Crystal ClearChapter 25 Jim Romances Crystal s Mother Kim
- 4 years ago
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Upon waking for the second time in the home of Helen, Erik cautiously opened his eyes and found that his mind felt steadier and his head throbbed considerably less. He yawned and stretched, his slender body moving with a cat-like grace. He looked around the room, allowing his eyes to take in every detail. The room was a simple affair with rough log walls, chinked and then painted with a thick coat of whitewash. There were two windows in the room, but both had coverings of heavy, dark-colored silk brocade draped over them, effectively shutting out any view of the outside world. The sparse furniture fulfilled the utilitarian requirements of a bedroom and nothing more, but Erik felt like royalty after the way he lived in the attic.
"A bed! I have never slept in a bed. I wonder if this is what it would feel like to sleep on a cloud."
He grinned at the ridiculousness of his thought then sighed contentedly and snuggled languidly under the comforter. The boy spent a few moments relishing the unaccustomed comfort then he began to scoot up into a sitting position. He looked down at his hands resting on the bed and the boy frowned.
"Oh, no! I am filthy! Oh, shit!"
The boy looked at the now muddy bedclothes and bit his lower lip.
"Well, I just have to tell Helen that I will wash everything for her. She took me into her home, gave me a bed and food. I need to thank her properly. My mother may be mad, but she did raise her son to have proper manners. I just wish..."
A soft tap at the door interrupted his quiet musing.
"Yes? Come in."
The door latch jiggled for a moment and then the door banged open, swinging so quickly that it struck the wall behind it, bounced off it and then began to close. Helen bustled into the room and turned her backside to the door. It bounced harmlessly off her behind and she waddled into the room carrying a large wooden tray full of steaming bowls and plates of breakfast foods.
"Good morning, Erik! May I tempt you to eat a bit? I thought we could eat in here and talk at the same time. Why, you are looking much better today. Careful, now everything is quite hot, especially the coffee. I hope you like coffee. I only drink tea if it is late at night or for luncheon. Have you ever noticed that coffee always makes a gray day seem brighter? I really do enjoy my cup first thing in the morning. Come to think of it, I enjoy a cup at almost any time of the day or..."
Erik winced under her verbal onslaught. He raised his hands as if to defend himself from an attack and Helen paused to gawk at him.
"Erik, whatever is the matter with you?"
He blinked, looked at his raised hands, lowered them and then chuckled with obvious embarrassment.
"I ... well, I ... it is just..."
He stopped, cleared his throat and began again.
"I do apologize Madame Helen, but I am unused to quite so much ... uh, um ... conversation."
His voice trailed off and his face flushed crimson.
As the woman cackled with delight, her visage wrinkled even more than it had previously.
"Yes," she spat out between guffaws, "I do suppose I talk too much."
The boy shook his head as his eyes widened.
"Oh no, Madame! I simply am not used to people. Nor am I used to anyone wishing to speak with me. I suppose ... I hope you shall provide me with the opportunity to become accustomed to it."
He turned his head away from her, but shyly peeked at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Nothing would please me more, boy."
A small, pleased smile graced the boy's slightly crooked mouth.
"I do believe I would like that as well, Madame. I really must thank you for everything! Oh! And, do not worry about the bedclothes. I shall wash them for you if you show me where I can do it."
"You are most welcome, Erik. We shall take care of that tomorrow. For now, do not worry yourself over it. I think that you should spend the rest of today resting. Your poor head received a rather hard knock and my experience has taught me that rest is the best cure. But now is the time for us to eat! Please, help yourself to whatever catches your fancy!"
The two passed the next half of an hour in companionable silence as they partook of the food Helen provided. When Erik finished, he sighed and careful not to disrupt the tray, stretched with contentment, which caused what Erik began to recognize as a pleased look to grace Helen's face. She removed the tray and without a word, left the room. Sounds of utensils and bowls clanking sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a brief silence before Helen rejoined him.
"Ah! Chores done! Now! If you do not mind, might I inquire what you were doing wandering about the forest in the middle of the night?"
Erik paled and lowered his head to gaze at his tightly clasped hands lying on his lap. He spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.
"I, uh, well, I ran away from home last night."
The woman regarded him for a moment, first cocking her head to one side and then to the other. She nodded slowly.
"And, what are your plans? Where is it that you intend to run? Surely, an intelligent young man such as yourself must have had some idea of where you would go before you left home..."
Erik grimaced.
"No, I did not."
Helen shrugged.
"Well then, the reason for your leaving home must have been dire. I will not question the wisdom of your decision, as you do not seem a foolish child."
The woman seemed to resume her intense consideration of him for a moment before speaking.
"I would like to offer you a proposition ... if, that is, you would like to hear it."
The boy raised his eyes from his hands and nodded his head vigorously.
"What would you say to staying, here with me? You could earn your keep by helping me around the house and I could teach you ... uh, some things, if you would like. I have been told that I am a very good teacher."
The boy's golden brown eyes shone. Amber sparks flashed within them signaling his happiness.
"Really? You want me to stay here with you. I mean, you are asking me to live here?"
"Yes. Is it really so difficult to believe that I would wish for you to stay? I am not as young as I used to be and having someone to help me would be a blessing. Not to mention that you do not speak much and that would allow me to have someone to listen to me whenever I wish. I do believe I am making the better end of the deal, but then a friend of mine told me that I am quite shrewd and drive a hard bargain. I remember once when I was in Persia, I found a carpet at a stall in the bazaar and the shopkeeper and I almost came to blows bartering over the price. Oh yes, those were the days. I traveled quite frequently when I was younger. Now, I stay here all alone! Old, mad Helen, the forest witch. She is the one to visit if you should need her potions or be wanting a scrying in her glass for the whereabouts of a lover. Fools! Can you believe that the last visitor I had asked me to make him a love potion? Bah! Love potion! Magic can do many things, but it can never make people fall in love. Lust, perhaps, but not love."
Warning: This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit sexualacts of a bdsm nature between two or more women and occasionally men. If thistype of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it. MF/mf, enema, exhibition, toys, BDSM, slavery, chastity belt, humiliation. Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personalreading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to repost them atyour own site, please...
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Polly Tarantella hadn’t always been the great custodian of Crystal Passion’s legacy nor always the music’s greatest champion. In fact, I first heard of her when Olivia—one of the few original band-members I still keep in touch with—e-mailed me a link to a Rock Music website I’d never have discovered otherwise in which Polly Tarantella lambasted Crystal Passion with a vehemence that was bizarre given the many years since the band had broken up. In those days she was known as Sally Tyrant and was...
Crystal and I came trotting back from our morning run and a twenty-minute period of meditation in the little clearing in the woods. We'd seen a deer as we sat motionless, but the deer just meandered away in no particular rush. As we got near the house, I said to Crystal, "Would you marry me?" Crystal whirled around in complete surprise. She tried to speak, sputtered, her mouth moved, but no words came out. Then, I figured out what she tried to say: "No." She shook her head, paused, and...
‘Where is everyone?’ I asked when after an exasperating journey on Philadelphia’s public transport system I’d finally got back to the hotel and found Crystal sitting in the hotel lobby with only Jenny Alpha and our luggage for company. Crystal pretended to look around the hotel lobby at the scuffed velour chairs and the sticky linoleum floor. ‘They’re not here, that’s for sure,’ she said with a smile. ‘In fact, they’ve all left in the camper van for Boston.’ ‘They left without me?’ I...
I cried almost nonstop for an entire week. Everyone came by the house and tried to console me, as well as the others close to Crystal. We were all crying or moping around the house; we relished the few moments when we fell asleep exhausted because for a few minutes we were numbed from the events Crystal precipitated. Crystal was gone, disappeared, and maybe even dead somewhere. I couldn't even think of her without feeling total devastation sweep over me. For two days that first week, I...
Chapter One How well did I ever really know Crystal Passion? I ask that because everyone says that no one knew her better than me. And that’s just not true. It’s obvious why so many people believe I know more about her than the dozen or so others who were with her on that last fateful tour. I’m the one who renowned American rock critic Polly Tarantella has elevated to the status of Chief Guardian of the Crystal Passion legacy. Of the rest of us who were there, does anyone remember...
Both Crystal’s and Judy’s parents preferred that their daughters be buried rather than cremated so the final moments of the funeral weren’t of two coffins sliding inside a furnace and being incinerated. Instead a procession of hearses snaked out of the funeral home and wound through the roads and avenues of Rock Hill to Crystal’s final resting place at the Forest Hills Cemetery. I was a mess of sorrow and tears during the whole drive. The brief respite I’d had from my grief by the need to...