain. He had never actually gone up that path- the Icicle Maiden had agreed to meet him in the forest for their first date. He had no idea what to expect. The air was cooling rapidly, and clouds were brewing up near the summit where the Icicle Maiden lived.
These were not good signs for an ordinary night of camping in the open. Tule pulled out his wallet and took a small red card from inside. He snapped it in half and waited.
There was a lavender puff of smoke, and a dwarf wearing pale blue satin pajamas and a cobalt blue pointed hat appeared.
“Do you haff a wethervathion?”
“Er, no,” Tule said. “Not a reservation, as such. But I do have a standing invitation from Mistress Silver.” He riffled in his wallet and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, then showed it to the dwarf.
“Yeth, you do indeed,” the dwarf replied. “How fwustwating. Mithtweth Thilver no wonger wuns thith ethtablithment. We awre fully booked tonight. I’m sawwy. Pweathe have thith card. We will be dewighted to therve you when you make a wethervathion with it in the future.”
The dwarf pushed a blue card into Tule’s hand, snapped his fingers, and vanished in another puff of lavender smoke.
“Damn,” Tule said, to no one in particular. He fished around in his wallet until he came up with another card, this time yellow. He snapped the card in half.
There was an enormous puff of green smoke. A greenish-gold dragon with ruby eyes and golden wings appeared. It batted enormous fake lashes at him.
“Is that a party of two?” it asked. “That will cost extra for the night.”
Tule shook his head, bewildered.
The dragon cocked its head.
“Oh dear,” it said. “There’s only one room available and you both called at precisely the same moment… hold on.”
The dragon waved a braceleted forepaw in a complex gesture, and the Spider King found himself in a posh hotel lobby, consisting mainly of marble columns, a wall of cascading water and many lush potted plants. The reservation dragon gestured behind him.
“I thought she was with you,” it said.
He turned, and she was there.
It was so unfair, the thought, that he didn’t have his sunglasses on when he needed them most.
Intala stood behind him, cool and sophisticated, a shimmering blue cloak hanging about her, an expensive self-propelling pack floating on a cloud of mist behind her. She carried a tube over one arm that he hoped contained no weapons.
“Hello,” she said, unsmilingly.
Tule swallowed.
“Er… hello yourself.”
“Let me check to see if there are any more rooms available,” the dragon said, then bustled away to a counter.
Intala and Tule faced one another.
“What—” he said, just as she said, “Why—”
They both stopped, awkwardly.
“No, you first,” she said, finally.
Tule cleared his throat.
“What brings you here?”
A smile flitted across her pale features.
“Work,” she said. “There’s going to be a cold snap to the west. I’ve been on my feet all day and need to get up early tomorrow— I don’t have time to travel all the way home.”
“Ah.”
There was another silence.
“Why are you here?” she asked him.
“I’m on a quest,” he said. “The weather was getting shitty.”
“Ah,” she said.
They listened to the water cascading down the wall.
“Look—” she began, just as the reservation dragon came bustling back.
“I’m terribly sorry,” it said, “but we have no more rooms available. Just the one. Our policy is first-come, first-serve in these situations, but since you both broke your cards at precisely the same instant, well…” The dragon threw its forepaws into the air and shrugged, eloquently.
Tule wished he were less gallant.
“You go ahead and take the room,” he said.
Intala shook her head.
“I live closer, I can just go home,” she said. “You take the room.”
“No, no— I can’t let you go back up the mountain through that storm. I have a lot of hotel cards,” Tule lied. “You take the room.”
“A lot of hotels are fully booked tonight, sir,” the dragon huffled helpfully. Tule glared at it.
“I’m used to ice storms,” Intala said, ignoring the dragon. “You need the room. Go take it. My home isn’t far.”
Tule pursed his lips. No way was he going to take a comfortable room and leave a woman out in the snow. Especially a woman as good-looking as this one.
“No,” he said, jutting his chin out stubbornly. “I insist that you take the room. I refuse to take it unless I know you’re going to be safe.”
The Icicle Maiden sighed, then turned to the dragon.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We can share.”
“We can what?” Tule yelped.
“Wonderful!” the dragon clapped its paws. “I’ll book you in. If I may have a credit card, ma’am?”
She pulled something gleaming silver from her pocketbook and handed it to the dragon.
Tule shook his head.
“What did you say?”
The dragon bustled off and Intala folded her arms, looking him squarely in the face.
“I said we can share. Unless you want to spend a night out in the snow?”
He frowned.
“You’d share a room with me?”
She stared at him, coolly.
“I suppose so,” was all she said. She turned away to the counter where the reservation dragon was putting her credit card through.
Tule found himself squirming. How could he possibly share a room with someone so cold, so uncommunicative? It would be in many ways like sleeping out in the snow… but actually sleeping in the snow would place him at risk of hypothermia. At least this way his body was in no physical danger. He would be able to continue his quest in the morning.
He sighed.
The things I’ll do for love, he thought to himself, and hefting his pack, he followed her.
During the elevator ride up to their floor, she turned to him.
“I got you a key, too,” she said, handing him a white plastic card.
“Why are you doing this?”
Intala shrugged, seemed about to say something- then smiled, the first genuine smile he had seen her wear since the night of the Meadow Queen’s ball.
“It amuses me to perplex you,” she said. There was a mischievous gleam in her blue eyes.
Silently, Tule pocketed his keycard. She left the elevator, and it was several seconds before Tule could think to do the same.
Intala sighed, not caring if the Spider King heard. Her first joke and he just didn’t get it. The man was impossible. Why on earth did she find him attractive? And why did she let her pride get the better of her— why couldn’t she just have taken the damn room and left him on his own?
Because,
a little voice reasoned in the back of her head, you know you’d spend the
night worrying about him instead of sleeping, that’s why.
She unlocked the room door and held it open for him. The hotel room was large, paneled in cream and lavender, with a large golden carafe and two matching goblets encrusted with amethysts. Intala walked over to them, her luggage still floating obediently behind her, and inspected them carefully.
“Fakes,” she announced, after a few moments. “Still, they’re quite pretty.”
Tule took off his bird-feather cloak, then his cloak of black wool. He threw them across one of the cream-covered hotel chairs, where they spilled like a pool of ink. Intala eyed the disarray with disapproval, but didn’t say anything.
Just
one night, she told herself. I can put up with him for just one night.
Then it’s westward again, to find True Love!
She poured herself some water from the carafe.
“Would you like some water?” she asked Tule. “It’s complimentary. There’s also wine and mead in the minibar.”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” he said.
Intala shrugged and drained her goblet. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” she asked. “I’d like to take a bath.”
“Go right ahead,” he motioned with one arm, then turned to look about for the TV remote.
He found it and clicked on the television, raising the volume to drown out the sound of running water. He especially didn’t want to hear the sound of the water stopping, the sound of fasteners unfastening, the soft whisper of clothing falling to the floor and the gentle splashing of soft naked limbs submerging themselves beneath the surface of the warm water…
Irritated, he found himself becoming aroused. That was absolutely the last thing he needed. He slipped off his hiking boots and clothing, except for his black T-shirt and boxer shorts (thank goodness, he thought, that he hadn’t worn the faded ones with the hole in the back), and stretched out under the covers of one of the beds.
On the television screen, Cohen O’Rowan was interviewing a manticore when Tule noticed a faint tickling sensation in the back of his mind. A spider, calling to him from somewhere in this immaculate hotel room… but where?
Tule leaned back on the satin pillows and closed his eyes, concentrating. Close… very close…
Fuzzy images filtered into his mind, a blur of white and pink which sharpened as he concentrated to the vague outline of a pale-skinned body, pink with the heat of the water, a pale oval of water against white porcelain, a head of white hair-
Tule’s eyes snapped open. Intala! There was a spider above her, on the bathroom ceiling!
He chewed his lower lip for a few moments. Really he shouldn’t. It would be very improper. Really, he should ask the spider to move so he wouldn’t even be tempted.
“Oh, damn,” he said aloud, to no one in particular, and closed his eyes.
The vague outline of a female body moved. Tule sighed in frustration. His spider was too far away to provide a good view.
Filled with a furtive guilty excitement, Tule asked the spider to drop itself down on a silken line just a little, then just a little more. He caught his breath. Was that the outline of a breast, a rosy erect nipple on the tip? Still a too far away. A little more… a little more still…
“Oh, yeah,” Tule murmured, lost in a clear vision of female beauty that was currently rubbing a spongeful of bubbles over its arms and breasts. One leg lifted and the sponge was moved along the glistening skin, from the tiny ankle up to the knee, then down to where the thigh met the water, and down below—
“Oh my God,” Tule exclaimed softly, only vaguely aware of his own body’s state of arousal. The spider, unable to interpret this complex mixture of signals, dropped down even further, landed on Intala’s bare breast and bit her.
To Be Continued…
Copyright Elizabeth Bent 2005