A Tale of Don Rafael Perez and Ethan Templeton

Dearest Pearl,

Thank you so much for your letter! It seems like an eternity since we vowed eternal friendship in Concord, outside Miss Amity’s Young Ladies Seminary. It has taken every ounce of strength that my sister Cordelia and I can muster just to survive this harsh Texas summer. We hope to return soon to Boston, if only we can obtain Father’s permission. But he plans to remain here in Austin, searching for ways to help this Rebel state return to the Union. I suspect he also hopes for ways to line his wallet but he publicly speaks only of the good to be done here.

You ask if we have met any interesting young men. Most of the young men we meet are Army officers. Alas, Father will not permit us to do more than speak to men of the sword. He extended this ban to followers of Mr. Colt so very few men in this martially inclined dust hole are acceptable. Cordelia has been known to say that if we did not meet anyone soon, she would invent someone! However, we encountered two men last Saturday night who were very intriguing. I will tell you everything that I can remember of them.

Father had invited some acquaintances for dinner, which Cordelia and I attended as his hostesses. We were excused when the drinks were passed, a departure we both welcomed. The gentlemen here drink whisky and smoke the most appalling cigars all night long, whether or not there are ladies present! It is very distressing to both of us. In any event, Cordelia went directly upstairs to nurse her headache while I went to say a few words of thanks to the cook. (She had managed to provide a meal without beans, a most remarkable feat.)

When I went upstairs, I could hear voices from within our bedroom. It seemed that Cordelia was moaning, a most intense sound if somewhat low-pitched. I hesitated then approached softly, reluctant to disturb her if her headache had increased. Her moans did not sound pained so I went up to the door, holding my skirts so as to make the least sound. I put my ear to the door and heard words out of Cordelia’s mouth. To my surprise, she was begging someone for more!

I could not imagine to whom Cordelia was speaking. This is a most uncouth town and she complains frequently of the lack of presentable callers. I crouched down and peered through the keyhole.

What should my stunned eyes behold but my sister Cordelia sitting on a man’s lap! He was a tall blond man in a threadbare Rebel uniform, seated on the edge of the bed, holding Cordelia arched across his arm. His hair spilled across her generous bosom so I could not quite make out all the details. He seemed to be kissing her throat and farther down. Her language was rather incoherent but I am certain that she wanted more of whatever he was doing.

I observed them for some time. He was able to unbutton the back of Cordelia’s dress so that her underthings were very evident. His mouth was most busy, although I am not certain of all his actions since Cordelia spent much time clutching at his head. I believe his name was “Ethan” since she frequently repeated that word. I blush to say that my hand reached under my skirts, echoing Ethan’s movements.

Suddenly, I was picked up in a man’s arms! I squeaked with surprise as I beheld a giant holding me as if I were as light as a feather. (Which you know, Pearl, I am not!) He stood some inches over six feet, black hair and black eyes, olive skin, heavily muscled, an eagle’s beak of a nose, and a very nasty scar above one eye. He had quite the look of a conquistador from the days of Cortez.

“La paloma blanca,” he murmured. “Little white dove, perched on the gallery to watch the excitement.” He smiled at me, then kissed me. It was a very dream of a kiss, one to flutter any lady’s pulse.

“Won’t you invite me in, la paloma blanca?” he asked. I could only nod yes as I stared at his mouth, hoping for more of his attentions. He lowered me slightly so that I could open the door and in we went.

Ethan lifted his head as we came in but kept his hand busy on Cordelia. He did not seem surprised but simply lifted an eyebrow. Cordelia twisted her head around and glared at me. (Pearl, you at least must believe me. I was not spying on her so that I could inform Father! Cordelia has always accused me of such reprehensible behavior when, in truth, she is the one who ran to our patriarch with tales of my misdeeds. But she has not done that since this night’s adventures so I have some hope for the future.) In any event, I mouthed an apology for interrupting her frolic and Cordelia soon went back to fondling Ethan’s head.

“Continue as you were, Ethan,” my gentleman said. “This young lady is desirous of seeing how a gentleman pleasures a woman. So make sure that you provide ample entertainment.” Was I mistaken or was there the slightest emphasis on the word “gentleman?”

“As you wish, Don Rafael, but…” Here, Ethan hesitated as if seeking words. My gentleman fixed him with a stare that would have made even Andrew Johnson behave reasonably.

“Tonight is the first opportunity to see how well you have learned your lessons, Ethan. You know how to walk into a room and select your best prey from the adults present. You understand how to excite their passion, preferably by seduction but, if necessary, by blanketing their mind with lust. You have thus learned how to walk out of a room with any adult in it, your quarry full of carnal anticipation and more than willing to feed you. Now you must prove that you can dine discreetly, leaving your prey alive. You will not risk my family by killing, thereby making humans hunt us.”

Ethan nodded, his eyes fixed on my gentleman, who continued the lecture.

“Remember that feeding is better on emotion than on blood alone. You will answer to me if you forget that and harm either lady.”

Ethan flinched as if he had been struck yet Don Rafael’s voice had been low and even. I remembered how the officers had spoken to their men at the close of the late conflict. The slightest word had been attended as well as any minister’s thundering sermon. Don Rafael’s words held a similar grip on Ethan.

Don Rafael studied him for a moment before speaking again. “Bien. Now arrange yourself and the woman to provide the best display. My little white dove has known a man’s passion before but now she wishes to watch. Is that not true, little one?”

I agreed, blushing hotly. How had he known of an occurrence that I had only told you, Pearl? Had he read my thoughts when I wished that drunken oaf had paid half as much attention to my rapture as Ethan paid to Cordelia’s?

Ethan bowed his head in acknowledgement then shifted Cordelia so she came astride him with her back against his breast, draped across his lap and her head arched back against his shoulder. He ran his hands over her and her dress slid away from his touch. He lifted her hips and soon stripped the obscuring cloth from her. My startled gaze beheld my sister’s body attired only in a chemise, stockings, and her kid boots, outlined against a fully clothed man. Cordelia smiled at me in the exact manner she uses every Christmas when she gets to open her presents first as the eldest child. Ethan began to touch her in the most intimate fashion imaginable, paying considerable attention to her bosom. Cordelia’s arms went up over her head as her eyes closed with a smirk and she stretched, offering herself to him.

Read an Excerpt »

A Taste of Spice »

(Spicy excerpts are for readers 18 and over)