The Butterfly Pt 08 Madeline

This is part eight of our story. Reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine and Peter better. We join our story in progress, after Peter has confessed his secret. He is an immortal, and Madeline, his former lover and wife. Christine is dealing with this revelation as best she can, and demands a meeting with Madeline...

*****

They awoke midday. Peter made several calls while Christine prepared herself and put on what she liked to call her "war paint" -- the thick eyeliner that made her feel strong, armored, and in conjunction with her black leather pants and jacket, like a warrior. She felt she would need it for this encounter with Madeline.

"You're sure I can't talk you out of this, my dear? I am concerned about your safety, which I want to talk to you about after I've made some arrangements, but I think you'll be physically safe with Madeline. She got want she wanted last night and forced the issue. If she had wanted you dead, she certainly had every opportunity. I am more concerned about you continually putting yourself into this emotional 'no win' situation between the two of you. I don't want to see you further upset."

Christine zipped up her boots. "Peter, upset doesn't really begin to cover it. This is a whole new world I have to start defining myself in - your world. She's a big part of that, but also, as you said, she forced the issue. I want her to hear my decision from me, and know that I'm not backing down from my life with you. She may win in time, but you are most decidedly mine for as long as I get to have you."

He embraced her. "That's so good to hear, darling. I have always admired your flexibility and strength. Thank you for accepting this cross and bearing it with me."

She kissed him sweetly on the mouth, and touched her forehead to his. "We can do this. Now, where am I meeting her?"

Paris was a beautiful city, of course, but Madeline's apartment was stunning. Modern, but filled with classic art, antiques, and furniture, it reminded her of Peter's tastes. She wondered how much they had influenced each other over the years. While she had talked a good game with him, she was afraid. She was walking into the lion's den alone, to meet a woman infinitely older and more experienced than she, who has had her husband time and again throughout history, and who probably had little respect for her as she was clearly 'the lesser race.'

Christine was shown to the study. Madeline appeared moments later, fresh from a bath apparently, in a thin white silk robe which extended only halfway down her thighs, wearing no makeup, and with wet hair. She was elegant and seemingly completely vulnerable when compared to Christine's layers of protection. She looked even younger than Christine's initial guess of 20. Of course, she had been off by more than a millennium anyhow. Her nipples were clearly visible beneath the robe and were quite pert. She had the body of a teenager, forever. Christine rolled her eyes at this, and Madeline laughed.

"I'm glad we could catch up, alone, just the two of us. No games, and no men."

"You shot my husband three times last night. And now you're standing there in a see through silk robe (which, by the way, is beautiful). My life has definitely taken a turn for the weird."

"You're right, let's sit." She gestured to an antique brown leather couch, waited for Christine to sit, and then positioned herself directly next to her, with her thighs already sticking slightly to the leather.

"Pyotr told me he has answered many of your questions, but that you have something to say to me. Go ahead, my dear."

Christine paused a long moment before being able to begin. "I want to thank you. What you did was horrible, but I would probably have never learned the truth without you taking action. I've thought a lot about you. And about you and Peter being together throughout history, and what he means to you. When we first met, when we all first fucked, I felt like you were some young thing trying to break up my marriage. Now...now, I find out that's me. Shit..."

A tear began welling up in Christine's eye and a lump developed in her throat, already. She had wanted to be strong so badly, and here she was choking up so soon.

"Shhhh. It's okay." Madeline caressed her face, kissed her cheek, and swept her hair back behind her ear. She hugged her tightly, and Christine let her, letting go and putting her head against the girl's neck. "Just let go."

The tears came freely, and the sobs intensified. They sat there like that for many minutes while the woman in black cried fiercely into the girl in white's shoulder and chest. After Christine composed herself, she sat up.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Shit. I probably should have waited before coming here. Peter was right. As usual."

"It's okay my dear, this is all so new for you. I can't even imagine how you're feeling. Perhaps it would help if I tell you what I told Pyotr. I told him it would be your choice, the two of you together. He has done something unusual, not unheard of, but it is unusual. He has chosen to marry and spend a life with a mortal. Usually we keep our relationships with them casual, occasionally mating, occasionally falling in love, but always moving on. He has told me that he sees something in you that is special to him, and I respect that. He and I have had centuries together, when you add them up, but I do not possess his heart...the way that you do...right now, as much as that disappoints me. And I cannot give him children. We cannot have children together."

Christine looked into her brown eyes, and took her hands in her own. She was just a woman after all, at least sometimes. "I know. Peter told me."

"Pyotr is old, and wise, but even he does not fully understand women after all this time. And he cannot comprehend what it means to grow old and die. Not himself. I felt that if he was going to make this commitment to you, then you needed to know the truth. I once had a lover myself that I shared our secret with. I let it be her choice whether she remained with me, grew old while I remained young, and became the scorn of those who saw us. But the world was a much larger place then. You could live a lifetime in quiet seclusion without the prying eyes of mortal or immortal. It is not like that now. And so telling you the truth became ever more important. I sensed that he would not, and so I gave him the push he needed."

"That was one hell of a push. You're not quite the same woman sitting here that you were last night."

"I just wanted you to have a choice. I never had any say in my life and what it has become. I wanted more for you."

"You can afford to be magnanimous can't you? You win in the end no matter what. I die. You live. You will have him again."

"Perhaps. I am one of the women that loves him deeply in this world. I'm sure you will come across the others. Be careful of Cassandra. She is quite the...bitch. She tried to behead me once. She will not be pleased that Pyotr is giving his heart to a mortal woman."

"Wait, what? Behead you? What...happened?"

"It does not work. We are too resistant to be cut that way. Our skin can be fragile...human...in some ways but our bones and many tissues inside...indestructible. Perhaps Pyotr was minimizing our abilities for you, to not scare you any further. But you should know what you are up against. I told him to tell you. Merde. If she had found you when you were unprepared, and knew what I know about the way he loves you, I hate to think what will happen."

"Are you just trying to scare me? Is this another game? Tell me I'll never be safe and then I'll leave him, just like that?"

"My dear, you are not safe. Whether you believe me or not is up to you. But I have discussed with Pyotr and I want to help, now that you are committed. I want to help keep you alive. For Pyotr's happiness that he has as much time with you as you are able. And because...I like you very much. I am saddened to admit it, but if you were one of us, you would be a better fit for him than I. I see that now. And when, if, I do get him back, I know that he will be diminished without you."

"Can I ask...are you like Peter? Can you not remember where you were born?"

"No, he is one of our oldest. I can remember my life when it was still a life, my childhood when I would play, and my mother and father, our struggles. I have always liked to believe that remembering those things, remembering my life, makes me more...human than those who cannot. He tries, but I think he is missing something."

Christine listened to her and felt like she was a bit under her spell. Is this what it was like with all of them? Were they all so wise and so very mysterious, like the depths of a vast ocean, waiting to be explored? She leaned forward suddenly, slid her hand around what she would probably always think of as the 'young girl's' waist, and kissed her. Apparently this did not come as much of a surprise as Madeline yielded to her and responded with equal excitement and passion. This time their tongues did not wrestle for dominance -- their feelings were real and tender. Christine reached down and unfastened the white robe, reaching inside it to cup and fondle those perfect breasts. As they continued to make out tenderly, she reached down and found a bare pussy, already moist and awaiting her fingers. She toyed with it, flicking the clit, and massaging the lips of that slit. Madeline was becoming frustrated.

"Put your fingers in me. I want all of you."

Christine obliged, and as the tight cunt opened up, stretching to fit first three then four fingers, it became more and more slippery, allowing her to thrust harder and push her fingers deeper with each thrust.

They continued to kiss passionately, and Madeline was now up on her hand, riding her. Her still damp hair dangled into Christine's face, her breasts bouncing.

"Oh god, you are so beautiful. Please make me cum. Do not stop!" she cried. She pumped her hips faster and faster, taking quick breaths, her heart racing, until she began coming all over Christine's hand. Her pace slowed, and then stopped, but they held each other that way for a time.

Christine continued to play with her pussy, enjoying the slippery wetness. "May I?" Madeline asked, as she reached to her neck and began to unzip her leather jacket, pushing it off of her. She then undressed her the rest of the way, finally wrestling the leather pants down her legs and throwing them away from the sofa with a huff.

"I want to be close to you," Madeline purred, "I want to feel you."

They sat opposite each other on the sofa, facing one another, their legs spread out, each taking in the others' body. They moved together, their legs crossing until they were in a tight embrace, their slippery and bare cunts sliding up against each other. They undulated together, their hips thrusting in unison, holding each other closely. Madeline reached down to Christine's ass and pulled her in even tighter, and ground their bodies together.

"Cum for me," Christine whispered in her ear. "I can feel your wet lips rubbing right up against mine. I'm coming. I'm coming. Come with me!"

Wrapped together so tightly, they did come, and they held onto each other for dear life until they came back down to Earth. They kissed each other sweetly and lightly for a few more minutes and then disengaged.

Madeline replaced her robe, prepared Christine a drink as she was getting dressed, and sat back down next to her.

"Now that you have decided, and now that we have cleared the air, I want to help you if I can. Together, Pyotr and I have friends who will help. He wants nothing more than to protect you, his beloved, and I want to protect him from loss. And I wouldn't mind keeping you around as well if you are going to continue to fuck me like that."

"Gosh, good thing I am decent in bed or I'd be up shit's creek with the two of you, huh? Delightful."

"What a charming way you have with words. You don't know it yet, but you will like what we have in store for you. Pyotr will fill you in when we have all the details prepared."

"Thank you...again, Madeline. I know we got off to a rocky start, and that things won't be easy, but I am really trying here, to be equal to the challenge of being a part of your world. It means a lot to me that I don't have to think of you as an enemy."

"My dear, we are not enemies, but do not mistake me. My loyalty will always be to Pyotr. If putting a bullet into your pretty head somehow protects him from harm or pain, I will have to do it. I would, of course, prefer the alternative. There is not enough love in this world as it is."