Felicia

VI

Felicia

Felicia never liked to think about struggles as something that couldn't be overcome in some way-- whether by determination or intelligence, but as a woman, she had learned that not every answer could fit neatly into one of those two categories. When her mother had died, her father had taken to the bottle and Felicia, being the only child, had been expected to take over her mother's duties.

All of them.

It wasn't the feeling of her father pressing down on her at night that bothered her, it wasn't even the sickley-sweet kiss of cheap mead that filled his mouth when he was muttering in her ear as he thrust into her again and again. It was the crying he did when he thought she was asleep. The quiet prayers that went unheard and the moments where she lost all notion that he had been her father rather than the strange drunk who used her and couldn't shoulder his own burden.

She was tired of it. She wanted out. She had needs too, she hurt just like he did but she had no one to turn to. Just a string of meaningless lovers who all wound up using her for the same thing before they eventually left her. Oh, but she was clever, yes she was.

The plan was hers and hers alone and so diabolically evil that it made her stomach lurch at the mere idea of it, but how else would she get her father to snap out of his fog than to buy the farm herself and threaten to evict him if he didn't stop using her?

Felicia bobbed her foot in the back booth of the Primrose as she sipped her tea. It was the same booth that the half-elf woman had left her gasping and panting in. It was totally accidental that she'd chosen that booth-- of course-- but she could still feel the woman's powerful presence lingering in the satin covered seat.

That woman-- Sarah-- gods. . . Everything Merite had said about her was true. Even down to the part where she abandoned her lover after giving her a taste of something she had never tried. Something, secretly, she wanted to explore more. Her ass tightened at the thought of the woman's thumb palm deep in her.

Every part of Felicia tingled at the thought of Sarah's insistence, of her need and hunger. It wasn't her own pleasure she sought, but that of others. Merite had been right about that, too. She enjoyed pleasing her lovers so that she could pull from them their deepest held desires. To hear them cry her name. . . to come in her arms. Again and again.

Felicia had done just that. Her chest burned with the thought of the exotic woman's fingers spreading her open, of places they shouldn't have been.

Sarah

. . . Felicia whimpered involuntarily. Her thighs clenched together against the moisture warming her skin as she swallowed back and bit her lip at the thought of the woman's intrusion.

She wanted those arms around her. She wanted to feel. . . to

be

loved like a real human being and not like a hole in the bed stuffing. Sarah, Felicia imagined, didn't cry in bed and she knew the elf woman would give anything to make her climax. But then, just as she had seen, Sarah would run out on her, just like she had every other lover she had.

The mere thought of her forbidden touch made her breath come faster. Women didn't think these kinds of things about other women if they were true ladies, but still. . .

What if?

What if she could give Sarah what she wanted, surely she would stay with her. She would love Felicia for who she was, not what was between her legs-- not that gender was any barrier for the elf, from what she had heard, Sarah has absolutely no reservations one way or the other. Even across species. . .

Felicia sat in the darkened booth, day dreaming about the different things the elf would show her for nearly an hour before the waitress came by and offered her a refill on her tea. Felicia politely declined and, just as the woman was turning away, she gathered up her courage. "E- Excuse me, miss? Does the name Isira mean anything to you?"

The older woman cracked a smile, shifting the tea kettle from one hand to the other as she reached up and removed a necklace engraved into the shape of a closed lotus flower. She touched the back side and it opened so smoothly that it could have been the real plant. "I do indeed." She smiled warmly.

It was at that moment that Felicia saw something a little unusual in her eyes. Her soft, caring eyes were looking Felicia over as though she was expecting the teen to do. . . something. When she didn't, the woman set the kettle down on the table and leaned towards her. Felicia backed up in the booth and smiled weakly. "Someone. . . Someone said I should offer my prayers to this Isira out, if. . ."

The woman chuckled a hearty, inviting laugh. "She never changes."

Felicia frowned. "B- But, miss--"

"Sweets. Let me tell you, that woman is trouble." The woman picked up the kettle and tucked her Lily pedal between her ample cleavage. "I've a good mind to go to the temple myself, but the priest there's kind of. . . Creepy."

"Can you tell me about this goddess?" Felicia leaned forward, pointedly ignoring the slanderous remark on Sarah's character. "See, this woman owes me some gold yet, and. . ."

"Gold, is it? What is she paying now?" the woman's gaze turned scrutinizing in the way only a mother who'd caught their child doing something wrong could. "Honey, there are better ways to make--"

"No! No, gods. . . No."

"Okay, just saying, you're too cute to be doing that. Especially here. The temple is in the merchant district. It's a two story house, don't let the outside fool you, it's a real temple."

"Yeah, but what about the deity herself?"

"Put it to you this way, sweets." She leaned forward, placing a hand on Felicia's shoulder. "If Sarah was a priest of Hers, she'd be an arch bishop or something." Slowly, that hand slid up the curve of Felicia's neck. For some reason, the girl couldn't convince herself to stop the woman even as she cupped the girl's cheek and leaned in. Barely a hair's breadth away, she whispered in a thick, husky voice "If you want to learn more, I could show you a thing or two. . ."

"I- I- I- I think. . . Maybe I'll find out firsthand?"

"We could do that, too. And what's better? I have two hands." She chuckled. A blush was creeping over her own cheeks as the girl squirmed.

"Ma-Maybe later!" Felicia pulled away. "I need to find her--" Without thinking about it, she bounded out of the booth and made for the back door. Sarah would be waiting for her.

~#~#~#~#~

Was she insane to think she could change this woman? Maybe. But she didn't care any more. She wanted someone to believe in, someone to hold on to and be held by. The fact that the woman was well off didn't hurt either. Maybe she she could fix everything in one go. Maybe. . .

Maybe.

Felicia fluffed out the ruffles on her common dress and straightened out her bodice as best she could so it would push her already full breasts up that extra little bit. Her dusky, sun tanned skin only accented her generous cleavage and made her just that much more aware of what Sarah had touched that day in the Primrose. She still had the mark on her shoulder shaped like the elven woman's teeth, but her father hadn't noticed. Thankfully.

She had called Felicia a good girl. Good girls don't make a sound, she had whispered as her thumb worked inside Felicia's firm, shapely butt. Did that mean, then, that she should present herself more? Would it make her look too eager? Too

desperate

for attention?

Felicia threw caution to the wind and made her way out to the merchant's district. Early evening festivities were beginning outside a two story plaster and wood home that looked half rotted out but was alive with activity; men and women of all types danced in the warm glow of a huge bonfire, telling stories and laughing while a hand full of people in tawny robes distributed wine and food to the poorest looking among the party goers and moved on to others. A gypsy troupe played music that filled the entire street with merriment and the door to the 'temple' was wide open.

She wasn't good with large crowds of people but the few she met were extremely pleasant and cheerful. A man grabbed her by the arm in a friendly manner and tried to get her to dance with him and two other women near the fire but when she gently brushed him off he respected it and bid her to have a good evening-- it was uncharacteristic but welcome. Maybe that was what happened when a goddess appeared; people learned manners.

The only person who looked as though he wasn't having fun was a man in soft, loose leathers standing near the door with his hand on the pommel of his sword as though it were a cane. When she past he inclined his head deeply and Felicia could see just how attractive he was. Gods, he was gorgeous. And strong looking. . .

She smiled coyly and slid in past him. The foyer was every bit as loud and raucous was the outside with people coming and going, chatting, reading fortunes and exchanging drinks. Felicia thought she caught a glimpse of a man sitting on another man's lap but before she could make a better judgment, a kobold strolled past in tawny robes whistling to himself.

Felicia jumped out of the way letting out a scream of surprise. She crash landed into someone who spilled his drink over someone else on his way to face diving into the other person's lap. The kobold winced and skittered away cupping the side of his skull that had been facing the sound. The girl backed up towards the banister, pointing and trying to mutter a warning. Why was no one else panicking? She wondered. They were looking at her like she was the monster!

The little reptillian humanoid turned to look at her with his beady eyes. . . his lips curled into a grin and a soft chuckle issued forth. "Ss-okay! Happenss all the time!" He advanced on her and she stumbled back up the stairs, shoving off with her heel trying to get purchase as her heart slammed against her ribs. "I'm sorry!" He said abruptly, holding out his hands in surrender. "Didn't mean to scare you!"

"M- Monst--"

He sighed, covering one eye with his clawed hand. "To you we all look the same, yes? Worry not!" he made a sound that seemed like a cross between a purr and a hiss. "My name is Keitar! I run this temple! You are welcome here if you bring peace, all right?" The little creature smiled again, took a measured step back and motioned to her to signal that it was her move next.

For her part in it, she sat looking at the creature, shaking from adrenaline, unable to focus. What else could possibly have gone wrong. A

kobold?

Running a

temple?

Gods was this the kind of insanity that past for normal in the city? Felicia got control of herself and rose shakily. "T- Thank. . .You?"

The creature smiled with his sharp teeth and nodded. "Plenty of wine! Music and art in the shrine if you wish to join!"

"Uh--" She swallowed, finally getting her mental footing as she took stock of the place. "I. . . Do--" oh hell with it. "Do you know someone named Sarah Kettar?"

There were a few glances her way. Mostly by men in casual tunics with small swords hanging from their belts. The kobold eyed her a moment longer, considering his reply before he spoke. "I may! But I may wonder why someone so beautiful wishes to see her!"

Heat burned her cheeks as she became the focal point of the room's collective gaze. She stammered. "I- I-" A deep breath, and she was going again. "I'm, er, a friend of hers. Sort. . . of. . . erm." Felicia rubbed the back of her neck. "She told me that I should offer my prayers to Isira if I wanted to see her again."

That earned a couple of laughs from people around the room. "Sounds about right," a man said.

"I see. . ." The little kobold mimed stroking a beard he didn't have and split into another grin. "She's upstairs."

"T- Thanks."

"Don't forget! Women, men, wine and art!" With those words he turned on his scaly little foot and wandered off into the long side room. "Who wants a muzzle ride?"

Felicia tried to keep the mental image from taking root while she gripped the rail and started up the stairs on shaky feet. As she reached the top, she could hear the slow twangy throng of a mandolin being played. The semi-circular landing had been blocked off by three doors each decorated with finger paintings of Lilly flowers in full blossom. Checking each door, the teenager heard noises that set the fine hairs on the back of her neck on edge. Things that set her imagination on fire and finally, at the farthest right door, the biggest room in the house, she found the sound of the mandolin.

Felicia had visited the fairs that would come through her village when she was young and had seen some of the traveling jugulars that played, but never with this kind of solemnness. Sarah's singing voice was unmistakable; that haunting siren song that lingered in Felicia's ear like a pleasant suggestion and a quiet promise.

But something was different. Very different. Felicia leaned against the door to listen.

"-zon crying, the tears she left behind long ago." The steady playing slowed a little as her voice picked up. "The albatross was flying, leading her daydream-- of the time before she became one of the world's unseen. A prince in the tower, a child in the field. Life gave her it alllll. . ."

Felicia closed her eyes like a junky getting her fix of the woman's voice. The sadness in her voice resounded to the girl's core but she just couldn't imagine anything else other than that voice, the things she would say to her, the

love

she could speak.

But there was love in that voice. A pained, empty love, something missing. . .

"Now her love's a memory, a ghost in the fog. . ." Sarah strummed her mandolin, stroking the chords and making Felicia's heart sink. "She sets the sails one last time. Saying farewell to the world. . . Anchor to the water, seabed far below-- grass still in her feet and the tears begin to flow."

Sarah continued her playing, steady and slow, something in her tune sounded final and Felicia reached for the door, prepared to throw it open and hug the woman. Damn the farm, damn the money. She needed a hug just as much as Felicia did. Just before her finger touched the knob, though, the woman's voice picked up again.

"This is the long-forgotten light at the end of the world, horizon crying the tears she left behind so long agoooo~~" She stroked the instrument a few more times, trailing off into silence that lingered like a weight in the air.

Felicia pushed herself, turned the knob and stepped in. Sarah was sitting against a tousled bed wearing nothing more than a long shirt that left her pale legs exposed. She had the mandolin in her lap and her hair was hanging loose from her head, framing her face like a coppery waterfall that parted only for her. The elven points of her ears were poking out either side further accenting her sharp, exotic features. But her glasses were gone, sitting atop the nightstand.

The woman smiled up at Felicia through her wispy bangs. She wasn't sad at all, she was smiling as though she had just won a contest! Suddenly Felicia felt exceptionally foolish for barging in, for assuming this woman needed anything she could offer. Her gaze instinctively slid to the elf's legs when she moved and Felicia felt all the more foolish.

Sarah had a thick body type, chesty-- though not as much as Felicia-- and fleshy in her legs with a well curved stomach and generous hips that Felicia imagined were often the subject of much holding. She looked more human than elven but one look at her face and all illusions that she had the same blood Felicia did was gone.

Felicia stammered, tried to smile-- oh gods, this had gone so much better in her head. Sarah crossed her arms over her instrument and rested her chin on her hands so she could look up at Felicia. Somehow she seemed. . . submissive yet expectant. She wasn't about to open her mouth, though, expecting the teen to do the work.

It took her a moment to realize this, but when she did, she blushed even deeper. "H-h-h-"

"Mmm?" That sultry murmur turned purr made Felicia's knees weak.

"Hi?"

Sarah smiled.

Now what? Felicia swallowed. "M- Miss Kettar, I wanted to. . . t- to ask you if you'd had been able to roust the coin we'd agreed upon?"

The woman sat upright and pouted playfully. "For a moment I had thought you had come to see me, ah well, I'm entitled to be wrong once in a while."

The girl bit into her lower lip. "I--"

"It's on the bed, dear." She flicked her head towards the bed she was sitting against.

"I--" Felicia glanced at it and then the woman. "I. . . Should I?"

She smiled again, reclining against the bed. "That, my good woman, is entirely up to you. Perhaps you'd prefer I do the work instead, hm?"

Felicia fidgeted under Sarah's gaze for no other reason than the heat of the woman's presence made her uneasy-- she was sweating. Her thighs clenched against the worst of it. Yes, just sweating. She could just go over there. . . pluck her coins off the bed and. . . and save the farm. Felicia eyed the pile of clothes ringing the bed-- she couldn't step on them, of course, which left where Sarah was sitting the only possible approach.

They looked at one another for a moment before Sarah's smile turned private, like some inner joke had reached its punchline. Maybe at Felicia's realization. She tiled her head up slightly as Felicia approached. The girl's knees trembled, her pulse raced and with each bit of distance she closed between them, she could feel Sarah's gaze roaming her all the more.

When she was standing in front of the musical elf, Felicia closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. "M- May I pass?"

"I would stop you from nothing you wanted to do, sweetheart." Sarah leaned back just a little bit more and set the mandolin to the side, giving Felicia a brief glimpse of her vulva-- dusted in a tiny sprinkling of coppery pubic hair and a group of freckles atop her public bone. Moisture glistened against her lips in them muted light right before Sarah adjusted her shirt to cover herself.

Felicia looked away, cleared her throat.

"In fact. . ." Sarah sat forward, sliding up to her knees. Her thick legs looked even more impressive as it filled out her hourglass shape. She arched her back forward, pressing her ample chest up as her shirt slid upwards, revealing a dangerous amount of her skin to Felicia's gaze. "I may introduce you to things you'll not want to live without."

You already have.

Felicia whimpered without thinking as Sarah's delicate hands touched her thighs through the dress. She traced her fingernails up her leg until she came to Felicia's hips, looking up at her in the picture of warmth and concern. How could someone so powerful, so

demanding

look so coy and innocent?

Felicia shuddered a whole body shudder that left her breathless, her generous cleavage heaved with each deep breath she forced herself to take while the elven woman slid her hands up either side of her chest, stroking her in worship as Felicia's thoughts became fuzzier. She wanted this. But what about the farm?

What about her father?

Sarah's hands trailed down her sides again, stroking the flesh underneath her dress while she turned her gaze to the girl's body. She planted a kiss atop her thigh, then the other, her stomach. . . Her crotch. Her lips lingered there and her eyes turned up to Felicia. She was asking permission. Even now. Felicia gritted her teeth in mock resistance. She knew it was a lie even as she tried to turn away.

Oh, but her hand knew better. She reached for Sarah's head, running her fingers through the woman's copper locks. She wanted to hold her, to caress her, to know what it was really like to be held. Sarah would show her these things and so much more, if only she could show her that she was worthy.