Hello to all, this one is my first post and me gustaria to clarify that my mother language is not the Englishman and even I it do not dominate fullly, this way that my excuses for the herrores that i could commit.
Also to give them thanks to all for the magnificent histories that I could have read throughout the years.
I am useful to wonder for if someone of you can give me information or has in his(her,your) files histories of an author called RR. Tape-worm some histories you praise in a former forum.
The titles(degrees) of some of them were (Time after time. The bride. Morsel .....)
I was adoring this author and need your help.
I will try to put someone of them that if I guard in my files.
Thanks to all.

The Bride

By RR

Bravaria, 1824

Victor sat before the fire and brooded. The light from the fireplace and the candles placed strategically about his library did little to dispel the darkness of the room and nothing to dispel the gloom in his soul. Almost absently, he raised a goblet to his lips and sipped, barely noticing the fine 22-year old cognac he drank.

?Helga and Gretchen? he thought, with a slow sad shake of his head. He thought that in throwing himself into his work he would forget the two of them. Yet here they are, bedeviling his thoughts, demanding he choose. He choked back something, a laugh or a sob; he couldn?t tell. Such was the irony. ?Such a strange turn of events,? thought Victor. ?How in heaven?s name could such a thing come to pass?

Three days earlier?

A pothole in the road jolted Gretchen into reality. Ruefully she turned her attention to the task at hand and skillfully guided the little two-wheeled carriage through the bad stretch of road in the forest, then returned to her thoughts.

Gretchen Schmidt daydreamed as she slapped the reins on the butt of the horse before her. She made a pretty picture as she navigated her two-wheeled carriage over the rutted dirt road. The carriage itself spoke of wealth and position. It was black. The spokes of its wheels a bright yellow. The black leather top was pulled down for the afternoon sunlight. There were two brass lamps to either side of the carriage could be lit for driving at night. Her father bought the carriage and the dappled gray gelding that pulled it for her. As for Gretchen, she was decked out in a long blue skirt with a white starched shirt and blue jacket. Her long, heavy, blond hair was pinned and gathered beneath a lovely blue and white bonnet. Tall, willowy, and graceful, she was a lovely sight to behold. She was also proud and arrogant, with a streak of spoiled ruthlessness that made most of the local girls shy away from her. She didn?t care. She was the type who preferred toadies to real friends. Her father was a very wealthy merchant and the mayor of the nearby town. With wealth, position and beauty, she could have had any young man in the district. However, no suitor had a chance with her. She, with her father?s approval, set her cap for Victor.
Afternoon carriage rides were a habit with her. First she would ride around town then out into the countryside to enjoy the fresh air and flaunt her father?s wealth.

Lately however, her father grew concerned with rumors being passed among the peasants. The peasants whispered of a monster haunting the surrounding woods. ?Poppycock? was all Gretchen would say of the rumors. ?Monsters, ha!? Gretchen would publicly proclaim. ?Silly peasant superstition. There are no such things as monsters.? Gretchen would then bask in the glow of Victor?s approval, for he was a man of reason who would have no truck with peasant superstition. So in spite of the rumors and because her father could deny her nothing, Gretchen continued her afternoon rides.

Gretchen went back to her daydreaming, imagined herself as the belle of the ball, greeting the wealthy and powerful as Victor?s wife, the Baroness Von?

For the second time in as many minutes, Gretchen was shaken out of her daydream. A horseman appeared 50 yards away upon the road before her, coming out of the forest. He didn?t seem to notice her as he spurred his black courser and tore off down the road away from her. Gretchen startled, yet pleasingly surprised, raised her hand and would have shouted but the horseman was out of sight almost instantly. Seizing the whip from where its holder on the cart, she gave her horse incentive to speed up with a quick flick of the whip. Gretchen recognized the top hat, cloak, and especially the horse of the rider?s; it was Victor. Although she was sure she couldn?t catch him before he got to town, she had to try. As she pursued the elusive Victor; she was again plagued by memories and daydreams.

This time she was on her back, in Victor?s huge, perfumed, four poster bed, her nude body sweating and straining under the sweet torture Victor was subjecting her to. The tension building toward sweet release as Victor slowly and gently made love to her. The scene suddenly shifted as she thought what would happen once she caught up with Victor. She saw herself spread out nude with her hair unbound on a blanket in a nearby meadow as Victor ravaged her. Gretchen let out a delighted shutter, as she became heavy and damp with need.

As she topped a rise, she spotted him, then slowed in confusion as he turned right at the crossroads instead of going straight through to town. She slowed as she tried to remember what would take Victor out that way. She did recall that Victor had some tenants out in that direction. There was also the mill.

The mill was run as a partnership between Gerhard Muller and Victor. Victor?s father provided the land and starting capital while Muller provided the labor and expertise. The miller Gretchen recalled was a widower with only a daughter to keep him company this far out of town. A very beautiful daughter, Gretchen suddenly remembered to her distress. Shaking her head to banish the silly thought of Victor taking up with a peasant, she turned her carriage at the crossroads to follow Victor. As she traveled down the road, thoughts of the Miller?s daughter started to plague Gretchen.

The Miller?s daughter was named Helga. She was shorter than Gretchen, with beautiful green eyes, a wide, generous mouth, and a cute upturned nose. She usually wore her long blond hair in braided pigtails. A lifetime of work at her father?s mill combined with natural attributes gave Helga a spectacular figure. A generous bosom, narrowed to a small waist, then expanded to womanly hips. Gretchen sneered as she thought of the unfairness of Helga having a figure that she could achieve only after struggling into a corset. Gretchen also remembered that the Miller is one of the town council and a special meeting was called to discuss the rumors of the monster haunting the woods. He would not be at the mill at this time and Victor would have no reason to be here.

She slowed as the mill came into sight, turning off the road to conceal her presence. Stepping out of the carriage, Gretchen walked up to the mill.

The mill was a water-powered affair, set next to a swift-moving stream. Between the stream and the turning water wheel there was more than enough noise to cover her approach. Gretchen knew that the stream was fed by glaciers high in the mountains and just past the mill the stream dropped off into a lake. The waterfall was about 20 feet high and combined with the mill, made a beautiful picture. Next to the mill, were a farmhouse, barn, chicken coop and other out buildings. All were well kept and in good repair. Compared to her fine house in town, it was a hovel.

As Gretchen came around the barn to make her way to the house, she came upon Victor?s horse tied out around the side of the barn. Suspecting the worst, she had to see for herself. Gretchen, as silently as she could, made her way along the side of the barn toward the house. As she got towards the front of the barn, she started hearing noises. Knowing what they were, she quietly sneaked around to the large open door facing the farmhouse and peeked inside.

At first Gretchen?s blood froze then boiled at the sight before her. There in the fresh straw of a stall was her Victor and Helga. Gretchen stood there as she saw a nude Victor take an equally nude Helga as a stallion would take a mare. ?No? Gretchen growled to herself, ?more like a hound taking a bitch.? She saw enough. Taking care not to be seen or heard, she made her way back to the carriage. As she turned her carriage back towards town, Gretchen started thinking of ways to be rid of her rival.

?Tomorrow?, Gretchen thought. ?The town council will be seeing Victor in the afternoon, that will be the best time to have a little discussion with Helga.? With a cruel smile, Gretchen went over her options.