The Girl With Golden Eyes

Stephen didn’t answer her for a moment. The word “responsibility” was bouncing around in his head in Julie’s voice.

“I do,” he answered, “very much so.”

“Then we have something in common.”

Stephen frowned, and he simply had to ask. “How oldare you, Cassandra? Have you been married before?”

“I am, no doubt, older than you think. But I have never been married. I am betrothed.”

“You’re what?”

“I am to marry a man who I do not love,” she said, “but to whom I am bound by honor and duty.”

Stephen sat up bolt straight and stared at her. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m confused—you’re, uh, ‘betrothed’ to be married? What are you doing here?”

Cassandra sat up as well, apparently alarmed by Stephen’s reaction. “I have one night, Stephen, that is why this night is so special. ThisHalloween, as you call it, it is the one night my people are free to enter your world, the one night the veil between our worlds is lifted, and—“

Stephen jumped to his feet and glared down at her. “Alright, I’ve had enough of this hocus-pocus bullshit. The crystals, the picture, it was all very cute, but it’s getting old fast. Tell me the truth, where the hell are you from?”

Cassandra stared up at him in fear, and without looking away, she pointed a shaky finger to the mural on the wall.

Stephen prepared himself to jump down her throat again, but as he looked at the wall, all of the blood drained from his head. The skies in the picture, which had been blue earlier in the evening, had darkened to black. The landscape was now highlighted in silver moonlight, and all along the walls of the black castle, Stephen could see dozens of tiny flickering flames. They moved sporadically back and forth. Torches. Movement. People.Life.

A slight breeze touched his skin. The scent of wildflowers, which he had picked up in his first visit, grew stronger. He stood frozen, facing the mural—thewindow—into Cassandra’s world, not feeling anything except for complete astonishment.

“If you never believed in anything,” he heard her say behind him, “believe now, my love.”

Stephen could only shake his head. “I never—I just couldn’t—this is impossible. This is impossible.”

Cassandra came forward to stand beside him, staring out into the landscape before them. She spoke calmly and quietly, her words barely seeping into Stephen’s mind. “It is possible, Stephen. Think back—think back to what your mother told you about this night. Do you remember?”

“How do you know—“

“I know. I know she would take you out on this night, much like you did with your daughter tonight. And she tried to tell you, Stephen. She told you about the night when the veil between this world and the spirit world was lifted, and the spirits of the dead roamed the streets freely—“

“And the living would leave offerings to protect themselves from the spirits,” Stephen continued, his mind barely registering the sound of his own voice. His gaze slowly shifted to Cassandra, who watched him with great interest. “But that would mean—“

“I am no spirit, Stephen. There is another world. The spirit world is an ethereal plane, a place where spiritsdo reside.My world, this other world… it is very, very real, like your own.”

“Why—why are you here? Why are you telling me this?”

“My reasons are selfish,” she said, a desperate tone coming into her voice, “Stephen, I am to marry, I have no choice. But these eyes which startle you so are capable of seeing things you could not imagine. And I have seen another man, a man who may be my salvation. That man is you, Stephen.”

Stephen could not respond to her revelation. He was frozen in awe and fear, staring into another world, through the portal of this other world, right here in a house in his own neighborhood. Suddenly it seemed possible that all of the rumors, the strange tales, the ghostly bedtime stories, had all been true. His own mother had spoken of the history of Halloween as if it had all been true, and now he knew it was. The Spirit World, the... Otherworld from which Cassandra had come, they both existed. And who knew how many worlds beyond those?

As he watched in fascination, the torches continued to move about the castle.

“The castle guards, on their nightly watch,” Cassandra said softly from beside him. “It is a dangerous time in my world. If they were to discover I was gone...” her voice trailed off, and she looked away with an expression of sadness.

“Cassandra,” he said, his voice a deep croak. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look over at her. “This man you’re supposed to marry...”

“He is a terrible man who has done awful things, unthinkable things.”

“And you think—I’m no one’s salvation, Cassandra. I can’t understand—why me?”

“Because I have seen you in my dreams before. And I know it was you, because you came to my door, and you looked on me with kind eyes—“

He turned to her and found himself locked inside her golden eyes once more. Whatdid those eyes see? Could they see within him, could they see what he was truly feeling? She moved closer to him, closer than she had been earlier, and he found himself trembling in spite of the warmth of her body. She turned up her face to him again, and he kissed her, deeply, passionately, not forcing himself to hold back this time. This was not the kiss he gave his ex-wife earlier, the kiss that had been full of loneliness. This kiss was full of yearn, lust, passion.

Stephen wrapped his arms around her waist, the soft material of her dress sliding like silk against him. She braced her arms around his neck and broke the kiss, placing a torrent of hot kisses along his jaw, his cheek. Then she hugged him tightly, and he felt a single sob pass through her body, felt her tears drizzle down on his neck.

“What if I can’t save you, Cassandra?”

“Then touch me,” she said, “just touch me, so that I might know once, before I am wed, the touch of a man who has true love in his heart.”

And then, just as she began to sob again, he quieted her with a kiss that felt as if it should never end.

* * *

At first there was nothing, the pounding of his heart blocking out all sound, the haze of lust in his eyes blurring away that which he dared not look upon. He could not see the dark landscape in the wall across from him, could not see the tiny flicker of life, could not hear the rustle of the breeze. There was nothing, only heat, breath, flesh, lust.

And she brought him back, slowly at first. There was her flowing golden hair around her pale shoulders, the soft shimmer of her gown running down her arms and dropping to the floor. She covered herself shyly at first, an arm to cover her breasts, a hand to cover her most secret place. She stood before him not much more than a girl, and he wondered, for a moment, whether hecould take her, whether heshould take her. Her head bent down, her flaxen hair covering half her face, he could see a golden eye stare out at him, her lip curled in a reticent smile.

She was not unwilling, he knew, she only needed her timid veneer melted away. He stood close to her, letting his hands roam gently down her arms, his fingertips barely tracing the smooth lines of her body. And it was all she needed to allow her arms to drop away from her breasts, revealing the flowing curve of her body, the small, perfect bosom that Stephen lightly ran his fingers along. He circled her hardened nipples with an index finger, knowing they would be sensitive both from her lust and from the cool breeze that swirled around them from places unknown.

She released a slight breath, her eyes closed, lips parted. “I have never been touched by a man in such a way, Stephen.”

“Don’t be afraid, Princess, I promise I’ll never hurt you.”

Her eyes opened in mild surprise, though she tried to suppress it. “You called me Princess,” she said.

Stephen gazed down at her for a moment. “It seemed right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, her voice light, but full of hunger, “you may call me that if you wish. You maydo whatever you wish to me. I ask only one thing.”

“Anything, My Princess.”

“Tell me... before midnight...” her voice, full of pain, trailed off in a wavering sigh.

“Tell you what? I don’t understand.”

“You will, my love, I promise. For now, take me as your own.”

Stephen looked at her, this vision of pale flesh, warm to the touch, though her golden eyes somehow felt cold looking back at him. As if feeling his thoughts, she closed her eyes, and he could see her tremble in excitement, fear, anxiety. His thoughts were momentarily occupied by what she had said, but he knew it was well before midnight. There would be plenty of time, all the time in the world.

He bent his head down, softly kissing the curve of her breast, his warm breath raising goose bumps on her fair skin. His tongue slipped out against the rigid flesh of her nipple, and another soft cry escaped her lips. She pushed her chest forward to him as he sucked it into his mouth.

His hand, meanwhile, slipped down her body, down her smooth stomach which clenched at his touch. Her hand was still covering the private valley between her legs, but he carefully took her wrist and pulled it away.

“You have nothing to hide from me, princess,” he spoke softly, bathing her breast in his warm breath.

Her only response was a lilting moan that told him to continue. As he sucked her nipple back into his mouth, he slipped his hand between her legs, over the soft patch of golden hair, his finger gliding gently over the cleft inside her thighs. His finger pressed only slightly into her, but for a moment, her body went limp as if she were about to faint. She was, he could tell, truly untouched by a man.

He took her in his arms and carefully lowered her down onto the blanket. She gazed back at him, the lids of her eyes heavy with desire, her pale face just a bit flush. Stephen slipped off his shirt, and the satisfied smile that she gave him was flattering. For a middle-aged man, he had not allowed himself to let his physique falter; after the alcoholism faded, it was one thing he held on to dearly. Cassandra reached up and traced a soft palm over his bare skin, sending a tingle of lust through his body. She sat up, pressing close to him, trailing kisses all over his chest.

It was sweet at first, like lovers gently teasing each other. But as she became more comfortable with him, the playfulness soon faded, and her mouth became hungrier. She slid her tongue down his belly, stopping near the waistline of his pants. She looked up at him, a questioning look in his face, though he knew what she wanted. His shaking hands fumbled with his belt, then his zipper. She watched him in anticipation, a finger resting absently on her lip, as he stripped his jeans off, leaving only a pair of boxer shorts behind.

He could not hide himself any longer. His erection pressed out against his shorts, flagrantly throbbing with the pulse of his heart. Cassandra did not hide her wide-eyed stare, and she reached out with a fingertip, carefully tracing the tip of his cock as if it might bite her.

“Your princess commands you,” she said, tugging eagerly at his boxer shorts, “to remove these at once.”

Stephen couldn’t help but smile at her playful remark. “This ain’t a monarchy, sweetheart, it’s a democracy. I have rights.”

“You have no rights, not tonight. Tonight, you are the suitor of a princess of the highest royal bloodline. Tonight, you are mine.”

“You said earlier you were only a handmaiden.”

Cassandra shrugged and smiled at him slyly. “Even a simple handmaiden can have delusions of grandeur, my love. For now, I only wish to see what you hide beneath those clothes.”

She smiled playfully, but her face was a mask of pure desire. Stephen had never felt so wanted in all of his life, not by the line of women from his younger days, not even by his ex-wife. But Cassandra made him feel young again.

He slipped his boxers off, his cock jutting straight up at full attention, and Cassandra’s eyes widened. Stephen felt quite exposed lying before her completely nude; it had, after all, been almost two years since he had been with a woman, but feeling her hand grasp him almost immediately put his mind to work elsewhere. The sensation of her soft hand around his most sensitive skin threatened to make him spend almost immediately, and he knew he would have to exercise better control than that.

“I have heard some of the other girls speak of this,” Cassandra said, and Stephen perked his head up.

“Speak of what?” he said, but his head dropped back as he was answered immediately by her wet tongue running from the base of his cock to the tip. She sucked him partially into her mouth, letting her tongue slip against his flesh, and an involuntary cry of pleasure escaped his lips.

She held him there for a long moment, but not long enough for his taste. He ran his hands through her silky hair, but she pulled away from him and fixed him with a stimulating gaze.

“This act is forbidden by the etiquette of my court. A woman who performs this on a man who is not her husband runs the risk of having her tongue removed.”

Stephen couldn’t help but laugh. It was not something a man particularly wanted to hear while he was getting blown. “Sweetheart, I’d hate living in your court.”

“So would I,” she said.

With her eyes still fixed on him, she slipped her lips over him again, engulfing him as deeply as she could with her mouth. She began a slow, gentle driving of her mouth over him, allowing her teeth to lightly brush against his skin. It was slow, deliberate, and his hips rose up off the floor to her. His groin was aching with the need to release its seed into her mouth, but he pushed her gently away.

“Why do you stop me?” she asked with an air of innocence that made his skin tingle.

“Because this isn’t how I want you, Princess.”

Stephen sat up and rested himself on his knees. Cassandra’s eyes never left his own as she laid back on the blanket. She was gorgeous, her golden hair spreading over the blanket, her fair-skinned body laid out in a perfect curve of flesh. He crawled up to her, her legs spreading to invite him. With his hands on her thighs, he bowed his head down, kissing along the inside of her knee. He worked his way further up, along the inside of her thigh, then with his tongue sliding along her flesh, to the slit between her legs.

He kissed her lips softly at first, working the small mound easily with his mouth. She released a ravenous moan, already arching her back to bring herself closer to him. When his tongue slipped out, only slightly penetrating her, the moan became louder. His mouth cupped over her, he let his tongue slide deeper into the smooth cleft of flesh, tasting her sweetness, her silky juices. Her moan became a hoarse cry that echoed through the empty room, and out into the night air, out into the Otherworld.

His mouth moved up a little further, his tongue seeking out the sensitive nub of skin that he knew would drive her to the brink. He felt her hands grasp the back of his head, pushing his face closer to her, and as he sucked her clit into his mouth, her legs closed in around his head, her mouth locked in a silent scream.

And then she was pulling him up to her, her mouth seeking out his own, her hips rising to him, and he knew she was ready. Supporting himself above her with one hand, he reached down with the other, pressed down his erection to meet with the part of her wet cunt. He penetrated her only slightly, the moist warmth of her body sending a shudder up his spine.

“Stephen,” she said in a desperate whisper, “take me. Make me yours tonight.”

He slipped himself inside a little deeper, her hole fitting tightly over him. He pressed on, and stopped, finding resistance, and a painful gasp escaped her, but she did not let go. Instead, she raised herself closer to him, wrapping her legs around his back.

“Take it,” she whispered, her eyes clenched shut.

Stephen pushed himself forward into her, breaking past the barrier of her virginity, burying himself deep inside her. She bit her lip, suppressed the scream that was on the end of her tongue. Her body clenched him, the muscles deep inside her throbbing around him, but when he thought it would be too painful for her to continue, she only held on tighter. Her arms tightened around his neck, and he felt her hips begin to rock beneath him.

He pulled himself almost completely out of her, then slid back in, and she cried out, this time in pain and pleasure together. He began a steady thrusting motion, and found her body following his movements. Soon, they were rocking together, and the steady moans of pleasure escaped from both of them.

Their movements became desperate, both bodies begging for release. There was a wet slapping sound as he thrust into her heedlessly, over and over, her hips rising to meet him each time. He slipped his arms beneath her and pulled her upright to him, her hips riding against him steadily, her breath only coming in short gasps between the cries of pleasure, the cries for more.

“Harder,” she cried out to him, “harder!” But he needed little direction as her body took over, bucking against his hips wildly. Her hands locked around his neck, she leaned back, allowing her feathery hair to drop practically to the floor. He leaned forward and suckled her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting her flesh.

She rode him hard, harder, and soon the air was filled with her steady, strong cry as he felt her muscles clench around his cock. Her entire body tightened as the orgasm drove through her, and as it did, Stephen felt his own release. His stomach tightened into a knot, then loosened, his cock throbbing mercilessly inside her as it pumped his seed deep into her. He felt as if the spasms would never stop, felt that he would fill her up until she could simply contain no more.

But as their orgasms subsided, the sound of their breathing filled the room. Stephen thought his heart might thunder out of his chest. She looked down at him, her eyes barely comprehending his presence, their golden glow even stronger than before. They did not frighten him any longer; they were beautiful.She was beautiful.

She hugged him close, her breasts heaving against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, their bodies slick with perspiration. He laid her back against the blanket gently, then stretched out beside her. She threw her arm over him, tangled her legs in his, laid her head against his chest.

As silence overtook them, the only sound to be heard was the sound of the wilderness on the night air. Stephen found himself strangely comforted by the sounds of a world so far away, yet so near tonight.

As the fire in the fireplace dimmed, Stephen’s eyes grew heavy, Cassandra’s steady breathing lulling him into sleep.

Just before his mind faded into unconsciousness, he heard Cassandra’s exhausted voice from beside him.

“Before midnight, my love. You must tell me... before midnight.”

* * *

“I love you, Cassandra, my Princess, I love you.”

But he knew it was too late. Some clock, deep inside him, told him it was past midnight, and sure enough, he could feel her slipping away from him. He could feel her growing cold, and then there was nothing, his arms passing through her as if she were a cloud of dust.

His eyes opened, blinking uncontrollably, trying to chase away the blur of sleep. Beside him, her face was a mask of desperation, fear. He tried to grab her, tried to hold on to her for dear life, but she slipped out of his grasp. Her mouth formed words, but words he could not hear.

“Cassandra, I love you, please don’t go!” But it was too late. She faded before his very eyes, her features dissolving into a fine gray mist. The mist swirled up in a funnel, then drifted to the wall, to the window into the Otherworld. There, it floated out onto the night air like a puff of smoke and disappeared from Stephen’s sight.