A Tale of Fur and Flesh (12 page)

Authors: Unknown

BOOK: A Tale of Fur and Flesh

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Her throat was dry and strained. She drank another
spoonful of bread soup. “You know me also as Hairy Animal, but now my mantle is
gone. I can never again be that ugly, wretched thing I once was.” She blinked
away her tears. “I was born Princess Lally of the Southern Kingdom. My
parents are Gwaldys and Galyn. Mother died when I was young. Father became
reclusive. I sought attention. I did things I regret simply to exercise power
in a world where I felt I held none. And then father came out of hiding. He
told me I was to be his wife.” Lally choked on her words.

“Yes, I’ve heard your story,” King Aelwyn said,
smiling charitably.

“But never from me. Now you have. I have no secrets
from you anymore, nothing to hide. I fled my kingdom. Now I am here, and it
is here I wish to stay.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay, princess Lally.
I knew you were under there somewhere
. Under all that hideous peltry lurked a
shining soul waiting to be seen. Such a strong woman could never stay hidden
for long, not even in a dark kitchen underground.”

Allerleirauh squinted her eyes. “If you knew who I
was, why did you say nothing?”

Reaching out to touch her hand, Aelwyn answered, “You
needed to tell me yourself; it was your secret. I knew if I only gave you
time…well, ‘all phenomena shall transpire in their own time,’ right
Princess Lally
?”

She smiled, reflecting on all she had learned from
Great Bear, from Wolf, and the others. She could never dismiss her year under
the mantle. “
Allerleirauh
, please.”

“Allerleirauh,” the king repeated.

As Aelwyn raised his last spoonful of soup to his mouth,
a nervous pang clenched in Lally’s stomach. Why was she nervous now? The
difficult part was over with.

“What have we here?” the king inquired, plucking
Allerleirauh’s gold ring from his soupspoon.

Warm soup washed away the nerves. “A gold ring,” she
responded.

“How did it end up in my soup?” the king asked,
though the answer was clear.

Allerleirauh had met with this question twice
before. Twice she had answered
I know not
. This time was different.
“I put it there,” she said. “I put it there, that you might recognize my
desire.”

“Your desire for more than just physical love.” He
understood.

“My desire to rise every morning with you by my
side,” she added.

“Instead of living your life in darkness beneath the
earth.”

“To share my affection with you,” she offered.

“And your delicious bread soup too, I hope,” he
chuckled.

Allerleirauh demurred. “Better that I nourish your
soul.”

“As I will nourish yours.”

“And you will be my family?” she prayed.

“If you will be mine.”

“I will,” she assured him. “And we shall
rule together, your kingdom and mine.”

“Rule the North and the South,” Aelwyn agreed.
“Together.”

“Together,” she replied, “as husband and wife.”

Beaming with affectionate disbelief, Allerleirauh’s
soul danced as King Aelwyn slid the golden ring on her extended finger.

“Together, as King Aelwyn and Queen Allerleirauh,” he
offered, their marriage pact sealed with a kiss.

The End

ABOUT GISELLE RENARDE

Eroticist, environmentalist
and pastry enthusiast Giselle Renarde is a proud Canadian and a great lover of
the vast forests of the Great White North. For Giselle, a perfect day involves
watching a snowstorm rage outside with a cup of tea in one hand and a chocolate
truffle in the other. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual
cats who sleep on her head.

Giselle Renarde has
contributed short stories to numerous anthologies, including Tasting Her: Oral
Sex Stories (Cleis Press), Love Bites (Torquere Press), Coming Together: With
Pride, and Coming Together: Out Loud (Phaze). Online, Giselle has contributed
erotic content to such websites as For The Girls and Hips and Curves, and
editorial content to Lucrezia Magazine.

For desirous commentary and
hyper-analysis of every facet of social existence, visit Giselle’s blog,
Donuts and Desires
or visit her
site
here
!

If you enjoyed A TALE OF FUR AND FLESH, you might also
enjoy:

ONDINE

By Giselle Renarde

Novice painter Evelyn Fon
gets more than she bargained for after receiving her first big commission for
the brand new Drinkwater Hotel. Who would have guessed Gavin Drinkwater, heir
to the family fortune, would take such a keen personal interest in her? But
when Evelyn arrives at the hotel's elegant Gala Celebration, she soon discovers
she's there as a date for Gavin Drinkwater Senior, her crush's elitist--albeit
incredibly handsome--father!

In attempting to escape the
party--not to mention her embarrassment--Evelyn stumbles upon Gavin's mother
Imelda, who reveals the 20-year-old tale of her torrid affair with a young
ballerina named Ondine. But, as Evelyn soon finds out from the Drinkwater
patriarch, there's more deception to her love story than even Imelda is aware.
Can Evelyn uncover the truths buried in the past and reunite Gavin's estranged
free-loving parents? Perhaps her role in the family drama will even earn her a
place in the bashful heir's heart...

An erotic journey through the
worlds of ballet, art, and passionate liaisons, Ondine is a sensual exploration
of pansexual free love wrapped in a boy-meets-girl tale of mix-ups and
misunderstandings.

Warnings: This title contains graphic
language depicting m/f sex, f/f sex, pansexual orgy, and m/f/f ménage.

EXCERPT FROM ONDINE:

Ondine’s impulse to flee subsided as Yvette traced gloved fingers
across her forearm, consoling, “Ah! No, no, no! Don’t cry,
ma
chère
. We don’t want your eyes all red and puffy as you greet your
future husband.” Yvette found a tissue in her purse and dried her eyes.
“There. You look more beautiful than ever. I would be proud if you
were my bride.”

Her
bride? What a ridiculous thing to say!
Yvette’s bride…

Champagne bubbles effervesced in Ondine’s belly, rising up through her chest
until they burst as laughter from her throat. She couldn’t contain the
joy of being close again after weeks of estrangement and longing. A smile
crawled across Yvette’s cheeks as laughter burst the tension pervading the cold
church room.

“Clotilde did my hair. Do you like it?” Ondine asked,
fishing for a compliment.

“
Absolument!
” she giggled. “I always said you looked
good with your hair up.”

Giddy now, Ondine danced over to the old sofa at the far end of
the room and collapsed there in her bridal gown. Yvette followed to
lean in beside her, midnight black against pristine white. What a relief to
feel at ease after so long. How wonderful to giggle and chat, and simply
feel comfortable with Yvette again.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Ondine admitted, gazing
into her friend’s cheerful eyes. Of course, she couldn’t say the words
with Yvette looking right at her, so she leaned in close and whispered, “I
can’t kiss Rejean without imagining you. Isn’t that scandalous?”

For all her reluctance, now that she’d finally given voice to her
irreverent desires, they no longer seemed so devastating. In fact, they
seemed rather funny. Ondine laughed. They both did.

“Do you think I can ever be happy with Rejean?” Ondine asked.

“I hope so, for your sake,” she sighed with seeming sincerity.
Yvette spoke slowly into her ear, allowing each word the weight it
deserved. “But if you want the absolute truth, I suspect you’d be more
fulfilled if I were your lover.”

A new wave of desire bred goose bumps along Ondine’s bare
arms. Yvette sat so near to her she could feel the intense heat radiating
from that body cloaked all in black. Their cheeks brushed as Yvette
leaned back to look into her eyes. Ondine knew she was about to get
kissed. She knew it and did nothing to prevent it. She wanted that
kiss. Would it feel as she’d always imagined?
Soft and
warm? Slow and languorous?

Yvette placed a firm hand on Ondine’s cheek, holding her gaze
steady. As their lips touched, glossy pink against deep crimson, heavy
breaths escaped them both. Ondine savoured their long-awaited first kiss,
her frantic tongue swimming in the warm pool of Yvette’s mouth. Her body
was electrified. Particles of energy darted through her like shooting
stars. Never has she imagined a woman could kiss so heatedly, with such
blazing intensity. Ondine wanted more. She wanted
everything.

Welcoming Yvette’s touch, she hiked up the skirts of her gown with
desperate determination. Moth to flame, Yvette’s hand cupped her mound
over her new silk panties. Cupped and
squeezed
. Beneath her
bridal lingerie, sweet juices flowed. Surrendering herself completely to
the woman in black, she laid limp beneath the torrent of kisses. Whatever
Yvette wished for, Ondine desired.

Forcing her satin-gloved hand beneath Ondine’s panties, Yvette
plunged impassioned fingers into her silken slit. The nectar flowed
faster as she rubbed those tender lips. Yvette broke away to watch in the
mirror, mesmerized as she massaged the bride’s
clito
, but Ondine had
waited far too long for that kiss. She wouldn’t let it slip away so
easily. Grasping Yvette’s head in her hands, she brought the girl’s lips
to hers and kissed them in a frenzy.
There wasn’t much time. She
had to get married soon.

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