The setting sun slowly stirred her back to wakefulness, the rushing darkness restoring life to her body. As Heather McKennit awoke she felt the presence in her chamber, then the cheerful voice, "Wake up, m'lady. It's time." Heather stretched unconsciously on her bed, her slightly pale flesh glimmering in the candle light. "You really don't have to do this," the black haired noblewoman noted with some amusement. Nancy smiled, her glossy brown hair flowing over the shoulders of her simple maid's uniform. "I am milady's servant," she firmly reminded her, the smaller woman holding open a robe for her mistress. "Of course," Heather smiled back, her eyes twinkling with hidden laughter as she pulled the garment on. "How are things out in the town?" she asked. "Still rather unsettled," Nancy quietly admitted, "no one is happy with the taxes our governors are charging." "You think it'll come to rebellion?" Heather asked, knowing her servant had a better feel for what was going on in the colony than she did. "Yes I do," Nancy agreed as they left the bed chamber and went through the halls of the fine house, "and it may even start here in Boston." Heather went to a window, flicking the curtain aside to see the street and the harbor as she murmured, "Then I had best move on soon." Nancy's eyes widened, "But why?" A wry smile teased at Heather's lips as she thought of how best to put it. "During times of trouble people become unpredictable," she noted, "and I have no wish to become a target of a rebellious boy out to prove something to his mates. The fact that I'm Irish rather than British may make no difference to them." "True," Nancy conceded. She turned back to look at Nancy and gave a comforting smile. "I have no plans to flee soon," Heather said as she reached out to cup her cheek, "and if I do I promise to warn you." Nancy sighed, reaching up to hold Heather's slightly chill hand against her cheek. "I'm glad," she said quietly. A smile teased at her lips, "M'lady, are you hungry?" Heather met Nancy's eyes as she conceded, "A little." Nancy moved closer, her musky scent changing slightly as her pulse began to race. "Well," her voice sounded a bit husky as she grew excited, "we can't have that. Shall we return to the bedroom, then?" "I have a better idea," Heather purred as she swept her up in her arms. "M'lady!" Nancy squealed. Carrying Nancy in her arms Heather sped over to one of the overstuffed chairs in the sitting room, sitting down with the luscious Nancy in her lap. "You smell so good," Heather purred in her wear as she undid the buttons on the sweet woman's collar. "Oh," Nancy moaned as a hand slid up her thigh past her petticoats to her bare bottom. "No panties?" Heather teased, "What would the neighbors think?" "Mwah," Nancy made a soft sound in the back of her throat as Heather stroked a finger gently through her wetness. "They'd be so shocked," she managed, rubbing her body against Heather's in the big comfy chair. Heather kissed her hungrily, sliding one finger into her hot sheath then two, letting her lover's reactions guide her. With the skill of centuries Heather brought her to the edge then back, making Nancy pant and moan so sweetly as they writhed together. "Damn you," Nancy moaned tearfully, her passion overwhelming her normally subservient manner, "take me! Please!" "Your wish is my command," Heather purred before kissing the woman on her bare neck. "Ahhh!" Nancy gave a little cry as Heather broke skin, her fangs cutting bare flesh to release the pulsing blood within even as she deliberately brought the sweet girl to orgasm. Drinking blood alone was good, Heather had learned, but this was so much better. The taste was indescribable, far better than anything she had while alive, and it filled her with a rapture that was almost holy. She drank carefully, stroking her lovers body as she did so, then drew away as she slumped in exhaustion against her. "Are you all right?" Heather murmured, careful to clean the wound with a few swipes of her tongue. Nancy shuddered as a few last quivers of passion passed. "I'm far more than all right," Nancy cooed softly. She smiled up at Heather, "If it was any better, I fear I would not survive." "I'll be careful," Heather stroke's Nancy's sweaty hair from her face. "Still," Nancy snuggled close, "what a way to go!" Heather laughed softly. 0o0o0o0o0o0o0 The building was packed, the smell of sweat and deodorant making Heather crinkle her nose in disgust. She took a seat in the middle of the rows of chairs, in the line of sight of the auctioneer and easily visible, her suit crisp and neat. "Miss McKennit," the older man who escorted her in looked at her nervously, "If you want, I can put you up front?" "This is fine," Heather said flatly, "I don't want any special treatment." "Of course," he mopped at his sweaty bald head, "please, excuse me." 'Idiot,' Heather thought sourly, watching as he hurried up to talk to the auctioneer. Speaking with the assurance they were far enough away to be unheard the old man asked, "Is everything ready, Angela?" "Of course," the blonde haired woman reassured him. Angela scanned the crowd till her eyes met Heather's, "Who's tall, dark and gorgeous?" "Ms. McKennit," he informed her, "a bit of a odd nut. She's a reclusive writer of historical dramas and plays." "I think I've heard of her," Angela conceded. A frown, "Any idea what she's doing here in a auction of Revolutionary War artifacts?" "Research maybe?" he shrugged, "We sent her a catalog based on how much she makes, but this is the first time she's attended a auction here." "Interesting," Angela murmured. She shook herself, trying to focus on the job, "Well, I'd better get ready." Heather barely paid attention to the pistols and other artifacts that passed by, her interest was focused on one item only. 'Get on with it,' she mentally growled. "And the cannonball goes to Mr. Schwartz," Angela smiled briskly. She consulted her papers, "The next item is a cameo broach, passed on in a family for at least two hundred years. It's providence can be traced back to 1750, cared from ivory then sold in a shop in Boston." Heather readied her sign as Angela nattered on, talking about various hand the cameo had falling into over the years, helping prove it was authentic. 'We know all this.' Heather thought irritably, 'move on!' "Our opening bid is one thousand dollars," Angela said as Heather's sign shot up, "One thousand, do we have one thousand five hundred?" The bidding spiraled upward a bit, but eventually stopped at two thousand. Heather looked around the room dangerously, silently broadcasting, 'Just try it, I'll match any bid you care to make.' "The cameo broach goes to Heather McKennit for two thousand dollars," Angela pounded her gavel. "Thank you, you can pick you item up when we're finished." Heather rose, calmly stalking away down the row of men. Without a backward glance she went outside, content to wait beneath the stars for the auction to conclude. An hour later she returned, waiting till the others pick up their items before taking the case containing the cameo in her hands. "You must have really wanted that," a woman's voice purred, "I expected the price to go down a bit before we got a nibble." "It's a bit of a family heirloom," Heather answered flatly. "Oh?" Angela asked. Heather decided the truth might be simplest, at least in this case. "My ancestress gave this cameo to her companion, shortly before the war," she said, remembering the joy on Nancy's face as she gave the other woman such a fine gift. "Companion?" Angela asked, her blue eyes widening a bit. "Lover," Heather said with a half smile, "though I doubt they would have used such words at the time." "I see," Angela said, her expression thoughtful. "I wanted it," Heather said with a faint smile, "so I could give it to someone now. It seemed fitting, in a way." "You're taken then?" Angela smiled a bit sadly, "Too bad." "Not to me," Heather answered, already imagining giving the cameo to... a certain someone.
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