Subject: ADULT: Cakewalk: Fantasia for a Hostess Twinkie Part 1/2 Date: Wed, 12 Jul 2000 17:16:41 -0400 From: "Brenda F. Bell" To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Cakewalk Fantasia for a Hostess Twinkie Copyright 2000, Brenda F. Bell This piece of madness was inspired by a discussion of Twinkies on FORKNI-L some time earlier this year. Other disclaimers: This is a work of parody. Forever Knight characters and situations belong to Sony/Tri-Star and are used without permission. Hostess snack cakes and Twinkies are registered marks of Interstate Brands Corp. Kissena High School and the incidents described are completely fictional. However, there is a real Kissena Blvd. in Flushing, NY -- it is one of the main streets there -- and Flushing does have a large Asian population. Warnings: sexual situations, kinky sexual situations, demeaning language. No offense intended to any real persons, living, dead, undead, fictional, or other. Archive permission: FK ftp site, fkfanfic.com, JADFE ********************* Cakewalk Fantasia for a Hostess Twinkie by Brenda F. Bell ||O|| = ( o o o ) Lustily, in uncommon time ********************* April 14. Or June 24. Or something. The calendar's a bit hazy. It gets that way after too many twenty-hour days running. Or somewhat fewer twenty-hour nights. In the land of Toronto, there seems to be little else... ***** "Happy Birthday!" The skeleton shift at the morgue crowded around the M.E.'s desk as the buxom assistant passed forward a small, oblong yellow cake, loaded with more candles than anyone had a right to expect it to support. "Thanks, guys," the M. E. said, counting the number before extinguishing them with a single formaldehyde-scented breath. The assistant gave the birthday woman a department store box. "This is from all of us." "Thanks, Grace. Thanks, you guys," the coroner said as she opened it to reveal the skimpiest black lace bra and thong she had ever seen. "Wear them for someone 'special'," Grace said, leering suggestively. The coroner smiled and tried not to blush. Unfortunately, the man she thought was "someone special" was not responding -- would not respond -- to her advances. As Natalie Lambert, M.E. separated out the candles, enough of the cake clung to each of them that there was nothing left to cut. She took the back end of one of the confection-wrapped candles and started dreamily licking off the cake and creme mixture... It was just like this last year, almost. The same Twinkie, the same black silk lingerie -- that year, a teddy -- and the same rushed pace just in case a body came in, forcing the partiers back to work... Natalie wound her tongue the candle, lipping off cake crumbs and gobbets of creme one by one, each golden crumb reminding her of the golden hair of the man she loved, each dab of creme putting her in mind of other treasure... She paused on that thought and let her mind wander a moment. *White?*, she reflected. *Would it _be_ white?* she wondered, remembering that nothing else -- save his skin -- was. *That*, however, was a conversation they had skillfully avoided. Was 'white' too much to hope for??? Natalie's tongue teased the last golden crumbs from the back of the candle and over the lips she now wrapped around its slender shaft... ...slowly, rhythmically, she teased and sucked, pulling the remainder of the once-creme-coated structure away from her lips and tongue, dragging its spiral texture across the sensitive membranes. Her mind saw nothing but Nick, the skimpy skivvies, and creamy white filling... ***** ...she felt herself sitting astride the arm of the living room sofa, teasing her tongue through the small circular opening and drawing out the sweet, white-crystalline creme from its long, slender encasement. She gasped as the sugar went to her head in a frenzy of fantasy, licking, sucking and moaning as the sensations mounted, rocking back and forth on the furniture as the waves of pleasure took her higher, until she could not take it any more. "Nick!" she moaned, biting into the cake and letting the creamy white filling spurt all over her face. "Ni-i-ickkkkkkk...." The rhythm increased, the rocking strengthened, and she found herself lying face down on her bed, her legs spread-eagled and spasming behind her as she bucked and moaned, her body needing the one thing only *he* could give it. "Nick!" she cried into the pillow, biting down on her hand to prevent the neighbors from hearing. "Please, Nick, *please*!" she groaned. By chance her eyes alit on the gold form sitting untouched in the open cellophane package. "Nick!" she cried once more, shoving the pastry down her throat until it burst, filling her mouth with its sweet, white, creamy fillng. "Nick," she sighed, the tension leaving her in a single, sugary wave of pleasure... ***** "Ah!" gasped Nick, suddenly uncomfortably alert. "Hah-uh-hah-uh-hah-uh-hah-uh," he panted, suddenly feeling pressure in the place he least expected it. *Pressure*, he thought, bringing his hands towards the source of his discomfort and expecting to find a woolly tangle of woman's hair. Insead, he found only the soft, well-faded denim of his jeans. He closed his eyes, a sudden jolt of pleasure riding through his loins as he sensed the strong emotions of his personal Goddess. "Nathalie!" he whispered between gasps. "Baise-moi!*" ***** A rainbow of treacly sensations washed over him as sugar-coated lips grabbed his, thrusting a crumb-filled tongue through the opening and over the flat surfaces of his teeth, prying them open enough to tease the tip of his tongue with her sweetness. His breathing grew ragged as she nipped and sucked at him with crumb-filled lips and creme-coated tongue, each molecule of sugar heading directly to his brain and beyond, spasming him with need and pleasure. Her tongue removed as he felt her hands trail down his shirtless front, the raspy feel of crumbs trailing down the median line... "Baise-moi!" he demanded, as jolts of electricity flew through his navel and groin as she filled the one with white creme and wrapped the other in golden crumbs. Lips and tongue nipped and licked and sucked away the sticky gold-white trail. Breathing uncontrollably fast, his pleasure bordered on pain with each lap and swirl. "Nathalie!" he moaned, begging for release. Instead, the tongue moved back to his navel, teasing it with the remnants of creme and crumb. The sucking below was replaced by rough, sticky sensations as crumbs were moved up and down over the stiffened surfaces. More crumb assaulted his mouth as his tongue sensed sugary cake and creme. Feminine hands slid the Twinkie in and out of his mouth, teasing his lips 'til they grew numb. She gave the concoction a final push into his mouth as her tongue left his navel to join the hand near the base of his torso. His palate tickled as he used his tongue to maneuver the golden, creme-filled morsel into a position better able to appreciate its lardy, sugary, plasticky taste. The tip of his tongue found the small, circular openings through which the creme had been inserted; it grew pleasantly numb as the cake teased its circumference, just as *her* tongue teased its way up and down the Twinkie-like structure below, spasming him with waves of pleasure bordering on pain. Suddenly, he felt his innards drawn into a warm, dark, maw, sphincters closing around his circumference just as the warmth was pulled away from him. Shudders of indescribable pleasure passed through him; his throat and palate tightened in response, causing the roughly cylindrical shape in his mouth to release its filling to him just as he released his "filling" to her... ***** "And so, gentle listeners, I ask the question: what ills have love and passion dealt you? And, given the opportunity, would you -- could you --" Lacroix gasped as he felt waves of unfettered pleasure passed over him "-- do it all again?" he whispered huskily before going to commercial. The ancient vampire leaned back in his cushioned leather chair and templed his fingers reflectively. "Dear Nicholas," he tsked, "have I not *told* you your passion would be your undoing?" He gasped again as another wave of pleasure rode through him. *What _are_ you doing, Nicholas?* he wondered, one hand dropping towards the now uncomfortable front of his pants while the other cued a long set of music and the show's closing credits. With the rest of the evening cleared, he discreetly slipped into his office, closed the door, and massaged the offending area... *****Flanders, 1230***** "I will not," replied the petulant fledgling. "It is a very normal and natural act, Nicholas. And you *will* obey me." The younger vampire crossed his arms and took two steps backward. Lacroix crossed the distance in less than half that time, spun his "son" around, immobilized him, and with one swipe of his hand, tore off his garments, exposing him completely. "Janette," the master summoned, nodding towards Nick. The raven-haired beauty stepped forward, deliberately emphasizing the curves of her breasts and hips as she walked towards them. Her mouth opened wide enough for the tip of her tongue to make a lazy circuit of her lips and massage her budding fangs. Settling her breasts against the fledgling before her, she kissed him with parted lips, sensuously drawing a trail of kisses and scratches down the midline of his front. "No, Janette! No!" Nick protested, trying to squirm away from lips that were moving ever lower on his body even as his body screamed with pleasure. "I will not let you debase yourself in this way." Lacroix wrapped one leg around his fledgling's thighs and "speared" him, depriving Nick of even the ability to squirm. In response to his nod, Janette fluidly dropped to her knees and began licking and sucking on her "brother's" sensitive parts. As she skillfully manipulated the hardening flesh, the ancient withdrew his own flesh before again thrusting it into the former Crusader, drawing in and out, teasing Nick's rear just as Janette was developing his front. Relying in part on their vampiric link, the two older vampires let the fledgling stay on the crest for hours before biting into him, releasing him, releasing into him... ***** *****Shanghai, 1887***** They were on the mat together, head to groin and groin to head, each soothing the other's need with lip and tongue and hand and fang. These were the times Lacroix enjoyed most, when his son was at his most submissive, when his blood tasted its most sweet. They had fed on the local cuisine earlier, having purchased the delicate "lotus blossoms" near one of the opium dens that crowded the Asian city. Girl- children were cheap commodities in this society; it was understood and expected that their father would never see his adolescent daughters again. Thus sated, the two vampires turned their attentions to each other. Lacroix nipped and fanged and kneaded, carefully bringing his lover to the same level of excitement he himself was feeling. As he peaked, bit, and was bled, the exquisite taste of waterlilies and lotus blossoms, fresh-caught fish and traces of opium -- combined with the indescribable taste of his favorite creation -- brought him again to peak just as Nicholas came, releasing oceans of passion through his fluids as well as through his link with his master. Lacroix tensed and came again, the two of them bucking and moaning with passion as they peaked and released again and again and again... ***** ***** He was bucking and moaning, trying to release the tension in his privates, as he opened his eyes to find one of Janette's protegées bent over his open fly. Suzy. She'd wanted to be called "Suzy", the ancient recalled, though he suspected her given name was something that would have sounded more like "Zhu-Xie". Her bottle-red hair and occidentalized eyes notwithstanding, even mortals would have been hard-pressed to ignore the golden skin with the faint smell of lotus and almond blossoms. Lotus and almond blossoms -- and something else, something sweet. As she went to release him, he grasped handfuls of red hair and raised her up to him. He ran his hands down her torso and up her short skirt, and finding her unclothed below that, lifted her and sat her upon the area her mouth had been working scant seconds before. As the prostitute glided up and down, the master vampire brought her face to his, kissing her with tongue and fangs, massaging her shoulders, as she brought him to his peak and he released, biting into her neck and tasting the exotic nectar mixed with mundane snack cake. Twinkies. She had been eating Twinkies. Long golden cakes filled with white creme. The same sort of cakes he'd seen in Nicholas's flood of passion. Lacroix dug deeper into the girl's memories, trying to find out what was so special about the mass-produced confection... ***** *Baise-moi: Literally, "kiss me" -- but the phrase is idiomatically used to refer to something much more intimate. *Nathalie: French spelling/pronunciation of "Natalie". The "th" is pronounced much like a "t", except that the stop is made slightly further back. Brenda F. Bell webwarren@earthlink.net /nick TMana IM: n2kye Arctophile, computer addict, TREKker, stealth photographer... UA, PoCBS, FKPagan; Neon-Green GlowWorm HugMistress of the Ger Bear Project http://members.Tripod.com/~TMana/ Gerthering 3 Photos: http://members.Tripod.com/~TMana/gertherng/ Visit the Fiendish Glow at http://home.earthlink.net/~webwarren/glow/ Subject: ADULT: Cakewalk: Fantasia for a Hostess Twinkie Part 2/2 Date: Wed, 12 Jul 2000 17:16:36 -0400 From: "Brenda F. Bell" To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Cakewalk: Fantasia for a Hostess Twinkie Part 2/2 Copyright 2000 Brenda F. Bell Disclaimers in Part 1. *****Flushing, New York, 1984***** "Twinkie!" Fong Chou-Wa yelled, pulling the golden cake from her hand and breaking it in half. "Yellow on the outside, white on the inside -- you're nothing but a half-breed Twinkie!" "Goddamn *Chink*!" Ziuphuong retorted, pulling the other cake from its wrapper. "You're not my father, and this is not China." "I'm Number One Son in this home, and I will be treated with *respect*, Number *TWO*," he said, fumbling with his fly. "You've only been here a week, and already you think you're in sixteenth-Century Beijing. Grow up," she said, taking a calming bite out of the comforting snack cake. "You *will* respect me," Chou-Wa said, pushing his fourteen-year-old foster sister into a chair, imposing his bulk between her legs. "You *will* cease to associate with round-eyes, you will *not* eat round- eyes food, and you will stop wearing round-eyes clothes." He pulled the remnants of her Twinkie from her hand and smeared it roughly across her blouse. "You can't boss me around," she protested, trying to escape. It was no use; he was two years older than her and a lot heavier. "Oh, really?" the Chinese boy retorted, exposing himself to the girl. She retorted by telling him exactly *what* he could do with his genitals. "I would not sully my children with *your* inferior half-breed blood," he sneered. "But since you're so willing and eager..." he leered, pushing Ziuphuong's face into his crotch and forcing himself upon her... ***** ***** Lacroix saw things go from bad to worse as Chou-Wa repeatedly sodomized the teenager and framed her for it, and manipulated her parents into forcing her from their home. Without friends or family, Ziuphuong was forced to sell herself to survive. Time, tide, and a pimp on the lam eventually brought her to Toronto and to the Raven... While she learned to take control of her own life, time was still a one-way street, and Hostess Twinkies were a calming, comforting reminder of innocence lost too soon... ***** *****Toronto, 1990***** "Detective Schanke," the leggy redhead oozed, "You wanted to see me?" She removed dark glasses to reveal contact-lens-blue irises. "What can you tell me about this person?" he said, showing her an 8 X 10. "May I?" she asked in an unaccented voice, picking up the photo in her elegantly-gloved hand and examining the naked torso which filled the page. She dropped it again, in shock and disgust. "Chou-Wa Fong?" she sneered, using the Euro-American name order. "No more than anyone else who reads the business section of the paper -- and probably somewhat less." The detective looked at the exotically-dressed woman, then at the back of the file. "Was he..." "One of my clients? Hardly... " "Yet you recognized his body." "He was once my foster brother," she said, drawing a deep breath. "And my abuser. I haven't seen him in five years." "Know any reason someone would want to kill him?" "Besides the obvious?" Schanke nodded. "If he's anything now like he was then..." Ziuphuong paused. "He has -- had -- a way of manipulating people, framing them, and black- mailing them. He convinced my parents to disown me when I was still in high school. He would have 'suicided' me had I not run away. Maybe someone saw a long string of 'suicides' and decided to get his licks in first?" she shrugged. "Chou-Wa Fong? An abuser and blackmailer?" Schanke snorted. "You might as well try to convince me that Muhammed Ali is lily-white!" "Look beyond the *open* records," the Vietnamese woman replied. "Check the records for Kissena High School, years 1985-87. Compare the number of student suicides, drop-outs, transfers, and psychological referrals to the surrounding years." "Kissena High..." Schanke mused. Was that the school whose students tried to bury themselves alive like those ancient Chinese soldiers?" he asked. Ziuphuong grimaced. "That was the year *after* I'd left -- his senior year. He tried to insinuate that *my* refusal to obey him caused him to not be able to graduate a year early." "Crazy kids," the detective muttered, shaking his head. He remembered seeing on the news that two dozen youths, mostly second- generation Chinese-Americans, had suddenly rejected their upbringings and fancied themselves some new sort of Tong. When their leader's expectations rose above their abilities, he'd convinced them that they'd dishonored their families and could only right that dishonor by standing upright, in ancient battle formation, in the two-story-deep pit that had been dug as the foundation for a new fast food store. The instigator's name was sealed under the juvenile and adolescent crime laws. Schanke sighed. "Talk about calling someone a 'Twinkie'," he commented. Ziuphuong pursed her lips and frowned. "Oh, no offense meant!" he leered at her. The prostitute shook her head in disbelief. "I mean, if he thought *those* guys were 'Twinkies'..." Ziuphuong angrily rummaged through her handbag. "Get stuffed!" she replied, tossing him a still-wrapped package of snack cakes as she stalked off... ***** ***** Schanke looked at the cellophane-wrapped package in his hand. *Twinkies,* he sighed. He must've taken Jenny's lunch by mistake... again. *Geez, you'd think Myra'd at least have the sense to _mark_ the bags,* he fumed. Remembering that incident with the Vietnamese prostitute caused him to lose his appetite for the stale, golden concoctions. It seemed a pity, though, to let the pastries go to waste. Schanke yawned. Time to do something to spice up the slow work day. He looked across at his partner. "Yo, Nick! Wanna Twinkie?" No response. Schanke looked again. Nick was leaning back in his chair, mouth agape, eyes glazed over, and breathing heavily, his hands loosely covering his fly. *I'll bet he's thinking about Natalie,* Donald thought. Then another idea entered his mind. A wicked thought, at that. As quietly as possible, he opened the wrapper, removed one of the oblong cakes, and placed its end into his partner's mouth. Buddy-boy would certainly have an interesting time of it when he climaxed... Then again, could he be dreaming about Janette? *Man-o-man, if I knew a gal like _that_,* he thought... ***** The master vampire had just defeated his "child", Nicky-boy, and was making his way to the frilly bed of Janettie, Nicky's mortal beloved. The dark-haired woman shrank back in her bed, afraid of what LaSchanke might have in mind. Eyes glowing fiercely over his black satin cape, the vampire exposed two long fangs as he opened his mouth and suggestively traced his tongue across his incisors. He was at her neck in an instant, breathing heavily on her throat, teasing her with his canines just long enough for him to straddle her shoulders and release that which hid behind his button fly. Highly aroused, his fangs had become small tusks, and his flesh fully a meter long. Janettie gasped, speechless, as if neither man nor vampire could -- nor should -- be as well-endowed as he. LaSchanke seized the moment, thrusting hard and deep until she had taken him completely into her digestive tract. He felt, rather than heard, the woman try to gasp for breath as he sought his release, her spasms and contractions stimulating him and bringing him ever closer to fulfillment. He finally came as the woman's asphyxia reached critical levels, his orgasm returning unlife for her life. Spent by the effort, he carefully unthreaded himself from her. She climaxed at her first gasp of air and arose, new fangs extended... ***** Eyes red, Janette reached for the nearest bottle, cracked it open, chugged its contents, and grimaced. *Cow.* *Nicolas must've left it there,* she reasoned, too tired to think on it much longer. She lay back down and closed her eyes, willing away the horrid taste and the nausea. *If only it had been _Nicolas_, and not his _beverage_,* she thought, remembering the many times they had shared comforts of flesh and blood... ***** *****Unknown time and place, not that it matters***** Teasing fingers tickled the bare thighs beneath her chemise, causing them to spasm and spread apart, exposing the sensitive flesh between. As his fingers found their mark, she ran her hands under his chemise and down his satiny chest, past the thatch of dark blond hair and out along his forward axis, pulling and kneading and squeezing length out of him until he was large enough, and hard enough, for her to take him into a throat as hungry for his essence as he was for hers. They teased and rubbed each other, each feeding the other's passion to a strong, steady glow. Eyes turned from blue to gold to fiery red as their needs grew past the point of pain. Finally, as if on cue, each reared and roared, exposing long, hard, aching fangs that quickly sunk into the other's pleasure spot, bringing male and female, and vampires, to release... ***** ***** "Take me," the brunette demanded. "No, Janette," he protested. "I cannot allow myself to use you like that." "Nicolas*!" she pouted. "It's always a matter of honneur with you, is it not? It's what *you* need -- it's what I need. Love? Why can't it just be *need* for once?" Janette dipped an elegant finger into the viscous red fluid and placed it across her erstwhile lover's lips. Setting the goblet down, she drew closer and began to nuzzle his sensitive neck. "Janette!" he chided, as the tip of his tongue crossed the blood she had deposited. *Natalie!* he thought, recognizing the doctor's phermomones and taste. "What have you done to Natalie!" he demanded. "You'll have to find out for yourself," she goaded, reclaiming the glass and draining it in a single draught. "Natalie!" Nick pined as his "sister" drew near again. "Come, Nicolas," she replied, breathing the coroner's blood upon him and kissing him chastely with the remaining molecules of her scent. "Natalie!" he groaned, eyes turning gold with jealousy and desire. "C'est bien, Nicolas. Rapelle-toi de ce que tu sois*," she whispered, her fingers a feather-touch upon his lips. He blinked hard, willing the vampire to retreat; yet his fangs grew long with the rest of him. "They say," Janette teased, "that blood never lies." She pointed towards her bare neck in open invitation as her other hand manipulated the crusader's jeans. "Baise-moi, Nicolas! Le sang, c'est la verité -- prend-le! Tu sais que tu le veux..." she whispered. "Prend-moi!*" Nick tried to move away; he wanted to move away -- but the woman's gestures, the whisper of lover and beloved together, so mesmerized him that he could not retreat. It really *was* what he wanted, anyway -- wasn't it? Finally, he could stand it no longer -- the beast needed the blood; the man needed the answers. He pushed her head sideways and bit. Her blood... was white. Sugary, creamy, lardy -- just like the snack cakes she chided Schanke about, just like the way those protein shakes were *supposed* to taste... just like *her*. She'd pricked herself and let the few drops of her blood flavor the shake -- perhaps to immunize him to her, perhaps to... He tasted her love, her frustration, her caring about him in a way that nobody had cared since Janette left him... He inhaled the viscous white substance, trying to learn from it the depth and breadth of her love for him. Despite his best efforts, he choked on it. ***** "Nick, buddy-boy! Yoo-hoo, Nicky! Where are you?" the abrasive Canadian asked his daydreaming partner. Startled, Nick sat up straight in his chair, coughed, and began to gag. Pointedly borrowing a wad of take-out napkins from Schanke's desk, he spit out the offending bolus, looked at it, and turned a murderous look at his partner. "Hey, Nicky, don't get so upset. It's only a Twinkie!" Nick's stare grew harder, if that were at all possible. "How can you *not* like Hostess Twinkies? Like, they're one of the five basic food groups -- coffee, donuts, souvlaki, pizza, and Twinkies!" Nick's reaction was to add a warding sign to his stare before stalking off to the men's room. His partner followed closely behind, chattering all the way. "C'mon, Nick, it can't be all *that* bad!" the Polish-Italian complained as his partner rinsed out his mouth and gargled in the manner of someone who had just vomited back his lunch. "Schank," he growled, "that prank you pulled there could have killed me." "God, Nick, it was just a Twinkie!" "I've got food allergies, remember?" Flecks of gold sparked Nick's eyes as he captured his partner's gaze. "You will *never* pull that sort of prank again," he growled. "I... will... never... give... you... Twinkies... a...gain..." "Good," the vampire said, his eyes and voice returning to normal. "I don't believe it," Schanke mumbled as the two of them exited the men's room. "The guy just threw up a *Twinkie*..." ***** "You go, girl! You go, girl! You go, girl! You go, girl!" The entire office cheered in unison as the medical examiner rocked back and forth on her chair, rhythmically moving the cake-denuded candle in and out of her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and still trying to suck creme filling from it. "Go Natalie, go Natalie, go Natalie..." The office door opened. "Don't you think she's given you enough of a show for that two-bit Twinkie of a birthday cake?" Almost immediately, the dozen or so onlookers fell silent. "You give him one for me!" Grace said, playfully punching the coroner's arm. "Miss Balthazar!" the voice admonished. The large black woman turned around, and would have fainted if she could have. "Yes, Captain Cohen?" she replied, almost meekly. A stern gaze told the assistant that the situation had gotten *well* out of hand. She turned around again just in time to see the coroner suddenly shake herself as if waking too quickly from an unintended nap. Lambert looked down to find herself straddling her chair in a most unlady-like fashion. With a puzzled look, she pulled the candle from her mouth one last time and gazed at it intently. "Doctor Lambert?" the captain enquired gently. Natalie looked up again to find a hushed department looking hungrily upon her. Wrinkling her brow, she looked down at the chair, up at the crowd, down at the canle, and up at the crowd again. "I didn't -- " she half-asked, unwilling to comlete the thought. Another stern glance from the captain quickly dismissed most of the still-expectant crowd. "I did, didn't I?" the younger woman realized, turning beet red. "I'm afraid you did," the Asian woman nodded, not unkindly. "I hope he's worth it," Grace winked on her way out. Natalie smiled weakly, turning even redder than before. "Come on," Cohen said, gently helping the coroner to her feet. "Go get yourself composed; Knight's waiting for you outside. He looks like he's dressed for a night on the town," she whispered conspiratorially. The doctor smiled hopefully as she gathered her things. Maybe she'd be able to use those silk undies after all. *Nicolas: French pronunciation of Nicholas. It's how Janette always pronounces his name. *"C'est bien, Nicolas. Rapelle-toi de ce que tu sois": "That's good/right/ok, Nicholas. Remember what you are." *"Baise-moi, Nicolas! Le sang, c'est la verité -- prend-le! Tu sais que tu le veux...": "Make love to me, Nicolas! The truth is in the blood; take [the blood]. You know it's what you want..." (Lit: "Kiss me, Nicolas! Blood is truth -- take it! You know you want it...") *Prend-moi: Take me. Brenda F. Bell webwarren@earthlink.net /nick TMana IM: n2kye Arctophile, computer addict, TREKker, stealth photographer... UA, PoCBS, FKPagan; Neon-Green GlowWorm HugMistress of the Ger Bear Project http://members.Tripod.com/~TMana/ Gerthering 3 Photos: http://members.Tripod.com/~TMana/gertherng/ Visit the Fiendish Glow at http://home.earthlink.net/~webwarren/glow/