Winter’s Tale
5 Fourth Night, part 2 — Pleasure
Cast aside, but not in any sense rejected, Summer and I lay on our backs, panting, staring blindly at the stars. Layla was beside us somewhere, but I was unsure in what direction. My faculties returned like a lazy landslide, tumbling back into focus, chaotic and confusing. I recognised the sound of Summer licking her lips, our heavy breathing, the liquid sounds of the indifferent stream flowing past. Calm fell upon our group.
I began to comprehend the distance between my present peaceful mood and the burning intensity of such a short time ago. Now my beloved’s grip had been released, I was a different person to the one who kissed her in such a frenzy. Still completely in love, but no longer consumed by obsession. I pondered the confusing contrast. Time idled past.
“Let me see you, my beloveds. Sit up,” Layla asked. It was a request and not an edict, which seemed a refreshing change, though I noted I preferred when she ordered me.
Summer sat up, wiping her chin, and casting a happy grin in my direction. I propped myself up and looked to Layla.
“You certainly are something special. You give yourselves over to love so completely. Incredible, the both of you. I applaud you,” she clapped three times and bowed her head. We were touched by her admiration. It was worth more than gold to us.
“I think the two of you should fuck each other, while I watch,” she announced.
We were thunderstruck.
“No!” we shouted as one, recoiling in disgust. “Absolutely not!” Her vulgarity slapped our gentle, relaxed daze from us with a cold, wet slap. For the first time, I saw Layla as imperfect. Never before wrong-footed in our brief romance, surprise and dismay distorted her face.
“I am so sorry,” she quickly said, racing to remedy our shock at her suggestion. It was still too raw to accept an apology.
“We do not feel that way about each other,” I explained, distressed. “How could you think that?”
“We love you and are very grateful for all you have done for us, but you cannot ask that,” Summer added indignantly. “We are sisters. You know this.”
“It was terrible of me. I am so sorry,” Layla apologised. “I thought, last night, when you said you discovered ‘rapture’ together, that meant you shared each other. Clearly, I was gravely mistaken.”
“Do you think, just because we are peasants from the hills, that we are all in?” I spat, my anger still hot. “Is that it? Are you just dallying with us because you think we are all fucking our family members?”
“Winter!” Summer cried, scowling at me, surprised at my vehemence. “That’s too much. Get a hold of yourself.”
Had I gone too far? Why was Summer not as angry as me? I tried to calm down as she turned to Layla, her tone far milder than my own. “That is not how it is,” Summer explained. “We never touch each other. That would be wrong. We touch our own.”
“I see. Please help me understand. Clearly, I got the wrong impression and have upset Winter,” Layla fretted, her tone conciliatory. Despite my outrage, hearing my name upon her lips, coupled with the distress in her eyes, chilled my indignation. She had such influence on my heart it was impossible to remain quite so infuriated for long, though I could not let it go completely yet. Nonetheless I tried to follow Summer’s lead, though I was unsure if Layla deserved an explanation I offered one all the same.
“It is true we watch each other to synchronise our strokes, our pleasure. That is what we share,” I explained, my words frosty.
“So, you are looking at each other, but not thinking of each other?” Layla asked, as delicately as she could.
“It is a twin thing,” Summer tried to clarify. “Ordinarily, when I look at Winter, I see my sister. But when we rapture, I look at her and see myself. We are mirrors for each other.”
“Fascinating and, if I may say so… lovely,” Layla said softly. “I am so sorry I misunderstood. Thank you for your patience and cleaving to the pact.” That seemed an odd addendum, but my frost began to thaw.
“It seems peculiar to say it aloud, but for the sake of the pact we will help you understand,” I said. “For us, being twins is more than looking the same. We are committed to being identical. Part of that is we only rapture together. If I did it without Summer, there would be imbalance between us, and we hate that. Maybe it seems silly, but the pleasure of the act is not worth more than our bond as twins.”
“So, you always look at each other?” Layla tried to comprehend. I liked this softer demeanour she was presenting. Despite my upset, I found myself hoping I would discover all her aspects in time.
“Mostly. We tried not looking at each other and it was not the same. It makes it harder to synchronise our strokes, so we raptured at different times and that felt wrong. Ever since we have done it our own way,” Summer said. Her brow furrowed. “This probably all seems very weird. I imagine most people do not do this the way we do. Are we weird? We are weird. I am sure we are weird.”
“Not to me, sisters,” Layla assured us. “I am weirder than either of you, I can promise you.”
“Oh really? Then we three are weird sisters. I can’t wait to find out how weird,” Summer said, which made us all chuckle.
Layla moved closer to us and said, “I was quite undone from your attentions earlier but that does not excuse that what I said was terribly crass. I unreservedly apologise.”
Our parents had taught us to always appreciate an honest apology. It had avoided numerous sibling quarrels over the years. But Layla’s careless words had injured our bond. Still a little mortified, I was in doubt acknowledging the offence she had caused was sufficient.
“Forgive me, Summer,” she said.
“Of course,” Summer said. “Apology accepted.”
Layla stepped to me and took my hands in her cold fingers, looking me in the eyes. “Forgive me, Winter,” she continued.
“Of course, beloved,” I said. Evidently, I had changed my mind without giving it any further thought. And with that our bond was as sound as ever. “It was merely a shock. We do not feel that way about each other.”
“I thank you for your candour in helping my understand. I appreciate that is very personal. As ever, your secrets shall live only in my heart. You have my word,” Layla vowed.
“Thank you for keeping our secrets. We do not have many, to be honest, our lives are not very exciting. Rapture is probably our deepest, not counting our new bond with you, of course. It is so easy to share anything with you. We trust you entirely,” Summer mused. Did we, indeed?
“I imagine you have all sorts of secrets, Layla,” I ventured.
“Many,” Layla admitted. “In time, I hope you shall learn them all.” That prospect delighted us. She was so free in everything she offered us. I wanted to embrace it all. How could we, how could anyone, resist her charms?
“Still, your intimate confession gives me an idea. I shall endeavour to always make you come together. It is my new goal in life,” she announced.
“Yes, please,” we said as one.
“So, is my earlier indiscretion quite forgiven and forgotten, then?” Layla asked.
“Yes,” we said as one.
“Forgive and forget,” Layla said and then paused for what seemed a long moment.
That last word kept spinning over and over amid my thoughts. Forget. What a strange, ephemeral phenomenon it was to forget a thing. For a memory, even an important one, to be vividly present one day and then vanished forever. I supposed one was never aware of the moment one forgot a thing.
“Now, shall I do your hair again?” Layla suggested.
“Hmm?” I wondered aloud; my attention had drifted.
“Our hair?” we confirmed together. What a lovely idea. “Yes, please.”
“Then turn about to face away from each other. Do not bother to get up, but do kneel, back-to-back,” Layla instructed as she rose and stepped closer.
“What are you going to do?” Summer asked as we hurriedly shuffled to position ourselves. I struggled to recall a happy feeling from earlier. Something about kneeling. What was it? It felt pleasing, like the start of some great excitement.
“You will see. Trust me, be patient and relax,” Layla said and took my newly whitened hair in her hands. It felt calming to have her play with it. I reflected on how deeply I trusted her after knowing her for only a few days, or rather nights. It was reassuring to have such confidence in our bond.
“We love the colour,” I said dreamily. “Thank you again for that.”
“We do,” Summer added. “We would love to keep it, but I hope you can return our honey blonde, or we will have a devil of a time explaining it tomorrow.”
“And we must not jeopardise the pact,” I added.
“To our secret bond I pledge myself,” the three of us said in unison. It was the first time Layla had spoken in time with us. We were delighted.
“You did the twin-speech,” Summer declared. I could hear her smile in her voice, even though I could not see it. Our smile.
“You are becoming one of us,” I added happily. Layla’s fingers felt divine running through my hair, so delicate and soothing. Quite the opposite of that adamantine grip of hers.
“Of course. Pact sisters forever,” Layla proudly declared.
“Pact sisters forever,” Summer and I repeated.
“Drat! Missed it,” Layla joked, and we giggled.
Layla continued lightly poking and playing with our hair and I wondered what other colours she might alter it to. Summer’s mind was on other things.
“Where are you from, Layla? Your accent is not like any I have heard before. I love it. It is so exotic,” she observed.
“Exotic, you say? Thank you. My years travelling have moulded it into a mishmash of influences,” Layla replied, evading a proper answer.
“Why do you do that?” I asked.
“Do what?” Layla replied.
“Avoid the question. Are you ashamed of your home? Did you run away?” Summer pressed.
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Layla divulged. This was the first time she had shared anything about her past beyond her numerous travels.
“Oh really?” I cooed girlishly, intrigued. “Mmm, that feels lovely,” I added as an aside as she fiddled with my hair.
“I took a lover. My family did not approve. There was a scandal, we eloped,” Layla explained. I felt the sudden tension of interest in Summer’s back as I leaned against it.
“There was a what and you what? What happened? Please tell us,” Summer begged, exposing some of the limits of our education.
“A scandal is when a group of people, who should know better, consider the actions of another to be an outrage and get upset over the personal affairs of others. To elope is to flee one’s family to get married without their blessing. It is not a happy tale. She was killed. I made my… feelings… clear to my family and never went back,” Layla revealed matter-of-factly.
“Oh no! You poor creature,” Summer called. We reached beside us and stroked her in consolation. Layla patted my hand.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” I added, not sure what else to say, as my hair grew tight. We had not experienced the death of a loved one. Father told us of losing his parents and Mother would probably outlive all of us, which made her sombre, so she chose not to dwell upon it. As a result, we did not understand grief but knew of the universality of sadness intrinsic to it that comes in fits and starts.
“It was a long time ago and I have been protective of my heart ever since,” Layla confided. “Until I met you. You opened my soul once more and filled it with love. Something I shall be forever grateful for.”
“Thank you. And you are most welcome,” Summer said.
“What a lovely thing to say. Thank you for opening your heart to us. It has been very easy to love you,” I added. At that, she placed a hand on my shoulder briefly, which made me smile. “You say it was a long time ago. May I ask how old you are?”
“Older than I look,” Layla replied, returning to her evasions. I chose not to press her.
“There,” she said simply, stepping back.
“Have you…?” Summer asked and moved to look but found she could not. We gasped as we realised what Layla had wrought. “You have!”
“I cannot move my head,” I cried, exhilarated. With the same magic she had bound our hair earlier, she had lashed ours together, but this time there was no slack at all. With our backs pressed against each other, and our hair a cushion of coiled braids between us secured so fast I could not turn my head without Summer’s co-operation. This was peculiar but indisputably exciting. I reached up to feel for the locks that bound us and found Summer’s hands doing the same. A complex web of interwoven plaits and coils was all I could determine. This severely limited our movement, so what else did Layla have in mind?
“You say I am one of you now, and you know I would never make you do anything you did not want to do,” Layla’s tone was soft and appealing.
“Of course,” we said as one. It was good to be so well understood by our lover.
“Right now, all I wish is your pleasure. I want to serve it, observe it, and learn from it. Would that be agreeable?” Layla asked. Sometimes she would say things that ought to be questions but did not sound like them. It was one of the most confusing things about our beloved. This was a question, even if it was a leading one. I thought I understood what she meant and it made my heartbeat faster.
“So, if you will indulge me, let me guide you to pleasure,” Layla purred. We were eager to be led. “Winter, if you would be so kind as to wait while I help Summer.”
“Lucky girl,” I said, with a grin. “Whatever you need, Layla.” I settled myself to make kneeling as comfortable as possible while I waited for whatever Layla was about to do to Summer, impatient for my turn. Layla walked behind me, presumably to face Summer.
“Summer,” Layla began calmly.
“Yes, Layla,” Summer was breathy, already aroused.
“Look at me. Good. I need you to know what you want; you do not need to speak; you do not need to think. You need to know. Focus on how you usually pleasure yourself and guide me,” Layla instructed while I tried to be patient. I could feel movements in my sister’s back and shoulders, heard fabric shifting, breath coming faster. What was Layla doing? I closed my eyes and imagined what was happening behind me, desire escalating within me. The anticipation was extraordinary.
“Good,” I heard Layla say. “Very good. You are open now, are you not?”
“Yes, Layla. I am… opennn…” Summer said, her voice oddly flat. I felt her try to nod with limited success. The tug on my hair gave me a strange arousal, building on the sensations from earlier that night when the three of us were joined. It was odd, novel, bewildering. I clearly liked it but was confused about why.
In response, I found my hands wandered my body, lingered about my breast, hesitantly snaked over my hair. Was this acceptable or should I be waiting for Layla? The delay was an ordeal. Something in this bizarre position she had manoeuvred us into was really working for me, so I began to slowly embrace my sensuality without committing to touching my sex.
Left to my own devices, I became distracted. No one else lived at this end of the valley, nor commonly ventured here, and never at this late hour. But if someone did chance upon us, how would we explain ourselves? Bound by my hair, back-to-back with my sister, our naked lover flitting about us, encouraging us in who-knew-what debauchery. Was she about to ask me to slip my fingers in my folds and rapture myself? It was just one possibility of a number that I grasped for but the unlikely prospect of an intruder discovering us was disconcerting. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, which startled me. Again, the mildly painful tug across my scalp, again the arousal at our constraint.
“Winter, are you well?” asked Layla. “We have not forgotten you.”
I bit my lip and smiled. She had discerned my distraction, I suspected. Keen perception was among our beloved’s many talents, I was sure.
“I am well,” I pretended. “A little fearful of discovery. This is a difficult position from which to flee.”
“There is no one within miles, save for your cabin,” Layla assured me, as she drifted into view and stood before me. I was surprised she had completed whatever she was doing with Summer, but then I realised I had lost track of them. I could sense my twin was at peace, moving only in her breathing. She seemed to be doing nothing.
“Now, as with Summer, so with you. Look at me,” she said, and I returned her gaze. Even this close I was still not sure of their colour in the moonlight. “I want you to be sure of what you want. You do not need to speak, you do not need to think, you need to know. Can you do that for me?” Layla asked and I nodded. Her tone was light and loving, not at all as commanding as she had been earlier when I had served her. “Good. Focus on how you usually pleasure yourself. Will you open yourself to me?”
It seemed so reasonable a request. I felt oddly peaceful and tried to nod. She smiled in return, knelt beside me and laid her hand upon my shoulder.
“Good. Open yourself,” she softly insisted.
Under my lover’s scrutiny, I found my hands roaming my body again, enjoying the fabric of my new dress, the curve of my breasts, the feel of my thighs. This did not take long but as soon as I sensed her approval, I shifted my weight off my knees, one after the other, just enough to lift the hem of the dress from under them and slowly pulled it up my legs letting the cool of the night across my flesh. Without hesitation I showed her my quim. By reflex I wanted to tilt my head in a demure inclination but as before, my head would not move. With the reminder of my constraint, came more arousal, so heavier came my breath.
“Beautiful,” Layla’s encouraged. “A treasure. Are you open now?”
“Yes, Layla. I am… open…” I spoke slowly, through a peculiar tranquillity. I felt open without being certain what that meant.
I slipped a hand inside the neckline of my dress to seek my breast and I softly flicked my nipple. It was already hard, so I circled it with my fingertip. Distractions about discovery were long forgotten as Layla reached forward to my other hand and placed hers in mine.
“Good. Show me how you like to be touched,” she gently ordered.
It was happening to me again. It was much less frantic than earlier but obeying my beloved was arousing me. Some part of me knew I was behaving abnormally but it was too pleasurable to care. Feeling light-headed, I was able to flow from moment to moment without concern and I liked it. All I had to do was whatever she asked, and everything would be fine. She was being so loving, so kind, so focused on me. I took her hand and guided it to the folds of my sex.
“Very good,” she said. “What do you prefer to call this part of you?”
“Quim,” I said, rubbing her fingers along the length of mine, over and again, increasing the pressure until my folds parted and the slick wetness welcomed her fingers once more.
“Carry on, Summer,” she called. My sister said nothing in response, but I could feel her shoulders moving as she began to touch herself. The realisation that she had been patiently waiting for us sent a liquid shudder up my spine. Layla had engineered this bizarre scenario where we could not see each other but could feel our fingering, nonetheless. She was allowing us something we had never done before with her at its core. She had heard our deepest secret and manufactured this just for us.
So many times, Summer and I had watched each other rapture, we had become very practised in synchronising. Thus, it was easier than expected to find that rhythm with only the feel of her back against mine. I could fractionally bob my head and Summer pulled against me in opposition. The pleasing constraint across my scalp added a texture to our growing pleasure.
It was easy to get lost in our beloved’s eyes, but I got the sense she was looking for something within me. I did not have the remotest idea what or how, or even why I thought that, but it seemed true at the time. She had quite the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen on a human. Dark, deep and penetrating, I could stare into them forever.
Layla’s hand was a tool within my own. With perfect sympathy I guided each of my fingers, with mine. She was letting me dictate the pace, direction and flow, not imposing herself on me. This was not simply me manipulating her hand, she was learning each movement and gauging my responses as I edged closer and closer to climax. I was teaching her.
How strange this all was, to be so helplessly caught up in the passion of the moment. I could not have stopped if I had wanted. My lover was fingering me, with exact precision, surrendering her touch for my use. This was no assault on my quim as she had launched last night.
She shuffled a little to the side and came in closer so she could reach around to Summer. As much as I wanted to follow her eyes, my hair bonds prevented me. The thrill of restraint grew acute, which prompted me to up my tempo. Summer matched me, stroke for stroke and I heard her gasp, presumably as Layla made contact and entered her. Though I could not see what was happening, I could read it quite clearly though her back. Vivid images of Summer, with Layla’s loving fingers inside her, tumbled through my mind. I knew what she was feeling, because I was feeling the same thing precisely, like last night all over again but gentler, made helpless in this new, exotic fashion by our astounding lover.
“That’s it, my beauties,” Layla whispered. “Show me how to love you.” Her words caressed my whole body. I guided her hand as long as I could until the pleasure began to overwhelm me. By that time, Layla’s imitation of my own hand had been perfected. As the orgasm ripped through the two of us, she kept the tempo on its steady ascent as my own limbs betrayed me in trembling spasms and I had to let go. Though more gentle than last night, she still extended our crescendo for longer than either of us would have been able to.
As our rapture reached its zenith, we involuntarily pulled away from each other to no avail. Pain began to spread over my scalp, and I feared I might rip out my hair. Then that blinding white flash took my vision and, inversely, our backs arched, grinding our heads together like we were trying to break into each other’s skulls. Momentarily that was all I wanted, to be one with Summer, it mattered more than the orgasm, more than Layla, more than anything.
I was expecting Layla to press her advantage with her hands in control of our cunts, pushing us to ride the ridge between agony and ecstasy. Instead, she showed restraint, ramping down her strokes to let our pleasure gently subside. We slumped over, away from Layla, pulling her hands out of us as we fell, our hair-bond twisting our fall awkwardly but not injuriously.
We lay there panting and sweat-soaked, constraint our constant companion, nursing us through the afterglow. We heard Layla stand. She moved around to Summer’s side, and I could hear her licking her fingers, lips smacking quite ostentatiously. I felt Summer slump a little further as Layla paced around to my side. She stood two paces from me and crouched, then stared at me as she brought each moistened finger to her lips and sucked my juices from them, washing each digit with her tongue to miss nothing. I loved watching her doing that. I loved her.
Recovered, she helped haul us up into a sitting position and asked, “Do you think you can stand?”
“We’ll give it a try,” Summer replied. We positioned our legs and pushed against each other’s backs. With a momentary wobble, we stood without too much difficulty. Layla paced around us, like an inspection. We stood, silent and proud as she assayed us. I was possessed by the notion we had just achieved some important victory and were about to be rewarded.
“I would love to keep you this way,” she mused. I did too, caring nothing for the impracticalities. Layla had done this to us, and I drew waves of satisfaction from that. Every night brought a wonderful, new experience from our lover. And this feeling of restraint, by the gods I could not stop luxuriating in it, loving it. I sensed Summer was doing the same. “But you have a home to go to,” she added.
For the first time, I entertained the idea of running away into the night with Layla and never returning. It was a wicked, selfish thought but it was real, nonetheless.
“And we have the pact to protect,” Layla said, her voice tinged with sadness.
“To our secret bond I pledge myself,” the two of us said in unison. Layla did not join us in our recitation, but it did not seem to matter. Our loyalty to our bond was absolute.
“So, I shall have to release you, but first,” she lunged for Summer, and I could hear them passionately kissing, tugging my head towards them. Then I felt Layla’s hand slip over Summer’s shoulder to slide around my face, stroking my cheek and melting my heart. As her hand passed my mouth, I kissed it and patiently waited my turn. Soon, their embrace concluded, Layla prowled around to face me. Her wolfish grin signalled her attack and she darted at me. Summer was ready for it and braced.
Oh, such a kiss. Such fire, such need, such passion. I noticed her slipping one hand over my shoulder to caress Summer’s face but then realised her light touches were manipulating my sister’s head so my kiss with Layla could have more freedom of movement. Oh, how I adored this woman’s endless invention. All too soon, the kiss was complete and she moved beside us both and began examining our hair.
I occasionally felt strands of it whip about the back of my head and soon after the tangle slowly began to unlock to the point where Layla could give the simple instruction, “Both of you step forward now.”
We complied and the last fragments of our constraint fell away. I was sad to feel it go but felt a sudden relief in my posture that meant I could stand more normally. I rubbed my neck and shoulders where the discomfort had been greater than I had realised. At the sight of my pain, Layla massaged me with her firm hands, which felt amazing. I groaned deeply as she worked her thumbs into various points across my back and neck. As she released most of the tension, the pleasure of her touch made standing difficult once again; a common feature of time spent with our lover. We could really use a comfortable bed for our liaisons. I thanked her, and she moved to Summer to repeat her work.
Once Layla was done, I hugged Summer and whispered, “I love you, sis.” She squeezed me in a way that spoke volumes of our sorority. Layla watched us thoughtfully.
“That was amazing. You are amazing. I am aware I am probably repeating myself, but you astound us every time we meet. How did you become so wonderful?” Summer asked jokingly. Layla laughed and the mood was suddenly lighter.
“Years of practice,” she replied. “But then you are rather amazing yourselves. The way you give yourselves to me. I’m going to keep you forever.”
“Promises, promises,” Summer replied. “And you have wondrous magic. Could you teach it to us?”
“In time, I could,” Layla offered. “But you would need to be very dedicated to learn such lessons.”
“We shall be your devotees,” Summer declaimed, dropping to her knees, eyes wild. “Speak and we shall listen. Teach and we shall learn. Command and we shall obey.” I could not tell if she was being mocking or had lost her mind. Either way I remained standing, unimpressed. Layla smirked at the display. I found it mortifying, but as usual, Summer did not care. Why did I have to be the sensible one?
“Quite,” I said, witheringly. “Forgive her, you have clearly broken her mind. Get up Sum.” I pulled on her arm, but she would not co-operate.
“Not until Mistress Layla agrees to teach us magic,” Summer retorted, her tone now humorous, at least. “Should we call you Mistress Layla? Or Layla, the Great Sorceress?”
Layla stood there and absorbed the display. She was as nude as the day she was born and that was less embarrassing than my sister. At least she enjoyed seeing Summer on her knees.
“Winter, get down here so she will agree to be our mentor,” Summer pleaded.
“No! Now get up. I’m sorry Layla. She is being an idiot,” I apologised. Then I caught our beloved’s eye. There was an expectancy in it. “Could you teach us magic?” I wondered honestly.
“I could,” Layla said simply. I was unsure what to do. There was an awkward stand-off when I suspected I should kneel and beg our friend to be our magical mistress, but it seemed too ridiculous. Part of me wanted to kneel before her just because I knew she enjoyed it. Partly because I knew I did. But the sensible part of me won out.
“I am sorry. We cannot ask so much of you. It has only been three days… three wonderful days. We do not wish to make such silly demands,” I reasoned. There was a pause as Layla and Summer exchanged glances.
“Well, we can’t have you on your knees all night, Summer,” Layla said. “Do get up.”
“Yes, oh, great and mighty Mistress Layla. I shall get up,” Summer lampooned as she rose. Where had that nonsense come from? Yes, our relationship had become remarkably intense, remarkably quickly, but I had serious concerns Summer was about to scare off the woman we had fallen head-over-heels in love with.
“We have not upset you, have we?” I asked Layla gingerly.
“Not at all. I find your twin amusing, and I do like seeing her on her knees,” Layla casually offered as she gathered her dress from where we had discarded it. She must have been freezing but did not show it. She slipped it on as I collected her boots and cloak, then returned them to her. Soon she was clothed.
“You have the most beautiful body I have ever seen,” Summer said, much more sincere in her tone. I nodded animatedly.
“Thank you. I am so pleased you like it,” Layla replied cheerfully. “And Winter, you look distressed. Do not worry, neither of you has done anything wrong. If you wish it, I would very much like to meet with you again tomorrow night.”
We nodded our agreement, which made me feel better. There was no hiding anything from our lover. She knew us with a keen instinct. One kind word and all was mended.
“It is late. We had best get you home,” she said, and we had to agree. The pitch black of the sky was beginning to grey by the time we had quietly wended our way, hand-in-hand, back to the treeline by the cabin. We kissed, softly, gently, our passion largely spent and clung to each other, unwilling to let our company part.
“We want to be with you all the time,” Summer said. “Please meet with us again tonight.”
“Of course, my beloved. I will be by the thunderstruck tree, awaiting my darling twins, as ever. You have my word,” Layla promised.
“I want to sneak you home and hide you in our room. I dreamt of you living with us last night,” I suddenly recalled.
“That sounds like a good dream,” Layla smiled, cupped my cheek and looked at me with such affection. “Dream of me again.”
“It was,” I said, a little embarrassed as the deviant details came back to me. “And I will.”
“Our hair!” Summer suddenly cried and then shushed herself, glancing at the cabin and hoping her voice had not carried. We had all but forgotten our blonde hair was now snow-white and we needed to do something about it. “Will our hair be like this forever? Please, tell me your magic can restore it,” she whispered.
“I can remove the spell. If you would be so kind,” Layla said, stepping back and gesturing to the grass before her. We looked at each other and then Summer knelt. This time, I quickly followed. I had lost track of how many times I had ended up on my knees that night, but it seemed a good many. We gazed up at our lover and she simply stood there. I felt a familiar tingling in my quim I now associated with kneeling before our beloved but it was outshone by the swell of love I felt for this amazing woman.
Another night of wild passion, adventure and love, each one a new treasured memory. Yes, my lust for Layla could overwhelm me and do strange things to my head from time to time, but at that moment I was fixated on my gratitude at finding her. Before the fayre, I had no idea I was even searching, but since then she had changed everything about me, Summer, and all that we wanted from life. I felt blessed by all the gods to know such love, to have such a friend. And I had such hope that my life was going to be filled with endless days of happiness and nights of passion. I chose to believe that Layla was thinking the very same thoughts as she looked down on us.
Had we knelt like this earlier we probably would have ravished each other shortly thereafter but now we accepted this joyous moment. Then, at last, our beloved reached out, placed her palms upon our foreheads and held them there for a few moments. I closed my eyes, savoured her touch and prepared to welcome her magic. A series of inscrutable syllables spilled from her mouth as she ran her hands over our heads, down the length of our hair and whipped them away. I opened my eyes to see the long lazy waves of our soft curls fall about me, their colour restored.
Layla offered her hands to help us up, which we took and then kissed. The look in her eyes was priceless. We rose, kissed again as friends do, and swore ourselves to our pact once more before parting. We watched her disappear into the gloom, her now dishevelled white hair swaying behind her until we could see it now more.
“What a night,” Summer said, running her fingers through her hair.
“Indeed. The best night of my life. Almost,” I was absurdly happy, but I still had a bone to pick with her. I turned and firmly but quietly said, “What the fuck was that? You made a fool of yourself with that ‘Mistress Layla’ nonsense.” Infuriatingly, Summer took my anger in her stride.
“Only you were embarrassed. Layla loved it. You can tell she likes to be treated as better than everyone around her, surely? And besides, I was not joking. She is better than anyone else. She’s noble, powerful, beautiful, rich and a magician. The likes of us serve the likes of her. Abasing myself for her is not a problem for me and I wanted her to know. She could have anyone she wanted but she chose us. I want to spend my whole life with her, no matter what. You do too,” she replied, arms crossed expectantly.
“I do,” I admitted, still annoyed. “But spending eternity on my knees worshipping her is not what I had in mind. Her love is real. I know it. There is no need to make a fool of yourself. She knows we love her. She loves us. This is the most precious thing we have ever shared. Do not fool around with stupid games like that. Do not ruin this for us or I will kill you. We are one?” I asked, holding up my left hand, fingers spread wide. Summer slipped her fingers between them and we clasped.
“We are one,” she replied affirming our trust. “But now we are something more. Pact-sisters. Lovers of a sorceress… or wizard or whatever.”
“I know. She means the world to me too, but I do not care about her magic. It has no relevance to how I feel about her. Yes, I know she means the world to you too. I just hate it when you go off like that and I cannot follow,” I said revealing the nub of the problem. Summer put her arms around me.
“I will never leave your side. We face this world together. That is our vow,” she pledged. It was our oldest promise, more precious to us than jewels or jade. While Layla had suddenly jumped to being the most important thing in our world, I knew we would never choose her over us. Nor would we have to.
“Together. That is our vow,” I affirmed, and we stealthily crept back into the house and collapsed into our beds exhausted.