Anitole's Red Riding Hood

Persephone nodded. The stranger lifted her chin.

"You know they really are big and pretty eyes. And with the cape and hood—I have to say, it's a look that's at once innocent and provocative." The young man ran his hand over the embroidery and winced, pulling his hand away, and then forced a smile to cover up his expression. "The embroidery is well done, your grandmother make it for you?"

"Don't you know?"

"Like I said I only marked the comings and goings. I don't watch your every move through the woods."

"Well perhaps you should, you might learn something about personal boundaries. Excuse me." She brushed past him and continued down the hill a few paces.

"You're suddenly very haughty."

She turned and glowered at him. "Wolf," she said, simply.

The stranger smirked and nodded. "And have I hurt you?"

"Stay away. I'll never leave the path again."

"Don't pretend, Red."

She turned and looked at him. "Don't call me that. Pretend what?"

"That you don't want to stay and talk with me. You do and we both know it. You keep turning around. I like that. It shows you're interested."

"Well, I'm not."

"Okay you're not." He waved. "Enjoy your evening with grandmother." He folded his arms expectantly, waiting for her to turn and leave.

Persephone set her jaw and scowled at him. "You're very irritating, you know that?"

"Your grandmother is waiting." He pointed down the trail.

"Well, I..." She raised a hand in exasperation, but stopped before she let out the tirade and simply turned on her heel to walk the rest of the trail to her grandmother's cottage without looking back once. She knew though, if she had, she would have seen a gray wolf sitting by the trail, watching her as she walked on.

~o~

Grandmother was in her chair by the fire when Persephone walked through the door into the warmth of the cozy little cottage to hang up her cloak and carry her basket into the kitchen where plates were waiting on the table for her.

"Dear," her grandmother said, closing her book, looking into the kitchen after her granddaughter. "You're in and through to the kitchen like a shot today."

Persephone called into the next room, doing her best to keep the fluster out of her voice. "I'm sorry, Grandmother," she called. "I just, it's a very ripe cheese I've brought for you today. I-I don't want it spoiling before we have a chance to eat it."

Her grandmother's happy cackle came to Persephone's ears. "Well, all that rush for a bit of cheese. Sometimes, girl, I do worry about you. I'm so glad you could come out and see me today. How is your father?"

"He's still a bit out of sorts," Persephone said, setting her basket down on the kitchen table and taking out the cheese and bread and the little bottle of elderberry wine her grandmother was accustomed to.

"Well that is to be expected. When I lost your grandfather all those years ago I thought I'd never learn to breathe again. It is difficult when you love someone to have to let them go before you're ready."

Persephone set the bread out on one of the plates with some of the cheese and took it in to her grandmother's chair along with a glass of the wine.

"Thank you, dear," her grandmother said taking the glass and setting it on her sideboard before spearing a bit of the cheese with a knife and smearing it onto a broken-off piece of the bread. "Oh, sit, sit. Tell me the news from the village. Are there any boys of note after you?"

Persephone sat on the floor beside her grandmother and sighed. "A few. None that I'm interested in, though."

Grandmother nibbled at her bread. "Is something the matter, dear?"

"I- No." Persephone readjusted so that her head came to rest beside her grandmother's knee. "Tell me a story, grandmother. Tell me one about a wolf."

"A wolf?"

"Yes," Persephone looked up at her grandmother's small blue eyes. "Tell me about the big bad wolves that snatch girls away never to be heard from again."

"Well what do you want to know exactly?"

"Where do they take the girls?"

"Away, never to be heard from again."

"And what do these wolves look like?"

"They can take the shapes of men," the grandmother said, putting her plate aside. "That's when they're the most dangerous, when they're men."

"How?"

"Because that's when they can make being taken far away never to be heard from again sound like an appealing idea."

"Did you ever see a wolf, Grandmother?"

"Yes. I've seen more than a few in my time."

"How close did you get?"

There was a silence where all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire. Persephone looked up once again to find her grandmother staring into the orange flames, an odd look on her face.

"Grandmother?"

"It was a long time ago," she said, looking back down at Persephone—some tears in the corners of her eyes, a stout smile coming through to block them out. "I was close, though. And close is too close at any distance, Persephone. That's all I have to say about that."

"What did he look like, as a man I mean?"

"Tall, sunburned skin, a lean frame, most attractive. Were he a real man he'd be the most beautiful."

"And he has purple eyes, just like mine?"

The grandmother started and looked down at the girl, there was no anger in her voice or face, but there was concern. "How many times have you seen him?"

"Just once. I left the trail following a cardinal and he was there. He caught the cardinal and whispered in its ear. It gave me a kiss on the cheek and then flew."

"Take me to where you saw him."

"What?"

"Take me!"

"But it's dark. You said never to go out into the woods when it's dark."

"Don't quibble, girl. Get me my wrap. I must see him. I must see him one last time."

Having all her questions quieted by her grandmother, Red made ready to go out into the night. She helped her grandmother on with her wrap and then donned her hood and cape. Her grandmother took out a lantern, lit the wick, and then they left through the door. They took the stone steps through the little garden of the cottage and, once through the gate, they were on the path; the grandmother moving with short fast strides, her breathing labored with panic.

To Persephone, the woods were completely alien at night. The trees looked so grim and twisted, the noises of night birds and other animals made it a frightful place of intermingling, indistinguishable sounds. Staying close to her grandmother's light, Persephone nearly tripped into the old woman when she stopped abruptly to listen.

Persephone heard the noise as well. Breathing, heavy, predatory.

The grandmother raised her lantern and in a defiantly loud voice, she spoke. "Show yourself!"

The breathing seamed to soften in intensity and from a bush there stepped the man, his eyes glowing in the light of the moon and the lantern.

"Ah, how nice to have visitors again, and so soon."

The grandmother raised her pistol at the wolf. "You're not who I expected."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Where is your father?"

"He's old and doesn't venture out much. You can put the gun away, you know, it's not as though I'm uncivilized."

"Stay back," the grandmother hissed. "You know it's loaded with silver."

"I would expect nothing less from you, Gretchen." The wolf walked around the circle of light caused by the lantern, stepping onto the path, and sitting casually with his two legs crossed. "But I do think you're being a bit overly dramatic. I intend to remain quite harmless."

"You spoke to the girl today."

"I did."

"You were warned not to, do you recall?"

"Aye, but she broke a rule first by straying from the path. If one rule is broken another must follow and so go the ramparts of regulation."

"Cur."

"No need to be rude. Sit, rest your old bones. It must be tiring growing old."

"Only tiring listening to you speak. I should shoot you on the spot for being presumptive."

"And so the girl." The wolf looked around the figure of the grandmother at Persephone. "Tell her how it was you who stepped off the path into my woods."

"That is irrelevant!" The grandmother cocked the pistol.

"It is not! Your bargain with my father will be null and void if you pull that trigger. Your protection will fail and you will be subject to the wrath of the pack. You and your family and the village itself, the pack will see them fall. Mark my words, they are a vengeful bunch."

The grandmother's resolve to kill the monster faltered and she uncocked the gun. "What are your terms?"

"You keep you cottage, your protection, your life. Your family remains unharmed because I don't say a single word of this to anyone."

"And in return?"

The wolf looked once again around the grandmother's stout figure at Persephone. "What do you think I should ask, Red?"

"Leave her out of this."

The wolf looked to the grandmother incredulously. "She is the one who first violated our agreement. My father made a path so that people would stick to it. So that they might enjoy nature without molesting it. As you are protective of your granddaughter, Gretchen, so are we protective of our territory."

The wolf blew some air out his nose, considering. "Very well, I will let the matter drop. No harm done and no foul. We've had an agreement for so long I see no reason to dissolve it over such a minor incident. Now you may go back to your cottage, Gretchen, taking the girl with you."

The grandmother lowered the pistol. "You're being kind. Your kind haven't been kind to me since I was a young girl. It's unnerving."

The wolf rose from the trail and stepped aside. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth, dear Gretchen."

The grandmother hid the pistol once more in the folds of her skirts and reached behind her to grab the hand of Persephone. As the two trudged quickly back down the trail to the cottage, Red couldn't help but look back. This time she saw the wolf, large, black in the darkness of the forest, his eyes still glowing in the light of the half moon. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of terror at the sight of him in that form.

~o~

That night, Persephone was sent to bed without an explanation. Though she questioned her grandmother about the wolf and her dealings with him, the grandmother eventually screamed for silence and said it was none of Persephone's affair.

"He is the devil," the grandmother said. "Once upon a time I was forced to make a deal with one of his kind. That is all you need to know about it. But you will hear me once more and for the final time, you will never stray from the path so much as an inch ever again, or the forfeit will be your very life. Do you understand me, girl?"

"But, Grandmother..."

"To your bed!"

Thus Persephone was sent to her loft to sleep on her mat of hay without a candle to light the darkness.

As she lay she listened to the sound of the wind outside the cottage and on it she imagined she could hear the baying of wolves in the distance. She closed her eyes and found herself remembering the face of the wolf on the trail. There had been nothing sinister about him, in fact she'd found herself wanting to be closer to him.

She found herself suddenly falling into a dream. The wolf in his humble clothes and she in her red cloak, walking together in the dark wood, and suddenly coming to a clearing where the bright moon shown down upon them—she turned to kiss him and his hands moved around her to pull her close, her body melding against his.

"My, what big arms you have."

She imagined him moving his mouth to kiss hers then and, when he broke the kiss, she felt him kiss along the edge of her jaw to nibble at her ear, her neck, her throat, and finally, pulling loose the knot of her cloak, he kissed her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse.

"Such a handsome wolf," she sighed in her sleep as she dreamed of him tearing away her blouse so that he could put the rough skin of his palms against her milk-white breasts. She dreamed of giving herself to him, feeling his hot breath by her ear as she felt him press up inside of her; feeling his sinewy hips thrusting between her thighs as she ran her hands over his shoulders, looking deep into his violet eyes.

~o~

The next morning Persephone rose before her grandmother, taking her basket and filling it with a bit of dried meat and cheese before donning her red cloak and leaving to walk along the path toward the village.

She came to the big oak tree at the top of the hill beyond the sight of her grandmother's cottage and there she sat on the large root and began unpacking the meat and cheese. She heard a rustling behind her and turned to find the young man standing, arms folded, looking down at her.

"After last night you dare to dawdle?"

"I'm curious, I thought perhaps I could give you breakfast in exchange for a story."

"A story?"

"Yes. I have some meat and cheese and there is a little bread left over from last night."

The wolf looked down at the girl and shrugged, taking a seat on a root beside hers and leaned back with his head resting against the trunk. "I'm not in the mood for breakfast, thank you. And as for stories, it is traditionally the grandmother warning the little girl about the wolf, this would make my story quite an anomaly."

"Why does she hate you?"

"I don't think she hates me. She loved my father once and wanted to live with him, but the pack would not accept a human so that was that. She settled for a cottage in the woods to be near him. They struck a bargain, so long as she would aid in keeping the woods safe from man, he would come to her once a year in the form of a man and he would love her. Unfortunately time passed and there was a bit of a falling out. My father took a bitch and your grandmother took a husband and the annual coupling stopped, though the bargain was made for the duration of both of their lifetimes. She keeps the cottage, she discourages travelers through our woods with her stories and in return we leave her and her family alone."

"And what of your father? What happened to him?"

"He died, some say of a broken heart."

"Did he die of a broken heart?"

"I'd wager heartworm, I am after all a realist."

"What is your name?"

"That's not part of the story."

"I can't just call you Wolf."

"Why not? It's a name. Or do you think it doesn't suit me?"

"I wouldn't know." She looked over at him. He was grinning at her as she gathered up the untouched meat and cheese. "What are you smiling at?"

"I'm thinking perhaps I do want something in return for this little story."

Persephone put the things in her basket and stood, looking down at the wolf. "What would you like?"

The wolf stood, leaning in close to her. "Pull back the hood of your cloak for me, the embroidery is done with silver thread and I'd get much more enjoyment out of kissing you without being burned."

"Kissing me?"

"Yes," he smiled; his straight, sharp teeth white and sinister looking.

"My, what big teeth you have."

"Big teeth, small teeth, all one needs to kiss are lips and as you can see I've got a pair and so have you."

"I can't trust you."

"I know, that's what makes it so enticing, Red." He leaned in closer, putting his hands behind his back.

"I won't use my hands, and you'll still have your cloak around your shoulders. I promise, just one kiss, but you have to mean it. No school girl pecks, or sloppy half-done slobbering, but a real kiss. Have you ever kissed a boy before?"

"Of course, but I never wanted to before."

"And do you want to now?"

Persephone put her basket down on the path and pulled her red hood back and away from her face. The wolf leaned in and in an instant they were kissing.

She found her hands moving up over his shoulders and she found herself wanting so badly to press in closer, to feel his body against hers. She took a step and the wolf caught her wrist, pushing her away. "Now go," he said, pointing toward the village. "You'll be missed at home."

She untied the knot that held her cape in place and it fell onto the leaves covering the trail. She leaned forward grabbing the wolf and pressing herself to him, her lips finding his again. "I don't want to go home just yet," she sighed, between kisses, as they both fell back into a scrub of tall grass beneath the old oak. "I dreamed last night," she began, but the wolf silenced her by pulling her lips back down to his, it was understood. She felt his hand move up to her blouse, ripping away her apron and bodice, tossing them away. She lifted his tattered tunic up to reveal his wiry torso, a light smattering of hair over his chest leading down to his abdomen. She ran her fingers over his flesh that seemed as beautiful as any she'd seen sculpted from stone only made finer by the fact that the flesh was warm under her hands.

"You're beautiful," she said, and let her cheek come into the palm of his hand as their eyes met.

"I have always thought the same of you," he said, drawing the hand down from her cheek, over the hollow of her throat, and down to her chest.

"How long have you been watching me?" She asked, leaning down to kiss the wolf's chin, feeling a bit of soft stubble there.

"Since you were little," He said. "I remember your mother bringing you from the village when you were just learning to walk. And I remember your grandmother giving you that cape."

"Are you a very old wolf?"

"I'm as old as I look, the magic doesn't render us immortal." He chuckled. "You should believe everything you read in fairytales."

She found herself nuzzling his neck. "You smell of the forest," she said, smiling as she felt his hand at the waist of her petticoat, untying the ribbon that held it in place.

"You smell of cooking fires and hay," he said.

"What's going on behind my back?"

"Forgive me for being sly." He sat up, pushing her back to rest herself on his pelvis. She felt the pressure of his stiffness through the fabrics separating them. "Would you prefer I ravish you?" He smiled and tore her blouse open to reveal her soft supple breasts. "I've often lurked just out of sight, following the smell of you through the woods," he said, as he gently moved his palm over one exposed breast. "It is a human smell, but one I could never seem to get out of my mind."

"What do you think about when you smell me?"

He leaned in and gently kissed the top of her breast. "What every animal thinks about."

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I don't even know your name, I must know your name mustn't I!"

"Name me anything you like. I haven't got a human name." He let his tongue mover over the flesh of one nipple as he tore her petticoat away and lifted the hem of her skirt, to place his hand against her warm thigh. The bulge in his britches was larger now, and Persephone longed to grind herself against it.

"You want me to name you, then?" She moaned, feeling his hand wander up further, brushing the folds of her loins.

"Please, please, Red Riding Hood," he said, in mock pain.

"How about Peter? That's a nice name for a wolf."

The wolf's brow unfurled from his pretended agony. He nodded. "I like it," he said, and pressed his hand up into the hot moist place between his love's legs. "Peter the Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood..."

"Enough talking," she said, moaning around her words. "Oh, Peter!"

~o~

With great speed the two lovers had shed their clothing all together, Peter taking hold of Persephone's shoulders and rolling her onto her back, running his hands along her naked form; drinking in the sight of her soft white skin with her dark areolas and trim, sweet smelling quim.

He kissed her knee and she giggled as he worked his way up playfully to feed upon her warm moist folds. He ran his long tongue along her outer lips and then flicked it gently over the little pink hood of her clit. He used his hands to part her wider so that the inner flesh was exposed to the cool air and then he kissed the touches of pink, tracing his tongue once more up to the apex of her opening, lifting up the little hood to massage the little pebble with the tip of his small finger. His gentle teasing labors caused little convulsions inside of Persephone. He was pleased to see her chest moving up and down with heavy panted breaths and soft moans.