Iss of Death

Was it a dream?

I'm not sure. But, perhaps I should give a bit of background first, for, in so doing, I might be able to understand.

To begin with, I arrived in Vichy at dusk, and it seemed the townspeople had already begun to shut their doors and windows, to pull across their drapes and shutters. How odd, I thought, for them to be doing this so early in the evening.

This was also the height of the tourist season, and I had begun to think that it was going to be impossible for me to find a place to stay for the night. However, through the kind intervention of Mademoiselle Lapin, the young lady who traveled with me to this place, we found lodging at the Hotel Rose.

As it happened, the hotel was almost filled to capacity, and the concierge wondered if Melanie--Mlle Lapin--and I wouldn't mind sharing a room.

I was quite taken aback by the inquiry, at first, since I'd never before shared a room with anyone. However, Melanie seemed to be quite pleasant after we boarded the coach, and said that it would be all right with her.

If there had been more rooms, I probably would have insisted on my own, but in light of the circumstances, I relented.

It wasn't a terribly large room, but there were two single and very comfortable looking beds.

" Do you wish to bathe first, Amanda?" asked Melanie, after we put our suitcases away.

" No, you go ahead," I replied. "I'll catch up on some of my diary entries."

" Tres bien --- very well."

As Melanie went to run her bath water, I retrieved my diary, and began to record the highlights of the day's trip from Paris to Vichy.

Eventually, Melanie emerged from the bathroom. She had a beautiful dark red satin robe wrapped about her, and when she undid the towel wrapped about her head, a mass of dark black hair tumbled down across her shoulders. Even without makeup, she looked quite attractive and I wished I possessed such natural beauty.

"I took the liberty of running your bath," she said. "I hope you don't mind?"

"Oh, no, of course not!" I exclaimed. "Thank you."

I rose from the writing desk, and then sauntered into the bathroom. My thoughts were centered on what I hoped would be a relaxing soak.

I shed my clothes, folded them neatly, and lay them in a small pile on the toilet lid.

I stepped into the tub. I smiled. Melanie had adjusted the water to just the right temperature. I sat down, let the water cover my body. I closed my eyes, and let the heat soothe my aching muscles.

A short time after relaxing in the water, I became of a strange sensation. As if someone or something were watching me. I glanced around. Nothing. No one. I seemed to be alone.

I shivered involuntarily, even in the heat of the water, and then decided to get out.

As I rose from the water, I happened to glance at the bathroom door, which, in my haste to have my bath, I had neglected to shut. There, standing quietly, Melanie gazed at me.

I noticed immediately that her robe was open. The shadow of her breasts and the dark triangle of hair showed plainly. I gasped, and reached for my towel so that I could cover myself.

"Amanda---"

I glanced up at Melanie. Her eyes caught mine almost immediately, and they seemed to shine with a light not reflected from the bulb in the room.

It was then that time and reality seemed to shift. I don't know whether what happened next was a dream or not. But somehow, the sound of her voice, and the look in her eyes held me in some inexplicable grip.

The towel dropped from my hand. I stepped slowly out of the tub, and approached Melanie as she opened the door and backed away. Involuntarily, I followed.

Her red robe slipped from her shoulders, the milky white of her flesh almost glowing. She reached out to me, her long fingers tracing a path along the ridge of my collarbone to my neck, there to meander down to my left breast where her fingernail scraped a circle around my nipple. It responded almost immediately, protruding and hard.

Still Melanie kept her eyes fastened on mine. I could not, did not want to look away, but I saw from my peripheral vision that her tongue, pink and wet, traced a line around her lips which opened slightly. Her white teeth glinted behind them.

She drew close to me. The softness of her flesh against mine--it was cold! Then her lips, those chilling lips, lightly touched my own; her breasts gently stroked mine; her hands embraced my shoulders as her mouth slid down my neck.

My skin trembled as she circled behind me, her hands moving down to cup my breasts, squeezing them, kneading them. I closed my eyes. I wanted to pull away, and yet I dared not, for I felt that a greater pleasure was yet to come, and I did not want to miss it.

The coldness, the wetness of her tongue flicked against my neck, lapping at the saltiness of my perspiration.

Now her fingers trailed down my belly, curled into and round the tendrils of hair that covered my sex. I shivered again and felt her cold breath upon the wetness of my neck.

Then, as a finger pushed through the folds of skin and found the very nub of my physical being, I felt two pricks upon my neck, two needles almost imperceptible as I was lost in the heightened sense of pleasure brought on by the ministration of her finger upon my bud. And, with each gentle but firm stroke downward and upward, I heard soft sucking from her mouth on my neck, the downward draft of hot air from her nostrils.

Such excitement filled me--the sensation of her mouth upon the line of my neck, her slender finger deftly building my ecstasy higher and higher until I could take no more.

I cried out my release even as I felt consciousness slip from me.

I knew nothing else until I woke but a short time ago.

And I would have believed it to be a dream were it not for the two marks upon my neck that I see in the mirror, and this unshakable desire to be with Mademoiselle Melanie Lapin again tonight.