Skalding Hot

Chastity gasped as Luke kneaded her thighs with his powerful hands. Her love mound was wet and dripping and she squirmed on the bed, anxious for him to possess her. He slid his meaty muscle up the inside of her thigh and then entered her in one smooth stroke. A perfect fit, just as she knew it would be. It was heaven....

"Oh God, I can't read anymore of this!" I closed the book and looked at the half-naked woman on the cover. If her breasts were any perkier the nipples would be poking her in the nose. Disgusted, I tossed it across my compartment. I hated being confined.

Not that my confinement was self-imposed. Well, it was, but it wasn't my fault, not really. How was I supposed to know that I would get motion sickness from riding a train? It's not like I'd ever been on one before. Of course, I'd never traveled through time before, either, so maybe that had something to do with my queasy stomach.

Curse the fates! I was supposed to be having fun, meeting fellow writers, seeing sights that would cause any history buff like myself, to have wet dreams. But had I gotten to see anything other than the inside of my train car? Oh nooooooo. Just me and my tawdry romance book obsession. Now even that was wearing on my nerves, which was saying a lot.

Looking around, I had to admit that the sleeping car I'd been given far exceeded my expectations. Comfortable and roomy, it reminded me of a four-star hotel. The one extravagance was the hot tub Louie had grudgingly supplied for me. Long, decadent bubble baths were another obsession of mine and I'd had plenty of time to indulge.

In all honesty, I couldn't say that I hadn't met anyone else on the train. If you didn't count the guy that brought me my meals every day, I'd had the pleasure of meeting Miss B`and Shon. I have to admit also, that Miss B` intimidated me at first. Talented, intelligent women with long blonde hair and teasing blue eyes always have that effect on me. Within five minutes she had me so at ease, I felt like I'd known her for months and I wondered why I had ever been nervous to begin with.

Shon...whew! He had tapped on my door late one night, wanting to know if I had any plastic wrap. I didn't ask and he didn't volunteer. I was almost tempted to tell him he could have it, only if I could hear him scream my name out in ecstasy... almost. I hate being the shy quiet type around strangers!

"We've got ta get ya out of here, lassie."

"AIEEEEEE!!!!" I must have jumped a good two feet into the air. It took a minute until my breathing returned to normal. "Louie don't scare me like that ever again! Haven't you heard of knocking??" I gave him my best 'you should be ashamed of yourself' look.

Seeing his unrepentant grin, I could tell it wasn't working.

"Here ye sit, day in and day out. I know yer sick, but come on. Yer givin` me conniptions. I have an obligation ta see that ye have a good time. How can ye do that if yer cooped up in yer room the whole trip?"

He looked so pitiful, I couldn't hold back my laugh. He did have a good point. What was the use of joining this trip if I was miserable the whole time? Getting out and walking around just might help calm my traitorous stomach, too.

"All right, Louie. The next stop, I promise I will get off the train and try to enjoy myself." I hurried on at his look of triumph. "I said I would try. I make no guarantees."

"That's good enough for me, lassie. We'll be stopping in a few hours now, iffin I'm not mistaken."

"Dare I even ask where?" If he said Puritan New England during the Salem witch trials, I was gonna be pissed. With my luck I'd find myself tied to a stake faster than I could say 'John Proctor'. I crossed my fingers and looked at Louie expectantly.

"The Danelaw, roughly nine-twenty-nine A.D."

Vikings? Raping and pillaging and plundering, oh my! "Louie! I could just kiss you!"

I caught but a fleeting glimpse of the smug look on his face before he disappeared just as suddenly as he'd appeared.

I didn't care. I didn't have to wear black and look pious, so I was happy. Now, to dig up something appropriate to wear...

---

Louie will pay for this, I thought to myself. As I maneuvered myself through the muddy streets of Jorvik, the Viking Age Town of York, I plotted foul and nefarious ways to get revenge on our sneaky host. There was no doubt in my mind that he was responsible for the outlandish costume I was dressed in at the present. Demure viking maid my ass! The only thing demure was the flimsy scarf that was covering my reddish-brown curly hair.

I glanced down and readjusted my halter top for the hundredth time. It must have been at least three sizes too small. While I felt like I'd fall out at any moment, I couldn't deny that it pushed my breasts up and out, better than any bra I'd ever seen at Victoria's Secret. They were still no where near reaching Maria's proportions, but still pretty impressive. The long, flowing skirt that seemed to be made up of several scarves sewn onto a wide leather belt, at least covered my legs. That is, it did when I was standing still. Every time I stepped forward my legs were exposed to mid-thigh, and sometimes beyond. I looked better suited for a slave role in the next Star Wars movie than a visitor to the land of marauding norsemen.

"Yer headed the wrong way, Souvie."

"Shit!" I stumbled and almost fell. I wondered if Louie did that to everyone. Snuck up on them. "Go away," I mumbled and then corrected, "No wait! I want to have a talk with you about..."

"Ye're dressed right for the part," he interrupted. "Donnae be grumbling about it."

"What part?" I smelled something fishy and it wasn't me. I was fastidious about hygiene.

Louie actually sighed. "I knew ye'd just wander about the city, not having any real adventure. So I arranged for it meself. I have me reputation as a host of this fantasy train to think about, ye know."

"What adventure, Louie?" I ground out between clenched teeth. I looked around to see if anyone was staring at us. A leprechaun on the streets of Jorvik couldn't be an everyday occurrence, but no one seemed to be paying us any mind. Must have been some sort of invisible spell or something. That man had more tricks up his sleeve than David Copperfield.

"We'd better ta be walkin` while I explain." He started off toward the center of town.

I could have been stubborn and refused to budge but the direction he was heading in, was away from the combined smells of tanned leather, horses, dung and crated fish. My need to get away from the stench overrode my inclination to be stubborn.

"Ye're to be the new skald for Eirik Bjornsson. He's a cousin of King Harald Fairhair and one of the jarls here in the city." He snapped his fingers and a delicate harp suddenly appeared in my hands. "Ye'll be needing this, too. Magic, it is. Touch it while ye're telling yer tale and they will be just like kittens lapping cream outta yer palm."

"We'll see about that, but first of all, what did you do with the real skald?"

"The lovely lass is being well entertained by Wijit," he informed me with a knowing wink.

I wondered if perhaps I was getting the raw end of the deal. "Now, I'm to be the viking equivalent of a bard? I'm supposed to tell this Eirik person a story?"

He seemed to hedge over the questions. "Ye're not telling the jarl a story, not exactly. Ye'll be the skald for his whole household. I'd say about fifty people"

Wonderful! I'm terrified of public speaking. I do it on a daily basis, to a certain degree, but that is way different than speaking to a bunch of strangers. Especially in the get-up I was presently wearing.

Just as I was about to tell Louie where he could shove his harp, a booming voice called across the street, "There you are!" A large man with, long greying hair and several scars on his face approached and took me none too gently by the elbow. "'Tis about time you got here, skald. Jarl Eirik doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"No, wait.." I looked over my shoulder but Louie, the little sleaze, had vanished altogether. Before I could finish my protest I found myself propelled at breakneck speed toward a large wooden building straight ahead.

"What's with your clothes? Are those markings on your ankles? Looks like what the Saracens call tattoos. You must be one of them. Nay, that can't be. I've heard tell they have hair black as the night. Nay, you must have been there traveling." Geeze this guy could out-talk even me!

We crossed over the threshold directly into the main hall. Fifty or so people, my ass! Louie'd screwed me over, the little goblin. There were closer to a hundred men and women seated on benches along the walls. The trestle tables were in the process of being taken apart, so I knew they'd just finished a meal. Now came the entertainment - me.

Everything was a blur; faces, smells, sounds. All I knew was the smell of my own fear, and saw my insecurities staring back at me. My pounding heart reverberating inside my head.

The old man shoved me into the middle of the room where a bench had been placed. Blindly, I stumbled toward it. Instinct more than anything else took over at that point; some sense of self-preservation. I straddled the bench, my legs playing peek-a-boo with the colorful scarves around them. I hugged the harp to my chest; tangible proof that I didn't belong to this time or these people.

"Play, skald!" a loud voice boomed. The hall quieted instantly.

I wracked my brain. Play what? I was so tone deaf, my cat ran and hid whenever I sang at home. I didn't know enough about viking history to do the traditional 'we came, we saw, we pillaged' story that these warriors were expecting.

As my hands unconsciously stroked the harp Louie'd bestowed on me, an idea sprang to the forefront of my mind. It was just crazy enough to work. I slid my fingers lightly across the strings of the harp and it was as if the words filled my head.

In a time long, long ago...

---

Three hours later my ears were ringing from the loud claps, stomps and whistles of approval from my captive audience. It seems as if my retelling of the Star Wars saga, using Norse gods and goddesses in place of the regular characters, wasn't as lame as I'd originally thought.

Standing up and stretching my cramped legs, I curtsied to the crowd and moved off to the side as some jongleurs shoved the bench out of the way and started their performance. Someone thrust a horn of ale into my hand. After choking on the first swallow, I downed the rest. I hadn't realized how parched my throat had become during my tale.

Just as I was beginning to think I would be able to slip away and finish my sightseeing, the old man was back at my side. "The jarl wants a word with you." Arguing would prove fruitless I was sure, so I shrugged in resignation and followed him to the dais.

Eirik Bjornsson sat at the head table with the air of a caged tiger. He perched on the edge of his seat and still managed to be in a constant state of motion. There wasn't anything remarkable or noteworthy about his appearance; he looked as most of the other viking males I had seen thus far. What set him apart was his presence. He had an aura of power and authority that was impossible to ignore. His bright blue eyes seemed to stare right through me. They were so much like my own, I was momentarily speechless.

To buy myself some time, I sank low into a curtsy.

Even before I rose, he started speaking. No pleasantries, just cut right to the chase. "Tales of your travels to the land of the Arabs proceeds you. It has reached my ears that you are a healer as well as a skald. Is this true?"

Oh well, wasn't this nice? How convenient of Louie to fail to name that as one of my job requirements. His 'I feel so sorry for you, let me make it up to you' routine was looking shadier and shadier. I realized that there was only one answer I could give and not get stoned on the spot. "I have some knowledge of healing." It wasn't a lie. I was certified in first aid and C.P.R. I'd never had to utilize that training, but they didn't need to know that.

"Excellent"! He turned to the old man who I'd dubbed 'my shadow'. "Fetch me Rorik, and be quick about it."

"What exactly do you wish of me, my lord?"

Was it my imagination, or did the hard line of his mouth turn up at the edges? "One of my closest friends has a problem. His manroot refuses to rise."

I shook my head, certain that I'd heard him wrong. It couldn't be. "You're telling me he can't get a hard-on?"

"You use strange words, skald. But methinks you have the right of it." He hooted with laughter.

"How am I supposed to cure that?" I had a pretty good idea of what he had in mind, but I just wanted it clarified. I must have been a glutton for punishment.

He waved a hand negligently. "That is your concern, not mine. All that matters is that you cure him." He narrowed his gaze. "Know you this - if you fail, it means your life."

Oh yeah, I love performing under pressure about as much as I love a root canal. I didn't see any way out of it, though. I was well and truly stuck.

"What is it now?" The voice was low and came from directly over my left ear. I avoided turning around until I had to. I was sure the reality would never live up to the fantasy.

"This healer is going to cure your problem."

"Why would she succeed when all the others have failed?" Hidden beneath the apparent indifference, I could detect a hint of resignation. I fought back the temptation to turn around again.

"Because none of the other physicians have studied with the Saracens," Eirik explained testily. "She will not fail. I do not want to see the two of you again until you can bring me news of your success."

Just as quickly as I'd been summoned, I was dismissed. Now I allowed myself to turn around.

Holy Thor! He was a good foot taller than me, which put him at over six-foot-four. His chest was broad and that was the first thing I saw. My eyes traveled slowly upward, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the curve of his neck and finally alighting on his face. Right there and then I forgave Louie any and every sneaky little trick he'd played on me. His face was too angular to be called handsome, with dark, mysterious blue eyes and lips that were made for kissing. Unlike his brother, his face was clean shaven and the square cut of his jaw only added to his attraction.

All that was nice, but it was his hair that was his crowning glory. Sun-bleached so light as to be almost white, it looked as soft as dandelion silk. I wanted to bury my face in that hair and see if it smelled as good as I imagined.

I skimmed my eyes back down, this time noticing the lean hips and powerfully muscled thighs. His braises fit him like a second skin and in my mind, I was already peeling them off of him.

I shook myself out of my lustful daydream and caught him giving me the same amount of scrutiny. Judging from the other viking women I'd noticed in the hall and on my walk through the city, I was practically skinny. Considering I had always been on the plump side, according to twenthieth-century standards, I was thinking that maybe I'd been born in the wrong era.

His perusal finished, he took me by the elbow and ushered me toward a doorway. Visions of flea and vermin infested bed furs popped into my head, and I dug my feet in. He stopped and looked quizzically at me. "The bath house, I believe it's called. Let's go there instead."

We entered the long structure the vikings used for bathing, and stood there awkwardly. I knew this couldn't be easy for him. On the short walk over, I'd come up with sort of a plan. Now to see if it would work.

I put the harp down and wiped my palms on the scarves of my skirt. "I know this is a strange situation, but let's make the best of it. Just try to relax, okay?"

He looked about to refuse, but answered, "Aye." He ran a hand through his long hair. My own hands were itching to do just the same.

I unlaced the front of his tunic and he bent over so I could draw it over his head. His chest was all hard planes and springy hair. I took a step forward and brought my breasts into contact with his chest. I raised a finger and traced the outline of his lips. "My name is Souvie. What do they call you?"

"Rorik. Rorik the Hard." He gave a wry grimace at the irony of the situation.

I laughed. I'd always believed a little humor during sex could be a good thing. I wanted him to relax more than anything. Okay, I wanted my thighs wrapped around those taunt hips of his more than anything, but having him relaxed was a close second.

I pushed my finger past his lips and he sucked on it for me. I sucked in my breath and quickly withdrew the finger. I ran it down his chest, over and around his nipples and then down to the waist of his braises. I grinned at him as I unlaced them and knelt to push them down his legs. He kicked them to the side, and my eyes widened at the sight of his manhood. He was built, all right. And as flaccid as I'd feared.

I knelt in front of him and had reached out my hand when his "Nay!" stopped me. I looked up at him. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Oh, please don't tell me that he doesn't know what a blowjob is, I silently entreated. "You've never had a woman's mouth on your... staff before?"

Rorik hesitated. "Nay. Is this some trick you are pulling? Some of Eirik's doing?"

"No!" My curiosity had been sparked. "Why haven't you ever done this before?"

His cheeks actually turned a faint pink! "I... I always thought 'tis unnatural."

Holy cow! This virile norseman who looked as if he pillaged and plundered and raped on an hourly basis, was shy? Of a blowjob? Oh my my my. I bit back my grin. Was he in for one pleasant surprise. Or possibly two or three.

I stood up and caressed his cheek, trying to reassure him in some small measure. "I assure you, there is nothing unnatural about it. It's very common where I come from." Some people did it more than others, but that was beside the point. "Why don't you sit on that bench?" I suggested, pointing to the wall behind him.

I pushed on his chest and he backed up until his knees bumped against the edge. He sat down, looking at me with a mixture of lust and distrust.

I gave him a teasing grin and knelt in front of him again. I ran my hands up the inside of his thighs and then threaded them through the curly hair that surrounded his sex. I leaned forward and kissed the inside of his thigh, where it joined his hip. I thought I detected a hint of movement out of his sleeping member, but I wasn't sure. I moved my head and planted a kiss on the base of his cock. I moved my lips down the length of it to the head, giving it soft little kisses along the way. Yes, there was definite movement. I looked up at him and saw him watching me. He quickly turned his head away.

"It's okay to watch," I assured him and then concentrated all my attention on the task at hand.

Gripping the base in one hand I placed my lips around the head and slowly sucked on it. He jumped at the first touch of my tongue but settled back down with a ragged sigh. I could feel him starting to get hard and moved my mouth slowly down to the base and then back up, pulling at the skin with my lips.

The feeling of it coming to life in my mouth gave me such a rush of power. I could feel wetness between my thighs and I couldn't hold back my moan. I pulled my lips back to where they just circled the head and hummed.

His long, husky groan and whisper, "Souvie," brought to mind windswept nights and roaring fireplaces.

At that point I wasn't sure who was getting turned on more. I kept up the slow and steady rhythm, sliding my lips all the way to the base and then back up to the tip. When I would get to the head, I would run my tongue in circles around it and then slowly start the cycle over again.

Grinning, I took his cock out of my mouth and ran it across my cheek as I licked up the vein along the underside. My tongue found the patch of smooth skin in the break along the crown and I teased it with short hard licks. I could see his scrotum starting to draw up and knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

I stared at the luscious display of manhood right in front of my eyes and placed my mouth back around his member. I started right back with the slow and steady pace that had served me so well thus far. I reached my hand down and fondled his balls, giving them a playful tug. The muscles in his long legs bunched and he raised up on the bench. I slid him out of me just as he lost control and his seed starting flowing out of him. I pumped him with my hand and felt it splash against my chest and face, hot and thick.

When he was spent, I stood up and tore off one of my scarves. I looked at him as I wiped myself off. He was sitting there giving me such a look of adoration and pleasure. I smiled wickedly at him and adjusted my top. Somehow during my little administrations, my nipples had come uncovered. I watched his gaze drawn to my pale globe and he stood up.

"Well, I guess I'm done," I said.

The sun through the window seemed to wink at me as it bounced off of the gold bands he wore around his upper arms. The smile he gave me was full of secret pleasures and dreamed of promises.

"Oh, but I am not."

He reached out and picked me up by the waist, swung me around and laid me on the bench. It was still warm with his body heat. His large hand brushed through the scarves and found the treasure hiding there. A feral noise escaped his throat and he knelt and buried his face between my thighs.

The next hour was a blur. What Rorik lacked in experience, he more than made up for in enthusiasm and ingenuity. When my fourth and final orgasm receded, I doubted my ability to stand, let alone walk back into the great hall. I pushed the hair out of my eyes and sat up. He handed me my top and quickly dressed while I did the same. I picked up my harp and smiled as I thought of the memories now attached to it.

As we walked back to the hall, I heard the faint whistle of the train. Talk about timing!

When we entered the hall, timing was the last thing on my mind. There was Louie sitting at the high table beside Eirik. What in the name of Odin's Balls was he doing here, drinking ale and laughing with the jarl as if they'd been friends for years? I marched up to them and stood with my hands on my hips. He caught sight of me and had the good grace to turn a light shade of purple.

"Why Souvie, me dear. Donnae ye look like one who's enjoyed a good tumble!"

"Don't you dare 'my dear' me. What is going on, Louie?"

"You mean you didn't tell her, little man?" Eirik threw back his head and roared. "He bet me a hundred gold coins earlier today, that my new skald couldn't cure Rorik's manroot problem." He turned his attention to his friend. "Well?"

The look of manly satisfaction on Rorik's face was proof enough what the outcome had been.

Louie looked stunned. "Ye... ye mean it worked? Ye did it? But... ye've been so shy and quiet on the train all this time. And none of your stories so far had... I knew Virago or Pami would do it, but.." His sentence trailed off weakly.

"You sniveling little worm! You set me up! I knew your concern was a hoax, but I stupidly allowed myself to believe differently. I should have known! A leopard never changes his spots." My Scots temper was in an uproar. "I'll have you know, I am not as straight-laced as you seem to think, you little green toad! I can suck dick like the best of them!" I picked up a tankard from the table and drank to keep myself from screaming at him any further.

Louie shrugged and laughed nervously. "All's well that ends well, right lass?"

My tankard flew through the space Louie had been seconds before, and hit the wall with a satisfying crash.

The End

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