The Southern Bell

It was a chilly October night in the old south. The party had already raged on for several hours, but the noise was starting to get to Jen. Seeking relief from the endless droning, she worked her way through a sea of garish costumes and drunken people.

As Halloween parties go, this one wasn't particularly special. It was held in the main hall of the old estate building that had stood for well over a hundred years. It was now part of the college and considered a landmark to the community. You couldn't attend classes here without being bombarded by the rich history that had unfolded here. It had been the site of a series of civil war battles, each side taking and then losing the ground several times. The building itself had been used as an emergency hospital by both sides as it was captured repeatedly.

To honor the history, Jen dressed as a southern woman from the period but felt distinctly out of place. The other guests had gone for slutty, to crazy outfits of vampires, pirates, zombies, or pop culture characters. She had more material in her dress than other girls had on their entire bodies. This left her feeling as if she had overdressed and, more importantly, she was hot. She tried to drown her discomfort in a few drinks and a few dances, but nobody wanted to dance with a southern bell when a slutty devil or a little bo peep with not half enough clothing to make a pillowcase was available. Feeling like an outcast, she lingered to the side where a single open window did little to aid her discomfort. Here she was in a school steeped in civil war history, and nobody even thought about dressing in the era.

She needed a break from the heat and the noise and found a doorway that led deeper into the old building. Walking into the wide hall decorated as if the war were still going, she was grateful to see few people. Most were standing just inside with a small group clustered around a pair of doors marking the bathrooms.

The sound of the booming music faded slightly as she meandered down the dark hall. A sigh of regret escaped her lips as she scolded herself for not dressing in something more fitting, perhaps even a little sexier. At least she had managed one sexy item, she thought. Her corset, which was even now making her wonder if she had taken a full breath all night. It pulled her waist in tight, forcing her to stand with her shoulders back as if attempting to present her breasts to the world. She wasn't sure anybody had even noticed. Small wonder, though, the neckline of her dress barely showed half an inch of skin below her shoulders. How was that going to compete with the women who looked to have painted on their outfits?

Rounding a corner into a dark hall, she wondered if it was safe to loosen the straps. The dress held in the heat and left her desperate to get some air over her skin. Thankfully the hall was cooler, and she pulled out a lace fan to wave in her face. She lingered alone for only a moment when movement in an adjacent room caught her eye. In what looked like a library out of a historical movie, a man was standing at the dark window. He was tall and slender with a crop of dark hair. What caught her eye most was he wore a Confederate soldier's outfit. She felt a bit of relief that somebody had chosen to dress in the same theme.

In a flash, he turned and looked directly at her with an intense gaze. She reacted with a startled jump as if the motion had caught her off guard. He, in turn, jumped back as if shocked that she had seen him. He wore a young face that seemed heavy with emotion. She could not help but feel sad when looking into those mournful eyes. They looked distant and broken in some way, like a lifetime of loss and torment haunted him.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to steady herself in the doorway. "Did I startle you?"

A look of shock followed by wonder crossed his face, and he shook his head no in response. She couldn't help but notice how his expression changed, especially when he relaxed and his gaze fixated on her. There was such a longing and sense of need in his eyes. Jen felt suddenly drawn to this strange man, a deep need to comfort him.

"Did you feel out of place in that party, too?" she asked, walking slowly into the room. She gasped at the sudden chill in the air, amazed at much colder this room was. It was a welcome relief and helped set her at ease as she came closer to the mysterious stranger.

"I felt like I was the only one who spent any time thinking of a costume," she added as she moved closer to him. "You would think this was a brothel by the way some of them are dress --," she never finished her sentence, her voice caught in her throat.

He stared back with an expression of happiness, a smile breaking that tormented face. Suddenly he seemed like a lost boy, eager for directions with a tear at one of his eyes. The change was so sudden she was nearly shocked by the moment.

"Are you ok?" she asked, looking directly into those eyes. He only responded with a nod, his smile never fading.

The look of joy mixed with pain moved Jen's heart. Instinctively she took his hand and asked him. "Are you sure?" The same look of happiness rolled across his face as she watched the tear run down his cheek. She couldn't help but feel sympathy for him, especially when she realized just how cold his hand was.

"Oh my goodness." She cried out. "You are frozen half to death," she said at the touch of his skin. With gentle hands, she tried to rub his fingers to warm them, but the effort proved useless. "You need to go stand in the main hall; that place is stifling with all those bodies," she said and began to look around.

It was an old sitting room of sorts, lined with bookcases or paintings from a hundred years ago. A massive window dominated one wall, and an old couch sat on the other. At the far end was an old fieldstone fireplace, flanked by more bookcases of dark polished wood. There was a brass cradle beside it full of logs and a bucket of kindling beside.

Jen turned his hand loose to inspect the old hearth, grateful to see ash from recent fires indicating it was still in working order. It had been modernized with a gas line, so she set about piling the wood to get a fire going.

"It has gotten unseasonably cold this year," she said as she carefully stacked a few logs over a pile of sticks. "You must have walked here from across the campus, didn't you?" she added while struggling to work the gas line.

His silence was her only reply, and a glance showed he was watching her with unwavering attention.

"Of course he had," she thought to herself. He probably walked from the dorms on the far side through the cold of the night. He must have just gotten here, frozen half to death, to realize he made a poor costume choice as well. Poor guy went seeking a place to be alone and chose the coldest room in the building. She found a tube of long matches on the mantle and lit the gas in the fireplace. Instantly the room was bathed in an orange light that danced along the walls.

She stood there watching the wood catch for a moment, then turned to look at the stranger. He was standing in the center of the room, the same look of sadness returned to his face. She double-checked the fire and decided that it was lit before turning off the gas. Flames continued to sputter and crackle as she felt the fire already warming the room.

"That should give us a little more heat," she said. Again she noticed him silently watching her intently. A deep need and a feeling of desire to comfort him filled her as she looked on this pained figure. It was as if he had been lost until she found him, and now she was the only one who could see his pain.

His face was young, too young to carry the burden of whatever troubled him. Jen wondered if he was old enough to be a student at the college. Maybe he was a student from a local high school who sneaked in. That thought was put away immediately. No high school student would sneak in to hide in a back room. They would be in the hall chasing after the drunk devil girls.

She sauntered toward him, never taking her eyes off his. He seemed to react to her approach, a smile crossing his face, and she was sure he blushed a little. As she drew near, he looked down a moment, then looked back. His smile had changed, now giving him a warm and hopeful look that made her heart melt. It was as if this poor man hadn't smiled in years until she gave him a reason.

"You're not a student here, are you?" she asked. He shook his head in reply as she wondered if he was from the community college nearby. Arriving just before him, she returned his smile and relaxed. There was a sting of cold as he gently took her hand, but she hardly noticed. Her heart was beating a little faster, and she was sure her face was blushed. There was a strange attraction to his quite pleading nature, a compulsion to care for this boy of a man. She put her other hand down over his and paused to organize her thoughts.

He stared at her intently as his head tilted to the side, his lips parting ever so slightly. He looked so young and strong, with a light in his eyes that seemed to say she was the most important person he had ever seen. She wasn't sure if it was the drink or the blood suddenly racing to her head, but she tilted her head back and offered him her lips.

His arm came around her waist, first pulling her gently to him, and then his lips met hers in the flickering firelight. They were cold like the rest of his body as he gently kissed before trying to pull away. She moved out of instinct, her hand coming to his face before cupping behind his head. He paused just inches away as if surprised by her sudden aggression.

It was her turn to wrap her arm around him and pulled him back to her lips. He kissed her for what seemed like minutes as the fire crackled away. It was a magical moment as the moonlight spilled in through the window, bathing them in a pale blue light. Some primal need clawed at her heart, begging her to cherish this moment as they kissed before the widow.

Her head rolled as his lips caressed her neck, hands exploring the man locked in her embrace. He was thin but firm, his body taught under her caress. She could feel the curve of muscles and test the thickness of their cords. He had good, strong shoulders that made grabbing on to him easy as he returned the favor, his hands now exploring her back. She stood up on her toes as they dipped lower, cupping at her rear through the heavy dress. It seemed impossible to believe she was doing this but deep down prayed it wouldn't stop.

Her skin crawled with electricity as the dull music of the party faded away. Her focus was on him as he set her body alight under his touch. She twisted under those hands, the drinks racing in her body as she became alive with a desire she hadn't felt until now.

Their lips parted so she could bury her face in his shoulder, clutching to his jacket as she tried to catch a breath. Below he had a firm grasp of her rear, pulling her to him with a hungry need.

The desire came on like a flood, the anxiety of the party mixing with her awakened need into an intoxicating combination. She held on to those firm shoulders as cold lips came to her neck, nuzzling and tasting her flesh. She threw her head back, exposing more for him to sample. He took the invitation as his lips traveled and his hands came to her shoulders. With a gentle tug, the dress slid on her slender frame, revealing the lip of a corset. It slid a little more, and the tops of her breasts were exposed and lifted high as if presented to him as a gift.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders, and her breathing quickened as she realized what she was doing. Her mind told her to pull away and stop, but a fire in her stomach demanded to be quenched, and there was only one way to do it.

The lacing on the back of her dress came loose as one of his hands quickly undid the bow. His next pull drew the lacing wide, and her dress slid down to the waist, leaving only her corset to protect her modesty.

She looked to her silent lover to see the intensity in his eyes and knew they were just beginning. His hands came up her stomach and over the supportive cups of the corset. She surrendered and closed her eyes, and he leaned over to kiss the exposed skin, his thumbs rubbing at her nipples through the material. They immediately came to life, his touch like an ice cube to her skin. She gasped and wrapped her arms around his head, inviting him to take more.

The chill of that touch was a shock to her overly warm skin, making her more aware of where his touch was. She moaned gently as his hands began to wander, roving about her body in gentle caresses. They finally settled at her waist, grabbing hold of the dress to pull once more. She wiggled to help him as his hands eased the materiel over her hips, allowing it to fall to the floor. She stood before him in only a pair of lacy black panties, stockings, and a black corset with red lace flowers.

He stood at arm's length and looked her up and down. Her long hair flowed around her shoulders, and firelight danced on her exposed skin. She blushed a little at her exposure, her heart beating in her chest. Her first instinct was to cover up, but she fought the urge and smiled, letting him know to continue.

His eyes seemed to be full of desire and disbelief, another tear forming in the corner. Jen felt such a desire to wipe it away and comfort him, but he looked down at her panties before she could reach up.

He seemed insecure, almost unsteady, and felt like she needed to reassure him. She reached out and took the collar of his coat in her hand, and began to undo the brass buttons. She was amazed at the commitment he had gone through on his costume. The buttons felt like they were real metal and roughly worked. One by one, she worked her way down his chest, revealing a white cotton shirt underneath. He was a perfectionist. Even his undershirt looked like it might have been from the period. He looked up at her as she worked her way down, and she saw a glistening trail on his check that seemed to have a faint mist to it.

"Why was he crying?" She thought to herself. Maybe he had been recently dumped? Maybe a long-distance relationship with a hometown love had crumbled when he left for school? She couldn't imagine why he was moved to tears, but somehow that only made it more magical. Her affections had brought this silent man a strong enough emotion to shed a tear. All she wanted to do now was wipe them all away.

She helped him out of his coat and casually tossed it on the floor. His undershirt soon followed as she hoisted it over his head to cast it aside.

Her hands ran down the exposed chest of her stranger, tracing every muscle of his thin but muscular form. He was firm indeed, with a healthy frame any girl would admire. As she curled around his waist, he flinched, and her hand stopped. She looked down and saw a scar so profound that it was easily detected by touch alone. Even in the firelight, she could tell it was a vicious wound that almost looked like it had happened but days ago. She looked into his eyes, profoundly sorry he had to suffer such an injury. To her amazement, he was genuinely crying now, tears tracing paths down his cheek. She realized the discovery of the wound had brought him pain as one of those tears dripped to her wrist.

She reacted with all the care of a loving wife who discovering a wounded husband. Her hands wiped away the tears then cupped his cheeks as her lips returned to his.

"Please, no more tears. I'm here to take care of you now," she said in a brief pause. Her lips returned to his doing her best to pour passion and love into the kiss. He returned the kiss, and she closed her eyes, soaking in the tender moment. Her hands rolled down his chest, careful to avoid the scar, and found his belt buckle instead.

Never Breaking the kiss, she undid the belt and let his pants slide to the floor below. Her other hand braced the back of his head, forcing him to drink her in as she relentlessly undressed him. Every inch of his skin was cold to the touch, and she desperately wanted to be the one who warmed him.

His arm came around her back, and she shivered in the prickling cold. He pulled her in, pressing her body to his, making the kiss a firm embrace. Her hands ran along his back, sealing the embrace and bringing both bodies together as one. It seemed like an eternity as they kissed in the moonlight. She no longer doubted her desires, hungry to swim in the moment without a fight.

When they finally parted, she was able to look on his face to see the tears were gone. He smiled again, but this time it was one of gratitude, a sort of acknowledgment that she had moved him. She shook as he reached up, taking hold of her waist and gently turning. She understood and stepped around, turning her back to him as he stepped closer. Fingers began to pull at the lacing that held her corset in place, the device suddenly loosening as he worked.

She folded her arms across her chest and threw her hair to the side, shivering as the lacework came open. Looking down, she saw the whole device come apart as the cool air of the room washed overheated skin. Her breasts, finally free of their confines, spilled out into the flickering light. The nipples were firm and glad to be free, having long since gone hard under the cold caress of her lover's touch.

His hands came up her sides and over her ribs to firmly cradle her breasts. The shock of cold made her gasp again as he gently began to massage them. She stood in only her panties and stockings, shaking at his touch as he turned her again, his lips coming down. Her gasp was audible as a tongue cold as ice began tracing around the nipples that had never been so hard before. Still, every touch was gentle and loving and taken with great patience and care.

Her hands went to his hair, running fingers through it as he nuzzled her. Her breath was short, and her senses were overly alert from the shocking cold. She began to wonder if perhaps he had just come in out of freezing rain, or maybe a frozen river!

Her breathing quickened as his mouth slowly began to drift down. Kissing at the bottoms of her breasts and then her stomach. Slowly the kisses descended to her belly button, and then his hands flowed down her hips. She felt the sides of her panties pull free from her skin. Slowly he pulled them down, kissing the skin they exposed as he went.

She felt her heart race faster as she prepared to be completely naked for this man. His gentle lips claiming every inch of her body as her last defense retreated before him. At last, they pulled away and slipped over her knees. She focused on breathing and brought her arms over her chest to try to warm herself.

He was on his knees before her, looking into her body as he studied every inch. She felt exposed and vulnerable for a second until she yelped in shock as a hand found one of her knees. It rolled over her leg, stinging her skin as it teased her legs slightly apart. Now wider, he slid up the inside of her thigh, washing over with delicate ease. Then gently, with slow, methodical care, his fingers rubbed across the opening to her body. She yelped again at the icy touch and fought to hold still. He rubbed carefully until her body moistened and accepted his fingers between the welcoming folds.

Dancing on her toes as the shock of his touch, she struggled not to cry out. He pulled away quickly as if afraid he'd hurt her, looking up for understanding. She quickly regained her composure and resumed her stance before him, her legs a little farther apart. She had to smile to make him understand and braced as the hand returned, quickly followed by the other. The sensation was maddening as both hands worked at her secret place, chilling her most sensitive parts.