(Bridget's been sitting in my family room again, tossing down Irish whiskey and talking about her adventures. She had hinted about this one before, what she did in England after her rescue mission to France in WWII. So here it is. For those of you who don't know her, I refer you to Chapter 1 of "Bridget's Nights" where she first appeared and explained a lot about herself. This story contains both Male/Female and Female/Female sex. Thank you Marian as always for the errors you caught and the reminder to everyone that I keep changing things till the last minute and any and all errors are solely my responsibility.)
The French call them "Pilchards". Americans usually refer to them as "Sardines", the young ones anyway. Regardless of what you call them, being covered by thousands of them fresh from the waters off the French Coast, is anything but an olfactory treat. They STINK. When you have the heightened senses of a vampire, they REALLY stink. And so do you after hiding in them for a few hours.
There was a perfectly good reason I had been buried in sardines and it made me mad enough to declare a personal war on the German Navy. Of course as an agent of the OSS I was already involved in the war my adoptive country was fighting with the Reich, but now I was specifically furious with the Nazi E-Boat fleet.
I had been a part of a combined French/OSS Jedburgh operation to free an important leader of the Resistance whom the Gestapo had captured. Jacques Lorimar was as brave a man as I had met in my four hundred odd years on the earth, but even the bravest person had a breaking point and the Gestapo was superb at finding those. He carried the names of a number of agents and Resistance operatives in his head. We needed him out.
In the days before night vision goggles and thermal imagery, if you wanted to do something sneaky, you did it at night. A darn good thing for me, as exposure to about 15 seconds of direct sunlight was guaranteed to turn me into "Bridget Flambeau". So the parachute drop from the belly of a British Lancaster bomber took place at night. So did the successful raid on the prison and the ex-filtration of Jacques and myself once the Underground doctor had patched him up enough to travel.
The status of the French fishing boats was one of those curious anomalies that exist even in an all out war. The Germans were quite aware that the Frenchmen manning those boats were making occasional contact with the British SOE (Special Operations Executive). But the catch those boats made was badly needed by the Nazis. At the same time, the British knew the fish were supplied to the Reich, but the contacts afforded by the fishermen with the Underground were too valuable for THEM to stop. So everyone turned a semi-blind eye. After all, this unofficial commerce had been going on since at least the Napoleanic Wars. I had taken advantage of it back then.
Still, it didn't mean that the boats were completely free to do as they wished. The Germans didn't have the manpower to post a watcher everywhere, but they conducted random searches at the docks, planted informers and, as I found out, sometimes stopped and inspected the boats.
In this particular case it was an E-boat, the German equivalent of the American PT Boat. The crew was reinforced by an even dozen German soldiers with one of those ubiquitous leather-coated Gestapo Agents in charge. They had swept down upon the slow-moving trawler that Jacques and I were hiding on and boarded us.
There was a secret compartment in the hold. Unfortunately, all of Jacques' injuries and bandages made it a one person hiding place. An engine crewman and I scrambled to cover the lid. Jackboots were already clumping down the ladder, giving him barely enough time to dart back into the engine room and me to burrow myself as deeply as I could in a large, smelly, cold and wet pile of little fish.
Eventually they gave up. Not long after we were met by a British Motor Gunboat, which whisked us away and to safely land before daylight. However there was no place to shower on that speedy little boat and even the imperturbable Brits were giving me a special salute, one that involved the thumb and forefinger clamped firmly over the nose. I haven't smelled like that since my first days in America in the early 1800's. Well, nobody told ME there was a reason everyone kept far away from those cute little black animals with the white stripe on their backs.
Jacques was taken to a hospital. My plan was to find a way to the OSS safe house and set a new world's record for the longest hot shower followed by a short nap that I hoped would last all day. Of course that wasn't going to happen. Should I have been the least bit surprised that everyone and her brother seemed to have a different idea?
I had four messages waiting for me at the pier, summoning me to four different places. The OSS Station Chief wanted to see me, as did the SOE, SHAPE G-2 and interestingly enough, SHAPE G-1. The first three made sense, but I wondered why the Personnel Officer needed to see me.
My preference would have been to report to the OSS first. However, the SHAPE G-2 had accompanied his message with a Lieutenant Colonel who loftily reminded me that I was a Captain in the US Army. As tempted as I was to toss him off the wharf to see if the cold water would shrink his ego, I restrained myself and accompanied him, happy in the knowledge that he could only hold his breath for so long in the enclosed staff car he had brought. The Corporal who was driving, made of sterner stuff, was actually enjoying the discomfort of the stuffed shirt beside me. Once we had arrived he even winked at me as he gravely held the door open for us. I winked back. He was cute.
It turned out that what the Colonel wanted was for me to give him a full report on my little excursion to the continent. Apparently his idea was to submit it immediately through channels ahead of everyone else. I figured that somehow he was going to try to claim some credit for an operation he wasn't even aware of before it took place. I made a mental note to tell the Station Chief there was a leak somewhere.
In the meantime, I stalled. I demanded proof of his security clearance, his need to know, everything but his birth certificate. I made a great deal of noise. The fact that he was trying to stay as far away from me as possible made it hard for him to stick his face in mine and threaten my career with any real degree of effectiveness. He did keep at me, enough that for the first time in my unlife I was considering eating someone that was on the same side as me.
I didn't, of course. I didn't even show my fangs. However I was saved from a really serious contemplation of that maneuver when a knock sounded on the door. Without waiting for any answer, the door opened and a WAC officer wearing the same silver leaves as my interrogator strode briskly into the room.
"Captain O'Brien?" Still without waiting for an answer, she continued. "You're a hard woman to find. I have orders to conduct you to Southby House immediately. General Donovan has been looking for you."
"Just a moment," the Intelligence Colonel sputtered. "I'm not finished with...". He broke off as I stood up and started for the door. At the same time, the WAC lifted an eyebrow.
"Surely you heard me Colonel? Major General Donovan commands Captain O'Brien's presence. Shall I call him to tell him you feel your business is more important? Or would you prefer to do that yourself?"
From the sounds coming from the office once we had closed the door behind us, the intelligence officer was still trying to find the right words to express his outrage. I smiled gratefully at my rescuer.
"Thanks. I don't know who exactly you are and where you come from, but I'm very happy that you showed up. I'd offer to shake hands but I'm not sure you want to get that close."
"Bridget, I'm Jill Shelby and I'm from the training station. Colonel Stevens sent me in search of you when you didn't show up. I found from the Brits that you had been carried off in a staff car and tracked it down. The driver was happy to tell me where and with whom you had been taken." Seeing my expression she hastened to reassure me. "Don't worry. As soon as we get back I'm planning on making arrangements to transfer him to us. I believe he can keep his mouth shut, but at the same time he has the judgment when to open it."
We walked to another staff car. Jill surprised me by opening the driver's side door and indicating I should get in on the other side of the front seat. I grinned as I saw an Army raincoat had been stretched across the seat. Apparently the young corporal had fully briefed Jill. I climbed in and closed the door as Jill slid in behind the wheel.
"No driver?" I inquired.
"Nope," Jill grinned at me. "I like driving myself. I enjoy driving and it eliminates anyone who knows just what I do and where I go and who I might be with."
"A good security precaution," I commented.
"Yes," she replied. "And for more than one reason." Jill bit off the end of the afterthought as though she suddenly realized she had said more than she should have.
I considered what else she could have meant. I kept sneaking looks at her. She was taller than me by a good four inches and had a much fuller body. I noticed her uniform was of excellent quality and cut to flatter her figure. The stockings encasing her legs, which I rested my weary eyes on a good bit, looked to be pre-war material.
They were very good legs I noticed. Shapely, with rounded calves and nice thighs, more and more of which I got to see as she drove and her skirt seemed to work its way up bit by bit. I began to feel a little dance was underway between the two of us, I was watching her legs, she was watching me look at her and both of us were pretending nothing was going on.
We finally reached the sprawling English house that had been leased to the US government and assigned to the OSS as its headquarters in Britain. Jill parked the car and we got out. I noticed she exited the car one leg at a time, rather like a guy, instead of swinging both legs out together. Not that I minded, her skirt rode up far enough for me to see a full expanse of creamy white thigh above her stockings.
Jill ushered me in to see Colonel Stevens, whom I had met before the mission. Several others were waiting with him along with him, one of whom piped up even before Jill and I had saluted the Colonel.
"Welcome back, Nightingal." He wrinkled his nose, a gesture everyone in the room was copying with greater or lesser degrees of tact. "And what in the hell have you been rolling in?"
He might have said more, but Colonel Stevens cut him off. Not that I didn't LIKE Dick, he was clever and handsome and I would have bedded him in an instant had he not been attached to his war-correspondent girlfriend. But the names he hung on people. Still, what do you expect of someone who was half of a team that even Director Donovan referred to as "The Hardy Boys"?
"Another time Dick." He returned his attention to me. "You are alright Bridget? And Jacques? Safely at the hospital? And Colonel Shelby rescued you from a certain G-2 Officer who's ass I am going to have on a plate tomorrow?" I simply nodded to each question.
"Good. General Donovan wants a full report, but I can convince him to wait until you have bathed and slept. Colonel Shelby, would you please take care of Captain O'Brien?"
Jill took me by the elbow and guided me along the corridors of the winding old house. I had a strange feeling of familiarity and wondered if I had ever been here before. It was possible.
"Bridget, tomorrow we'll get you into quarters. Tonight, you can bathe and sleep here." She led me into a nice room and pointed at a door I assumed opened into the bath. I walked wearily there, closed the door behind me and stripped as I waited for the water to warm up.
I think I actually gave a moan of delight when the warm water hit me. I could tell an American had worked over the system as the water was a hard stream instead of a drizzle. I scrubbed furiously, twisting and turning to allow the stream of water to probe everywhere on my body. The soap was hard, yellow English wartime stuff but it cleaned me. I was trying to get it to lather enough to wash my hair when I heard a knock on the bathroom door.
"Bridget? Its Jill. I have a present for you."
Jill's legs flashed back into my mind, along with those very interesting thoughts I had about them and any present that might involve them. Dismissing them, I called back, "All presents gratefully received Jill. The door's unlocked."
I felt a bit of a breeze through the shower curtain, indicating the door had opened and then heard the latch click as it was closed. A shapely bare arm and hand came through the curtain, holding a bar of pink soap.
"Try this. I think you'll feel a lot better." There was a soft laugh. "Probably smell a bit better too."
Oh golly. Pre-war American bath soap. A rich sweet scented foam appeared almost immediately as I rubbed it over my body.
"Thank you, Jill!" I thought about it and a slight frown crossed my face. "But you can't have much of it. I know its not available here at all."
"No, well, I'm down to the last couple of bars I brought when I was assigned here. But you really deserve a bit of a pampering."
"Why thank you again." I debated for a moment, thinking of whether I was right in the look I had seen in Jill's eyes when I had watched her slide out of the car. I shrugged. Nothing ventured and all the rest.
"Don't you think we better share it then?"
The curtain cracked again, a bit wider this time. Then Jill slipped through the opening and pulled it closed behind her. "I thought you would never ask."
I looked at her. Her body was generous but without fat, her heavy breasts tipped with big brown nipples. Dark curls blossomed between her legs. Her legs were full and shapely and my fingers itched to explore her smooth skin.
"Turn around and I'll wash your back," I breathed as I fumbled behind me, adjusting the nozzle's flow higher to splash over her.
She smiled and turned around. As she did she lifted her arms over her head and rose up on her toes. The muscles in her legs flexed and it was all I could do to keep from falling to my knees behind her and worshiping them and her taut ass. Instead, I swallowed extremely hard and began to wash her back.
I swear Jill purred as I worked the lather across her shoulders and down her back. Not only did I scrub her, I used several centuries of experience to knead her muscles, relaxing her. She settled into a comfortable slump, her arms hanging loosely by her sides. I was close behind her now, my lips only inches from her shoulder.
My hands slid over her ass. Immediately I heard a deep moan from Jill and her butt muscles tightened. I was so aroused that for a moment I worried my fangs might drop. I took one of those deep breaths that I don't need and concentrated on massaging her clenched ass.
The two of us were locked in a struggle to see who would give in first. I stooped slightly, my hands sliding, reluctantly, from Jill's ass to the back of her thighs. Bit by bit they parted and I could scent her excitement, the steam from the hot water causing it to spread through the shower and mingle with my own. My body was so close to her I could feel the heat smoldering between us.
My soapy hands glided to the front of her legs. Carefully avoiding touching her between her legs, I encircled her with my arms, my soapy hands pressing against the top of her mound and creeping up her firm belly. I had moved so close my hardened nipples were almost but not quite brushing against her back.
There wasn't a winner in our silent contest to maintain control. Of course, that also meant there wasn't a loser. I think it was the slight brush of Jill's breasts against the top of my fingers that set us both off. She grasped my hands and pulled them up to cover her full orbs. At the same time I pressed myself tightly against her back. My much smaller breasts flattened against her, my nipples so hard I thought they were poking holes into her skin.
My thumbs and forefingers closed over her thick brown nipples, holding them tightly while the palms of my hands lifted the full orbs. She reached back and seized my hips, pulling me even closer to her. I wiggled my hips, rubbing my pussy up and down against the cleft of her ass.
Jill leaned forward and spread her legs. Because of my shorter height, I slid down her body and between her legs. The water still splashing over us was no wetter than either of us were between our legs. I leaned back slightly, maintaining my firm grip on her breasts and lifted myself onto my toes. With my body positioned as it was, I was able to push up to her. Using my greater than human strength, I ground myself hard against her.
The position was ridiculous, even after Jill released me and bent all the way over to brace her hands on the shower wall. I took advantage of her shift to let go of her breasts, drop to my knees and bury my face into her ass. Freshly washed, I tasted soap as I drug my tongue along her cleft and began to tease the dark rosette hidden there.
I was too eager to get to the main course though. Squirming to face the other way, I slid between her legs and lifted my face to her pussy. The streaming water carried her nectar down her thighs and I ran my tongue up the inside of each one before parting her trimmed bush and plunging inside of her. My fingers danced back up her tummy and recaptured her nipples as her breasts dangled.
Jill cried out as I covered her with my mouth. Her clit was amazing. Unhooded, it was one of biggest I had ever seen. Taking it in my lips I ran my tongue over its tip, feeling it grow as hard as the pearl it was often called. I began to pull and pinch the comely WAC's nipples. She pulled up and I started to release them, worried that was hurting her.
"No Bridget," she gasped. "Pinch them hard."
I complied, squeezing them almost flat in my fingers and pulling down on them. I drove my tongue deep into her vagina and sucked and chewed on her pussy. as I felt her first spasm I withdrew my tongue from inside her and began to batter her hard nubbin with it. I heard her cry out and, without using my fangs, I bit down on her throbbing clit.
It was a darn good thing I didn't need to breathe. Not only was the shower water running down Jill's body but she began to flood me with her juices. Then she tried to pin my head between her pussy and the shower wall as she wildly ground her clit against my lips. It wasn't until after repeated orgasms that she almost fell on top of me.
As we calmed, we noticed the water was cooling off. Hastily we scrambled from the bath, dried each other off, and then hopped into the bed under a warm English coverlet where we snuggled and fell asleep together.
I awoke what must have been hours later. Shifting my body, I tried to squirm up against Jill's warm body. I found I couldn't. She didn't seem to be in bed with me. I rolled over and found that I could only move so far, as my right hand seemed to be stuck over my head. I opened my eyes.
Well, that explained my hand. It was handcuffed to the bed frame. I looked and found Jill sitting in an overstuffed chair on the other side of the room, wearing a cotton robe and apparently nothing else.
"I might get a little kinky, but not on a first date please," I commented just before I noticed the Colt 1911A1 automatic in her hand, the muzzle pointed at me. "And that would be for..." I let my words trail away.
"When I woke up this morning, I snuggled with you." The black hole at the end of the pistol never wavered. Neither did her gaze. "I noticed something immediately. Your body was cool. Cold in fact. No warmth at all. I started shivering. Then I realized that my shivering might not just be because your temperature was so low. It might be the instinctive reaction of knowing I was laying next to something unnatural."
I wanted to say something, but for one of the few times in my centuries I was at a loss for words that might improve the situation. I said nothing.
"I was pretty sure you were asleep, in some form or another, so I got close, put my arm around you and listened. There was no slow, steady breathing of a sleeping person. In fact, you weren't breathing at all. Nor could I find any trace of a heartbeat." She thumbed back the hammer of the Colt. "Can you think of any reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now?"
"Well, one good one I suppose." I replied, as calmly as I could. In response to her look of inquiry I went on. "That reason is that, although the bullets will hurt a good bit, any damage they do will be only temporary. On the other hand," I nodded towards the heavy blackout drapes pulled across the single window, "If it is daylight and I bet that it is, if you pull those curtains aside you'll see an immediate reaction."
I swallowed hard as she stood and stepped over to the dark cloth, the pistol still trained on me. "So what will this reaction be?"
"If the sunlight on me is indirect, I'll begin to alternate sweats and chills. My skin will get very dry and it will feel like its burning. That feeling will spread throughout my body. I will get light-headed and then mentally confused. Eventually dementia may take over and I will become extremely violent. On the other hand, if the sunlight hits me directly, well, I will have just enough time to say a final prayer and you will have to extinguish the bed, because when my body catches fire so will it."
"So you are, what, a vampire?"
"Yes," I answered briefly.
"And you were going to bite me."
"You're a vampire. You drink blood."
"Yes I am and I do. But popular lore about vampires is wrong on many accounts. One of those misconceptions is that we need to feed all the time. I drank from several of the SS guards at the Gestapo interrogation center. I won't even begin to be hungry for several days. And even then, I have no need, or desire, to kill in order to satisfy my need."
"You just admitted you killed."