Body and Soul

The first time he saw the woman was grocery shopping after work one day. He was picking some apples when he happened to look up to see a woman a few bins down carefully choosing some of the fruit. What struck the man was the manner in which she made her selections-slowly and purposefully placing each one in a plastic bag while all around her a commotion of bodies rushed to and from, grabbing items while absorbed in their own whirlwind worlds. But that woman appeared to be in her own bubble of serenity. Walking in front of the bin she stood behind, the man stole a nonchalant glance while at the same moment the woman stopped her action and looked directly at the man. Her eyes were the most fascinating he had ever seen: one was emerald green while the other was ice blue. He found himself staring into them.

"I beg your pardon for staring," the man stammered. Quickly he wheeled his cart away, embarrassed at being caught.

Later that night, the man found himself obsessing about the lady in the store. Lying in his bed, he repeatedly ran their meeting through his brain trying to figure out what compelled him to notice her and act the way he did. Before drifting off to sleep he concluded it was her deliberate actions and her unusual eyes which seemed to, in only seconds, enter into his very soul.

As the weeks went by, the man gradually forgot about the mysterious woman. His day to day life took over again: long work days, bill payments, visiting his elderly parents, depressing news reports, etc. etc. etc. He was looking forward to travelling up north to his shack in the woods for some needed rest and to get things set for the upcoming hunting season. Mainly he enjoyed the quiet and solitude nature offered his soul.

His truck loaded with provisions, the man set off early one weekend morning to his treasured hideaway. The air had a tinge of crispness making it feel like autumn was directly on the doorstep. The farther north he drove, the more the trees turned to a painter's palette of brilliant golds, oranges, and reds. Pulling into a small market near his property, the man planned to buy a steak to cook over a campfire later that evening. As he walked through the door and proceeded down the first aisle to the meat counter, he abruptly stopped in his tracks. The woman with the two-color eyes chose apples at a display in the tiny produce area. Her head slowly turned as she landed her unsettling gaze upon the man again. His heart beat faster as his mouth went dry. He hurriedly brushed past, bumping into her causing the apple she held to fall out of her hand and land with a thud on the floor near the toe of her black boot.

"Oh geez! I beg your pardon, ma'am," the man profusely apologized as he stooped to retrieve the bruised sphere.

The woman stood completely still, frozen like a statue until the man rose. "I fear this apple is no good to me now," she finally spoke. Her accent was not from the area; her voice quiet and smoothly controlled.

"I'll purchase it. It was my fault," the man offered as he fumbled with his pockets.

The woman coolly commented, "How very kind of you. A man of impeccable manners-very rare in this century."

The man blushed and softly chuckled. "I guess my mother raised me well."

"Kudos to Mom."

The man tipped his hat and bid the woman farewell. As he was paying for his goods, he scanned the store behind him for the mysterious woman. To his disappointment, she was nowhere to be found. Driving back to his land, the man began to fixate once again on the woman. How odd she was doing the exact same thing so many miles from the store in the city where he first noticed her her; also, how strange their paths kept crossing. It seemed to be more than a coincidence. At least this time he heard her voice: the clear, soft cadence of her words cascaded into his ears and caressed his sense of hearing. He supposed she could make reading a dictionary sound ethereal. The man rolled his eyes and snickered to himself. "You're acting like a lovesick school boy", he thought as he steered his truck around a corner and to the old wooden bridge that crossed a clear trout stream. The man slowed going over the bridge and glanced over the railing. Colorful leaves dotted the small, blue stream which swiftly swept them away with its current. Autumn had made her appearance.

The road to the man's property was very secluded. Pine trees and mixed hardwoods lined the roadside. Not more than a scant few dwellings were on the road, and the man never saw the owners of these. He was fine with that. This was his place to get away from life, and yet he found life here-or more like a rejuvenation and refreshing of life.

Suddenly the man's mind snapped from his serene daydreams. Ahead of him was the woman slowly walking down the road towards his truck. The man slowed as he approached her. She stopped as the man shifted his truck in park.

"Hello again," he greeted her as she stepped a bit closer to him.

"We do have to stop meeting like this," the woman smirked. "What will the neighbors think?"

The man grinned. "Can I offer you a lift?"

The woman accepted and climbed into the passenger side. "Thank you very much for your kindness. My name is Isabel. I think perhaps we are neighbors up here."

The man responded as he maneuvered a Y-turn to go the opposite direction back the way he came. "Michael. Nice to finally properly make your acquaintance."

As Michael followed Isabel's directions, he sensed her mesmerizing eyes noting his every move. He longed to steal a glance her way but kept his attention on the road before him. The was no doubt that she was an attractive woman, but her intensity and demeanor made him nervous. Michael took a deep breath to calm himself. The entire distance back to her cabin was travelled in silence while her eyes watched him.

The ancient stone cabin Isabel owned was more in the order of a farmhouse. A mosaic of fieldstone composed the handsome dwelling. Upon leaving his truck to assist with Isabel's exit, Michael commented on its craftmanship. "Yes, it has been in the family for centuries," she simply replied. "Please come inside, Michael. I want to thank you for the lift."

For an instant Michael hesitated. This woman so intrigued him, yet something felt a bit off about her. She now presented the opportunity he had often thought about numerous nights lying alone in his bed. He was put to ease when she offered, "A slice of my apple cake and glass of cider. The purpose for my numerous market trips." And with that, he followed her through the door.

Gesturing for him to sit at the kitchen table, Isabel proceeded to slice the cake. She placed the golden square on a delicate china plate in front Michael along with a glass of amber cider. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg, making Michael feel content and happy as if he were a small boy again getting served freshly baked cookies after school by his mother.

Isabel watched as he sampled her cake. "This is very good!" he remarked before drinking some cider. The flavors mingled and delighted his taste buds.

"It is a very old recipe passed down through the ages," she divulged, her unique eyes twinkling.

Michael nodded. "Those are the best recipes. Time tested and true."

"Indeed."

A warm, pleasing feeling began to envelope Michael: his muscles relaxed, his head fogged. Isabel's voice became liquid. "How are you feeling, Michael?" she whispered, leaning close to him. Her breath tickled his ear.

"I feel...very good. Almost sleepy. I feel at ease."

"That is good, Michael. You find my eyes beautiful, do you not?" Michael nodded, staring at them. "Look deep into them. Get lost in them. I want you to focus on my eyes and listen to my voice. Do you understand, Michael?" she purred.

Michael nodded again. He felt as though he were getting hypnotized by Isabel, and he fully and somewhat knowingly surrendered to her charms. "Michael, I want to see your naked soul. I want you to take your clothes off here in my kitchen. You will do this for me. You are not in control any longer. I am. Do you understand this? Begin to shed your skin for me."

Michael slowly and mechanically peeled each item of clothing off his body, all the while watching Isabel's eyes. At last he stood exposed before her. The sunlight danced through the window above the sink and played upon his naked torso. "Very good, Michael. Now start to stroke yourself for me. Let me watch you."

His hand moved down to his erect cock. He began to rub the pink head with the fingers of one hand while his other firmly gripped the base. A silver glisten of precum decorated his fingers. Isabel smiled an amused grin and encouraged him some more. "Work your strong hands up and down your shaft for me. You have no say, no decision in your actions any longer."

The man gripped his thick cock more firmly and began to rhythmically stroke it up and down, faster and faster. His eyes remained on Isabel's. He now was fully under her control. He relished the sensation of total surrender to her. His mind became obtuse with his only guidance being Isabel's even, melodic voice instructing him to do her naughty tasks.

"Stop, Michael! I want you to walk with me. Follow me," she directed as she took his hand and led him to a darkened bedroom. "Lie down here." He obeyed. Taking a length of rope, Isabel tied his hands and legs to each post of her bed. "There we go. Now there is no way you will leave me."

Michael lay spread eagle on her large bed. If he were somewhat conscious, he would have felt scared and vulnerable, but Isabel had him deeply under her spell. "I will use you now. You are for my pleasure, and mine alone. You will willingly do all I ask of you. Do you understand me, Michael?" she questioned as she skillfully teased each of his nipples.

"Yes, Isabel," he groaned. "As you wish."

She smiled and ran her long fingernails down Michael's belly while leaving faint red lines of tingling pleasure. He shivered and breathed heavily. His cock stirred to attention once again and throbbed with sexual wanting. "Do you like being under my spell?" she asked as as she circled his smooth glans and slid a finger to the ridge beneath, gently teasing it.

Michael moaned in ecstasy as she toyed with her conquest. His mind was a wash of placidity as busts of electricity pulsed through his excited body. He craved more of her commands and desired to be used in whatever way by this woman. His soul belonged to her.

Now naked herself, Isabel straddled the man's stomach. Leaning close to his face, her breasts dangled, brushing his skin. She instructed him to lick and suck them. Instantly, he drew one nipple into his mouth and lightly suckled her rosy bud while she mewed her content. She ground her pelvis against Michael's cock. Her wetness coated it as she repeatedly pushed down and drew back. Michael was more aroused than he had ever been in his life.

"You will enter me. You will be mine. You want this," her husky voice commanded.

"Yes."

In a second, Isabel positioned herself while Michael slowly slid himself into her. He felt hotness cloak him while her convulsions repeatedly squeezed.

"I use you," Isabel hissed as her eyes drilled into him. "Explode into me. Let go, mortal!" She rode him hard and violently while the bed shook with her carnal lust. Michael could not last and with a powerful cry he shot his seed into Isabel. Feeling his precious stream inside her, she breathlessly laughed with pleasure. The consummation had been made.

The next morning Isabel stopped into a small diner near the highway. She took a seat in a booth behind two lumbermen eating their breakfasts, and while waiting for her order to arrive overheard their conversation. "Did you see the sky last night?" one of the burly men asked his partner.

"Nope. Why?"

"It was the weirdest thing-two very bright stars streaked in tandem near the horizon for something like 30 seconds. I guess she got a soul."

The man looked questioningly at the other across from him.

"Something my old granny told me when I was little. Once in a great, great while it happens. She witnessed it when she was a small child. Two falling stars together means a witch got someone's soul. Could be anyone's soul, I guess."

The partner scoffed as he shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

Gradually a devilish smile spread across Isabel's face; her work completed for another century. And with that feeling of supreme accomplishment, Isabel looked up at the waitress delivering her breakfast.