**There are those who say that the merfolk are a hybrid of human and fish, but I know the truth, for I saved one on a fine summer day. The mermen, as we call them, are truly of the fae. And that is how I know the stories of the sailors are true and it is right to be wary.
Once you’ve touched a fae, you know that touch forever. Human can lose themselves in that touch. I know, because I once followed a changeling into the woods. His name was Richard, and we were childhood friends, but had grown too old for that. I fancied him, but I wasn’t sure I loved him. I know I never planned to lose my virtue to him in the woods that day,but when we met his true family, things quickly spiraled out of my control, and learned the touch of the fae.
Richard was reclaimed by them then, and he never returned with me. The gossips nodded their heads amongst themselves. When I refused to give up his baby they shunned me for the slut they “knew” I was.
Everyone but the midwives shunned me, that is. They took care of me until Rikk was born. Then, they too cast me out. I packed my things, slung Rikk over my shoulder, and we set out from the village of our birth.
I traveled far, until I came to Ephesia, a small ocean village. There I told them that my husband had died soon after Rikk was conceived. It was what I believed at the time. The people there accepted me into their hearts. I had few skills in common with the fisher-women, so I took the child’s task of gathering fish and crabs trapped in the tidal pools by the ebbing tide.
It was there that I found her, lying in a pool that slowly evaporated in the afternoon sun. Her legs - or were they fins? - shone like a pearl in the sun. Her hair was the tan of dried algae, her eyes bright green. Her breasts, like the rest of her, were beautiful.
I went over to her, and knelt beside her, and brushed her hair away from her face. At the touch, I felt the spark, the thing I had always felt from Richard, and she awoke. “Y-you…” she whispered. She was naked save for a shell necklace that gleamed in the sun.
“Can I help?” I asked.
“I need…” As I watched, the iridescence faded, and her skin became tan like mine. I wrapped a cloth around her, to cover her nakedness, and we walked back to my cabin. She collapsed in my bed, and I returned to my task.
When I returned home, I found her staring down at Rikk in his crib. “Beautiful.” She said. “He is … one of us.” She seemed to struggle to speak, choosing her words carefully.
“He is also mine,” I countered. She nodded, seeming to understand. “You can call him Rikk.”
“Rikk-k-k-k-” she said, clicking her voice like the dolphins do. She picked him up then. “Chosen,” she said, and kissed his chest over his heart. When she pulled away, a blue-green imprint of her lips remained, a mark — a gift — which he still has today.
She turned to me then, letting the cloth I’d given her earlier fall. She held me in her arms, and kissed my lips. I melted into her. I am not normally attracted to women, but she is fae, and kissing her was like kissing Richard, only more so. No one had touched me gently since I returned to the village over a year and a half ago. I was starved for touch, and she, she was fae.
Soon I was out of my own clothes, and we rolled around in the bed. She straddled my face, pressing her womanhood at my lips, and I supped of her nectar. She slid her fingers inside me even as she held me down, grinding into my face.
She came, tasting of the sea and salt, and I began to come as well. Together we fucked and licked and came and came for almost hours. I fell asleep in her arms. I awoke in the night, and she was gone. Like the tide, she had come and gone. By my bed was the shell and pearl necklace, a lover’s gift.
Sometimes, when I am lonely, and the tide is rising, I put on my necklace and make my way to the beach. I lie there, naked, on the edge of the water, and smell it’s salty odor so like my mysterious mermaid lover as the waves lap at my legs and thighs, and lick at my womanhood like a long lost lover.**
A few years ago I posted an “image” every weekday. This was the 18th of them, and was a sequel to another piece that isn’t this one’s equal. I may rewrite it at some point, to give this one the prologue it really needs. As it is, I like it and it was one of the only images I wrote that doesn’t have the BDSM code. I wrote a conclusion for the narrator (although not for Rikk, his stories are still in my mind and not fully written) which I will post next week.