With great calm she cast a loving gaze across the vast area of her homeland; a pretty meadow that, in the eyes of Angelika, formed the whole of her magical world.
Throughout this emerald green meadow, grew a variety of surreal flowers. Her favorites, while resembling roses in structure, shone in every color of the rainbow; from rich scarlet red to startling indigo. From a deep violet to a yellow so bright it rivaled the hue of the sun.
Of course, even the sun shone a greater gold in this surreal living space, causing the leaves of the trees to glow like emeralds in the scope of its tender beams.
Angelika shared her homeland with a host of birds, butterflies, and other playful woodland creatures. These were neighbors she also claimed as friends and family members.
I do love them dearly she thought, as she cast an affectionate glance toward a small butterfly that hovered close by her shoulder. Indeed I am blessed by my life, my home and my friends. It would be nice, though, if I could find a mate to share this charmed existence.
Whenever Angelika inspected her reflection in the surface of a one of the meadow’s ponds, she saw a face that boasted wide blue eyes, a long silky fall of pinky blonde hair, a trim waist, and perky breasts that lay uncovered in the light of the sun.
All features that, or so I’m told, are favored by most young gents she thought almost aloud.
Of course, this reflection also displayed a most unusual rear view; one that displayed a fetching set of legs, four to be exact, and a spotless pink and white tail.
No matter how liked my personality, she sighed, rolling her eyes heavenward, most gents usually stop short when they see the horse’s ass.
Her troubled mediation was disrupted by a flare of sharp, jarring pain. One caused by a dart thrust without warning deep into the flesh of her side.
She let out a scream that startled a flock of tropical birds flying low overhead. Their worry-drawn faces formed her final vision just before the world slipped away.
****
London, 1905
“Mum, must we go to the fair again?”
Julian Ross let out a low sigh, stretching his muscled arms high above his head as he regarded his mother, the respected Editha Ross, with a bored stare that brought a rare smile to her noble face.
“It’s the event of the season, young man, and you know as much.” She ran a soothing hand through his shoulder-length mass of golden blond hair. “Now get ready, as I am really keen to see the opera singer who opens this year’s fair.”
“Oh joy.” Her 21-year-old son rolled his eyes as he grabbed the bowler hat that hung from a nearby cherry wood rack. “Fine then, let’s be off.”
An hour later, Julian found himself trekking the streets of downtown London. There was a number of attraction booths around, featuring everything from games and craft displays, to minstrel performances and public story readings. And while his mother headed directly for the clothing carts after hearing her much anticipated opera performance, he preferred to see shows at the fair, especially those that might in some way shock or titillate him.
Heaven knows, in the life of a young English nobleman, one does not often get shocked or titillated, he thought, disappointed at the lack of opportunities.
Indeed, since graduating from university four months earlier, he’d done little more than sit about his family’s manor house and write fantasy stories about creatures and legends that had captured his imagination. He had a thing for mythical creates since early childhood, and this thing had stayed with him ever since.
I know that my mum wants me to follow in Da’s shoes and became a banker. He shrugged, eyes scanning the brightly painted signs that oversaw the fair’s booths and tents. I’d far rather write books filled with my own takes on fairy tales and legends. Better yet, I’d love to meet some of the strange and wonderful mythical beings that fill these legends.
He stopped dead in his tracks as he came to a tent marked Female Oddities.
“Brilliant, just what I was looking for!” He clapped his sturdy hands together, smiling as he ran between the tent flaps. “I’d most definitely prefer an odd female over any of those boring society maids I’ve been courting the past few months.”
His grin dissolved the moment he entered the tent; a sparse, dirty space occupied by a tank and a cage.
“Only two attractions?”
He cast a disinterested glance toward the tank on the left, which was really a shallow transparent barrel that held a beautiful but bored mermaid. Dressed in a makeshift fin that seemed to be made of cheap, sparkly cheesecloth, she returned his dull gaze before racing to the top of the barrel. She broke the water’s surface as she coughed and gasped for air.
“Are you quite all right, Miss?” Julian shoved his hands down deep in the pockets of his smart brown pant suit.
“Yes.” The mermaid spoke, spitting forth a stream of cool water that ruined what was left of her illusion. “I tell you though, after being a ‘sea siren’ for two full days, I’m quite ready to go back to my days in the pleasure houses. At least there I didn’t have to swim or wear this ridiculous fin.”
“You may indeed have a point,” Julian smiled briefly, “and a plan.”
His smile again dissolved, this time in shock, as he approached the cage that occupied the right side of the tent.
Standing inside this enclosed space was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. One whose vivid blue eyes and soft pink hair instantly mesmerized him, along with what seemed to be a unique lower half.
While the woman boasted a perfect face and top half that would make any man howl with delight, her lower half seemed to take on the form of a fully functioning, anatomically correct horse.
“By God, she’s a centaur,” he breathed, taking a long gaze across her rear and more animalistic features. It was Angelika.
Although overwhelmed by the view of this wonderful woman, he still tried to summon the information he’d learned about these remarkable creatures in his books of mythological history.
He recalled learning the teachings of Greek storytellers, who praised the ultimate and divine beauty of women half human half horse. He himself had seen a Roman painting that showed several of these female centaurs as they flanked Venus, the great goddess of beauty, crowning and praising her. Yet in his eyes the centaurs had surpassed the beauty of the goddess herself.
Yet even they paled in comparison to this glorious creature, whose upper half bore more of a likeness to a glorious angel than an everyday woman. And even her ‘horse parts’ bore a thick pinky coat that took his breath away.
“Why not do a sketch of me, milord.”
Planting her dainty hands on her hips, the centaur lifted her chin in his direction.
“It will last you far longer.”
Her admirer froze at these words, laughing outright as he considered their meaning.
“I like a feisty lass.” He applauded her. “And a beautiful one.”
The centaur was unimpressed.
“Go ahead and call me a beautiful freak,” she waved him onward with a weary hand. “A lovely mistake of nature. I assure you, good sir, I have heard it all.”
Julian shook his head.
“Never would I insult such a glorious creation.” He waved down the length of her figure with a gentle, admiring hand. “Surely Shakespeare referred to you when he said in King Lear, “Down from the waist they are centaurs, though women all above.”
For what he suspected was the first time in months, the centaur smiled. And laughed. Hard.
“Tell me lad.” She arched her feathered eyebrows. “Does that line work on all the lasses?”
Julian grinned, before joining in her laughter. “Only the four legged ones,” he winked.
Angelika smiled, almost blushing from this human’s words.
“Well I’ll say one thing for you,” she shrugged. “Your words for me are kind and humorous, which is more than I can say for most of the so called gentlemen who pass the doors of this exhibit.”
Julian stepped up to the bars of the cage, eyes fixated on his new female friend.
“Then I must ask Madame.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “Why do you allow them to cage and insult you like this?”
Kneeling to the floor of the cage, the centaur lowered her sing song voice to a soft, confidential whisper.
“I allowed nothing.”
She leaned forward until their faces loomed dangerously close; separated only by the cast iron bars that restricted her freedom.
“The man who runs this exhibit abducted me from my home, a secret meadow on the outskirts of London.” Her lip quivered as a single tear ran down the skin of her fair cheek. “Three months ago I was the queen of my valley, a ruler and protector of creatures great and small. Now I am nothing but an object, a pawn in a nasty game…a thing to be leered at and ridiculed in equal measure.”
Her words wrung Julian’s heart, before making him good and mad.
“I demand at once to speak to the monster who runs this abomination of a show!” He jumped back from the cage, balling his fists as he roamed the dusty floors in search of a certain target.
His search was not a long one, as he soon came face to face with an aging, bearded man who seemed to be in charge of the show. A man who sprang forth from behind a long black curtain at the back of the tent.
“What is the meaning of this outburst?” He roared, pinning Julian with an accusing glare.
His glare however was soon replaced by a look of shock when the enraged nobleman punched him full in the face and knocked him to the ground. Delivering a second punch that rendered the show owner woozy and distracted, Julian took his opportunity to snatch a set of keys from his jacket pocket, and surged toward the cage door. [Read more…] about Paranormal Sex Stories – Ride The Female Centaur