Title: Five Times Amy Traveled Through Time in No Particular Order
Title: Five Times Amy Traveled Through Time in No Particular Order
Author: darkfaery1
Series: TDS/TCR
Genre: Historical AU
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: het (some kinky) and slash sex, language, a big dollop of crack, a dash of angst.
Pairings: Amy/John O., "Stephen"/Paul, Amy/Paul/Stephen, Amy/Denis Leary, Amy/"Stephen".
Author's Note: I wrote four of these historical ficlets for various threads on ths_just_in. The fifth, which is my personal favorite, I just wrote this morning.
Word count: 3650
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the life or defame the character of any actual person. Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. No money is being made from this work of fiction. It is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material. Any mention of any copyrighted material is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976.
Salem Village, 1692…
"Amy Oliver, you stand accused of Witchcraft and consorting with the Devil. How do you plead?"
Goody Oliver held her head up high. "Not guilty."
Reverend Colbert rolled his eyes. "Very well, if you wish to waste the court's time and postpone the inevitable…explain this!" Colbert held up one of Amy's knitting projects, an ear of corn. "Did the Devil tell you to make this poppet in order to destroy your neighbor's crops?"
"No!" Amy took her creation from his hands and showed it to her neighbors, who were suddenly so willing to believe she would hurt them. They recoiled en masse and little Piper Jones started shrieking. "I just like knitting fake food and felting it. What is so odd about that?"
Her beloved husband, John Oliver, rose shyly to his feet. "Uh, Amy is rather found of knitting food, like sticks of butter, jonnycakes, a roasted chicken." John smiled. "I rather like that one. It looks almost good enough to eat."
The congregation turned around and pointed at him, screaming, "Witch!" in unison.
"Ah, come on," Master Oliver replied.
"People!" yelled Colbert. "It is time for the spectral evidence."
Master Riggle, the village blacksmith, took the stand. Even though he was bigger than every other man in town, he looked upon Goody Oliver with fear. "Last Whitsuntide, Goody Oliver came to me in the middle of the night. She did the most unspeakable things to every part of my body--"
Reverend Colbert leaned toward the blacksmith. "Such as?" Master Riggle tried to protest, but the pious reverend made him whisper the details in his ear. Colbert glared at Amy, but she could have sworn he also gave her a wink.
"After she…finished with me, she made me travel with her to a garden where there was a handsome goat dancing with two other women I did not know. I knew he was the Devil, so I turned and ran home."
"What did the Devil look like?" Master Hodgman asked out of turn.
"To be honest, a bit like your clerk, Reverend, Master Dinello--"
"Strike that from the record, Paul," Colbert snapped. "I will not tolerate slander in my court."
After that, Master Jones and his wife accused Amy of causing their daughter to cry incessantly. Master Black was apparently impotent because of her, and Master Carlson blamed Amy for his inability to find a woman who could abide him.
Though the outcome was obvious, Amy would have to wait until morning before she discovered her fate. John paid the gaoler to allow him to visit his wife that night. Amy was shackled hand and foot, so she could not even embrace him one last time.
They both started when the door opened and were distressed to see Reverend Colbert and his clerk enter, then lock the door behind them.
"You should not be in here, Master Oliver."
"Leave 'em alone, Stephen, they're cute together. Not that I'm usually a big fan of cute, but that fake food of hers kills me. "
Before John or Amy could decipher Master Dinello's strange words, he transformed before their eyes. His skin turned ruddy and his clothes were magically shed. Though his head and torso remained human, his legs became hairy and goatlike. The member that dangled between his legs was enormous and had Reverend Colbert's full attention. He began to breathe hard and no longer seemed to notice Amy or John. Too shocked to even cry out, the Olivers clung to each other and watched the astonishing scene.
The Devil grabbed Stephen's hair and pulled his head back, licking his neck. Stephen fell to his knees, and without preamble, took the Devil's member in his mouth, sucking noisily. Devil Paul leaned against the prison wall and gazed at the couple while Reverend Colbert pleasured him. "Between you and me, all of this Witch business is getting on my nerves. Too much screaming and not nearly enough sex." He paused and moaned, running his hands through Stephen's hair, thrusting into his mouth.
"Tomorrow," the Devil continued, "the good reverend here will acquit you, and then you can go home."
John looked from his wife to the Devil and back again. "Then what Master Riggle said was true," he said with a devastated expression. "It was you that went to him and did unspeakable things to his abnormally muscular body."
Amy shook her head vigorously. "No! I could never be unfaithful to you!"
"She right," the Devil told him. "That was Samantha Jones pretending to be Amy. Now, that's a scary Witch."
The Devil took hold of the Reverend's head and thrust in earnest until a roar escaped his lips. Come dribbled down Stephen's chin, which Stephen wiped away and lapped up greedily. With a snap of Devil Paul's fingers, everything returned to normal. The Reverend Colbert and his clerk left her cell; John left soon after, bewildered, but strangely hopeful.
The next day went just as Master Dinello said it would. Much to her neighbors' dismay, she was found not guilty and sent home, but all of Amy's felted fake food was gone.
~*~
London, November, 1943…
Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me
Anyone else but me, anyone else but me, no, no, no…
WAC Corporal Amy Sedaris went to the USO like she did most nights, helping pass out donuts and coffee and dancing with American GI's. She had joined the Women's Army Corps in a fit of patriotic fervor, so anxious to help the Allied war effort in any way she could; working as a file clerk in London was not what she had in mind.
She would have been content if not for that swell song, Rosie the Riveter, that came out earlier that year. That's what she wanted to do, make planes and bombs that would show those Nazi's what for. Amy sighed and prepared another tray of coffee and donuts. As she distributed them, two GI's strutted in. Every gal in the place turned and stared, immediately forgetting the guy they were dancing with. Fortunately, Amy was close to the door and was Johnny-on-the-spot with coffee and donuts.
They were flyboys; that much was obvious from their attitude as well as their uniforms. The curly brown-haired one with deliciously full lips took two donuts. His name was Paul. His tall, dark, and handsome friend, Stephen, only took a cup of coffee.
"Hey, you're a WAC!" Stephen exclaimed. "You shouldn't be schelping, you should be dancing." Stephen took the tray, while Paul pulled her onto the dance floor. Instead of finding a girl of his own to dance with, Stephen watched them intently, awaiting his turn. Soon after, both men were dancing with her and making up filthy lyrics to Glenn Miller songs. They not-so-casually brushed up against her while they dance, touching her bottom and breasts, setting her passions aflame.
It wasn't long before Stephen and Paul led Amy to a rented room, gently undressing her, then each other. The two men began kissing each other, caressing every inch of the other man's body. Amy couldn't help but touch herself as she watched them.
Finally withdrawing from each other, they joined her on the bed, Stephen diving between her legs as Paul devoured her mouth.
Okay, so being a WAC file clerk in London wasn't all bad.
~*~
Whitehall Palace, London, 1570…
Elizabeth's Ladies in Waiting had many duties, including keeping the Virgin Queen company and distracting her when the pressures of a Prince became too much to bear. Their primary duty, however, was to secure the most advantageous marriage possible, so their conversation often turned to that topic. It was at these times that Amy took an inordinate interest in her book, an ancient Greek text, that despite all her scholarly efforts was still, by and large, Greek to her.
"What say you, Amy? You have yet to tell me what sort of man you wish to marry?" her beloved queen asked.
Amy held back a grin. "I wish to marry the Duke of Norfolk, for he is sullen and humorless, and I find that very attractive."
"Norfolk is a recalcitrant Catholic who I would not trust to tie my groom's shoes," Elizabeth said, then broke out into a smile. "You must not mock your supposed betters in front of others, even though His Grace is an ass."
Lady Katherine, Elizabeth's current favorite, gave Amy a cruel smirk. "Besides, no duke would want a penniless girl like you with an estate unfit on which to grow weeds."
"Enough!" The queen snapped. "Leave us." When they were alone, the queen said gently, "I know why you do not wish to speak of marriage. You told me when you first came here."
"That I wanted to marry for love or not at all."
"And what did I tell you?"
Amy sighed. "That it is a luxury for peasants, not for the nobility."
The queen nodded. "I wish I could grant your request. You amuse me when I need it most and though there are many nobles who dislike you for it, you are the only one my ladies whose influence cannot be bought"
Amy blushed and smiled. "Can I not just stay with you and continue to make you laugh? You could make me your jester. I believe I would feel far more comfortable in the garb of a joker."
"I am afraid not, dearest." Elizabeth stroked her cheek affectionately with her gloved hand. "There is a man I wish you to meet, the new Earl of Derby. He has not been to court since you have come here, but I wish you to marry him if you can at all bear it."
In the great hall of Whitehall Palace, Elizabeth introduced Amy to John Oliver, Earl of Derby, then suggested he ask her lady to dance. He bowed deeply again and led her in a Pavane, a dull stately procession where only fingertips touched. Amy glanced at the Earl, who looked dreadfully uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He was a pleasant-faced fellow with black hair and dark eyes, dressed in a rich wine-colored doublet. Amy decided halfway through the dance that the Earl was handsome enough, though not in a conceited sort of way like the Duke of Leicester or Sir Walter Raleigh.
John seemed very relieved when the dance ended. Then the queen called for a Volte: the only dance in which partners embraced tightly. Amy clapped with glee; John Oliver, 3rd Earl of Derby, ran away. His exit was accompanied by the snickering of half the court.
The Queen motioned with a graceful wave of her hand that Amy was to go after him. She found him in the garden, bent over with his hands on knees, attempting to slow his breathing. "My Lord, please sit down." Amy took his arm and led him to a bench. "I will fetch you some wine to revive you."
He shook his head miserably. "I am so, so sorry. I must be such a disappointment to you."
"Because you don't know how to dance a Volte? I can teach you." Amy held out her hands, but he just shook his head, so she sat beside him.
"Perhaps I am so nervous because I did not expect anyone so beautiful and graceful."
Amy was more than pleased by his sincere compliment. "But I have no fortune, did the Queen tell you that?"
John nodded, but did not look disheartened at the prospect. "Did she tell you that I am desperately shy and would rather have my head stuck on a spike in front of the Tower than come to court?"
Amy giggled, eliciting a lovely smile from John. "I suppose I should tell you that speak my mind even when it is not in my best interest to do so."
"I rather like strong-minded women," he said, timidly taking her hand. "Keeps a man on his toes."
They sat in the garden for the rest of the evening, preferring kissing to dancing. By the end of it, Amy thought she could bear a marriage to John Oliver, 3rd Earl of Derby very well indeed.
~*~
December, 1864…
Amy waited on the platform of Exchange Place Station in New Jersey just like the telegram said. She asked the man next to her for the time: only ten more minutes before the train was scheduled to arrive. Only ten more minutes and she'd see her husband for the first time in two long years.
She smoothed her skirts and straightened her bonnet, pushing a stray blonde curl behind her ear. In his telegram, Denis also said he had a surprise; knowing her unpredictable Irishman, that could mean anything.
The train arrived on time, but so many people were getting off the train, Amy couldn't see a thing. She jumped up and down, trying to gain a few more inches in which to spot her husband. She needn't have worried, Amy easily saw Denis's mop of red hair above the crowd. She pushed her way through the throng until the strangers suddenly parted, giving Amy full view of her husband.
Denis waved awkwardly, trying to keep his army bag slung over one shoulder, while under his other arm was a crutch. Below his left knee was nothing.
"Surprise," he said with a crooked grin.
Amy felt all the blood leave her face, but she willed herself not to cry. Instead, she put her hands on her hips. "I let you out of my sight for two years and you get your leg shot out from under you."
"Well, I can always get myself a peg leg, maybe a parrot, and become a pirate."
Unable to hold back her tears any longer, Amy ran to him. Denis dropped his bag and hugged his wife tightly. "I'm sorry I wasn't more careful."
Amy looked up at him and smiled. "I'm just glad you're alive."
~*~
The Caribbean, 1698…
Amy stood at attention as Captain Colbert stroked his eagle/parrot, Stephen Jr., and contemplated her fate. Stephen Jr. was really an African Grey parrot, but the captain insisted he was part eagle. No one who wanted to live to a ripe old age would dare contradict him.
Stephen Tyrone Colbert was the most ruthless and cruel pirate who had ever sailed the Caribbean Sea, or so he liked to think. There were far crueler pirate captains, but none as capricious. The crew had gotten used to the captain's contradictory orders, and some had even come to love him. Amy was most certainly one of the latter; unfortunately, Colbert would never know it now.
"Big Rob, Little John!" Colbert barked at the two men flanking the small woman dressed in boy's clothes. "Leave us and prepare for that wrestling match I arranged for later on the Poop deck. You know how much I love watching manly seamen wrestle each other."
Rob and John gave each other knowing glances and uttered an enthusiastic, "Aye, Sir!" in unison before leaving Colbert and Amy alone in the wardroom.
Amy had to bite the insides of her mouth to keep from smirking. Wrestling…is that what they're calling it now? Every crewmember aboard the Freem knew Riggle and Oliver fucked each other silly every chance they got; everyone, except the captain, of course. One of the most lovable things about the pirate was that he seemed to be as innocent as a babe when it came to sexual matters. Amy had often wondered if Colbert had ever known the caress of a woman.
Up until now, Colbert kept his left hand behind his back, but as he slowly approached her he raised his hook, making certain it caught the sunlight, momentarily blinding her. Then he lunged toward her, burying the deadly tip of his hook into the mahogany table behind her. Amy flinched, but did not move from the spot.
"So, Miss Sedaris, let me get this straight," Colbert hissed, his face just inches from hers. "Bobby the boatswain caught you with your shirt off while you were binding your lovelies with rags this morning?"
Amy was terrified, but at the same time, she would have dearly loved to give him a little peck on his perfect lips. "Aye, Sir."
"Which means, I've had a woman aboard this ship for six months without knowing it!" Colbert pulled his hook out of the wood, though not as gracefully as he would have liked. Then he lightly ran the cold metal against her cheek. "It’s a pity I have to make you walk the plank. You're the best cabin boy I've ever had. No one makes my hook shine like you do."
"Then let me stay!" she begged. Forgetting herself, Amy grabbed his hooked hand and held it to her bound bosom. "Please, Captain, I would rather die than not be by your side, serving you in any way I can!"
The captain licked his lips, staring at his hook and turning it slightly so that it caught the front of her shirt. "In any way you can?" he whispered.
Amy threw her head back and pulled down on his hook, revealing the fabric binding her breasts. "Anything!" she said breathlessly. "Everything."
With a growl, Stephen made short work of her shirt. The remaining tatters fell off her shoulders and onto the floor. He slipped the hook down her cleavage, pulling her to him. His eyes smoldered so as he gazed upon her, Amy thought she might catch ablaze. She slipped her arms around his neck and begged for a kiss with her eyes. Enjoying her pleading gaze, he waited several beats before devouring her mouth. As their tongues intertwined, Stephen unbuttoned her trousers, pushing them down past her buttocks, running his fingers between the cleft of her ass. Amy was nearly screaming with pleasure, when Stephen abruptly pulled away from her, though his hook was still between her breasts.
Slowly, Stephen ripped through the layers of fabric around her chest, finally revealing her 'lovelies'. He buried his face in them, moaning appreciatively as he took one, then the other in his mouth. As Amy caressed that deadly, but always fascinating hook, she got a wicked idea. She carefully put it between her legs and rubbed the smooth, curved edge against her sex. Stephen looked up into her half-lidded eyes, shocked but deeply aroused by her actions.
Amy whimpered when he took his hook away, but then he ordered her onto the wardroom table. Taking off his red velvet coat, he folded it carefully and put it under her head as a pillow, then stood at the edge of the table. Amy scooted towards the edge and cupped the growing tent in his trousers in her hand. "Oh, Stephen," she breathed, "let me taste you."
Some of that innocence Amy loved crossed his features briefly, then Stephen quickly released his erection from his trousers, impatiently thrusting towards her lips. Gripping the base of his cock, Amy leaned forward and took the head in her mouth, licking and sucking it gleefully. Stephen impulsively dived between her legs, kissing her thighs sloppily as Amy took more of him in her mouth. As sweet as she tasted, Stephen knew what she really wanted.
He gently placed the curve of his hook between her legs and began to rub back and forth. Amy let out muffled cries of delight, sucking him faster and harder. Though her talented mouth threatened to ruin him, he kept his hook steady lest her maim her.
Amy hardly knew what to enjoy more: the taste of Stephen's precum on her tongue, the sound of her name on Stephen's lips, or the cold steel between her legs. Before she could decide, white heat exploded in her belly and her body shook with a powerful orgasm. As soon as her body stilled, Stephen stood tall, thrusting violently in her mouth. Amy grasped his buttocks hard trying to keep all of him in her mouth as he came down her throat.
Stephen pulled Amy's blonde hair harder than he intended as he climaxed with her warm mouth still surrounding him. He reluctantly pulled away, allowing her to breath properly. Amy lay panting on the hard table, gazing up at him lovingly. Stephen took her in his arms and held her tightly, quickly coming to a decision in the matter of his pretty cabin boy…
Right before the wrestling match was to begin, Captain Colbert stood on the Quarter deck and looked down at his crew. Amy, still dressed in cabin boy's garb, stood with her fellows on the Main deck, waiting for the captain's announcement.
"I'll make this brief, so we can all enjoy Riggle and Oliver wrestle around half naked," Colbert began.
A few catcalls came from crew, but they immediately quieted down when Colbert raised an eyebrow.
"As I was saying, a nasty rumor has been circulating that our cabin boy, David Sedaris, is actually a woman named Amy. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. I have personally examined young David and a manlier specimen I have never seen." Stephen blushed slightly, then cleared his throat. "The next man who makes a false allegation against this fine young seaman will be flogged."
The men around her clapped her on the back and nodded in agreement. Amy got on well with most of the crew, except that Bobby who tattled on everyone.
"Oh, one more thing," Stephen added. "Her--his name is really Amy. And his new quarters will be in my quarters."
The crew looked at the captain in confusion. After a pause, Stephen flashed his hook and drew his cutlass, ready to take on all challengers to his view of reality. There were no takers, and so the wrestling commenced.
Author: darkfaery1
Series: TDS/TCR
Genre: Historical AU
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: het (some kinky) and slash sex, language, a big dollop of crack, a dash of angst.
Pairings: Amy/John O., "Stephen"/Paul, Amy/Paul/Stephen, Amy/Denis Leary, Amy/"Stephen".
Author's Note: I wrote four of these historical ficlets for various threads on ths_just_in. The fifth, which is my personal favorite, I just wrote this morning.
Word count: 3650
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the life or defame the character of any actual person. Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. No money is being made from this work of fiction. It is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material. Any mention of any copyrighted material is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976.
Salem Village, 1692…
"Amy Oliver, you stand accused of Witchcraft and consorting with the Devil. How do you plead?"
Goody Oliver held her head up high. "Not guilty."
Reverend Colbert rolled his eyes. "Very well, if you wish to waste the court's time and postpone the inevitable…explain this!" Colbert held up one of Amy's knitting projects, an ear of corn. "Did the Devil tell you to make this poppet in order to destroy your neighbor's crops?"
"No!" Amy took her creation from his hands and showed it to her neighbors, who were suddenly so willing to believe she would hurt them. They recoiled en masse and little Piper Jones started shrieking. "I just like knitting fake food and felting it. What is so odd about that?"
Her beloved husband, John Oliver, rose shyly to his feet. "Uh, Amy is rather found of knitting food, like sticks of butter, jonnycakes, a roasted chicken." John smiled. "I rather like that one. It looks almost good enough to eat."
The congregation turned around and pointed at him, screaming, "Witch!" in unison.
"Ah, come on," Master Oliver replied.
"People!" yelled Colbert. "It is time for the spectral evidence."
Master Riggle, the village blacksmith, took the stand. Even though he was bigger than every other man in town, he looked upon Goody Oliver with fear. "Last Whitsuntide, Goody Oliver came to me in the middle of the night. She did the most unspeakable things to every part of my body--"
Reverend Colbert leaned toward the blacksmith. "Such as?" Master Riggle tried to protest, but the pious reverend made him whisper the details in his ear. Colbert glared at Amy, but she could have sworn he also gave her a wink.
"After she…finished with me, she made me travel with her to a garden where there was a handsome goat dancing with two other women I did not know. I knew he was the Devil, so I turned and ran home."
"What did the Devil look like?" Master Hodgman asked out of turn.
"To be honest, a bit like your clerk, Reverend, Master Dinello--"
"Strike that from the record, Paul," Colbert snapped. "I will not tolerate slander in my court."
After that, Master Jones and his wife accused Amy of causing their daughter to cry incessantly. Master Black was apparently impotent because of her, and Master Carlson blamed Amy for his inability to find a woman who could abide him.
Though the outcome was obvious, Amy would have to wait until morning before she discovered her fate. John paid the gaoler to allow him to visit his wife that night. Amy was shackled hand and foot, so she could not even embrace him one last time.
They both started when the door opened and were distressed to see Reverend Colbert and his clerk enter, then lock the door behind them.
"You should not be in here, Master Oliver."
"Leave 'em alone, Stephen, they're cute together. Not that I'm usually a big fan of cute, but that fake food of hers kills me. "
Before John or Amy could decipher Master Dinello's strange words, he transformed before their eyes. His skin turned ruddy and his clothes were magically shed. Though his head and torso remained human, his legs became hairy and goatlike. The member that dangled between his legs was enormous and had Reverend Colbert's full attention. He began to breathe hard and no longer seemed to notice Amy or John. Too shocked to even cry out, the Olivers clung to each other and watched the astonishing scene.
The Devil grabbed Stephen's hair and pulled his head back, licking his neck. Stephen fell to his knees, and without preamble, took the Devil's member in his mouth, sucking noisily. Devil Paul leaned against the prison wall and gazed at the couple while Reverend Colbert pleasured him. "Between you and me, all of this Witch business is getting on my nerves. Too much screaming and not nearly enough sex." He paused and moaned, running his hands through Stephen's hair, thrusting into his mouth.
"Tomorrow," the Devil continued, "the good reverend here will acquit you, and then you can go home."
John looked from his wife to the Devil and back again. "Then what Master Riggle said was true," he said with a devastated expression. "It was you that went to him and did unspeakable things to his abnormally muscular body."
Amy shook her head vigorously. "No! I could never be unfaithful to you!"
"She right," the Devil told him. "That was Samantha Jones pretending to be Amy. Now, that's a scary Witch."
The Devil took hold of the Reverend's head and thrust in earnest until a roar escaped his lips. Come dribbled down Stephen's chin, which Stephen wiped away and lapped up greedily. With a snap of Devil Paul's fingers, everything returned to normal. The Reverend Colbert and his clerk left her cell; John left soon after, bewildered, but strangely hopeful.
The next day went just as Master Dinello said it would. Much to her neighbors' dismay, she was found not guilty and sent home, but all of Amy's felted fake food was gone.
~*~
London, November, 1943…
Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me
Anyone else but me, anyone else but me, no, no, no…
WAC Corporal Amy Sedaris went to the USO like she did most nights, helping pass out donuts and coffee and dancing with American GI's. She had joined the Women's Army Corps in a fit of patriotic fervor, so anxious to help the Allied war effort in any way she could; working as a file clerk in London was not what she had in mind.
She would have been content if not for that swell song, Rosie the Riveter, that came out earlier that year. That's what she wanted to do, make planes and bombs that would show those Nazi's what for. Amy sighed and prepared another tray of coffee and donuts. As she distributed them, two GI's strutted in. Every gal in the place turned and stared, immediately forgetting the guy they were dancing with. Fortunately, Amy was close to the door and was Johnny-on-the-spot with coffee and donuts.
They were flyboys; that much was obvious from their attitude as well as their uniforms. The curly brown-haired one with deliciously full lips took two donuts. His name was Paul. His tall, dark, and handsome friend, Stephen, only took a cup of coffee.
"Hey, you're a WAC!" Stephen exclaimed. "You shouldn't be schelping, you should be dancing." Stephen took the tray, while Paul pulled her onto the dance floor. Instead of finding a girl of his own to dance with, Stephen watched them intently, awaiting his turn. Soon after, both men were dancing with her and making up filthy lyrics to Glenn Miller songs. They not-so-casually brushed up against her while they dance, touching her bottom and breasts, setting her passions aflame.
It wasn't long before Stephen and Paul led Amy to a rented room, gently undressing her, then each other. The two men began kissing each other, caressing every inch of the other man's body. Amy couldn't help but touch herself as she watched them.
Finally withdrawing from each other, they joined her on the bed, Stephen diving between her legs as Paul devoured her mouth.
Okay, so being a WAC file clerk in London wasn't all bad.
~*~
Whitehall Palace, London, 1570…
Elizabeth's Ladies in Waiting had many duties, including keeping the Virgin Queen company and distracting her when the pressures of a Prince became too much to bear. Their primary duty, however, was to secure the most advantageous marriage possible, so their conversation often turned to that topic. It was at these times that Amy took an inordinate interest in her book, an ancient Greek text, that despite all her scholarly efforts was still, by and large, Greek to her.
"What say you, Amy? You have yet to tell me what sort of man you wish to marry?" her beloved queen asked.
Amy held back a grin. "I wish to marry the Duke of Norfolk, for he is sullen and humorless, and I find that very attractive."
"Norfolk is a recalcitrant Catholic who I would not trust to tie my groom's shoes," Elizabeth said, then broke out into a smile. "You must not mock your supposed betters in front of others, even though His Grace is an ass."
Lady Katherine, Elizabeth's current favorite, gave Amy a cruel smirk. "Besides, no duke would want a penniless girl like you with an estate unfit on which to grow weeds."
"Enough!" The queen snapped. "Leave us." When they were alone, the queen said gently, "I know why you do not wish to speak of marriage. You told me when you first came here."
"That I wanted to marry for love or not at all."
"And what did I tell you?"
Amy sighed. "That it is a luxury for peasants, not for the nobility."
The queen nodded. "I wish I could grant your request. You amuse me when I need it most and though there are many nobles who dislike you for it, you are the only one my ladies whose influence cannot be bought"
Amy blushed and smiled. "Can I not just stay with you and continue to make you laugh? You could make me your jester. I believe I would feel far more comfortable in the garb of a joker."
"I am afraid not, dearest." Elizabeth stroked her cheek affectionately with her gloved hand. "There is a man I wish you to meet, the new Earl of Derby. He has not been to court since you have come here, but I wish you to marry him if you can at all bear it."
In the great hall of Whitehall Palace, Elizabeth introduced Amy to John Oliver, Earl of Derby, then suggested he ask her lady to dance. He bowed deeply again and led her in a Pavane, a dull stately procession where only fingertips touched. Amy glanced at the Earl, who looked dreadfully uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He was a pleasant-faced fellow with black hair and dark eyes, dressed in a rich wine-colored doublet. Amy decided halfway through the dance that the Earl was handsome enough, though not in a conceited sort of way like the Duke of Leicester or Sir Walter Raleigh.
John seemed very relieved when the dance ended. Then the queen called for a Volte: the only dance in which partners embraced tightly. Amy clapped with glee; John Oliver, 3rd Earl of Derby, ran away. His exit was accompanied by the snickering of half the court.
The Queen motioned with a graceful wave of her hand that Amy was to go after him. She found him in the garden, bent over with his hands on knees, attempting to slow his breathing. "My Lord, please sit down." Amy took his arm and led him to a bench. "I will fetch you some wine to revive you."
He shook his head miserably. "I am so, so sorry. I must be such a disappointment to you."
"Because you don't know how to dance a Volte? I can teach you." Amy held out her hands, but he just shook his head, so she sat beside him.
"Perhaps I am so nervous because I did not expect anyone so beautiful and graceful."
Amy was more than pleased by his sincere compliment. "But I have no fortune, did the Queen tell you that?"
John nodded, but did not look disheartened at the prospect. "Did she tell you that I am desperately shy and would rather have my head stuck on a spike in front of the Tower than come to court?"
Amy giggled, eliciting a lovely smile from John. "I suppose I should tell you that speak my mind even when it is not in my best interest to do so."
"I rather like strong-minded women," he said, timidly taking her hand. "Keeps a man on his toes."
They sat in the garden for the rest of the evening, preferring kissing to dancing. By the end of it, Amy thought she could bear a marriage to John Oliver, 3rd Earl of Derby very well indeed.
~*~
December, 1864…
Amy waited on the platform of Exchange Place Station in New Jersey just like the telegram said. She asked the man next to her for the time: only ten more minutes before the train was scheduled to arrive. Only ten more minutes and she'd see her husband for the first time in two long years.
She smoothed her skirts and straightened her bonnet, pushing a stray blonde curl behind her ear. In his telegram, Denis also said he had a surprise; knowing her unpredictable Irishman, that could mean anything.
The train arrived on time, but so many people were getting off the train, Amy couldn't see a thing. She jumped up and down, trying to gain a few more inches in which to spot her husband. She needn't have worried, Amy easily saw Denis's mop of red hair above the crowd. She pushed her way through the throng until the strangers suddenly parted, giving Amy full view of her husband.
Denis waved awkwardly, trying to keep his army bag slung over one shoulder, while under his other arm was a crutch. Below his left knee was nothing.
"Surprise," he said with a crooked grin.
Amy felt all the blood leave her face, but she willed herself not to cry. Instead, she put her hands on her hips. "I let you out of my sight for two years and you get your leg shot out from under you."
"Well, I can always get myself a peg leg, maybe a parrot, and become a pirate."
Unable to hold back her tears any longer, Amy ran to him. Denis dropped his bag and hugged his wife tightly. "I'm sorry I wasn't more careful."
Amy looked up at him and smiled. "I'm just glad you're alive."
~*~
The Caribbean, 1698…
Amy stood at attention as Captain Colbert stroked his eagle/parrot, Stephen Jr., and contemplated her fate. Stephen Jr. was really an African Grey parrot, but the captain insisted he was part eagle. No one who wanted to live to a ripe old age would dare contradict him.
Stephen Tyrone Colbert was the most ruthless and cruel pirate who had ever sailed the Caribbean Sea, or so he liked to think. There were far crueler pirate captains, but none as capricious. The crew had gotten used to the captain's contradictory orders, and some had even come to love him. Amy was most certainly one of the latter; unfortunately, Colbert would never know it now.
"Big Rob, Little John!" Colbert barked at the two men flanking the small woman dressed in boy's clothes. "Leave us and prepare for that wrestling match I arranged for later on the Poop deck. You know how much I love watching manly seamen wrestle each other."
Rob and John gave each other knowing glances and uttered an enthusiastic, "Aye, Sir!" in unison before leaving Colbert and Amy alone in the wardroom.
Amy had to bite the insides of her mouth to keep from smirking. Wrestling…is that what they're calling it now? Every crewmember aboard the Freem knew Riggle and Oliver fucked each other silly every chance they got; everyone, except the captain, of course. One of the most lovable things about the pirate was that he seemed to be as innocent as a babe when it came to sexual matters. Amy had often wondered if Colbert had ever known the caress of a woman.
Up until now, Colbert kept his left hand behind his back, but as he slowly approached her he raised his hook, making certain it caught the sunlight, momentarily blinding her. Then he lunged toward her, burying the deadly tip of his hook into the mahogany table behind her. Amy flinched, but did not move from the spot.
"So, Miss Sedaris, let me get this straight," Colbert hissed, his face just inches from hers. "Bobby the boatswain caught you with your shirt off while you were binding your lovelies with rags this morning?"
Amy was terrified, but at the same time, she would have dearly loved to give him a little peck on his perfect lips. "Aye, Sir."
"Which means, I've had a woman aboard this ship for six months without knowing it!" Colbert pulled his hook out of the wood, though not as gracefully as he would have liked. Then he lightly ran the cold metal against her cheek. "It’s a pity I have to make you walk the plank. You're the best cabin boy I've ever had. No one makes my hook shine like you do."
"Then let me stay!" she begged. Forgetting herself, Amy grabbed his hooked hand and held it to her bound bosom. "Please, Captain, I would rather die than not be by your side, serving you in any way I can!"
The captain licked his lips, staring at his hook and turning it slightly so that it caught the front of her shirt. "In any way you can?" he whispered.
Amy threw her head back and pulled down on his hook, revealing the fabric binding her breasts. "Anything!" she said breathlessly. "Everything."
With a growl, Stephen made short work of her shirt. The remaining tatters fell off her shoulders and onto the floor. He slipped the hook down her cleavage, pulling her to him. His eyes smoldered so as he gazed upon her, Amy thought she might catch ablaze. She slipped her arms around his neck and begged for a kiss with her eyes. Enjoying her pleading gaze, he waited several beats before devouring her mouth. As their tongues intertwined, Stephen unbuttoned her trousers, pushing them down past her buttocks, running his fingers between the cleft of her ass. Amy was nearly screaming with pleasure, when Stephen abruptly pulled away from her, though his hook was still between her breasts.
Slowly, Stephen ripped through the layers of fabric around her chest, finally revealing her 'lovelies'. He buried his face in them, moaning appreciatively as he took one, then the other in his mouth. As Amy caressed that deadly, but always fascinating hook, she got a wicked idea. She carefully put it between her legs and rubbed the smooth, curved edge against her sex. Stephen looked up into her half-lidded eyes, shocked but deeply aroused by her actions.
Amy whimpered when he took his hook away, but then he ordered her onto the wardroom table. Taking off his red velvet coat, he folded it carefully and put it under her head as a pillow, then stood at the edge of the table. Amy scooted towards the edge and cupped the growing tent in his trousers in her hand. "Oh, Stephen," she breathed, "let me taste you."
Some of that innocence Amy loved crossed his features briefly, then Stephen quickly released his erection from his trousers, impatiently thrusting towards her lips. Gripping the base of his cock, Amy leaned forward and took the head in her mouth, licking and sucking it gleefully. Stephen impulsively dived between her legs, kissing her thighs sloppily as Amy took more of him in her mouth. As sweet as she tasted, Stephen knew what she really wanted.
He gently placed the curve of his hook between her legs and began to rub back and forth. Amy let out muffled cries of delight, sucking him faster and harder. Though her talented mouth threatened to ruin him, he kept his hook steady lest her maim her.
Amy hardly knew what to enjoy more: the taste of Stephen's precum on her tongue, the sound of her name on Stephen's lips, or the cold steel between her legs. Before she could decide, white heat exploded in her belly and her body shook with a powerful orgasm. As soon as her body stilled, Stephen stood tall, thrusting violently in her mouth. Amy grasped his buttocks hard trying to keep all of him in her mouth as he came down her throat.
Stephen pulled Amy's blonde hair harder than he intended as he climaxed with her warm mouth still surrounding him. He reluctantly pulled away, allowing her to breath properly. Amy lay panting on the hard table, gazing up at him lovingly. Stephen took her in his arms and held her tightly, quickly coming to a decision in the matter of his pretty cabin boy…
Right before the wrestling match was to begin, Captain Colbert stood on the Quarter deck and looked down at his crew. Amy, still dressed in cabin boy's garb, stood with her fellows on the Main deck, waiting for the captain's announcement.
"I'll make this brief, so we can all enjoy Riggle and Oliver wrestle around half naked," Colbert began.
A few catcalls came from crew, but they immediately quieted down when Colbert raised an eyebrow.
"As I was saying, a nasty rumor has been circulating that our cabin boy, David Sedaris, is actually a woman named Amy. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. I have personally examined young David and a manlier specimen I have never seen." Stephen blushed slightly, then cleared his throat. "The next man who makes a false allegation against this fine young seaman will be flogged."
The men around her clapped her on the back and nodded in agreement. Amy got on well with most of the crew, except that Bobby who tattled on everyone.
"Oh, one more thing," Stephen added. "Her--his name is really Amy. And his new quarters will be in my quarters."
The crew looked at the captain in confusion. After a pause, Stephen flashed his hook and drew his cutlass, ready to take on all challengers to his view of reality. There were no takers, and so the wrestling commenced.