Got MILF? Page 8

  ~~~~~

  She had to fight the same battle the next morning. A part of her, too much a part of her for her liking, wanted to simply walk into his room before he woke and to use his body for her pleasure. A somewhat saner part of her mind suggested that she show up in the kitchen for breakfast nude, and demand that he work off his debt by pleasing her.

  Polina ruthlessly bludgeoned down both ideas, then opened the wardrobe.

  It was all there. Every outfit, every dress and gown, every cloak and mantle, every single item a woman could use to make herself beautiful.

  Slowly, carefully, Polina began to dress.

  ~~~~~

  Bill was standing in front of the stove, eating a toasted cheese sandwich for breakfast, when a goddess entered the room.

  She was dressed all in white and silver, her feet shoeless as they whispered across the flagstones. Her gown left her shoulders and upper arms bare, and her torso rose from a froth of white lace like she was emerging, half nude, from a snowbank. Her breasts were lifted and held by the shimmering cloth, and their snow-white swells drew the eye and held it, daring any onlooker to yield to temptation and gaze into her cleavage. Below her breasts, the cloth turned silver and drew in tight, accentuating the slimness of her waist, diamonds glittering in the cloth, before dropping in sheer folds to below her knees. There it stopped, in a hem that was so stiffly embroidered in silver thread it seemed a miracle she could walk.

  Polina walked up to Bill and looped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him shyly. “Good morning,” she said huskily.

  Swallowing through the lump in his throat and trying to ignore the rising fire in his groin, Bill smiled back shakily. “Good morning to you. Would you like a cheese sandwich for breakfast? Or I can fry up some bacon and eggs for you, if you'd like.” Disengaging her gently, he turned back to the stove and cracked an egg in an iron skillet.

  Polina's eyes went wide with hurt. “Damn you,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “I dress for you. I come to you. I practically lay down on the floor and spread my legs for you. And you ask me what I want for breakfast?” she shouted. “Are you any sort of man at all? Or do you prefer boys, and my presence is repellant to you? Or are you forgetting what you owe me?”

  As soon as she spoke the words, she regretted them. She flinched as the blood drained out of Bill's face and his eyes widened with pain and anger.

  “And how the hell should I know what you want?!” he yelled back, patience worn to a ragged thread by the events of the last three weeks. “For all I know, you are dressed like this because this is how you prefer to be seen as the Snow Maid. It's not as if I talked to her for more than a minute before she ran out on me last night. And now you come in here, looking like a woman out of my wildest dreams and acting like I am the answer to yours. So pardon the hell out of me if I am a little confused.

  “I know you have power, and can kill me as easily as look at me. If I have offended you so badly, kill me now and get it over with. As you have reminded me, my life is in your hands, and has been ever since you pulled me out of that storm.”

  Shaking with anger, fear, and loneliness, he turned back to the stove. Very carefully, he flipped over the egg. Polina stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

  When he spoke again, it was softer. “Listen to me, Polina,” he said without turning. “You can't get angry with me for not acting the way you want, especially when I have no idea why you are acting the way you are. What works for me among my own people might not work with you. And I am not going to risk your anger by taking liberties I don't deserve.

  “Is this some sort of bizarre fertility ritual you didn't mention? Or are you one of those nature spirits which takes a human lover and then discards him?

  “Or do you actually have feelings for me, and this was your way of making that known? If you do...” his voice broke. “If you do...” He took a deep breath and turned to her, meeting her wide gaze. “If you do, I return them.

  “I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And I would never, ever hurt you. Among my people...” he swallowed, then forged on. “I was taught by my mother and father that a decent man always waits to be asked by a woman if he wishes to go to bed with her.”

  He smiled crookedly, anger gone, his dear sweet face so earnest her heart broke for love of him. “Now, if you were a human woman, what you just did would make me think that is exactly what you wanted. But like I said, you are an immortal nature spirit, and I can't take chances. My life is yours, which means I have to be even more careful with it.”

  He slid the fried egg onto her plate. “And what would you do?” she asked carefully, “if I were a human woman and you desired me?”

  “Well,” said Bill, stuttering a little, “I might ask you on a date.”

  “And what would happen on this date?”

  “We might go out to a restaurant to eat. But that won't be an option for us, the World Below having a distressing lack of fine dining establishments,” he said. “Instead, I might invite you to where I live and cook a meal for you. We would talk, get to know each other better. If the woman was willing and expressed an interest, and if I desired her as well, we might end up going to bed.”

  “And having sex, yes?” Polina asked, her eyes bright with amusement.

  “Yes,” Bill blushed.

  “Why do you go red? Sex is very enjoyable. When I am the Snow Maid, I have it as often as I can.” She flipped a hand dismissively. “This is what we will do. You will make a meal for us, and we will have a date.”

  She walked up to him until her breasts brushed his chest. She laid her cold hands on the sides of his head and drew his head down until she could gently kiss the corner of his mouth.

  “You see, Bill, I love you too,” she whispered into his ear.

  She sat down and began to eat her breakfast.

  ~~~~~

  Five hours later, Bill walked in on her while she was sitting in her study. She was reading a book. One of hers, Bill thought, seeing the Cyrillic lettering on the cover.

  “How does the food thing work?” he asked.

  “Ah,” she smiled. “I was wondering when you would figure that out.”

  “Didn't take too long. There's always food in the pantry, even though there's no stores to buy food at, you don't keep any livestock, and this place you live in only gets above freezing for about three months every year. Is it like the library?”

  “In its own way,” she replied, closing the book on a finger. “It is more like my clothing.” She had changed out of the sex-goddess dress she was wearing earlier, Bill was pleased to note, and was wearing a much more sensible blue gown, but even that couldn't disguise her extraordinary beauty.

  “What was I wearing when I first met you?” she asked.

  “Ugly old gray dress. Looked like it had been mended and patched about a thousand times.”

  “And what did I feed you at first?”

  “Porridge. Lots of porridge. Potatoes. Beans. Some bacon. Peas.” A light went off in his head. “The basics. Just like the dress. But as you grew younger, the menu expanded. And you wore nicer and nicer things. Until this morning, when you wore a dress that would cost a king's ransom.

  “So if I need a certain thing to make the meal tonight?”

  “You will probably find it. Not everything,” she warned. “Food made by this technology of yours will probably be impossible for the house to create. But everything that people grow or herd or catch can be acquired.”

  “Got it,” he replied, “Be ready to eat in about four hours. Me and Betty Crocker will be ready to serve you dinner by then,” he said, waving a fat book in the air.

  “Who the hell is Betty Crocker?” she asked, but he was already gone.

  ~~~~~

  Four hours later, they sat down to eat.

  Bill was almost sick with nervousness. The meal, made with natural ingredients, had been almost as easy to make he
re as it was back home. The only trick was keeping the stove the right temperature. But he could sense how much this meant to Polina, and he wanted to make her as happy as possible.

  He had run back to his room to dress when he pulled the meal off the stove, and he wore a pair of soft trousers made of deerskin, almost sinfully tight around his thighs and calves. Above was a white shirt made of undyed cotton. Over that, one of the embroidered vests which she had given to him in the first days of his stay here in the World Below.

  Polina wore a dress that was almost stark in its simplicity, pure white from her neck to her knees. But delicate embroidery in silver and ivory graced the hems at throat, wrist, and knee, giving it a vaguely Celtic feel.

  She was also, Bill noted idly, not wearing a bra. He wondered if he should introduce her to the garment. Mother Snegurochka might thank him later.

  He pulled out her chair and seated her, then sat down opposite her in the small dining room. Working carefully, he poured a quantity of wine into a crystal glass, then spooned her meal onto her plate.

  She frowned and looked at it suspiciously. “What is this?” she asked, poking one portion.

  “Rice,” he said, “It is a grain gown far to the south of here.”

  “And this?” she said, prodding another part.

  “That is shrimp. It lives in the ocean.”

  “Ah!” she said triumphantly, “This I know!” She waved a bit of meat on her fork. “This is pork!” She bit down and chewed happily, then her eyes widened. She took a quick sip of wine. “Spicy!”

  Bill grinned. “It is a meal called jambalaya. People in the south of my country make it. I learned how from a friend of mine who I went to school with. Do you like it?”

  Polina took another small bite and nodded. “It is very nice. It just takes a bit of getting used to.”

  “Sounds a lot like my life right now,” Bill grinned, and Polina laughed.

  Bill relaxed more and more as the meal went on. He was relieved to see that the astonishing changes in Polina's appearance were not reflected in her personality. She was the same person who had saved him from death and who had soothed his fears when he woke, lonely and terrified. Although she appeared to be only a year or two younger than himself, at times he caught glimpses of the deep wisdom and sadness of a being who had lived for centuries.

  ~~~~~

  The meal was finished, the wine drunk. Bill carried the dishes to the sink to wash up later. When he returned to the dining room Polina was standing. Her eyes were bright and eager, her lips parted.

  “Bill, can we go to bed? I would like to make love to you,” she said.

  Well, at least she is trying to do it right, he thought, over the scream of terror and joy that sounded in his brain.

  “Polina, are you sure?” his foolish mouth asked.

  She stepped into his arms. She was trembling. With fear or desire, he couldn't tell. He put his arms around her for comfort and held her, astonished as always to find how small she was. Her breasts were firm against his chest. She spoke softly, cool breath raising goosebumps on his chest.

  “I forgot what it was like. My creators, bless and damn them, couldn't imagine a young woman who wasn't also governed by lust. So the Snow Maid is like a mare who is perpetually in heat. The maid who is also a wanton. Do you understand?” she asked, pulling away to look up at his face. For the first time in his memory, her pale face was flushed.

  “I have no choice in the matter. Damn them all, I don't really want a choice. Not when she is upon me and you are here. The Snow Maid wants a man. I want a man. I need a man. I want you. I need you, Bill Carter. Thank the High One he brought you to me.” She raised herself on her toes, cold lips brushing his.

  “Make love to me, please?”

  Without words, Bill took her hands in his and brought them to his lips. Hand in hand, they walked out of the kitchen, and Polina led him to the one place in the house he had never gone.

  Her bedroom.

  As soon as they were across the threshold she leaped into his arms. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and the firm globes of her breasts pressed against his chest as her hungry mouth descended on his.

  And her mouth was hot. So hot. The cold flesh of her body was matched only by the exquisite heat of her passion. Her tongue darted into his mouth, the narrow tip seeking out his, wrapping around it with almost frightening strength. Her hands plunged into his hair as they kissed furiously, the dams of their unwilling chastity breaking before the onslaught of their love. His hands were busy at the hem of her dress, pulling it up, the garment bunching around her waist. Finally. Finally. Finally he had what he sought and his hands cupped the sweet curves of her buttocks, strong fingers squeezing her firm flesh as she ground her groin into his.

  Supported now by his hands, she relaxed her grip, hands free to run over the strong muscles of his back, delighting in their lean strength through the thick cloth of his shirt and vest.

  Too thick. It had to come off. It all has to come off, she thought through the fog of lust which had descended upon her. Drawing back the merest amount, her quick, clever fingers undid the buttons of his vest and shirt. She tried to pull them off, but was defeated when she discovered that he could not hold her up and take them off at the same time.

  Mewling softly in frustration, she wiggled in his hands impatiently until he set her down on the floor, her dress falling in ragged folds below her waist. He shrugged off the vest and shirt, now wearing only his breeches and soft leather boots.

  Her eyes drank him in. He was as splendid as a hunter in his prime, his arms ropy with muscle. His brown hair was long and fell in deep waves to the line of his strong shoulders. His chest, by contrast, was all but hairless, clean pale skin drawing the eye downward to the dimple of his navel, which was surrounded by a thick patch of down, narrowing as it disappeared under the band of his trousers.

  He has no idea how beautiful he is to me, she thought. No idea at all.

  This time, he came to her, his hands gentle on her waist as he bent down to taste her mouth. The first desperate rush of passion gone, she lifted her face to his and met his lips, smiling as her tongue caused him utter a low moan of need. He stroked her sides, rumpled cloth under his fingers, until his hands found the swells of her breasts. He cupped them in his palms lovingly, testing their firm weight in his hands.

  “Take it off. Take my dress off, my love,” she breathed.

  He tried. Honestly, he did. But his searching fingers found no zipper or tie or anything else that made any sense to him. Finally, with an irritated huff of breath, she turned around and held her hair away from her back. “Do you see it now?”

  “Yes,” he said ruefully. A line of tiny buttons ran from the small of her back to just below her shoulder blades. Quickly he worked to undo them. Soon the wings of the garment gaped wide, and he planted delicate kisses on the line of her spine, his tongue tracing loving patterns on her skin.

  Oh, he is skilled! She shuddered with longing under his touch. The front of the dress fell away from her chest, and her breasts were finally exposed, firm round globes with the nipples gloriously erect, thrusting proudly into the chill air.

  The last button was loosened and the dress puddled around her feet. She crouched quickly and stepped out of her shoes, then turned around to face him, blessing him with the sight of her nudity.

  Everything which he had known unwillingly was now exposed to him as a wonder and a delight. Her calves were more slender than he had imagined; her thighs, more deftly carved. The gold hair of her pubis drew the eye to the glory of her sex. Her stomach was flat and firm with muscle, and he could just see the outlines of her ribs under her pale skin. Her breasts were a revelation, challenging his gaze, demanding that he worship them. They stood almost straight out from the wall of her chest, pale globes capped with areolae that began as the palest shade of blue and deepened until they were almost purple where her nipples, thick and long, jutted towards h
im.

  “Oh, God. You are so beautiful,” he breathed, love and longing in his voice.

  “So are you,” she smiled, and came to him, her hands soon busy at his waist. She undid the buttons of his flies with alarming skill and pushed his trousers down to the floor. She hissed as they met the resistance of his boots, and pulled them off urgently until he was as naked as she was.

  Finally then, they embraced, his skin warm against her cold flesh. She pushed him backwards until he fell back onto the bed, his happy eyes laughing up at her. Smiling in turn, she draped her body over his and plundered his mouth with hers, delighting in the feel of his lean length against her body, especially the part of him which she most wished to embrace within her. It pulsed against her belly in time to his heartbeat, thick and hard. Moaning softly, she ground herself against it, the rise of her mons pushing against its base, hair scraping roughly against the sensitive glans.

  Bill's breath caught in pleasure, and he had to restrain himself from returning her motions. No. Too soon. “Gently, Snow Maid,” he said, kissing her cheek, “or I'll be finished before we've begun.”

  Puzzled, she looked into his eyes for a moment, then smiled as she caught his meaning. He pushed her up slightly and moved his lips to her breasts, kissing first one, then the other. She sighed under his touch, then caught her breath as his lips embraced her aching nipple. He kissed it, licked it, stroked it with his tongue, drew on it like a nursing child. At the same time, his fingers performed the same tasks on her other breast, mimicking his motions exactly.

  “By the High One, you are wonderful!” she whispered, as his hands kneaded her globes, setting a fire in her flesh. They left her mounds and stroked her back, raising goosebumps, then darted daringly into the cleft of her buttocks, long, clever fingers probing at her slick nether-lips. Keening, she thrust back into his touch, then dropped down to kiss him once more, her groin on fire with need.

  She rose up and straddled him, her knees on either side of his waist. He moved his hands back to her breasts and raised his head until he could trace the delicate skin over her breastbone with his lips. With a slight nudge, she positioned his phallus properly, then stroked him with her cleft, her lips opening to coat his cock with her dew.