A Tangled Web Between Two Stones
By Daphne Rivers
(
Author's Note: All characters are over the age of eighteen. All characters, situations, locations and details are fictional. Any resemblence to real life is completely coincidental.
)
1
Natalia Stone weaved her Land Rover Range Rover in and out of traffic on Julington Boulevard. It was noon on a Friday and the three lane road was dense with traffic. Everyone was driving the speed limit, which infuriated Natalia, who considered five miles over the limit a snail's pace. Her destination was the only one that mattered; every other driver was an incompetent inconvenience.
"I'm sorry, I thought we were out here driving!" she screamed. "Not to pussy-foot around on the goddamn streets like a shitty amusement park ride!"
Her hands gripped the steering wheel in a deathgrip. Her tense knuckles were white. Her rage was hidden behind tinted windows. Every driver around her was oblivious.
"Do I need to get out of this fucking SUV and drive your car for you?!"
She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her Louis Vuitton sunglasses looked back. She searched for stress-induced wrinkles. She checked her rouge lipstick to see if it had smeared. She remained, by her standards, immaculate. She blew herself a kiss.
These idiot drivers were going to cause her to pop a blood vessel. She needed a distraction. She turned on her radio. She opened the audiobook app on her smartphone and hit play. She was a few hours into a spicy romance novel. She liked the silky husky feminine voice of the narrator. She was sexy and calming.
The book,
The Queen of Heartbreaks
by Sylvia Silksong, was a loose retelling of Snow White from the evil queen's perspective. The evil queen was deliciously sinister and she ruled her kingdom with a kinky iron fist. Every man in her kingdom was her property. The lines between punishment and reward were blurred for the servants of her kingdom, including her beautiful petite step-daughter, the Princess White Snow.
"
The Princess, delicate and morose, slowly stepped into the Queen's chamber,
" said the narrator. "
The Queen sat on her throne, her powerful fingers stroking the ornate golden head of her staff, atop which was adorned with a pure crystal orb. Her eyes watched Princess White Snow like a leopard watches prey enter its hunting grounds.
"'What beckons you into my chamber, child?' asked the Queen with malicious glee.
"'You do, my queen,' said Princess White Snow. 'I received word of your calling and without delay came to your chambers, as requested.'
"'Does my audience displease you?,' asked the Queen.
"'No my Queen,' said White Snow. 'It is an honour always to be in the presence of your majesty.'
"'Then why do you grace it with a scowl of discontent?' asked the Queen.
"'I mean no disrespect or impudence,' said White Snow. 'But my Queen, on this eve I have been aged eighteen for a fortnight.'
"'Yes?' said the Queen, a fire growing in her eyes.
"'By the gods of time I have been bestowed the crown of womanhood,' said White Snow.
"'Druther no more and make haste to your point,' said the Queen.
"'You declare me a child,' said White Snow, 'when I have bloomed beyond the title. Mightn't your words declare me so when addressed?'
"The Queen's eyes narrowed.
"'You dare tell your Queen what words she may speak?' asked the Queen.
"'No my queen!' said White Snow. 'I wouldn't commit such vulgarities against you. Still, I stand before you a humble princess, but a princess nonetheless. I have known in previous years that such a title is bestowed with respect. How can the Kingdom grace my visage with respect if my Queen refuses the same?'
"The Queen rose from her throne. She approached Snow White with a floating gate, her luxurious black dress pooling behind her like a shadow.
"'Respect?' asked the Queen. 'You request respect while refusing me the same? You choose to address the throne without humility and in the same breath speak of the gods that have placed me upon the throne?'
"'No my Queen,' said White Snow.
"'I hear your words, dripped in venom as they are,' said the Queen. 'So be it. I have heard for too long in these hallowed halls of the fair Princess White Snow and her beauty. You declare womanhood? So be it, I say. Let us see.'
"'See, my Queen?'
"'But of course, dear,' said the Queen. She smiled and her fanged canines glistened under the candelabra alight with green flames. 'The Queen must oversee every nook and crevice of her Kingdom. You proclaim yours are matured. I shall be the judge.'
"The Queen released her staff and it stood as if held by an invisible hand. She placed her long pale fingers on White Snow's shoulders. She ran her long black fingernails up White Snow's neck, tracing her jugular vein which pumped with terror. One powerful swipe of her claw into the babe's perfect flesh would extinguish her flame and render her a lifeless corpse. Instead, the Queen placed her clawed hands into White Snow's modest bodice, between skin and fabric. She tore the garment into, revealing the pure milky skin of White Snow's breasts.
"'My Queen?' trembled White Snow.
"'Do you resist me out of fear or insolence?' asked The Queen.
"'I resist you not, my Queen,' said White Snow, her eyes cast down at the Queen's hands.
"'Prove it,' said the Queen, 'and release yourself from the bondage of your rags. And pray no sudden movements, lest my wrath you want to endure.'
"'Yes my Queen.'"
The narrator described White Snow's disrobement and the revelation of her perfect body. As the Queen's hands wandered White Snow's body--pinching her nipples, slapping her ass, pulling painfully on her pubic hair until the girl begged for mercy--Natalia's hands did her own wandering. Natalia wasn't usually into sapphic fiction, but the mix of taboo subject matter, the power dynamic between the characters, and the narrator's breathy delivery had her aroused.
"Damn this is a good story," said Natalia. "Fuck that little bitch."
Natalia pulled her miniskirt up her thighs and adjusted her ass in the seat. She cursed herself for wearing beige pantyhose as she stretched the nylon with her hand. She rubbed her labia with her middle finger, feeling the edges of her manicured acrylic nails softly scratching the delicate flesh. A gentle warm-up. She rubbed her clit with rotations in a quick rhythm of triplets; one-and-a, two-and-a, three-and-a...
"
'You've known not the touch of a man?' asked the Queen.
"'No, your majesty,' answered White Snow.
"'And the touch of a woman?' asked the Queen.
"'Not a once,' said White Snow. 'My body is as pure as my namesake, untarnished by a man, unblemished by a woman.'
"'Unblemished?' asked the Queen.
"The Queen seized White Snow's shoulder in her cold claw. The princess felt her step-mother's nails dig into her, the tension of which would soon break skin and draw blood. The Queen raised her free hand to White Snow's face. The long nails magically retracted. White Snow watched with incredulity. The Queen lowered her hand. With a gasp from White Snow, the Queen pushed two of her fingers into White Snow's sex.
"'Is that a blemish?' asked the smiling Queen. 'Or a blessing?'
"'I... I know not!' whimpered White Snow.
"'It seems I shall continue,' said the Queen, 'until you grant me an answer.'"
"Oh, you dirty bitch," said Natalia Stone, moaning as she penetrated herself.
"
'Pray give me mercy,' whined White Snow. 'Tis an unseemly act!'
"'You have begged for my affections,' said the Queen. 'And once bequeathed you call them unseemly? The dear Princess White Snow is a fickle fairweather maiden. Declares herself a woman yet acts like a nun in a convent. This is my mercy!'
"Small beads of sweat rested on White Snow's brow like morning dew on a flower.
"'Let us taste the teasing tramp's feigned terror,' said the Queen. She placed her tongue on White Snow's cheek and licked the darling young woman's perspiration from her skin. Even her sweet sweat held a youthful vigor that enthralled the Queen with feverish lust and jealousy."
Natalia felt her juices drip down her fingers as she fucked herself. The audiobook narrator moaned in-character and Natalia felt an orgasm nearing. She no longer cared about the obnoxious traffic. She no longer cared that she would be late to her appointment with her hairstylist. She was the evil Queen punishing a nubile young woman, playfully teasing her innocence with her magical fingers. She closed her eyes, ushering her orgasm closer.
***
Preston Grant drove his red Toyota Camry in the right lane of Julington Boulevard, looking for the entrance of a strip mall with a men's clothing store. He needed a new dress shirt and tie. He had a big night ahead of him, and he wanted a fresh look to make a good impression. He examined his haircut in the rearview mirror. He had it cut the day before and was still unaccustomed to the new requirements of styling it with mousse and paste. It looked fine. Not as good as the hairstylist had done, but adequate. He considered maybe stopping by the stylist this afternoon to have her style it. On average he was well-kept but relaxed about his image. Today he was anxious for perfection.
The noon traffic was awful. Aggressive drivers were everywhere. He had never understood what compels people to drive like assholes. There are many things in life worth being assertive for, but driving is not one of them. Driving fast will never save you more than sixty seconds of your drive time. If you want to get to your destination at a reasonable time, then depart at a reasonable time. Preston was risk-averse in his day-to-day life. He was apt to stay on the safe side of life, a character trait that had been criticized by his friends and family. His girlfriend, Juniper, was especially vocal about taking more chances in life.
"It's like you're content to live a half-lived life," Juniper had said one afternoon. "Haven't you ever heard of 'The Road Less Traveled'?"
"It's actually titled 'The Road Not Taken'," Preston answered. "Funny thing is, most people misinterpret it. '
And both that morning equally lay / in leaves no step had trodden black.
' So both paths are actually the same. The only difference is the narrator had to choose one, you know. So when the narrator is saying he 'took the one less traveled by', really he's just convincing himself that the one he chose, by choosing it, was the exceptional one. So it's more about how we shape the narratives of our lives based on our choices, rather than actually addressing how we make choices. I read a pretty good book about it. I can let you borrow it."
Juniper, nonplussed by his answer, did not want the book. She ended the conversation by rolling her eyes. The day after this conversation, Preston received a box of books at his apartment. A passive-aggressive gift from Juniper. They were self-help books about being assertive, making choices that matter, and being willing to take more chances. The box also contained a copy of the memoir 'Yes Man' by Danny Wallace, which felt like a gag, considering it was a movie tie-in version with a frolicking Jim Carrey on the cover. Preston felt slighted by the gift but chose to relent and give the books a try. They made up most of his reading for the past few months and he was trying to implement one piece of advice every day. He was currently half-way through
