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Temptation Of The Apple

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Temptation of the Apple
by Pirate Turner

 

        The shimmering, red object called to her beguilingly as the Gypsy beauty twirled it around on her finger. Dancing brown eyes gazed into hers with a lust-filled expression as Esmerelda ran her tongue over the curve of the fruit. "It really is too bad, senora, that you fear this beauty so." Her voice was made low and husky by desire. "Just because one was evil does not mean that the rest of them are." Her lips softly grazed the glistening, red skin, but her eyes never left the brunette's. "Those that were filled with poison are long gone now," she murmured, her eyelids drifting half-closed as her dark orbs continued to watch the fairest of them all.

        Snow White swallowed hard. She knew the ploys of a mistress of seduction when she saw them, but they were working all too well this time. She was right, she thought, eyeing the fruit with dread. The poisonous ones were surely all gone after so many years, but still she let her fear affect even the smallest aspects of her life. Normally she would not have even stood so close to the apple as she was now doing, but she'd had no way of knowing that Esmerelda would end her dance in front of her and then offer her the very same apple that had not only been juggled by her agile hands but also bounced along the outline of the soft bodice that tightly clenched her full, dark bosom.

        The apple, Snow realized, was a metaphor . . . a metaphor for something she wanted dearly. Her Prince always left her cold, and though she occasionally found passion with the other Princesses, especially Her Royal Highness Cinderella, her bed had been left cold for several weeks now. She needed the compassion of another female and burned to feel a soft, curvaceous body give in beneath her own wall of desire. But there were so many people watching Esmerelda dance that if she gave in here, her secret would be blown. They would all know that not only was she not in love with her Prince but that she was very different from the timid creature that all the fairy tales portrayed.

        "What's it to be, Princess?" Esmerelda questioned huskily, twirling the apple right in front of Snow's question-filled eyes.

        Their eyes met again, and Snow White saw the desire burning deep in the beautiful eyes of the Gypsy dancer she had watched and wanted for so long that it seemed to be a lifetime of silently burning desire . . . No, it was far more than desire, she realized; she needed her. She needed her like the flowers needed the sun, like a sailor needed the ocean . . . She needed to be made whole again, and with Cindy's attention drifting to other lovers and her own being caught riveted by one beauty alone, only Esmerelda could fill that need.

        With all eyes upon her, Snow White stiffened her shoulders, drew all her courage to her, and leaned forward. Her eyes gazed up into Esmerelda's as she lipped the apple, her tongue trailing over the other woman's fingertips. Her fingers arched underneath her tongue in a clear invitation, and Snow White closed her mouth around the apple and took a bite, her own meaning just as crystal clear.

        Both women ignored the varied shouts that rose from the audience. Their eyes saw no other as Snow White slowly chewed the apple, swallowed it, and ran her tongue over her lips. Then time stood still for them as her mouth moved upwards and closed over Esmerelda's in a long, drugging kiss that would lead into far more as soon as they could reach the castle.

 

The End