V. Puritan Witchcraft

V.  Puritan Witchcraft

A warm smile curved the corners of Cassandra’s full lips downward and her lovely green eyes glimmered like emeralds in the light.

She was the very portrait of a wholesome housewife; as pretty as any woman could be to him.  Her white shirt collar stood pristine around her neck, looped with pearls.  Her lustrous leather coat gleamed softly in the lamp lights.  The multiplicity of buttons on her coat, blouse, and sweater glittered.

Supple lambskin creaked and crisp cotton crackled as she extended her left arm.

“Warm cider?” she offered, holding the gently steaming drink out to him.

“Yeah, sure!  Thanks!” he responded.

He accepted the cup from her, awkwardly trying to avoid touching her slender, ivory hand while getting his fingers around the handle.  Brushing her smooth skin would be more stimulation than he needed at the moment.

The large purple mug was festively enameled with a smiling orange jack-o-lantern in a green pumpkin patch.  A green-faced witch rode a broom across a full yellow moon on Cassandra’s mug.

“To life!” she toasted vivaciously, raising her cup.

“Life, love, and new beginnings.”

“To life, love, and new beginnings,” he responded with a grin.

He clinked his mug gently against hers.

She raised her cup to her mouth without hesitation and took a long sip of the cider.  Her bunching leather coat sleeves gave off a long, low creak as she her elbows flexed inward.

“Mmmm… It is delicious,” she murmured, smacking her moist lips.

She watched with visible expectation as he raised his own cup to his nose and inhaled.

The rich brown liquid simmered with a pungent, tangy apple smell.  As appetizing as the aroma was there was something odd about it; a peculiar odor that was barely detectable, but distinct.  He paused for a split second to try and identify the scent.  It didn’t smell like alcohol.  The best way he could think to describe it was rotten, which, of course, was ridiculous.   No doubt Cassandra included herbs from her garden to make her own unique recipe. 

He glanced at her.  She stared at him intently with brows raised, eyes wide, and lips parted breathlessly.  He had no choice but to take a drink.  It would be rude to hesitate any longer and he did not want to offend the generous lady.

Nathan lifted his mug and tipped a small quantity into his mouth.  The cider was just cool enough to drink without burning his tongue.  His taste buds tingled with tart, acrid sweetness.  It was a flavor he never tasted before and he could not immediately say if he liked it or not as he swallowed.

“How does it taste to you?” Cassandra asked anxiously.

“It’s good!” he responded politely, nodding his head.

“It’s different than any store-bought cider I’ve had, that’s for sure!  Do you spice it with herbs?”

“Herbs?  Yes!  Indeed!” she confessed, her eyes popping a little at his question.

“They are part of an age-old recipe handed down by wise women in this territory for hundreds of years.  In the right mixture these herbs are employed to calm the nerves and… heighten the senses.”

A bitter aftertaste developed in his mouth that prompted him to take another drink to wash it away.  She smiled with pleasure as he took another, larger swig.

“I pray my brew has the same agreeable effect upon you.”

The second mouthful tasted better than the first.  A soothing warmth began to spread throughout his body as she spoke.

“Yeah!  It’s good stuff!  Is there any alcohol in it?” he asked.

“Not much.  The recipe calls for one cup of spiced rum, but I only add a half cup for moderation sake,” she said.

She raised her own mug to her lips again as well.

“It’s still enough to warm the blood,” he observed with a grin.

“And awaken the spirit... perhaps,” she added.

She gestured.

“Will you sit with me?”

“Sure!” he warbled a bit too enthusiastically. 

He followed as she swished to the middle of the room.  She stopped beside the coffee table in front of the large sofa and motioned graciously for him to go ahead.  He ducked past her, made his way to the other end of the couch, and seated himself, careful not to spill any of his cider on the plush maroon brocade upholstery.

Bending at her waist, Cassandra set out two quilted, pumpkin-shaped coasters on the varnished coffee table and placed her mug on one.  Her fingers caught the loose flaps of her coat as she straightened.  He fully expected that she was finally going to peel off her sleek outer layer, which caused him a pang of disappointment even before she did so.  Much to his gratified amazement, however, she still did not remove her coat!  Instead, she pulled the gleaming leather closely about herself, overlapping the left button placket over the right!

Pressing a delicate hand to her waist to hold her coat shut, she settled herself decorously on the cushion beside him with a rustling of fabric and a prolonged, sumptuous creaking of leather that throbbed him to the core.

Nathan sat square in the middle of the right couch cushion, holding his mug with both hands between his spread legs.  Cassandra perched her shapely butt on the inside edge of the left cushion with her hands in her lap and her knees leaning together toward him.  Her back was straight and her chest thrust forward in a provocatively prim posture.  Surely she only intended to be an engaging hostess and nothing more, but she seemed to place herself as close to him as propriety would allow.

Her tantalizing proximity and impeccable ladylike poise made him realize that he was slouching like a slob.  He quickly shifted his weight, sliding his butt back to assume a more upright position.

“May I get anything for you?” she asked with a congenial smile.

“No,” he answered, raising his mug to take another sip.

“I’m good, thanks!”

The thermostat in her house was set on a higher temperature than Nathan was used to.  Between that, the hot cider he was drinking, and Cassandra’s alluring company, he was more than a little overheated.  He felt like he could sweat buckets, but thankfully not a single drop of perspiration beaded on his forehead and his armpits remained dry.

“Aren’t you hot wearing your coat over all those clothes, Cassandra?” he asked, acknowledging the magical garment that she unwittingly teased him with.

“I’m only wearing this linen shirt and I’m burning up!”

“Oh.  I am quite comfortable, thank you,” she giggled, unintentionally flicking her left lapel with her thumb as she tugged at her coat self-consciously.

“I am always cold and do not mind being wrapped in an extra layer.  Sometimes I forget to take my coat off.  In fact, Marvin was laughing at me just last week because I came home from the grocery store, cooked supper, and sat down to eat with him before I realized that I was buttoned up in this coat the whole time!”

She thought she was sharing a funny story, but the mental image of Cassandra literally inhabiting her shiny leather coat like a second skin was not silly to Nathan.  It was incredibly erotic.

He chuckled with her and took another big gulp of his cider.  His mug was already half empty.

“But, young men like you, Nathaniel, are never cold.  Fresh life burns within you like a stoked furnace,” she remarked, cocking her head with a toss of her red hair. 

“I could use some of that energy inside of you to knock the chill out of my old bones!”

She cackled softly as she shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her arms with a shudder.  Her supple leather sleeves ran through her fingers.

He chuckled at her.

“So I take it that you don’t suffer from hot flashes?” he inquired facetiously.

“Heavens no!  My friends complain bitterly about them, though, and they are envious that I have never had one.  I sometimes wonder if I would not enjoy the experience simply to thaw out for a few hours,” she declared amiably with a twinkle in her eyes.

She picked up her mug to take another discrete sip of cider.

“But truly, I am very thankful for my marvelously good health.  Each morning that I awaken and see my familiar reflection in the mirror fills me with joy,” she admitted, gazing into her cup for a moment before continuing.

"I confess I am rather... obsessed with my own well-being.  Nothing is more precious to me than life, Nathaniel, and I leave nothing concerning my life to chance.” 

“Nobody could fault you for taking care of yourself,” he replied thoughtfully, after swallowing another mouthful of cider.

“I really should start taking better care of myself.  I don’t watch what I eat and I don’t get enough exercise.  But, it’s hard to get motivated when I can do whatever I want physically and nothing seems to bother me.  I’m hardly ever sick.  I know it is because I am young and I should improve my habits or I will pay for them when I get older.”

“Savor your youth, for it shall drain away from you like sand in an hourglass,” she admonished him ominously.

“Yeah.  My parents and my grandparents tell me all the time that they don’t know how they got so old so fast!” he concurred with her, chuckling.

“Time afflicts us relentlessly every minute of every day from the hour of our birth.  Everything that is wholesome within us is corrupted by its swift passage,” she intoned gravely, as if speaking of an old enemy.

“No mortal has ever escaped time’s grasp, but I am determined to keep trying.”

She smiled at him with a hopeful expression as she placed her mug back on the coffee table.

“Well, whatever you’re doing sure seems to be working!  I have never known a woman who aged more gracefully than you!” he laughed.

“It must be your reward for living a good, wholesome lifestyle.”

“You think too highly of me, Nathaniel,” she replied modestly.

“I strive for holiness, but I am weak and sinful as anyone else.”

“Well, I, for one, think you are a great woman and I admire you,” he gushed unabashedly.  

“You truly are too kind,” she responded humbly, her downward-cast eyes hidden beneath her thick lashes. 

“What you do not know is that my blessings are the culmination of much misfortune.  By all rights I should not even be alive today.  My life was spared for a dreadful price when I was a very young woman.  Few would believe the suffering and mistreatment this frail body of mine has endured." 

She paused for a moment, before raising her green eyes to peer at him earnestly.

“My scars run deep; unseen by any.  But, I would share my past with you, Nathaniel.  Please.  Will you listen to me?”

“Yeah.  Of course, Cassandra,” he answered promptly.

“I think that is why I am here.  I admit I am honored that you would confide in me, especially since we don’t know each other very well.”

“I know you better than you might guess... and I feel that you should know me as well,” she suggested. 

“Do you wish to know me?”

Her fixation on him might seem creepy to some people, but Nathan did not mind it.  In fact, he was starting to enjoy it.  He had never been the subject of such a beautiful woman’s attention before.  She showed more interest in him in the past couple hours than any of his girlfriends ever did.

“I would very much like to know you better, Cassandra,” he answered her honestly.

Her face brightened with an endearing smile.

“Very well,” she said.  

“From this moment forward there must be no barriers between us, Nathaniel.  You must forget that I am your boss’s wife.  My age is meaningless.  I am worth nothing.  I am merely a woman who is comforted by your company.”

“Got it,” he replied.

Cotton crackled and leather purred as she fidgeted.  

She was trembling.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Harper, um, I mean Cassandra?” he asked.

She let out a shuddering sigh. 

“Forgive me.  This evening has been very sudden for me.  As much as I feel compelled to do this, it is not easy for me.  I never put myself at risk, but I am tempted to take a risk with you,” she explained. 

“I am about to reveal intimate details about myself with you that nobody else knows; not even my husband.  I keep my shame and sorrow pent up deep inside my heart.  But you must hear my tale from the beginning to know who I truly am.  Only then will you realize who you are as well.”

He nodded solemnly, maintaining eye-contact with her.

“Before I begin, though, you must answer a question for me,” she continued.

“Sure,” he responded, taking another drink of his cider.

“This is important, Nathaniel.  You must give me a sincere answer when I ask you this,” she cautioned him.

“I will tell you whatever you want to know,” he promised.

She paused for a long moment, straightening her back and clasping her hands before her.  Her emerald eyes pierced into his as if searching his soul.  Taking a deep breath, she licked her red lips before she spoke. 

“I must know Nathaniel... could you... love me?”

“What?” he stammered.

He was startled by her forwardness, but somehow the question did not shock him as much as it would coming from another woman.  Oddly enough, he found himself feeling rather calm considering that he was sitting beside a forbidden woman who was very potentially coming onto him.

“If you knew nothing about me; if you simply met me as I am sitting before you now, am I a woman you could fall in love with?” she qualified her question.

Nathan had dreamed of meeting a woman like her his entire life!

He hesitated for a moment.  Did he dare tell her the truth?  

“If your answer is ‘no’ then I need say no more and you are free...” she quickly added.

“Yes!” he blurted impulsively. 

His inhibitions must have been loosened by the alcohol he had consumed, otherwise he would have never answered her so honestly.  But, at that moment what did he have to lose?

“Yes?” she exclaimed.

“Yes, Cassandra.  If I met you and didn’t know anything about you, and you weren’t wearing a wedding ring I would be very... attracted to you,” he admitted.

He paused, wondering if he was absolutely crazy telling his boss’s wife that he had the hots for her.

“Please!  Continue!  Why are you attracted to me?” she encouraged him, brows raised with anticipation.

“Well, Cassandra, I think you are an extremely beautiful woman,” he told her.

Her full red lips curled into their broad closed-mouth smile and her cheeks blushed a warm apple hue.  Her bright emerald eyes did not avert with modesty this time, but burned into him intensely.

“Tell me more!” she urged him.

“You are intelligent and sophisticated and feminine.  You are polite and elegant like a proper lady, and I think that is very attractive.  I even like the way you dress!” he continued.

She beamed with delight as he spoke. 

He felt himself stiffen even further.  Cassandra truly was the most captivating woman he had ever met.  Why did she have to be a married older woman?

“To be honest, I really wish I could meet a girl like you my own age.”

“Oh!  But, why would you need another woman if I am the one you desire?” she quickly interjected in a seductive tone.

“Because it doesn’t matter how much I like you.  You are married to my boss and you are twenty years...”

“Nathaniel,” she hushed him, placing a small, cool fingertip on his lips. 

“Remember.  None of that matters anymore.”

He did not flinch from her touch.  His resistance was fading fast, but the rational part of his brain was urging him to get away from her.

“How can it not matter?” he argued.

“Because love is not governed by any of those things.  Love is not dictated by marriage.  Love does not obey social custom and it is blind to age,” she intoned. 

His breath caught in his throat as she picked up his left hand and slid it inside her coat and sweater, placing it over her left breast!  Her crisp cotton blouse crinkled under his fingers and buttery, cool leather swiped over the back of his hand.  He could feel her heart thumping in her chest.  Her body radiated warmth through her clothes.  The soft plumpness of her breast pressed against his palm above the edge of her bra.

“Because the love beating in my heart will never die.”

He noticed that her diamond-encrusted wedding ring no longer glittered on her left hand.  A snow-white band of skin marked its absence on her ivory ring finger.

“Cassandra!  We really should not be doing this!” he protested, pulling his hand away.

He leaned forward to stand up only to discover that he was too wobbly to do so.            

She halted him easily with a delicate hand on his chest, easing him back onto the couch.

“Wow!  Whatever those herbs are you put in your cider, they must be strong stuff!”

A pleasant, but profound intoxication permeated his senses.  He had difficulty focusing his vision on anything else in the room except Cassandra.  His arms and legs felt rubbery.  His fingertips tingled.

“I’m not even sure I can drive home anymore!” he exclaimed.

“There is no need for you to drive home tonight.  You must stay here with me,” she smiled, speaking in a low tone.

“I can’t stay here with you tonight!  That’s just asking for trouble, Cassandra!” he argued somewhat frantically.

“Calm yourself Nathaniel.  I do not lead you astray,” she told him hypnotically, her sweet breath blowing on his ear.

Her leather coat creaked and her clothes rustled as she leaned toward him. 

“I am not a wicked woman, nor am I a bad wife.  I have loved Marvin and I have always been faithful to him.  But... what happens here tonight is meant to be.”

“I don’t seem to have much choice, Cassandra.  I couldn’t resist you anymore even if I wanted to,” he admitted haplessly, unable to suppress a giddy grin.

Her knowing close-lipped smile curved so broadly it practically puckered into a frown.

“So now that you’ve got me you need to tell me who this guy is I remind you of and how you think we are connected.”

“We belong together, Nathaniel.  The bond you and I share has existed for centuries.  In all my many years I have never spoken of my secret to another living person, for there was never any who need know of it... until you,” she told him.

“How do we belong together?” he urged her on.         

“Listen to me carefully now and I shall tell you everything,” she proclaimed softly.

The sofa cushion rustled as she nestled herself into place with a long leathery creak.  She crossed her legs.  She pulled the flaps of her coat together at her waist, smoothing her leather skirt over her thighs, and clasped her hands on her knee.  

Extending her graceful neck she cleared her throat and licked her crimson lips. 

“My story is about a woman named… Desire.”

Cassandra’s emerald eyes gazed off into an unknown distance as she began her tale.

“Desire Pell was a Puritan girl born in the year 1639 here in what became known as the Massachusetts Bay Colony.  Her parents were among the First Comers in the Plymouth Colony.  Although it was immodest to say, Desire was a pretty girl.  She had red hair, green eyes, and skin as fair and smooth as ivory.”

Cassandra described the girl as if she were talking about herself.  She clearly implied some connection to the woman who shared her middle name.  He suspected Desire was one of Cassandra’s ancestors. 

“At the age of twenty-one Desire was to wed a man named Malachi through a contract made by her parents.  Malachi belonged to a respectable merchant family which shall remain unnamed for prudence sake.  He was a pious, industrious man, but Desire could see cruelty in his heart.  She did not want to marry him, but she had no choice.  Her parents saw her to the altar and paid her dowry as promised.”

“On the very night of their wedding Malachi beat Desire.  He told her that she thought too highly of herself because she was pretty and informed her that her only purpose was to serve him and produce a son.  Then he had his brutal way with her until the white bed sheets were soaked red with her virgin blood.”  

Cassandra’s brow knitted and her upper lip curled with disdain as she spoke.  Leather squelched as she shifted her weight uncomfortably. 

“Malachi was a cooper.  He accepted beer almost as readily as coin for the barrels he made and besotted himself in the evenings after dark.  Desire did her best to be a good, obedient wife for him, having no mind of how unworthy of her efforts he truly was.  She cooked and cleaned and kept house for him every day, but not once did he thank her or speak a kind word to her.”

“A year passed.  She never came to be with child, although not for lack of her lecherous husband’s dog-like attention.  He beat her frequently, blaming her for not giving him a son.  He told her she was barren and failing in her duty as a wife because of her sinful ways.  Wracked with guilt, Desire prayed fervently to be blessed with a child, but it was not meant to be.”

Cassandra’s head ducked low, burying her chin into the collar of her blouse.  An ashamed look shadowed her eyes and she bit her lower lip.  After a moment she raised her head again and cleared her throat, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Then it happened in 1661 that a ship arrived with new settlers. The English Commonwealth had failed and there were many who fled the persecutions of the restored monarchy by coming to the New World.  Among the passengers of that ship was a young man named Nathaniel Goodman who had served in the Parliamentarian cavalry.”

She paused for another moment with the same distant look in her green eyes that he noticed when she first greeted him at the party.

“Desire met him in the marketplace the very day he disembarked.  He was tall and handsome and quite dashing to behold wearing his armor and sword.  She was smitten with him from the first moment and gaped at him rather foolishly.  He introduced himself to her courteously and boldly kissed her hand.” 

Nathan now understood how his actions reminded Cassandra of the story she was telling and why she might like the painting in the alcove, but he still couldn’t guess why it was so important to her.

“Malachi was instantly jealous of Nathaniel and rudely drove him away from Desire.  However, the town magistrate was glad to have a cavalier as part of the local militia.  Nathaniel proved to be a brave and capable soldier.  He was clever, kind, and better educated than most men in the colony.  He never failed to speak a gentle word to Desire whenever possible and he was quick to help her with the humblest tasks.”

“Nathaniel was respectful to Malachi as Desire’s husband, but perhaps he complimented the red hair beneath her coif too freely,” Cassandra simpered girlishly, twirling a lock of her own hair between her fingers.

“Malachi would have hated him in any case, but the more Desire struggled to hide her love for Nathaniel the more Malachi despised him.  Malachi accused Desire of being unfaithful and would not let her go anywhere without him.  He threatened to kill her if he ever caught her alone with Nathaniel.”

“As unhappy as her lot in life was with Malachi, Desire was a virtuous woman and would have remained faithful to her wretched husband.  She probably would have died under his murderous hands at a miserable young age if not for the peculiar fortune providence had in store for her.  It was a November night in 1662 when tragedy occurred that would alter Desire’s life forever.” 

Cassandra inhaled deeply.  Her emerald eyes caught the light somehow, practically glowing as she seemingly gazed back in time.  Her right hand dropped against her bosom on a limp wrist and her fingers nervously plucked at the buttons of her blouse.

“Malachi was beating her once again and struck her so violently that she screamed aloud.  Nathaniel was on watch in the town that evening and heard Desire crying out.  Refusing to stand by passively like all the rest, brave Nathaniel burst open the door and ordered Malachi to stop abusing her.  Malachi flew into an alcoholic rage and attacked Nathaniel with a knife like one gone mad, calling him an adulterer.  Nathaniel was a trained soldier.  God as His witness, he did nothing but defend himself.  But, a few moments later Malachi fell dead on the floor with the knife stabbed in his chest.” 

Cassandra’s expression hardened.

“Desire did not weep for her slain husband.  Who could rightly blame her for not mourning a villain who had always mistreated her in such a vile manner?  She clung to Nathaniel and confessed her love for him which he fervently proclaimed for her as well.” 

Cassandra exhaled a shuddering breath.

“Surely justice was served in the eyes of God, but the Devil was still at work.  All of Malachi’s family were a vindictive and spiteful lot.  Sound of the struggle drew them and when they discovered Malachi slain with Desire in Nathaniel’s arms they raised the alarm, shouting accusations of adultery and murder.”

“As a newcomer Nathaniel knew his word would be meaningless against such prominent accusers.  His blood was up and he fended them off with his sword as they tried to apprehend him.  Then he clutched Desire’s hand and the lovers fled into the night.” 

Cassandra’s eyes were wide and her breathing was rapid.  Her blouse quivered above her chest and she clenched her hands together to prevent them from trembling.

“Running along fencerows and ducking behind trees, they managed to avoid the torches and lanterns of the approaching townspeople and made it outside the town wall.  Nathaniel wanted to hide in the forest until daylight, but Desire hesitated to enter the dark wood at night.  She feared the Devil might spirit them away in the blackness.”

“As providence would have it, they had paused near the cottage of Mad Moira, a recluse who lived on the outskirts of town.  Moira was a strange old woman that many believed to be a witch.  She never caused harm to anyone and avoided persecution by keeping to herself.  However, it was whispered that unholy creatures visited her and frightening noises were heard coming from her hovel at night.  Respectable folk avoided her and the indians did not disturb her even though she was outside of the fortifications.” 

“Moira was already ancient the first time Desire met her as a little girl.  Moira’s withered face and bulging eyes frightened Desire, but the old woman smiled kindly and put a flower in her hair.  Moira patted Desire on the head and claimed that her own hair was also orange as fire during the Golden Age when Elizabeth was Queen of England.”

“Desire kept a secret friendship with Moira through the years and learned much about herbs and magic from her.  When Desire failed to become pregnant she sought Moira’s help more than once.  No potion, no ointment, and no spell Moira concocted caused Desire to conceive, but the old woman vowed to someday create life within Desire.”

A crafty smile curled the corners of Cassandra’s mouth.

“Moira heard Desire and Nathaniel that night as they passed near her threshold and offered them shelter in her cottage.  Nathaniel would have shunned the witch, but Desire urged him to trust her.  Moira ushered them inside quickly and barred the door of her hovel.”

“Upon listening to what had befallen Moira warned that they would surely be hanged if they were caught.  Nathaniel would face the noose boldly, but Desire was sorely afraid to die.  She begged Moira to cast a spell that would deliver them from death.  The witch answered that she might possess such a spell, but it would only work if a man loved a woman enough that he might give his life for her.  Without hesitation, Nathaniel vowed that he would gladly give his life to save Desire.” 

“Cackling strangely, Moira traced a magic sigil in the dirt floor around Desire’s feet.  She produced an old parchment that she claimed was scribed by the famous witch Mother Shipton and instructed Desire to speak aloud the mystical words written upon it.  Quivering with fear, Desire read the spell with faltering tongue by the dim firelight.  Once she had spoken the words Moira bade Nathaniel to bind the enchantment by kissing Desire upon the lips.”

“Nathaniel kissed her readily and passionately, but even as their lips parted the door burst open and the candles flickered out.  The townspeople had found them!  Torches waved, men bellowed, and steel glinted.  Desire screamed and cowered in fear.  Nathaniel brandished his sword as his former comrades rushed forward to apprehend him.” 

“In the darkness and chaos of the struggle Desire’s hand was caught up in a strong grip that she assumed to be Nathaniel’s once again.  She was pulled to the back of the cottage and pushed through a narrow crack in the wall.  Desire found herself standing outside and much to her surprise it was not Nathaniel, but Moira who appeared through the gap behind her!”

“Desire did not want to leave Nathaniel behind, but Moira urged her to flee into the forest before it was too late.  Nathaniel was captured.  If Desire lingered she would be caught as well and hang for a witch!  God forgive her, but Desire left Nathaniel to face his fate alone.  She heard him calling her name frantically as she ran into the woods.”

Cassandra’s voice shuddered with emotion. 

  

“The two women spent the next week hiding in the forest.  The militia searched for them relentlessly, but Moira knew every nook and crevice to be found among the trees and stones.  They took shelter in burrows like wild animals and subsisted on nuts and berries.  Moira would have moved on immediately, but Desire’s heart was torn.  She wanted to plead to the magistrate for Nathaniel’s sake, but she would stand just as harshly accused by the court if she revealed herself.  Paralyzed by fear, she relented... and did nothing.”

Cassandra bowed her head deep into the collar of her blouse again as if with guilt.

“Malachi’s family saw to it that Nathaniel was swiftly convicted of murder and sentenced to hanging just as Moira predicted.  Watching from the edge of the forest, Desire bore witness as her love climbed the gallows.  Nathaniel never flinched as the noose was tightened about his neck… and then he dropped.” 

Cassandra clutched her pearls.  Her eyes popped and she gasped as if the hanging just happened in front of her.

“Desire wept so hysterically as Nathaniel dangled from the rope that she nearly gave herself away, but Moira dragged her away into the forest before they were discovered.”

Tears overflowed from Cassandra’s lids and dripped from her long lashes, glittering like diamonds.  Three drops spattered onto on the sleek surface of her impermeable leather bosom.  Overcome with emotion, she covered her mouth with her hands and closed her eyes.  

Her story was sad for sure, but it obviously caused her a great deal of sorrow for reasons Nathan could not yet comprehend.  Regardless, the sight of the beautiful woman crying choked him up a little bit, even if he did not know why.  He repressed displaying any emotion by swallowing another lump in his dry throat.  He might have placed a comforting hand on her shoulder except his arms felt too heavy to lift.

“Are you alright, Cassandra?” Nathan asked after she sobbed quietly for a minute.

“Yes,” she muttered, raising a hand toward him.

“Please forgive me.”

Several seconds more passed before she sniffled and lifted her head.  She pulled a small drawer open in the coffee table beside her and retrieved a neatly folded white handkerchief.  She dabbed her nose discreetly and patted her cheeks dry, careful not to smudge her mascara. 

“Even after all this time Nathaniel’s death is difficult for me to speak of,” she smiled as she regained her composure. 

“It’s obviously very meaningful to you.  You act as if you were actually there,” he observed.

Her eyebrows raised suggestively as she folded the handkerchief again and placed it on the coffee table. 

“Does my tale not move you as well?” she asked him.

“Do my words not stir some familiar pang in your heart?”

Her emerald eyes were not the slightest bit bloodshot despite her tears, but peered at him clear and bright as ever.

“Sure.  It’s a tragic story.  Legends about forbidden lovers always are,” he responded with a shrug.

  

“But, what of Nathaniel’s death?” she asked pointedly.

“If that was you standing on the scaffold, would you blame Desire for leaving you?  Would you be angry that you were going to die while she lived?”

“He promised to give his life for her and that is what he did,” Nathan replied pragmatically.

“If I was him I would be glad she got away.”

“So you would give your life for the woman you love?” she probed further.

“For the woman I love?” he repeated with consideration.

“If I truly loved her, then yes, I would.”

  

“Of course you would,” she smiled. 

Clearing her voice, she nestled herself into the couch cushion once again and continued her tale.

“Moira and Desire headed south through the bleak wilderness before they were forced to seek shelter from the winter snow in a cave.  For months they huddled around a meager fire for warmth, eating nothing more than roots, berries, and tree bark.  Desire suffered the grim pangs of starvation and shivered in the freezing cold, thinking herself the most accursed woman on Earth as she lamented her lost love bitterly.”  

“Ancient Moira was far less resistant to such harsh circumstances and quickly became so weak she could no longer stand.  She muttered an incantation over and over again, urging Desire to remember it well, for if she repeated it twenty-three years after the day she cast the spell her skin would remain smooth as ivory and her hair as red as fire.”

Cassandra caressed her own flawless cheek absently with her tapered right hand before tossing her fiery hair with a flick of her head. 

“Moira slipped into a mad delirium as her health failed.  Fits of agitation seized her.  She ranted unspeakable deviltry and confessed diabolical practices sinful to even hear.  Desire cared for the old woman as best she could, but there was little she could do to comfort her.  She wept with despair as Moira lay dying.  Moira smiled kindly and promised Desire she would always be safe so long as she heeded the spell.”  

“With her last breath Moira foretold that Desire would see Nathaniel again.  If she still loved him the spell had the power to join them... in eternal life.”

Cassandra was silent for a moment, peering at him with breathless expectation as if she had just imparted something of profound significance to him.

He blinked at her cluelessly.

“Wow,” he muttered with passive acknowledgement.

He was not sure what else to say to such a far-fetched prophecy.  

Cassandra pursed her lips with suppressed frustration, clearly disappointed with his answer.

“And so Desire was left alone in the forest.  How many long weeks she existed in a frantic state of exposure and deprivation she would never know.  She constantly prayed to God to spare her life and attributed her miraculous survival to His mercy, although she would later realize that it was the protection of the spell, not heavenly grace, that sustained her.  It was not the blessed hand the Lord that shielded her from the fangs and claws of predatory beasts, but the supernatural aura of her enchantment that caused wild animals to shy away from her.”  

“Sometime after the spring thaw she was discovered by a band of Dutch trappers.  They fed her and nursed her back to health until her strength returned.  As the apple returned to her cheeks and her bosom plumped again, one among them began to lust for her.  He tried to... force himself upon her and she fled their company to avoid being violated.”

Cassandra pulled her coat flaps closer about herself again.

“Desire made her way south into settled territory, begging for food and shelter along the way.  She dared not return to her home or family in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.  Other than the pitiful rags she wore, her sole possession was the parchment upon which the spell was written.  Life remained precarious for her.  An outcast woman was viewed with suspicion by Puritan society.  Such a woman was quick to be accused of witchcraft at the first mishap.”

“Desire’s fortune finally improved when a Dutch fur trader named Casper Vanderbeek was kind enough to take her in and offer her work.  Casper was a more tolerant man than most.  He recognized Desire’s virtues instead of chastising her for her sins.  She lived in his house in New York as a servant until his wife fell ill and died unexpectedly in 1666.  He offered to marry Desire shortly after and she accepted his proposal gladly.”

“Thus, Desire became mistress of a fine house and for the first time in her life she knew comfort and prosperity.  Casper treated her with respect and provided well for her.  She forgot much of her past tribulations and settled into being a housewife of good repute within the church and the community.”

“Twenty-three years passed since Nathaniel’s death and Desire gave no thought to her age.  Indeed, when she turned forty-six in 1685 she was as youthful as the night she cast the spell in Moira’s cottage.” 

“It was not until one November afternoon later that same year when her age confronted her for the first time.  She was polishing the silver in her cupboard when her hands suddenly stiffened.  Her joints ached and an icy chill penetrated her to the bone.  She caught her reflection in the mirror-bright platter she held and could not believe her eyes!  Gray strands streaked her hair and wrinkles traced evidence of the past two decades upon her face that had been invisible only hours before!”  

“Hysterical with fright, Desire recalled how the spell had to be cast every twenty-three years.  She anxiously waited for her husband to return home.  She cooked his favorite meal that night, careful to keep her gray hair hidden beneath her cap until she led him to bed and blew out the candles.  She desperately repeated the incantation Moira taught her... and even as Casper made love to her she felt fresh vitality replenish her body once more.”

“Desire was overjoyed to see her youthful reflection in the first light of dawn.  Her body was wholesome as ever, but as she tried to awaken her husband she discovered the toll her magic wrought.  Casper lay dead, drained of the very life that had restored her.” 

Cassandra studied his reaction gravely as she continued.

“Desire was appalled at what she had done.  She was truly a weak, sinful woman as Malachi claimed, but the urge for self-preservation pounding in her heart exceeded any guilt her conscience suffered.  Was it really so wicked of her to fear old age and death?  Was it wrong of her to expect her husband to provide her the means to live?”

Nathan nodded along with her in dazed accordance, vaguely noting that her historical account was veering into the realm of fantasy.  The only thing he was really certain of was that the longer he was in Cassandra’s presence the more beautiful she became.  The constant purring of her leather caused his lust for her to throb harder with each passing moment.  The hypnotic power of her emerald eyes mesmerized him completely and her plump red lips looked so delicious that it was torture not to taste them. 

“Desire never confessed what she had done, nor was she ever implicated in her husband’s death.  After all, nobody could prove that she caused him to pass prematurely.  Life was always uncertain in those days.  God gathered many unto Him unexpectedly and He alone could bear witness against her."

“She mourned her husband dutifully, inherited his estate, and unexpectedly found herself a widow of considerable means.  As eligible suitors appeared at her doorstep she thought it wise to find a new home.  Her unfading youth was already becoming conspicuous to jealous women in her congregation and she was ever cautious to avoid any accusation of witchcraft.” 

“She relocated to Cape Cod and married a wealthy shipbuilder named Silas in Yarmouth a year later.  Silas was a greedy man who was mainly interested in the profit he stood to gain from Desire’s dowry.  He would have been just as satisfied to simply claim her property upon her untimely death.  The only decency he imparted to her was a prudence with money that she would employ to her own profit in years to come.”

“Desire no longer ignored the passage of time.  She anxiously admired herself in the mirror every morning and marveled at her ageless reflection as the years went by.  Never again would she dare be remiss in casting her spell.  Witnessing her withered mortal aspect filled her with dread and the risk of death from old age was one she was never willing to take.” 

“Thus, she happily reclaimed the twenty-two years she spent with Silas on the ordained November day in 1708.  The stingy old miser provided for her well and she parted from him a wealthy widow.”

Nathan drank the last bit of cider in his mug.  He felt increasingly restless as her story seemed to drag on.

“So did the spell still keep her young even though she was really an old lady?” he blurted out, interrupting her.

It was becoming an effort for him to speak.  The words seemed to come out of his mouth slowly, as if he was extremely drunk.  He hoped he was not slurring.

“Yes.  It replenished her youth, same as before,” Cassandra answered, taking his empty mug from him with a satisfied smile and placing it on the coffee table. 

“I bet Desire was a hot redhead like you,” he blathered with a raunchy grin.

Nathan did not do drugs of any sort.  He had never been stoned before, but he suspected the experience was similar to the way he felt presently.  His inhibitions were suppressed almost to nothing and he felt horny as hell. 

“You think I am... hot?” she asked prettily. 

Red apples blushed in her cheeks, but her blazing green eyes never faltered from him.

“Smoking hot, Cassandra!  Especially in your black leather coat!  If you were a witch you could ride my broomstick anytime!”

She gasped as his left hand slapped onto her thigh.  He began stroking the buttery smooth leather encasing her leg with his fingers.  He might have groped higher, but he was unable to coordinate his arm to do so.

She did not object to his touch.  She leaned toward him, positioning herself so that her luscious red lips were mere inches away.  The scent of her Avon perfume cloyed at him like the most exotic Persian fragrance.  She placed her soft hand on his.

“And what if I told you that I am a witch?” she teased in a beguiling tone.

Supple leather creaked and crisp cotton rustled on her with an energy that electrified his senses.

“I would believe you.  Thou hast surely bewitched me,” he exhaled, smiling at his own wittiness.

“But are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

“Oh, I am good!” she assured him playfully, reminding him of Glinda from The Wizard of Oz.

“I am the very best witch you will ever meet!”

“Can you do some magic for me?” he requested, pawing at her lithe waist.

The satin lining inside her coat flap ran cool over the back of his hand.

“I shall make all of your dreams come true, Nathaniel, but you must behave yourself a little while longer and let me finish my story,” she evaded him gracefully, gently placing his hand back on his own lap.

“Is the end coming up soon?” he groaned impatiently.

“Bear with me for a few moments longer, my darling.  The climax of my story shall be... most satisfying,” she promised.

A coy smile curved her lips.  

“Sounds good,” he said, nodding.

Cassandra resumed her tale after a moment’s consideration.

“Decades passed and Desire was over a hundred years old before she knew it.  So long as she renewed the spell as Moira instructed she remained impervious to the passage of time.  She was further gratified to discover herself immune to all illness and her body healed deadly wounds without a scar.”

Cassandra hugged her arms about herself protectively.

“The harsh existence she endured in the cold, dark colonial wilderness lapsed into distant memory.  She was constant, but the world changed dramatically around her.  The United States of America declared independence from Great Britain.  Desire lived through the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and the First and Second World War.  Society progressed, fashion altered by the season, and sprawling, fluorescent cities of concrete and glass rose into the sky.  The industry of mankind never ceased to create marvelous new technology, and every new invention made life more convenient than Desire could have ever imagined as a young Puritan girl.”

The abstract idea of a woman living through the entire span of American history inspired only fleeting amazement in Nathan’s stuporous mind.

“Desire married many times.  Such was her beauty that she courted only wealthy gentlemen.  After all, she could love a rich man just as well as a poor man.  Never again did she toil as a mere cooper’s wife.  She lived in many grand houses and dressed in the finest clothes.  She was prudent to ensure that her husbands provided well for her in life and bequeathed her vast estates upon their deaths.”  

“Desire was many things.  She was a goodwife, a merchant, an innkeeper, a business owner, a preacher’s wife, a mayor’s wife, a plantation mistress, a shopkeeper, and when it became proper for a woman to work outside of the home, a librarian,” Cassandra listed.  

“First and foremost, though, Desire was a homemaker.  No other woman could match her propriety, her domestication, or her charity.  Her superlative qualities were admired by her peers, but never failed to instigate envy, jealousy, and resentment among the petty, lower-class people that circumstances incessantly forced her to deal with.”

Cassandra frowned at the scenario that resonated all too familiar with her.  

“Long centuries passed and Desire remained forever preserved in the prime of her youth.  She prospered greatly and enjoyed every worldly comfort.  She loved each of her husbands accordingly, and she was faithful to her wedding vows without exception.  Her inability to bear children was a frequent source of discord, and she coped with her fair share of trials and tribulations.  However, Desire always persevered gracefully.  She warded off sin by busying herself with virtuous tasks, and her endeavors accomplished much that was good and noble and true.”

Cassandra nestled her head smugly in the collar of her blouse.  

“Desire lived in security beyond any mortal woman’s grasp.  She had every reason to be content, and yet... she was never satisfied.  Her heart ached for the one thing providence cheated her of in her youth.  True love.”  

“Moira promised that she would see her Nathaniel again and Desire trusted the old witch’s prediction.  And so she waited patiently, never speaking of her abiding sorrow to another living soul, growing ever more forlorn as centuries rolled by that she might never see her true love again.”  

Cassandra paused to pick up her mug.  She took a long drink of cider as if to punctuate the interminable wait she spoke of and replaced her cup on the table.

“Nearly three hundred and fifty years passed before Desire would behold Nathaniel’s face again, just as Moira foretold,” Cassandra intoned, gazing off into some unfathomable distance.

“It happened where she least expected it and she did not recognize him at first.  The span of so many lifetimes had faded her memory of him.  Indeed, it was seven years before she realized she had already been in the company of her true love on several occasions, heedless of his presence.”

“And then he appeared before her in his genuine form,” Cassandra proclaimed breathlessly.

“Clad in the same helmet and armor as the first time she met him, Nathaniel reached out to her from the past, took her hand, and kissed it.”  

Cassandra focused her attention on him, her exquisite countenance radiant with elation.  Her dazzling eyes were luminous as emeralds.  Her voice resonated prophetically from her titillating lips.  The collar of her blouse quivered about her throat and her leather coat crackled with contained fervor.

“He presented himself to her in a manner far too familiar to be coincidence.  His courtesy and kindness were unmistakable.  And when she called out in distress he answered her gallantly… just as he had done all those many years ago.  He delivered her safely home, having no inkling of the divine purpose he fulfilled with his good deed... until she shared it with him... just now.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You cannot know how very long I have waited for this moment.  Can it be that after all this time I may be given a second chance at happiness?” she panted.  

“What are you talking about Cassandra?” he questioned.

“Surely you understand by now that I am Desire,” she revealed portentously.

Her revelation did not surprise him.  He was so inflamed with lust for her that he was willing to play along with anything she said to have a chance with her.  

“Yes,” he agreed ardently.

“You are my Desire, for sure!”

Her eyes blazed with triumph.

“And you are my Nathaniel!  You have come back for me at long last so that we may be united for all eternity!”

Her delicate porcelain hand brushed along his chest.

“All eternity?” he chuckled.

“That sounds like a big commitment.  I thought we were just having a drink.”

She hushed him by placing a fingertip on his mouth.

“All shall be revealed to you soon enough.  Both of our lives shall be forever changed from this night forward.  But, there is something you must do for me first, Nathaniel,” she enticed.

“What’s that?” he grinned.

“Kiss me,” she beseeched in an unwavering, sultry tone.

One last, unsuppressed flicker of conscience caused him to recoil from her irresistible red lips, if only for a few moments more.

“You must kiss me!  I fear my heart may finally break from prolonged despair if you do not!” she implored.

Her eyes searched his, peering into his very soul.

“I know you want me, Nathaniel.  I can practically hear your heart beating in your chest.”

He let out a bestial groan as his lust snuffed out his morality.

“You are too good to be true... Mrs. Harper,” he exhaled in defeat as his head fell forward.

His mouth was only a finger’s breadth away from hers.

“Forget... the woman you know I am… and love the woman you ache for me to be…” she intoned seductively, her sweet breath blowing on his face.

There was no more holding back. 

He kissed her.

He pressed his mouth against hers passionately.  She returned his kiss with equal ardor.  Her plump lips were moist, refreshingly cool, and more heavenly soft than he ever imagined.  Overwhelming ecstasy rushed through him drowning out any lingering cares from his mind.

His heavy arms raised, animated by the redoubled intensity of his desire for her.  The fingers of his right hand swam through her buttery lambskin coat, hooking on one of the dangling buttons before cupping her left breast.  She moaned as he squeezed her voluptuously-soft bosom greedily inside the supple, creaking leather.  His left hand slid inside her coat and caught behind her waist.  He couldn’t sit up, so he pulled her to him.

She pounced on top of him lightly, giggling with delight.  The open flaps of her leather coat covering them both like a blanket.  Her fingers raked through his hair.  Her liquid leather sleeve flowed over his abdomen as she slithered a hand inside his loose-fitting shirt and stroked his chest.  Her hip rubbed against his groin rhythmically, hardening his already stiff manhood into a steel rod.

She devoured his mouth with one deep kiss after another, chuckling pleasurably with each breath.  Her fiery hair fell around her face, sweeping over his cheeks in silken waves.  The dangling strands of her pearl necklace dribbled over his throat.  The smell of her perfume, the susurration of her clothes, and the non-stop creaking of her leather was utterly intoxicating to him, but it was her beautiful body he wanted now.  Her svelte curves pressed against him, buttoned inside layers of fabric, driving him insane. 

He tore at the collar of her blouse, nuzzling in vain against the turtleneck shirt that encased her neck.  His fingers pried between buttons on the front of her leather skirt and deflected off the silky slip she wore inside.

Her outfit was a luxurious suit of armor that he was unable to penetrate! 

He grunted and she giggled at his frustration.

“Who do you desire most?” she whispered in his ear.

“You!” he rumbled.

“Could there ever be anyone else?” she gasped.

“Never!” he roared, mindless of all but her temptation.

“So be it,” she exhaled soothingly.

The smile on her red lips spread from ear to ear and her green eyes glowed blinding bright.

“You are mine, my Nathaniel, now... and forever!”

She sealed her wet mouth over his and inhaled so deeply that she sucked the air completely out of him!  For a split second he felt like he was suffocating and then everything went black.