Capricorn Cursed Read Free Page B

rushing water threw them off balance, so he took her by the hand to the grassy shore to finish.
    She lay on her back on the soft grass as he pushed her legs over her shoulders. Again, he entered her, and she gasped as he seemed even bigger than before. She held onto his broad shoulders as his breath panted hot against her neck. She let pleasure course through her, as he whispered Spanish words into her ears.
    In the shower, Natasha’s soapy fingers worked her clit as she imagined Paolo fucking her that day. As she closed her eyes, fingers stroked her along her shoulders and back. Warm, soapy caresses warmed her round bottom. Her own hand found her breast, and she toyed with the nipple as she tingled and moaned. Another hand fondled her hair, and she squeezed her eyes tighter, not wanting to see the apparitions who were touching her.
    At last, she came, just as the hot water was running low. She opened her eyes as the shower curtain fluttered, then stilled. The door to the bathroom clicked shut, and she shook her head.
    Who are they kidding?
    She rinsed off the soap and stepped out of the tub, feeling less tense and more ready to face her friends. She returned to her bedroom with one large, white bath towel firmly wrapped around her body while another donned her head turban-style. The warm steam from the bathroom wafted in, and it was welcome in the chilly room.
    She caught a glimpse at herself in the mirror. Contrary to legend, she could see her reflection quite fine. She could see all sorts of things in mirrors. She was paid well for her skill.
    Tonight, there was only her face staring back. A very young face, stern and cold, but a pretty face nonetheless.
    It wasn’t a trick.
    Back when she had first heard about it, she didn’t believe it. However, in her decades of living, she was proud she had followed the advice, as despicable as it seemed. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a woman in her 30’s. Tall, slender, and pale. Just like the others that had turned her.
    Marianne had told her the secret.
    Marianne.
    She remembered Marianne because she had painstakingly handwritten her story in one of the leather-bound journals on the bookcases in her living room. She read the journal often to remind herself who she really was and how to continue on. In fact, she stopped her preparations to go into the library to retrieve the journal.
    She had to keep rereading her past, and since she was thinking about Marianne, she thought she’d better read about her quickly.
    There was a whole thick journal dedicated to Marianne. Natasha opened the book and relived their first encounter.    
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Chapter Two
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    When two souls collide, listen.
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    Marianne
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    When Marianne first appeared to her, it was as if in a dream. Natasha was having a pint of beer at one of the pubs on a dreary New England night.
    That was nearly two hundred years ago, when Hermana was still a child turning adolescent. Unescorted women were frowned upon in pubs in regular towns, but not in this town. Women were treated the same, if not better, than men. Natasha was still new to the area, but she had grown rather attached to a pub called The Kettle. Centuries later, during the New Age 90’s, the name was changed to Intuition.
    That night, though, the pub was still The Kettle and Natasha sat nursing a pint of dark beer, staring morosely at the world around her. The bar wasn’t very crowded, and most of the regulars were watching a blue-eyed young man playing a recorder at the far end of the room.
    Natasha could tell by sly glances and the movement of lips that a few people were whispering about her. They could have been gossiping about any number of things. Natasha didn’t care. A great melancholy had seized her, and she hoped to drown it in beer.
    The clock chimed midnight, and the door blew open. A tiny, blonde woman burst into the room with a gust of wind and leaves, her shawl wrapped tightly around her. The lady