Chapter 1

"I'm at the crossroads," said Nick in the palatial home of rich minions on the outskirts of Boston, "there in the place of my birth on the southeast corner of the Mediterranean. I go south from there in my new black skin, assisting a tribe of Ruth's people escaping Egyptian conquest to what would become Ethiopia, to the people who looked like me. I would go north and east and west from there eventually. Returning to the first tale of my newest skin could bring me back to Maggie and Maddy and the life of a wandering warlock, from priest of nature to outlawed pagan. Or I could journey west as a conquistador, my suspicious swarthy skin speaking of a Moorish ingredient in my bloodline making my traitorous escape into the Andes less surprising to the Spanish who held me in contempt while following my wise advice. There I guided Rosa's tribe to retain their beliefs while pretending Christianity. Or I could go east, to my sad angel in India, or later, to my time in the jungles of Southeast Asia and the siring of my Siamese cutie. That would be a jump, as would Betty's and Alexandra's tales, as they had no contact with me yet in my modern skin. Or I could follow another failure of an angel, the real deaths instead of the death of faith of Helen's, either of Aziza's or Cleopatra's."

"Aziza would bring up your origin," I suggested.

"True," Nick nodded.

"We're not ready for that," Betty said. "I think my conception should bring that to light."

Nick smiled. "My first physical confrontation with Simon. I agree. So..."

"That would make Aziza also a later tale," Betty added.

"Since chronology seems not to be an ordering device for the tales;" Lindy pointed out, "no elision, more ellipses, with tangents becoming full-fledged tales..."

We looked to Betty.

"Africa," she decided.

"Why?" asked Salomé, making me laugh.

"What's so funny?" my wife asked me from her usual position on the floor between my thighs.

My wife. What a transformative phrase. My partner in life. My mate. My true love. My soul mate.

My future, her womb containing our child, the beginning of the Joseph and Helena Solomon family.

Before the summer, I never dreamed of family. Three abortions had resulted from neither me nor my girlfriends being ready for such a thing. A father. I doubted if I'd ever be that mature. No longer.

I looked forward to meeting our child, watching it emerge from Helena's womb and suckling Helena's teat and getting comforted by the both of us and learning from us and going on to be a separate being from us, someone special and fascinating and fascinated, different yet containing the synthesis of both genetic and experiential material from Helena and I within his or her make up. He or she might contain whatever Nick contained, magic and immortality, and yet being my child and Helena's seemed far more important and wished for. I felt ready for it.

Our honeymoon, just beginning or not even really begun, had already been a revelation. We'd spent days alone with each other. We abandoned the urban for the rural for most of it, staying in my family's cabin on Leech Lake in central Minnesota. Only some dinners with my parents and Anne and the business of acquiring a passport brought us to the civilized Twin Cities.

At Leech Lake, it was pastoral bliss, with canoe trips and even catching lake trout and a muskie for our meals. We had only the distraction of beautiful nature surrounding us, flora and fauna and the gentle laps of the large, quiet lake water against the shoreline or the flames licking at the night from our camp fire. And of course the chorus of insects buzzing behind it all. Otherwise we were completely engrossed in each other, making love with our bodies and our minds, discovering being only in each other's company to be a joyous thing. We hadn't been alone together until then, at least for any real length of time, and we revelled in it.

Returning thoughts back to Boston, kissing my wife's soft raven hair covered head, I answered her question. "You're such a contrast from Helen, Salomé. Helen would be salivating with the opportunity to take center stage."

For the week we were in Minnesota, Helen and her minions had worked in Boston with Lindy on music for her dances along with composing incidental music for her and my plays. By the time we arrived in Boston, they had departed for Paris to workshop with musicians there and to prepare for a weekend of concerts. Of the Simon faction (if indeed Helen could still be considered Simon's at that point) only Eva remained, eventually greeting us with open arms and legs and sharing our marriage bed, a very full one with Lindy and Miwa joining us for our reunion earlier. Nick let us have the California king in the master bedroom to accommodate us.

But if Helen had remained in the States, we all pretty much figured she'd be absent during further telling of Nick's tales, having had her moment and not interested in her sister angels' moments. Eva, however, joined us, leaning against Helena on the floor and keeping close contact with me as well. Unlike her sort of half-sister, she found the tales fascinating. And if the possibility of her being a spy for Simon might be a dark shadow in her bright presence, she neither showed an underhanded purpose, nor did Nick really care if she was.

Salomé shrugged. "It just shows what a lousy angel Helen is. Always her agenda."

"Or Simon's," Naomi added.

We all nodded.

"Selfishness seems to be the agenda for Simon," said Nick. "And his angels reflect that."

He looked to Eva for a response. She shrugged. "He believes in his purpose, his agenda as you call it, and believes the single-minded pursuit of it shows his great strength and power."

"What about your agenda, Snake?" I asked.

He laughed. "Perhaps I'm the same."

Except for Helena, all the angels grumbled their disagreement. Nick noticed her lack of support for him. "You agree with me, my youngest?"

"In a way, your procreations and your development of us angels and your minions made it easier for you to achieve your agenda. The minions aided your conceits to seem even more magical than you already are, and our geniuses improved such things as communication and travel to achieve an ever greater presence in the world, not to mention backing you up when things got hairy for you."

"That may be," Maggie began with Maddy adding, "but we've never been cynical about it," and Maggie finishing with "and we have always managed to enhance our genius's lives along with their, um, genius."

"I agree," said my wife. "But it wasn't complete selflessness, was it Father?"

Salomé argued, "Maybe not for him, but for us it's been the betterment of men and women, and, in the end, mankind, that gives us purpose."

Alexandra countered, "But it hasn't been all that selfless. We do enjoy our work, right Chanda."

"True, my love," Chanda smiled brightly. "I do love making movies even while the work brings me geniuses and communicates purposes."

"And fucking interesting men doesn't hurt," said Maggie.

"Said like a true slut," her twin rejoined, causing a quiet murmur of chuckles.

Salomé ended the tangent, "But why Africa?"

"Several reasons, actually," Betty responded. "First, though Cleopatra's story fits the theme of brief and rebellious angels..."

"Cleopatra rebelled against you?" Lindy asked Nick.

"Not exactly rebelled like Helen joining the enemy so to speak," Nick answered. "More like she chose not to heed my warnings not to lose her head and heart to her genius."

"Her suicide," Lindy nodded. "But wasn't she an immortal? How could a poisonous snake have killed her?"

"It didn't. When I say she lost her head and heart, I'm being literal."

"But..."

"I said too much. We'll join Cleo and her loss of judgment later. Go on, Betty."

"Maybe sooner than later," Betty said. "She represents one of the shorter skins. Maybe she should be an interlude or something following Salomé's arrival and so forth. But I think we've had enough of Egypt or at least its influences in the last tale. And we hinted at black Africa, kind of a tease, so I think we should go there to appease that tease. And though civilized in its own way, it has less of the built up, stone buildings of castles and kings or pharaohs of the Greek or the Germanic little kingdoms and the larger Egyptian empire. It would be a compelling change of vistas. Also, with Cleopatra's short presence, we could say goodbye to the African continent and move on so to speak."

"Then you'll probably have my story and Chanda's combined to do the same for Asia," Miwa muttered. "Leaving Europe and its culture to be dwelled on most often."

"No," Betty smiled. "We won't get rid of Asia that quickly. You're where the circle ends, bringing us back to Snake's current skin."

"That's true," Miwa smiled back. "So, aside from Cleo, and the origin story with Aziza through Betty, we'll be on a chronological continuum."

"I think so, but it's not so much ending that bouncing around than it is using Salomé as a sort of base for the line of progression."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm with Nick from pretty much my inception to our parting of the ways for a while in South America," said Salomé.

Nick nodded. "She would have been too conspicuous hanging out with my rebellious little tribe there."

"Conspicuous," I chuckled. "You accompanied him in Europe?"

"And Asia, as well. Remember, Nick often had a mystical, spiritual presence as a calling card, and my presence added to it."

"I can imagine," I grinned. "So you became an immortal wanderer as much as Nick."

"Maybe more so," said Nick. "While I changed forms, she didn't. She would return to places we had been, like Southeast Asia or Russia to help the younger angels and the whole godlike thing would be emphasized."

"And I'd head back to my homeland from time to time when needed," Salomé added. "But I always tried to join Grandfather when he moved into new lands and especially when he shed his skin for another."

"Making sure he wasn't alone in those most vulnerable moments," Lindy surmised.

"Basically."

"Her status as companion had a lot to do with her prowess as a warrior with and without weapons," Nick added.

"And I helped him bounce ideas around in his new form as well. I'm not all brawn after all."

"Not so modest either," I smirked.

Salomé shrugged.

Of all the angels and other amazing women I'd met, I thought she deserved the least modesty. Salomé was magnificent.

"Makes sense," Salomé said to Betty. "Let's go to Africa."

And Nick began immediately, "I had minions to meet, descendants of Ruth, or more directly her sister Hannah. A tribe of Israelites escaped the expansion of Egypt onto their lands, intent upon retaining their faith in their one true God and their tribal and religious stories against an Egypt they believed would try to assimilate their people and thus destroy their culture and their beliefs. They headed as covertly as possible south. Numbering in the hundreds, it wasn't easy to do.

"Fortunately they had cleverness in their leadership. Ostensibly Morris led them, but, in the tradition of Ruth's descendants, a woman proved to be the cleverest in the tribe. And being Morris's sister, and Morris being wise enough and humble enough to realize who held the greatest smarts in his family, he listened to her advice.

"Rebecca, the sister, was not only as brilliant as Ruth, but she also favored her own gender for pleasure. She encouraged Morris's marriage to Agnes because she could see the woman held interest in her voluptuous form and lovely visage as much as in Morris's body and handsomeness. And to fill her bed when Agnes occupied Morris's, she had her servant, or more truthfully her companion, the gorgeous and willowy Hester. But her brother never got left out of companionship when his wife slept with his sister, because Hester was as bisexual as Agnes, luckily for the health of the home. You see, though Morris truly loved his wife, his lust for Hester matched it. Any jealousy that may have caused for Agnes swiftly ended under Rebecca's agile and brilliant tongue, both in giving the wife intense pleasure physically and in verbally calming any fears.

"Being a highly unconventional home, one that would trouble the tribe they led, Rebecca's advice kept the truth of it hidden. Her skill at hiding the truth of supposedly sinful activities at home became a skill that brought the tribe south in subterfuge. Her brilliant diplomacy brought friendship and assistance from an unlikely source, a tribe of nomads who helped disguise her people as being a part of theirs.

"The nomads received three rewards for their assistance. The first, less obvious but maybe more profound, came from nightly chats between the leaders of the two tribes. At first skeptical of Rebecca's unmatchable brilliance, her being just a woman after all, the nomad chief, encouraged by his second in command, his own brilliant advisor and a minion of mine, soon realized the true power behind the throne, finding himself and his advisor and translator alone with her in deep and enthralling dialogues hours into the night and gleaning great and beneficial insights that would improve not only his mind but his people's lives.

"The most traditional reward, the bribe to help their passage, barely swayed the chief being necessarily meager, and probably wouldn't have except for Rebecca's charm and wit.

"The third reward came when I met the two tribes on the eve of their separation, the Israelites crossing into East Africa while the nomads returned to their ever drifting path."

A vocal alarm awakens the tent where the nomad chieftain, his first wife, his advisor and Rebecca sleep, Rebecca where she has passed out after another endless albeit enjoyable late night dialogue.

"What is it?" the chief asks one of his tribe who has entered the tent obviously after a long run.

"A strange man," the watchman answers breathlessly.

"How strange?" asks the chief in amusement.

"His skin as black as night, he sits tall on his camel, the camel weighed down by bags and dragging a heavy cart behind."

The chief glances at Rebecca who tries to hide her happiness in a half smile. "Sounds like a native from your destination, Rebecca. You sent someone ahead?"

"No Chief. Perhaps God sent a messenger."

"A messenger?"

"An angel."

"Hrrumph," the chief grunts, ever the skeptic of the intangible, a true realist who has no faith in even his people's beliefs, even if, or more likely because, those beliefs have supposedly anointed him as a divine presence helping sway his people to his command, though only his advisor, his first wife and Rebecca know of his skepticism. "Trying to convince me of the divine? I know how clever you are."

"I speak the truth, Chief," Rebecca shrugs. "All we sent out ahead of us were those that sought aid for the next step of our journey, purchasing ships and weapons with expensive discretion greatly depleting our coffers which you know all too well."

"Your barter may have been small, but was enough for us, and your company has enriched us immeasurably."

She bows to his praise. "Thank you, Chief for those kind words. And I too have felt equally enriched by your wisdom."

The chief turns his attention back to his messenger. "Is there a threat from this man and his company?"

"No company, Most Exalted. As far as we can determine, he comes alone."

"Alone? Are you sure?"

"We see no disturbances of dust that a group would make no matter how careful they tread, and we have a high perch and a keen eye surveying."

The chief murmurs, "A truly strange man indeed to be on his own in this treacherous land. You may escort him here."

"He has stopped and refuses to budge as soon as he heard our alarm. He shouts ... Hebrew I believe. Wishes only to speak to the leader of our guests ... and his sister. Threatens any of us other than them who might approach."

Fixing his skeptical eyes on Rebecca, he murmurs, "And you know nothing of this?"

"I honestly don't, Chief," she shrugs. "It seems my god does work in mysterious ways."

"Hrumph. Well, a man alone can never prove a threat, but why risk my people, no matter how idle? I will provide you with my best spearman as protection."

"Let's not provoke him, Chief. My brother has the skills of a warrior, and, well, so do I."

"Why does that not surprise me? I wonder if you could be truly of the gentle sex, but it would be the greatest disguise ever what with your delightful curves and lovely face."

"Oh so you did notice. I rarely saw your eyes dip lower than my face."

"I noticed, right my wife?"

"He noticed," the beautiful older woman replies, her swarthy skin blushing. "Though perhaps you never looked to see his reaction since you seemed more interested in my shape and movement."

"Oh," mutters Rebecca, ashamed at being caught revealing her sexual preference.

"Not to worry, my dear," the wife continues. "My exalted husband enjoys watching his wives at play. We nomads have no qualms against such sport, neither between women nor men. I take it your people disagree?"

"Yes unfortunately. God seems to take all the joy out of sex and insists it's for procreation alone. Well, I best collect my brother and visit this stranger." She kisses the Chief on the cheek, and lingers on a kiss to his wife's mouth, sighing when it ends.

After walking a thousand yards from the encampment with both tribes watching with trepidation and curiosity until they are barely in sight, Morris and Rebecca stand before Nick.

"My you've changed," Rebecca grins at the tall and elegant looking black man at least a foot taller than her, his fur robe open to reveal a slim yet muscled torso, his sex barely hiding in a loin cloth of the same type fur, his long, lean, powerful legs on full display. Her face looks up at his lean, handsome, gorgeous face, and for the first time she feels heat and dampness between her inner thighs from gazing at a man. Even the precipitous rise of the loincloth enflames her lust.

Lindy interrupted Nick's tale. "She knew you changed?"

Nick chuckled. "I guess that needs explaining. Rebecca had been a favorite of mine since I came to her in a dream and brought her into minionship. She was ten at the time, but already spunky and brilliant. A true delight. I helped her brother, also a minion but of far less mental capability, though not dull, just in comparison to her, heed Rebecca's advice when he took over leadership of his tribe after their father's untimely death. A suspicious death, probably an assassination brought by Egypt through the Hittites."

"Simon?" Lindy asked.

"Probably. I tended by then to concentrate on minions in Israel and some of the lower classes of Egypt while I believe as usual Simon had his eyes on the Pharaoh or more probably his leading priests. The more powerful and the greater the empire, the more Simon took interest and became involved."

"World domination," I murmured.

"Power," Nick growled, "Always power with that fucker."

"So a Hittite hitman," smirked Lindy. "To destabilize the region."

"To bring the Israelites into the fold," I speculated. "Has he always had a hard-on for Jews?"

"Pretty much," Nick replied. "As a people, they tended to be brighter than most. Of course with Rebecca's cleverness and genius as well as Morris being charismatic, assassination had the opposite effect."

"So, 'Changed'?" Lindy reminded him.

"Telepathy is a visual thing," I answered for Nick. "It's less words, more symbolic images I guess, right Nick?"

My answering for Nick surprised Lindy. She responded with a questioning, "You?"

I nodded, "Just recently. And a couple times in dreams when I was much younger. I think my mom's a minion."

"A strong one," Nick agreed. "And your dad too, but his analytic mind rejected my presence."

"And Helena and I communicate, although much less clearly."

"That's not me," Nick informed me. "That's your two souls connecting, probably strengthened by being stronger than most souls. It's true that I communicate images to minions rather than verbally, but you're one of the few to notice that. Usually a minion's mind translates the imagery, the symbols if you will, and makes it seem like its verbal. I'm impressed ... again."

"He is impressive, isn't he?" cooed Eva, fondling what most impressed her.

"Is it the same with the angels?" I asked.

Salomé answered, "It's more like a mesh of minds, like a network of computers becoming a sort of mega computer."

I looked at Naomi and thought of the pain she experienced when her mind meshed with Simon's. I didn't want to enquire, but she must have noticed, telling me, "When Grandfather and I mesh, it's like an embrace. With Simon, it's an attack."

Changing the subject with a loving purpose, returning to the original digression, Lindy said, "So you projected your face to Rebecca?"

"My entire body actually," Nick grinned. "She wanted to know what such a powerful being might look like, and if it would affect her like no male ever had, so I showed it to her. My earlier skin didn't impress. It was a solid, macho presence. My slimmer, sleeker, more delicate and graceful new skin however did."

"My God," Rebecca thinks. "He's beautiful." She can't resist touching his torso.

Nick chuckles.

Morris frowns. "What are you doing?" he asks his sister. When for the first time he can remember Rebecca is speechless, he becomes even more upset. "Shit. And I thought hiding your fondness for females caused problems..."

"Nick," Rebecca murmurs, gazing up at him in awe as her hand continues traversing his torso lowering to his taut abdomen.

Even in the wind, salty from the nearby surf, both males can smell Rebecca's horniness. Nick's loincloth lifts ever higher.

"He's a man ... so to speak," Morris reminds her.

"He's beautiful. Don't you think he's beautiful?" she murmurs.

"Yes, but ... you know only females interest me sexually. You too I thought."

"It's not sexual. I mean it is..."

"Obviously," her brother mutters.

"But so much more. Please."

Morris knows his sister well. Unless decorum make it impossible, when lust overcomes her, it would be like stopping a whirlwind preventing her sating. But this is ten times worse, making her obviously unable to hide it as she always could before to all except him and maybe their lovers.

"Go Morris," Nick commands in a rich, creamy voice causing a groan of pleasure from Rebecca's lips. "Inform your people that I wish to negotiate only with your sister. Let them think what they will. And tell the most exalted chief that I bear gifts for his sacrifice in helping your tribe."

"But how would you know of this?" Morris asks.

Mischievousness tints Rebecca's horny smile. "Tell him an angel brought this magnificent creature a message. Tell him it was the guiding angel Nikodemus, the angel of travel and migration guiding us smoothly and safely through even the most treacherous course."

"And have him wait to fetch his reward," Nick adds, his long slender fingers combing through Rebecca's thick dark hair, "until the sun reaches its zenith."

"Yes Master," Morris replies obsequiously, causing Nick to grumble which in turn causes an unusually feminine giggle to issue from Rebecca's lips.

"Go, Brother," Rebecca murmurs, "before I lift his loincloth and reveal his cock, the most beautiful cock ever most likely, and swallow it within my dripping and engorged cunt lips in front of God and everyone."

As her brother turns and begins his hurried strides away from them, Nick pulls her towards the back of the cart. "Come," he says.

"Mmm," Rebecca hums. "Where..."

"Inside," Nick tells her, opening a carpet flap revealing an invitingly comfortable looking albeit narrow bed. He attempts lifting her onto it, but she stops him.

"Lie down, my perfect, eternal lover, and let me explore."

As he enters the small space, she grabs the fur robe and removes it, revealing his rippling back. "Oh God," she mutters, her hands gliding over smooth skin and sleek musculature. When he settles on his back, lifting his ass to remove his loincloth, she stops him. "Later for that," she says, crawling on top of him which lets the rug drape fall causing too much darkness. "That won't do," she mutters, finding a box just inside the entrance to drape the carpet over. "Better," she smiles.

"Get naked," her master orders her.

"Good idea," she purrs, making quick work of her dress and the cloth hiding her sex, revealing her voluptuous curves in all their splendor, skin of her torso, ass and thighs much paler than her arms, face and legs having rarely been exposed to the sun seeming to accentuate the sexy shapeliness and the softness of a feminine layer of fat over powerful muscles especially at her abdomen, thighs and ass.

"Delicious," Nick comments, his hand discovering her texture from face to neck to sides to hips and buttocks before sliding along the front, across her dripping pussy and through her thick mass of pubic hair, causing a deep moan from her, and continuing up her abdomen to her heavy yet buoyant breasts. One hand lingers there to feel the weight and texture, especially the capping areola and nipple, while the other gently takes hold of the back of her head and draws her lips to his.

Of course Rebecca continues her own exploration while exulting in his touch. One hand, while her body rests on the elbow a few inches higher, slips underneath him to rub his back wherever is reachable, while the other returns to his torso for more intimate discoveries, his nipples for instance, before moving south, across that incredible abdomen, to his hips and thighs and back to grasp his firm buttock at the moment of the kiss.

Not just her hands explore. Her entire body rubs against him, most excitingly her naked loins against his thigh and hip and waist. She crushes her incredibly sensitive clit against his smooth skin, friction almost excruciatingly pleasurable before her natural lubricant smoothens the rub, but even then, finding bony edges to press into, the feeling only gets better.

With the kiss, her heart joins her loins and all the rest of her senses in becoming overwhelmed, seeming to swell like her pussy lips swell and her clit swells, though with love rather than lust. Her need to join with him thoroughly, as their mouths join together, lips and especially tongues, his ravaging her mouth before playing with her tongue and luring it into his mouth, causes her to reach down and grasp the last appendage she ever thought would be grasped by her while she straddles his hips and blindly guides its tip, somehow steering it perfectly to her virgin pussy, pressing it hard against her clit and rubbing it vigorously there before shifting it down a couple inches and lowering her hungry cunt to swallow it and send it deeper and deeper to places never touched before.

Groaning and growling into his mouth still sealed to hers, she feels the aggressive parting of her tight passage, her own aggression causing it, and it hurts opening her up to it and yet feels amazing. Intense. Slow and relentless, his length must be twice her brothers, the only cock she could compare it to, not to mention thicker, she can feel that, in her inner grasp, pain threatens to overcome pleasure. But just at that threshold, a spring of bliss releases and spreads throughout her body. She realizes it comes from her clit being perfectly rubbed by his fingers.

Trembling, she lifts her mouth from his to pant, bringing in necessary air to her lungs. Her whole torso lifts causing a lovely added friction, before sinking, bringing the last inches of that intruder, that long thick ravisher, to reach its greatest depths. She can even feel a barrier press against the tip of it. Just a whisper of pain, but it's lost in an unexpected exultance. The connection is complete. She is at last one with her master, her greatest love.

Looking into his deep brown eyes held in an exquisite face, she removes his hand from her loins and the other from her breast, meshes her fingers with his, pressing them down beside his head and lowers her face to inches above his, just enough distance to see all of his beauty, and murmurs, "Master," she grins at his twinge, "Okay, Nick."

"Hmm?" Nick responds.

"I have always loved you even if we've never met at least physically."

"I know. I have always loved you."

"I so wanted to love you in your entirety, both mind, which has never been an issue, and body, which always has."

"I felt your disappointment," Nick smiles sadly.

"I wanted to feel the excitement I felt in my heart and my mind in the last place needed to feel my love for you completely."

"I know. I know what a sensual woman you are."

"Mmm," Rebecca hums in seeming agreement as a brief shift brings a flash of pleasure from her loins. "I know it's too proud a question, but I have to ask."