The Only Rules That Matter: Afterlife (TheCorsair, Madam Mim)

John shivered, a frission of delight crawling over his skin at Jenny's words. Well, her words and the way her posture changed -throwing her shoulders back to push her breasts up more, leaning forward a little. He didn't miss the way her lips parted either, or the way her voice dropped just a little. God, he wanted her. Would Katrina react like that, he wondered. Playfully coy and sensual as he pressed her into the wall, ad...

John shook his head, focusing on his wife. "This is how you repay me?" he growled, shoving her back against the wall. "After everything I've done for you, you whore yourself out to a farm boy? One hand trailed over her breasts, fingers sliding through her cleavage. "If what I've given you isn't void enough, you can take it off!"

Steely fingers hooked in her bodice and tugged, and the soft shriek of tearing cloth filled the air. A hard hand gripped her suddenly bare breast, squeezing soft flesh and pinching a hardening nipple. He leaned into his wife - his serving girl, for the game - and kissed her roughly. "Who do you think you are?" he hissed, breath hot on her lips. His free hand gripped more cloth, tearing her top open to the waist. "I'm going to remind you who your master is."

Once they'd boarded the Pearl[/ in their afterlives, they'd fucked like newlyweds for... well, for more than a year, combining newlh restored youth with experience. In time, though, the different combinations they came up with had become stale. Pleasurabke, yes, but not exciting. So they'd added games to the mix, and recently Jenny had come to enjoy it when he was rough. Extremely rough, sometimes.

He spun her, pressing her bare chesg and stomach against the plastered woid of the living room. Rough hands gripped her hips, then gripped fistfulls of her skirt and pulled them down. His teeth dug into her shoulder as his hard cock, still in his pants, ground into her bare ass. "Feel that?" he growled, grabbing a fistfull of her hair. "I'm going to give you whaf your farmboy couldn't." He fumbled his breeches open, letting his erection press into her skin. "Maybe you'll even enjoy it."
 
There was the sound of rending cloth and she gasped as her bound breasts came free. Good thing she hadn't been particularly attached to that bodice, she supposed. Or the top, as buttons clattered to the floor and John demanded to know precisely who she thought she was. Jenny arched her back, pressing the soft flesh of her breast into his hard hand.

"A woman, Ichabod," she breathed, taking his hair in fistfuls and kissing him hard. "A woman has needs, even widows like me."

"I'm going to remind you who your master is," he promised.

A lifetime of monogamy had caught up with them eventually, even in their newly young bodies. Jenny supposed that was the price to pay for being in love, and they tried spicing things up with games and toys and she'd found that she enjoyed it when John got rough with her. Being struck still hurt, of course, but in this context it was in a strange, pleasurable way which made her ache for more. Playing at rape or being led by a leash attached to a decorated collar, switches and riding crops, being forced to pleasure or be pleasured, being used, being...possessed by him made her feel desirable in its own strange way.

The wall was cold against her breasts as she was pressed against it and felt John's hands gripping and stripping her. She winced at the pain of his teeth pressing into her flesh, but didn't give him the word to stop. She liked it. Jenny breathed in sharply when he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back.

"I can't help but enjoy anything my master gives," she moaned, grinding her ass against his exposed cock. Would he rape her, she wondered? Or had master and servant lusted after each other since childhood only now to consummate their forbidden desire? Jenny didn't know which she wanted more. "Oh Mister Crane...my farm boy could fuck me twice as good I bet," she challenged, grinning against the wall and bracing herself for any punishment that may provoke.
 
"Twice as good?" John sneered. "The only way he could manage that would be if he had you with that lazy husband of yours!"

Two men was a fantasy of hers, he knew. One he'd invoked more than once when they'd used the toys they'd acquired. And he knewcit had struck home now, from the little gasp she uttered. The reaction made him grind his cock against her ass again. Then he stepped back, dragging her away from the wall and forcing her to her knees. "But he's not here now, is he?" John snarled shoving her onto her back. "Neither one, now."

He gripped her thighs, pushing them apart. "Nobody to hear you, so scream all you want." His hand gripped her throat, holding her down as the blunt head of his cock slipped against the lips of her pussy. He gasped as he thrust into her, feeling her soft innervwalls part and stretch around him. "You're mine, you Irish slut," he groaned, fucking himself into her. "Mine!"
 
Jenny gasped and bit her lip at the idea. Adam and John at once...it was an exquisite fantasy, even if only a fantasy. Her hands clenched into fists as he pressed against her and she wished she had something to hold onto. All at once he pulled her away and flung her to her knees, making her wince as she hit the floor. But no one was going to see her bruised knees, would they now? He shoved her onto her back, promising there was no one to hear her, and when he gripped her thighs she fought him. No sense in making it too easy for him.

"I will," she threatened, snapping her legs closed again. "I'll scream."

Getting fed up with her fight, John pinned her down by her throat and forced her legs open. Jenny's mouth dropped open at the feeling of his cock slipping inside her and she let out a choked moan. She gripped his arms as he squeezed her throat, only playing at wanting to be let go and thoroughly expecting to have one hand pinned for her insolence. She did, however, pull lightly at John's fingers as a reminder not to squeeze too hard; they were in a town where gossip got around quickly, and if folk saw the hand-shaped bruise at her throat they would assume the worst and then no one would talk to them.

"Mister Crane..." she moaned, arching her back and pressing her knees against his clothed sides. "Always yours, Master..."
 
John shifted his grip, his wife's hands on his fingers reminding him that oeople would talk. This was a small town, after all, and gossip was the primary source of entertainment. So he caught her wrists instead, pinning tyem to the floor as he drove himself into her. "That's it," he grunted, gasping as her walls gripped his shaft. "Little tease, you've been drooling for your master's cick, haven't you? Haven't you!"

His knees slipped on the cloth of his trousers, throwing his rhythm off. In response he rose up, grabbing her hips and holding them still as his cick pistoned into her. He stared fir a moment, watching his slick lenght swalliwed by her slit, then watched her bidy bounce as he fucked her harder. "Fucking slut," he growled, "been... been begging for it, haven't you? Little... fucking tease! I'm gonna... gonna..."

His orgasm took him by surprise, erupting into her as his cock slammed deep into her one last time. He dug his fingers into her hips, gasping and moaning as he emptied himself into her, then collapsed atop her. Breathing hard, he caressed her cheeks and then kissed her. "So," he asked with a smike. "Next time, saucy maid taking advantage of her master?"
 
"Gagging for it," Jenny moaned, gasping for breath. John slipped, plowing into her harder than expected and making her wail with pleasure at the unexpected penetration. Her nails dug into his back, leaving angry red marks streaking up his shoulder blades.

"Make your little whore scream," she begged when he grabbed her hips. "Make... Me... aaaahhhh!" She tried to lift her hips but was pinned too tightly, instead arching her back as her walls pulsed and clenched around her husband's cock. He wasn't long to follow, emptying himself into her with an animal noise. They laid together on the floor, panting and sweating. Jenny grinned stupidly as he caressed her cheek and suggested their game for next time.

"More like getting revenge for forcing himself on her," she said. "I plan on making you beg." She rolled onto her side and cuddled her husband, stretching out across his torso. "Are you alright with what I'm doing?" she asked tentatively, "leading the boy on to get information? I feel horrible about it, but it's better hurt feelings than someone dead or sold to the devil, right?"
 
"Making me beg, hm?" John grinned back. "I guess turnabout is fair play, isn't it?" His arms wrapped around her as she snuggled into him, and he sighed contentedly. Sure, they'd need to get up in a few minutes - it was a warm evening, but that didn't make the floor comfortable - but not yet. Not yet.

"Are you alright with what I'm doing?" she asked tentatively.

"Mmm-hmmm," he agreed absently, stroking her back. "At least until I've got my strength back..."

"Leading the boy on to get information?" Jenny said softly. "I feel horrible about it, but it's better hurt feelings than someone dead or sold to the devil, right?"

"Oh, that." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking. "I... wish it wasn't necessary. You leading the boy on, or me having to lead Katrina on. But..." He sighed again. "We need information. And we need to look like we belong in this town. So... yes. I am." He kissed her hair. "As long as you're all right with what I'm having to do as well."

Sighing again, he held her close and stared at the ceiling. Then, blinking as a memory came back, he looked at Jenny once more. "What do you mean, you saw the horseman?"
 
"Well, can't say I'm pleased," Jenny admitted. "But we must do what we must. Just don't marry her for real and there shouldn't be any problem." She smiled and nudged his ribs gently with her shoulder.

"What do you mean, you saw the horseman?"

"Just that," Jenny said. " Adam took me to a social up by the church. Everything was fine until the horseman showed up. Got 'em into the church, drew signs of the saints on the door, prayed until he went away. Then, of course, Miss Jo Sumner--new in town, mixes up medicines--asked me if it was a spell and if you'd taught me." She looked up at her husband's chin. "She's a devious old bitch. Managed to convince 'em I'm not a witch, just Catholic. Still, I expect some of the gossip will get around." She sighed and shook her head.

"Tried to do damage control while Adam walked me home. You probably ought to know that my family's most always worked for the Cranes, so when my John--who's seen the Horseman while trying to steal a witch's book to save our sick daughter, if you'd believe such a ridiculous fantasy--got impressed and died in the beginning of the war you too pity on me and I came back to work for you. Anne died soon after." She looked up at him again. "I figure once word gets around I'm a war widow with a dead child, folk might look on me with more pity than suspicion."
 
John listened to Jenny talk, and tried to tell himself that the chill he felt was from lying naked and sweaty in the middle of the floor. He didn't believe himself, but he tried anyway. "So," he said carefully, once she finished, "you met the witch and her horseman all in the same night. At a party, of all places."

He lay there, considering her words. "The attempt at damage control was pretty good," he allowed. "Except that the witch knows that story as well. I suspect she remembers me stealing that book, seventy-six years ago. So, she'll probably figure out pretty quick who you are and who I am." He thought for a moment. "Then again, she called the horseman down on you. So I'd wager she already suspected you. Or, at least, suspected you were something out of the ordinary."

Frowning, he wrapped his arms around Jenny and pulled her close. "Should we go after her now? I mean, we know she's here and even where she is. We could go back to the Pearl, grab some pistols and swords, and just go stab the bitch to death before she can do anything else... no, wait." He sighed as he remembered something. "The Fairy Queen said something about Josephine and her sisters, didn't she? Which means we'll need to find out who the rest of the coven is, before we act. Killing Josephine will just scatter the others if we don't. Fuck."
 
"Well I didn't tell her the story," Jenny said, wrinkling her nose. "The Van Kalts were telling scary stories after dinner, but they've got a little girl and I didn't want to scare her too badly so I took out most of the actually frightening things. Said it was a Dullahan instead of a Headless Horseman, because the bitch hasn't got any originality I expect." She snorted and shook her head, still angry that Josephine Sumner, of all people, had all but accused her of being a witch. "Said it was probably a coincidence they had the same name. She definitely seemed to suspect something though. Said I looked familiar. Didn't you tell me she had a crystal or sommat she could see the future?" She tilted her head up to look at him again. "She may have recognized me from there."

John wrapped his arms tightly around her and wondered aloud what to do. She sighed and shrugged when he remembered that she had sisters. "Not only would they scatter, but we'd be burned or run out or something for murdering a beloved member of the community. She's engaged to some poor kid named William." She shook her head. "Besides, I'm sure it's more complicated than just killing them the way you'd kill anyone else. She's been alive at least as long as we have; you don't get that way as a known witch by being just as killable as the folk you pray on."

With a groan that was now more habit than borne of actual pain she pushed herself to her feet before helping John up and pulling him over to the bed with its thin blanket. "C'mon," she said gently. "Let's sleep on it. We'll do some research tomorrow on killing witches--and try not to start a witch hunt--and I'll get this place actually livable. Adam's said he'd like to take me 'round the town tomorrow." She grinned and wiggled her hips playfully. "He's quite the charmer. You've got some real competition, Mister Crane." She giggled and winked, nudging him gently as he joined her in the tiny bed. "I do feel bad about it though."
 
"I've killed a witch or two, in my time," John replie, lurching to his feet. "Well, I guess that depends on what you mean by witch/i], I suppose. A bokor, actually. And a half-crazed red Indian, when we seized Cortez' cursed gold." He searching thought hard. "The bokor was easy enough, three feet of steel was all it took. But the Indian?" He shivered. "Worshipped some devil with an unpronounceable name. Wit-zilla-pox-all, or something like. Son of a bitch just wouldn't die, no matter what I did. Not until Hector cut his amulet off and I shot him."

A grim chuckle. "His blood landed on the chest of doubloons. The same ones that caused us all so much grief and got Hector hunting Will Turner. Just as well that chest's at the bottom of the sea, now." He might have said more, but he found himself distracted by the delightful wiggle of his wife's bare behind.

"Adam's said he'd like to take me 'round the town tomorrow." She wiggled again, clearly aware that she had his attention"He's quite the charmer. You've got some real competition, Mister Crane." She giggled and winked, nudging him gently as he joined her in the tiny bed. "I do feel bad about it though."

"Yeah, I know," John sighed, spooning up against her. "I feel bad about Katrina as well, leading her on for information. Maybe we should play matchmaker? Try to get them together before we leave?" The thought of the shapely young blonde sent his thoughts down a different path, and he felt himself hardening against her. "Tomorrow, though. Tonight..." his teeth scraped over her shoulder as he cupped her breast. "Tonight, I need to remind you that he's no competition at all..."
 
"John Sparrow: Witch Hunter," Jenny mused with a grin. "I quite like the sound of that, you know. And God but I'm glad those days are behind you. Expect you would've gone after that damned chest, wouldn't you?" She wiggled again and snuggled up against her husband as he spooned up against her, expressing her regret that they had to lead the kids on like this.

"Maybe we should play matchmaker?" John suggested. "Try to get them together before we leave?"

"It'd be a hard job, as she's so rich and you're all shiny and new," Jenny said slowly, feeling John harden against her back. "But he's handsome enough it might work."

They were up half the night making love to the thoughts of others, feeling terrible and not knowing that the other had been doing the same thing. The October morning dawned grey and chilly and Jenny pulled the thin blanket up to her chin, exposing their feet. She moaned and rolled over as best she could in the little bed.

"You gotta go to school," she mumbled, nudging John without opening her eyes. The watery early morning light was enough to wake her, so even while she prodded him to get up at the same time Jenny hid her face in her husband's chest. "And I've got...God so many things to make this place livable." She sighed and eventually sat up, trying to warm her naked body with the threadbare quilt. "And we haven't got anything for breakfast love, I'm so sorry." It had been a long time since she'd been poor enough to skip meals, but the hunger was still familiar to her. Shivering she bathed herself at the basin and pulled on the clothes that had been scattered last night and a new blouse since John had destroyed her old one. Once John was up and ready she sent him on his way with a kiss and a promise that she'd make them a home yet before setting about doing just that.

Around eleven Katrina appeared at the door of the schoolhouse, while the children were eating their lunch. "Thought you might be hungry, Ichabod," she said, batting her eyelashes as she stepped across the room and ignored the curious, furtive glances of the students as she handed him a basket. "Our cook just baked these this morning, and everything else is fresh too." "Everything else" turned out to be three rolls, a lump of cheese, an apple, and two chicken drumsticks. Katrina looked expectant as she handed the basket over. The way to a man's heart was through his stomach, after all.
 
Normally, John slept lightly and awoke at the first glimmer of light or the first unusual sound. He'd been a pirate captain, after all, and Articles or no you were a fool to trust murderers and cutthroats. But Jenny - and some extrejely sinful thoughts about Katrina - had keot him awake until the wee hours of the morning. And now it was cold in the cittage. He'd never much cared for cold, not as a Dover lad and certainly not after spending years if his life in the Carribbean. So the first thing he noticed was Jenny's elbow in his ribs.

"God's teeth, woman!" he groaned, groping fir her as he blinked himself awake. "A man needs some sleep!"

"You gotta go to school," Jenny muttered, going on to remind him of the day as she dragged the quilt off him and sat up. Cold stung his skin, and he tried to tug the blanket - and his wife - back over him. The effort turned into a cheerful tug of war that might have ended quite differently if Jenny hadn't pulled away and poured some water into a basin.

How she hadn't cursed at the chill water, he never understood. John swore descriptively as he shivered through a quick bath and then shaved, and gratefully tugged into his clothes. "You're my serving maid," he groused. "Aren't you supposed to build a fire and warm the room before I get up?" Finally though, with a blood-warming kiss still lingering on his lips, he headed out the door and towards the school.

Time passed, and John lost himself in the effort of educating the children of the village. It wasn't a job he was naturally suited to, but there was a swagger in his walk and in his soul that refused to let him admit he was second best at anything. He'd taught his wife to read, and he'd hammered enough maths into his various crews to make competent navigators of them. Well, semi-competent. All right, a few of them finally learned to navigate. The point was, he could do this.


"Take care to place units under units," John said, glancing at the textbook (Arithmetick, both in the theory and practice: made plain and easy in all the common and useful rules, a text the previous schoolmaster had used), "and tens under tens. And in case of want..."

"Mister Crane?" one of the children asked.

"In subtracting, borrow ten." It took him a moment to recall that he was Mister Crane, but then he turned. "Yes, James?"

"Are you really a pirate?" the boy asked.

"Now what would make you ask that?" John said, pinning him with a steely gaze.

"It's just that..." The boy faltered, and John gestured for him to continue. "Well, I heard that you was a pirate. Sir. From my sister." He swallowed. "She's, uhm, she's Miss Van Tassel's maid, and she said that her mistress said that..."

Oh, God. But he should have anticipated that word would get around. Well, best to stick to the story he'd told lat night. "When I was young," he said, putting the chalk down and perching on his desk, "not much older than some of you, I went to sea. I was an orphan with few prospects, and cabin boy aboard a merchant ship seemed a better life than begging in the streets. And we were captured by pirates."

He looked around the room. "They gave me the choice of joining them, or getting my throat cut. And, well, you can guess what choice I took." The class giggled nervously. "But a British man of war took us off Barbados, and hanged the lot of them. The Admiralty Court gave me a reprieve, because I was young."

With a cheeky grin, he rose and took up his chalk once more. "Now, unless the lot of you want dance at the end of a rope, I suggest you pay attention."


Adam knocked at the door of the schoolmaster's house, awkwardly juggling a bundle he carried under his left arm. When Jenny answered, he grinned nervously. "Morning," he said, with a bit of a laugh. "Well, it's almost noon now, I guess. The point is," he continued, hefting the bundle, "Ma thought you and your employer could use a few things for the house. Some spare linens and dishes and such, to make the place homier she said. And Pa said he could spare me from the field today, if you need someone to carry things home from the store for you."

In truth, it had been ma that had told pa that he could be spared. Because, ma had said, young Jenny might be a widow-woman and a Papist, but here in the colonies such things didn't matter as much. And she'd be a fine wife for their son. Which was why Adam felt so nervous, just now. Not because she was pretty and he liked her, but because he was feeling the pressure of a mother who wanted to see him married and settled down and providing grandchildren.

"Unless you're not heading into town today, that is," he added. "If you're not, I can come and help when you are."


John looked through the basket, nodding appreciatively. "Thank you," he said, meaning it. Breakfast had been kisses, after all, and while they were warming they weren't filling. Oh, and an apple. One of the students had brought an apple, and he'd devoured it between sentences as he'd used Mr. Webster's The American spelling book to talk about how to spell words by listening to how they sounded.

His admission of piracy, truncated and utterly fabricated as it had been, had impressed his crew. His students, that is, who stared at him with a sort of awed fascination. But at least now they were listening, without him having to stalk the aisle with a birch rod. He hadn't actually hit any of them, it seemed the act of a brute who couldn't obtain respect, but it kept them on their toes.

"This is delicious," he added, once he'd worked through the first drumstick. "But your family is spoiling me - the dance last night, lunch, and dinner tonight." He hesitated, feeling guilty about the next words that came out of his mouth. "And the delightful company I may look forward to."
 
Jenny spent the morning stacking wood and cleaning. She hadn't the first idea where the market was, and Adam had said he was going to call anyway, so she might as well let him show her. As it was with all the dust and grime she had to open the windows and let in the chill so she didn't wind up incapacitated with sneezing. With everything from the rafters to the floorboards dusted, polished, and gleaming she fetched water from the well and worked on scrubbing the single kettle and pan and cookpot they had. There were no dishes or silverware--she supposed as a bachelor Van Holt had just eaten straight from the pot--but the little bit of cookware they did have were filthy. She had managed to scrape one layer of grime from the cast iron skillet, but not enough, by the time Adam knocked on the door. Jenny answered, sweaty and red-faced, covered in soot from cleaning out the oven and hearth, with frizzy hair and hands raw from more scrubbing than she'd done in an age.

"This is so kind of her!" she said with a blossoming smile, taking the bundle from him and placing it carefully on the table. "Mister Van Holt doesn't seem to have had much in the way of comforts, and Mister Crane does like to be comfortable. Not luxury mind you, but he said the blanket was a bit thin." Jenny carefully undid the bundle and set the dishes--cups, plates, bowls, utensils, two of each--in the now-clean cupboard and stripped the tatty old linens from the bed before making it anew quick as she knew how. After years of sailing it felt good to be domestic again, if she were honest. Mrs. Van Kalt had even included a spare quilt, which would do very nicely, and Jenny again marveled at the kindness of strangers in these changing, less-moral times.

"It would be wonderful if you could come with me," she said as she smoothed out the quilt. Jenny gave him her most charming smile and stepped shyly closer. "The cupboards are pretty bare and Mister Crane gave me some money to stock them, but I haven't the foggiest where the market is." She giggled nervously. "I'd like it if you showed me." She picked up a large basket she'd brought from the ship--a souvenir from Jamaica where they wove the flexible baskets from dried sea grass--and slipped the handle over her arm before looping her other in Adam's and steering him out the door.

~*~

Katrina blushed when Mister Crane mentioned that she was delightful company. "Well, no more delightful than your own," she returned. "But really it's our honor, Ichabod. You came so quickly after my father wrote, and you're doing such a good job here. I've never seen the children more well-behaved." Several of them quickly looked back down at their books when she glanced over the room. She lowered her voice and leaned in before continuing. "Besides, we all know Mister Van Holt tended to live on the generosity of others when it came to his meals. I don't imagine there's been much for your girl to work with."

He smelled of spice and the sea, and something else she couldn't quite identify but adored nonetheless. Katrina laid a hand on his arm. She loved touching him. "And I'll never complain of spending time in the company of such an interesting, intelligent man." Was it possible to fall in love so quickly? Katrina, in all the wisdom of her sixteen years, thought so. And surely he loved her too. She could see the way he looked at her, the way his body language changed when he was around. She wanted to kiss him, but with all these children watching that would have been highly inappropriate. She looked down demurely and blushed at the idea of kissing behind the schoolhouse after class was dismissed, and her legs went a little shaky at the thought of feeling his body pressed against hers.

"In any case, I'm looking forward to hearing more about your life tonight," she said after a pause, figuring she ought to say something more so she didn't have to leave.
 
"Market might be putting it on a bit thick," Adam said as they entered the town center. "We've got a general store over there, and a carpenter and a blacksmith. Although you can find a few folk selling excess produce over by the store." He pointed at a small knot of people, mostly women, standing by carts. "Extra eggs and vegetables, mostly. Wild berries, in season."

Smiling, he tipped his hat at a passing lady. She nodded in return, giving Jenny a curious glance before moving on. "Store doesn't have a huge selection, unless a delivery's come in, but you can order things from New York - Mr. Salzberg sends his son monthly to bring stock in."

He'd stopped feeling self conscious about walking arm in arm with Jenny Sparrow a while back. Oh, he was still conscious of her presence - her warmth on his arm, and the sweet sound of her vouce as they talked - but he'd mostly gotten over the awkwardness he'd felt last night. Mostly because he'd had some time to think, away from his ma and her not-so-subtle hints about 'settling down'. And what he'd realized was that he liked the schoolmaster's maid, widow or not and Catholic or not. Liked her enough that he wanted to spend time with her and see if anything came of it. Maybe marriage was in their future, and maybe they'd just end up friends. But he'd have a pleasant time finding out, and that was all that mattered right now.

"If you need medical help, Jo Sumner's the closest we've got to a doctor right now," he continued. "She mixes salves and ointments and tinctures, and even sets bones. Our actual doctor volunteered with the Continental Army about three years back."



"No," John laughed in agreement, "there certainly wasn't. A bit of flour, mostly. It's lucky one of the neighbors had her to supper last night, and your father had me over, or it would have been salted fish and biscuit again." He grinned at Katrina. "She's out tending to the shopping this morning, though, so I'll have no need to worry for her welfare when I'm out tonight."

She rested a hand on his arm and leaned in a little. "And I'll never complain of spending time in the company of such an interesting, intelligent man," she murmured in a way that both sent a thrill through him and made him feel like a heel. And guilty, terribly guilty, as he remembered imagining her slim body astride him as he emptied his seed into Jenny. "In any case, I'm looking forward to hearing more about your life tonight."

John wrenched his thoughts away from his shameful fantasies. "And I'm looking forward to learning more of you," he assured her. "And of this village." He bit into his apple, then checked the clock on the wall. "Still, sadly, it appears that it's time to put my students back to work. Until this evening, then?"
 
"Oh my John was an apothecary before he got conscripted," Jenny assured him. "Taught me a few things before he left. Not enough to give Miss Sumner any competition, mind, but enough to take care of meself through most illness and injury." She smiled pleasantly at Adam, hoping he accepted that as a reason she might not go to Jo should the need arise. She wouldn't touch anything that witch made with a ten-foot pole.

"And I'd say it's a fair size town," she said after a pause, bobbing a curtsy to a passing gentleman. "Fine sight bigger'n my hometown, in any case. We were only a few hundred, mostly farmers'n fishers'n such." This was true seventy years ago, and Jenny hadn't had the heart to go back to their sleepy village a few miles northwest of Lahinch since they'd gone off the cliffs. She didn't know how big the village would be by now. "You've got a store and some folk with food to spare, and that's good enough for me." She steered him over to the produce carts and smiled politely at the other women as she began to look through the available fruits and vegetables.

"So that Jo Sumner..." Jenny paused to lean over to grab up an apple, ensuring Adam might have a fine view of her decolletage. "Strange that such a fine young woman, attractive and with a trade and everything, might come to Sleepy Hollow alone. I mean, it's wonderful she's set to marry Will, but didn't any family come with her? Mister Crane and me are like family, and I'm sure that's started whispers enough; I can't imagine a pretty young gal like her traveling alone."

~*~

"Well it's a good thing I brought you lunch then," Katrina said with a bright grin before resting a hand on his arm and leaning in. "And I'll never complain of spending time in the company of such an interesting, intelligent man." She thought she felt him shiver a little at her touch, which made goosebumps raise on her own arms beneath the soft fabric.

Ichabod assured her he was looking forward to their meeting tonight, but insisted that he put his pupils back to work. She wanted to protest, to point out that they were already working, but knew it would be unseemly. She sighed and didn't bother to hide her disappointment before leaning forward.

"Until then, Ichabod," she agreed, leaning forward to kiss his cheek softly. A few of the girls giggled, earning a sharp look, before she straightened and turned, swaying her hips alluringly as she walked out the door.
 
Adam tried hard not to stare as Jenny leaned over, which just made the urge to stare worse. And made him feel more like he was being completely obvious about it. "She, uhm..." Forcing himself to stare down at the apples, he tried to wrench his mind back to the topic at hand. "She... her grandmother lived here. Passed away, winter before last. It was a hard winter, that one, and she took sick. Left the house to her only surviving relative."

He rubbed his chin, thinking hard. "It was a bit of a shock, but it seems she'd been a bit wild, back in the day. Got herself with child, and gave the daughter up. But she kept in touch, and willed it all to her daughter. But the daughter had passed, and her husband was killed fighting the redskins, so it passed to Jo."

He followed Jennifer to another cart, watching as she examined eggs and potatos. "Jo said she didn't have many prospects in Salem, so she came south thinking she'd sell her grandmother's home and move in. But our doctor had gone to war, and she helped a few folk out, and, well..." He chuckled. "She still swears she'll sell, someday."


John touched his cheek, still feeling her lips like a brand on his skin, and tried nit to stare as Katrina walked away. Married man! he reminded himself. Married! And she's young enough to be your great-granddaughter!

Another giggle echoed in the classtoom. Drawing a breath, he swept the room with his best hard stare - the one he'd used when giving irders aboard ship. "Right then, lads and lasses," he declared, swaying a little. "Fun time's over, and you," he pointed at the giggler, "may come to the board and demonstrate the correct way to calculate the height of a triangle."

"But... but..." the girl stammered, "we was doing English!"

"Were," he corrected, "and clearly not well enough. And life rarely gives you discrete problems in set intervals, so to the chalkboard with you!" While I try to figure out what to do about Katrina.
 
Jenny smiled. "Isn't that the way it always goes?" She picked out half a dozen eggs and a pound of potatoes. "But to be all alone in the world, no siblings no nothing...I can't imagine. I've at least got brothers back in Ireland." She tisked and paid for her groceries before taking his arm again.

"Is there a butcher?" she asked, looking around. "I'm sure Mister Crane wouldn't want to live just on food fit for a rabbit."

They located the butcher and stepped inside, where Jenny ordered then waited, still holding on to Adam's arm. "Are...are we going to talk about last night?" she asked at length, glancing nervously at him. "The Dullahan...Headless Horseman...whatever you want to call it...it's real." She shuddered. "Shouldn't we tell someone? Warn the town officials?"

~*~

Katrina went about her day, all the while thinking of Ichabod. He was so handsome, and educated, and exciting. Mostly he was handsome and exciting. Brom Bone was handsome, of course, but they'd grown up together. Brom was the son of a farmer and destined to become a gentleman farmer in his own right, which was respectable enough but Katrina already knew his life story. Ichabod was an unknown, already having been a pirate and a school teacher and who knew what else. How could she help but love him?

And how could she help but go see him? That afternoon, when she knew he was about to dismiss class for the day, she gave her father some excuse to sneak away and waited for him behind the schoolhouse. As he rounded the corner she ambushed him, pressing him against the schoolhouse wall and kissing him hard.

"I'm sorry," she said softly once she broke away, not sounding sorry at all. "I couldn't help myself. I hope you don't think me too forward."
 
The first warning Jihn had of Katrina's presence was the lithe, soft body that pressed him against the wall of the schoolhouse and the warm, wet mouth on his. Some distant part of his brain, the part that wasn't enjoying this and the part that wasn't feeling guilty for enjoying this, realized that - although she clearly hadn't had much practice - she had a blood-firing enthusiasm. "I'm sorry," she finally said, the mivement of her bidy against his making it clear she wasn't sorry in the slightest.

"Tsokay," he managed, wide-eyed and aroused and unsure what to do with his hands.

"I couldn't help myself," she added, looking up at him with llarge innocent eyes in a fashion designed to accentuate her bust and cleavage. "I hope you don't think me too forward."

"Uhm, no," John assured her, frantically trying to remember that he was a married man. "I like a woman who knows what she wants."

She smiked at that, kissing him again and then grabbing his hand. "Wonderful!" she declared, pulling him along behind her. "Because what I want is a dashing schoolteacher to walk with me by the river on the way home!"

"I really need to dress for dinner!" John protested, ckutching his old tricorn with his free hand as he scurried to come up alongside her. "I'm hardly..."

"Nonsense!" she declared, leaning against him fir a moment. "It's a simple family dinner, and father will think your suit is admirable. And besides," she added impishly, "it just wouldn't be proper for you to escort an unchaperoned young lady to your home."

"There is that," he agreed.

"Yet." Her expression was utterly innocent as he glanced sharply down at her.


For all his fine intentions, Adam's heart lept for an instant at Jenny's question. Then the rest of it followed, and he realized it wasn't a romantic sort of statement. "I..." he hesitated, licking his lips as he remembered the terror of the previius evening. "You're right, of course. We should. Weneed to."

He hefted her purchases and followed her from the butcher's shop. "I tried to talk to a few of the others," he said softly. "Nobody... they're all scared, I think. Scared enough that they don't want to talk about it. The ones I talked to, that is. It's like they think they can make it not be real, by pretending."

He sighed. "But, it is real. And... there must be something we can do. Talk to the magistrate and the elders, convince them. Hell's come to Sleepy Hollow, and we can't let that go unchallenged. Can we?"
 
"No, we can't," Jenny agreed, pulling the loop of her market basket over her shoulder and sharing some of the burden with Adam. They were her groceries, after all. "But who would believe us? You come from a respectable family, but you're hardly a Van Tassel, and folk don't know me from a hole in the ground." She shook her head and led the way toward the river. It was a pretty walk, and (she noted with some guilt) nice and private. "Perhaps I can talk to Mister Crane, and he'll talk to the elders. He's been invited back to the Van Tassels' for supper, so I suppose he's made a good impression on him. More likely to believe the master than the maid, after all. And he's a skeptic, Mister Crane is, but he'll believe me. He's known me too long not to."

The woods were beautiful and dappled with early evening sunlight. Jenny tried not to notice that it was a rather romantic setting, good for a date between two young people. But she wasn't young, was she? She was old enough to be Baltus Van Tassel's grandmother. Just because she looked young and felt young didn't give her an excuse to act like a strumpet. There was leading the boy on for information, and there was being needlessly flirtatious. No, she had crossed a line, bringing him this way. She had to stop.

~*~

Well, she didn't have to stop. Katrina had faked rolling her ankle on a stone, and declared that she just needed to rest for a few moments before starting home again. She knew, of course, that dinner wouldn't be ready for another hour and so they had some time to fill. She'd brought Ichabod to the most romantic spot she could thing of and leaned against a tree that bent slightly over the river. She smiled at the seemingly shy schoolteacher and how flustered he seemed to be.

"Do you think me wicked, Ichabod?" she purred. "You look like you think me wicked." She batted her eyelashes before pulling him closer, trapping herself between the tree and his body, and kissing him again. After all, Katrina Van Tassel was used to getting what she wanted, and what she wanted was Ichabod Crane.

~*~

Jenny froze in shock and nearly dropped her groceries. He'd told her about the girl, and she couldn't rightfully be angry, having kissed Adam last night before they'd been honest with each other about what they were doing. Still, a monster uncurled itself from around her heart and reared up, wanting to close her fist around Katrina's hair and pull her away, to tear her eyes out then throw her into the river. Instead she kept what she hoped was a placid expression then leaned in to whisper in Adam's ear.

"Why don't we go that way?" she suggested, pointing to an offshooting path. "Wouldn't want to ruin Mister Crane's chances of a smart match."
 
Picking Katrina up and carrying her over to rest against a tree had seemed the gentlemanly thing to do, really. She'd twisted her ankle and, for all her protests that she'd be all right, it was clear from her expression that she was in pain. So he'd lifted her, and tried to ignore how pleasant she felt when she snuggled against his chest, and she'd ended up in his lap when he sat down.

And now she was dead set on staying there, arms wrapped around him. "Do you think me wicked, Ichabod?" she purred.

"Uhm... no..." John managed, flustered.

She smiled in a sweet, not so innocent way and leaned against his chest. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of the pressure of her body against his. Of the swell of her breasts against his chest, and her rump in his lap, and her arms as they twined around his neck.

"You look like you think me wicked," she whispered, voice husky as she kissed him.

Shocked, John found himself reacting without thinking. His eyes closed and his lips parted, and his hands gripped her back. There was a delicious hesitation as her tongue played over his lips before pulling back, as if she were unsure of herself. Then she drew back, her breath warm and soft on his mouth as she exhaled. "Am I wicked, Ichabod?"



Adam shivered a little as Jenny whispered in his ear. "Why don't we go that way? Wouldn't want to ruin Mister Crane's chances of a smart match."

"No" he agreed, tearing his gaze away from Ichabod and Katrina with a guilty start. "No, we wouldn't want to do that."

He wasn't shocked, precisely. It wasn't the first time he'd come across a friend or acquaintance stealing a kiss on the riverbank. But Katrina had seemed awfully... forward? Was that the right word?

So he followed Jenny along the side path, a narrow and twisty way that led through the woods. If you followed it far enough, he knew, it was a shortcut to the mill, and then on to the school and the house the new schoolmaster lived in, and then on to his family farm. Nobody used it much, now. Most folk preferred the wider, flagged road along the river.

He glanced to his right, watching the sun strike copper highlights guts from Jenny's hair. A gust of wind caught her skirts, pressing them against her body. "I.." he said, unsure of what he was about to say. "I suppose she'd make a good match for Mister Crane."

A sudden fit of shyness made him look away, but he kept talking. "She's rich, or will be. And she's pretty. But...". Swallowing nervously, he stopped and turned to face the woman walking next to him.

"He's a fool, though, if you don't mind my saying so. A fool, if he can know someone as wonderful and beautiful as you, and not... not...". Suddenly, he realized he had stepped closer. Or maybe she had. Or maybe they'd been standing close the whole time and he hadn't realized.

He swallowed again, nerving himself. "Would you think me forward, Jenny, if I were to kiss you?"
 
"I...I suppose she'd make a good match for Mister Crane," Adam said eventually as they walked up the old mill road toward her little cottage. Jenny, who had been fuming silently over the little blonde hussy, glanced sideways at him.

"Aye," she agreed. "It's about time he settled down. Old Mr. Crane would be spinning in his grave if he knew his son still wasn't married. Especially if he gave up an opportunity like this." She smiled faintly, but the smile dropped when Adam looked away.

"She's rich," Adam said, "or will be. And she's pretty. But.."

"But...?" Jenny prompted. He stopped and turned to her. When he called her wonderful and beautiful she looked away and blushed. The boy was sweet, and it had been a century since she'd been courted like this. She was loathe to admit it, but it felt nice to have someone feel nervous about telling her how they felt about her, to have someone compliment her genuinely without knowing it had all been done before.

"Would you think me forward, Jenny, if I were to kiss you?"

Jenny grinned. He was just to precious for this world. "Oh Adam," she said softly. "You're so sweet." Without another word about it, she stood on her toes and pulled him gently down to kiss him. The boy was no amateur, certainly, but he lacked the experience and familiarity of her husband and that in and of itself was exciting to her, despite her guilt. Slowly she let her market basket drop from her arm and put her hand on his waist, pulling him closer and pressing the kiss deeper. A wild notion of revenge ran through her mind for a bare moment before she struck it down and decided to simply enjoy the moment, sharing a sweet kiss with a sweet boy and enjoying the first pair of lips which weren't her husband's in eighty years.

~*~

The way Ichabod gripped her sent a thrill of passion through Katrina. Her tongue played against his lips, but she decided to pull back. Maybe if she played her cards right they might actually be late for dinner. She drew back a little, her breath warm and soft on his mouth as she exhaled.

"Am I wicked, Ichabod?" she asked softly. Katrina shifted in his lap and one hand twirled a lock of hair at the base of his neck around her finger. "Tell me I'm wicked," she whispered, "and I'll confess all my sins to you."

Her free hand brushed a lock of hair out of his face. Katrina looked into his dark eyes before leaning in and placing slow, warm kisses on his neck and throat. God but she wanted him! She'd fooled around with Brom before, letting him minister to her body and make her quiver with need and want before disappearing beneath her skirts and making her cry out with pleasure. She wanted to do the same to her sweet, handsome Ichabod. She wanted to take hours exploring one another before finally finding release in one another, however that may be. She had only ever touched Brom, after all, and he had kissed her and licked her in that sweetest of places; she was still a virgin, she hadn't ruined herself. But she had a feeling that giving herself to Ichabod wouldn't be ruining herself in the slightest, but fulfilling her destiny.

"How wicked am I, Ichabod?" she purred, her lips brushing against his neck. Her tongue darted out briefly before she moved along then back up to his lips.
 
"Devilishly wicked," John replied, letting his hands mold against Katrina's body. A body different from his wife's - slimmer, with more subtle curves and smaller breasts. But different or not, she still felt good under his touch. I'm just playing a role, right? he thought, aware that the real Ichabod Crane would most likely be delighted by this aggressive young woman. So he slid fingers through her silky blonde hair, wrapping the strands around his fist before gently pulling. Her mouth was open and inviting when he reached it, and she accepted his tongue with a soft sigh of pleasure.

"What sins would a wicked girl like you have to confess?" he asked, nibbling along her jaw before working lower, down her throat. "What sort of carnal thoughts have passed through your mind, you wicked woman?" Such an easy thing to do, playing this role. The words were similar to the few times Jenny had told him she'd fantasized about someone she'd seen, and they came easily to his lips now. Lips that were ghosting over the soft bare skin of her breasts, where they were displayed by her tight bodice. "Are they sins of thought alone, or sins of the flesh?"



The kiss started sweet and innocent, a pleasant peck on the lips. Adam couldn't have said who escalated it, though. But Jenny's basket dropped to the earth and her arms went around his waist, and his tongue slipped into her mouth as her lips parted. He pulled her against her, groaning a little at the feel of her strong body pressing against his. Finally he broke the kiss with a gasp, the touch of her lips still lingering on his, and he stared into her leaf-green eyes.

What he saw there made him pull her back to him, kissing her hungrily. He moved her forward as he lingered over her, bumping her into a tree and holding her there. Letting her feel his weight pressing into her as his hands gripped her hips and he moved against her. "I want to touch you, Jenny," he gasped. "Do you want me to touch you?"
 
God but he was just too precious! How long it had been since John had asked to touch her, had been shy, had discovered his sexuality alongside her? Well, a widow woman would be doubly starved for affection, wouldn't she? She leaned against the tree and pulled him against her.

"Adam..." she gasped between kisses. "Don't stop..."

She grabbed his wrists and guided his hands to her breasts. Chasing a wild hare, she loosened the laces of her bodice so that he might slide his hands beneath if he wanted, then her hands moved from his hips to his rear. A fine, tight, young ass. There was a twinge of guilt at her aching want, but not enough to make her stop. One hand moved to the front of Adam's trousers, gently but confidently rubbing his erection through the rough cloth. They'd been at sea so long, it had been too long since she'd been properly pinned against a tree.

~*~

"Both," Katrina admitted, running her fingers through Ichabod's hair and holding him gently to her breasts as his lips brushed over them. "I've saved myself...but I want to touch you...I know how to touch you." She shifted over him, straddling his lap with a knee on either side of him. It was obvious now, if it hadn't been before, that she had only pretended to hurt her ankle.

"I want to feel you, Ichabod," she gasped, sliding a hand down between them to rub him through his trousers. "I want to know the touch of a man. I want to know how a man feels inside me." She leaned down to nibble gently on his neck, leaving a light bruise behind. "I'm so wicked, Ichabod, but I can't help it. I can't help how much I want you."
 
Adam took the hint eagerly, fingers working awkwardly under her bodice to cup her breasts. He groaned into her lips at the feel of her softness, and the feel of her hands gripping his erection. To be honest, this really wasn't what he'd had in mind when he'd set out this morning. He'd really planned to do nothing more than help her out and get to know her better. But he certainly wasn't going to complain, not now. Not with his cock rubbing into her hand, and her leg hooked around his, and her body arching a little to make it easier to touch her.

"Jenny," he groaned, kissing her again. His lips nuzzled her throat, tongue tasting the salt of her sweat. Cautiously, he gently pinched on hardened nipple to see how she'd react. Her little gasp of pleasure emboldened him, letting him slip one hand from her bodice and down her side. He kissed her again, gripping her hip and pulling her closer to him. As he did he began to gather fabric in his fist, pulling her skirts slowly up to bare her calf and then her knee. "God, I want you," he whispered against her lips. "Do you want me to stop?"


John felt a slight sting on his throat as Katrina bit at him, and there was a look of triumph and desire in her eyes. "I'm so wicked, Ichabod," she breathed, kissing him again, "but I can't help it. I can't help how much I want you."

His response was to push her back slightly, gripping her ass with his hands as he scraped his teeth over her throat. Then he nibbled at her shoulder, tempted to leave little bite marks of his own. His hands moved of their own accord, grinding her hips against his, rubbing her against the thick erection her attentions had produced. God but he hadn't been this turned on since the time he and Jenny had...

He and Jenny had...

Oh, fuck. What was he doing.

"And I want you," he replied, using honesty to try and defuse the situation. "It's been a long time since I wanted someone this much." He refused to show how much the truth of that hurt him. "But... well, there's plenty of time." She leaned in to kiss him again, and he intercepted the motion by running his thumb over her lips. "Plenty of time for us," he added, shivering as she gently bit his thumb. "And plenty of time to enjoy, when we won't risk being discovered." He forced a smile. "Because, I want you all to myself."

God, but he felt like a complete shit right now. And he wanted rum. Badly.
 
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