Epee-Sode One


Like a Virgin


or


No More Bull






The black carriage traversed most of Normandy without stopping, then turned East on a highway which Miss Alexis de Brie had not seen before, and from which innumerable smaller roads branched off. In an unbelievably short time, the carriage containing the four Lovestarz had left the splendor of Calabria and Southern Italy behind and seemed already deep in the heart of a countryside even lovelier that the one they had seen the season before.

It was hilly and for the most part open, with great expanses of meadow sweeping down; but every now and then the fields merged into forests, where the sunlight slanted in through the tall trees and lay in bright, scattered patches on the sheltered ground. All sorts of flowers enlivened the landscape: the fields were dotted with buttercups and daisies, Queen Anne’s lace and red clover, with here and there a scarlet square of poppies; the orchards were a mass of apple blossoms, ranging from snow-white to pale pink, the roadsides lined with flowering thorn, elderberry, and chestnut trees in full bloom. Yet to Alexis the fresh verdure seemed even more beautiful than the flowers; never before had she seen such striking shades of green, deepening from jade to emerald and back to jade again. The grass, close-cropped by grazing herds; the ferns which curled like plumes above carpets of moss; the spreading leaves of wild strawberries and periwinkle; the ivy twining tree trunks; the lofty foliage on the waving branches – all these had united in lavish contribution to create the verdant symphony. Miss Alexis turned a glowing face to Count Carlo.

“You didn’t half prepare us for it!” The Calabrian Spring was exquisite, but it can’t compare with this in richness. I never imagined anything could be so green. How can it be?” the Piscean marvelled aloud.

“I think it’s the climate – the rains which come so quickly and frequently, alternating with the sunshine. We've been lucky so far this morning, with only one short shower. Yet we’re likely to get half a dozen more before the day’s over. The Sun in Normandy is very like a shy lady – she keeps withdrawing, she veils her pleasing face whenever she can. But if she’s persuaded to reveal it, the sight has a quality of magic. You should feel very much at home with a lady like that, Alexis.”

Gretha and Kimmy smiled and sighed together at the sweetness of Carlo’s imagery, and Alexis too smiled at the girls, then continued,

“Perhaps I should. Yet if the Norman verdure is the result of the Norman climate, isn’t that like another sort of lady too? The sort who weeps easily and often for a purpose?”

Carlo laughed. “I’m afraid so. Yet you’d feel less at home with her, Alexis. You’d have to learn to endure her without impatience, which is not usually an issue for you typically patient Pisces princesses...unless, of course you suffer from an afflicted Mercury in Aries! Actually, I knew a Taurus woman like that, yet fortunately, we're rid of Olivia Peyton now...I think she's involved with some fetish organization on the North Shore of the Bay State...D.O.M.M., something like that...that's the last I heard.”





   “Yeah Carlo," Kimeye added, "I'm sure glad that we left Olivia in Salem, and that she finally found Duke Dom to use his cattle prod on her. Maybe that group is code for 'Do the M's'...she always had this odd fixation on the letter M...I could never figure out why. Gosh, and I didn't think a Taurus could be so...”

   "Bull headed!", Aries Gretha blurted.

   "Yeah...she was such a Taurus, huh Carlo?"

   "Yes...yes she was...yet in nice ways, too, girls. And remember, it isn't polite to talk about people behind their backs. Let's just say that our load has been significantly lightened by the departure of Olivia Peyton. She has her Cybersybils to attend to, and so let's just leave her to it, and wish her the best. She is a human being like the rest of us, and she brought us all this far. Yet Alexis is with us now, and we have to show her our magnanimous affection, and not dwell on the past. Remember ladies, amor vincit omnia," the Count casually replied, as he turned to a smiling Alexis.

“Oh Carlo, you’re such a Venus in Leo!” Gretha said, and the three girls nodded to each other as Carlo continued to pilot the carriage. “Natch, yo,” he retorted.

As he spoke, the delicate blue of the sky was suddenly obscured by pearl-gray clouds and rain slanted across their path, in the same way that sunlight had slanted a moment before. It was cool and delightful, matching the mood of the current Moon in Libra, and fresh fragrance seemed to rise from the ground as it fell. The glow on Alexis’s face deepened under its dampness, and Carlo, stopping the carriage, took one hand off the reins and stroked the cheek nearest to him lightly with one finger.

“You don’t know how much rosier you look already,” he said. That’s something else our Norman climate does – it makes nice red cheeks. Have you noticed the children we’ve seen? They’re as ruddy as apples. Yet your skin is different, Alexis – different and lovelier. More like apple blossoms.”

Alexis blushed, while Kimeye smiled and sank back into her seat. Gretha, for her part, pretended that she just had an orgasm. All three turned to look at her. “What? So I came, so what!? That was really sweet, Carlo.”

Alexis continued, “Last Spring I found out you were a singer, Carlo. Now I’m beginning to think you’re a poet. What else are you, besides being an astrologer?”

He grinned widely, yet did not answer, and sat back with the reins loosely clasped in his lap, looking away from her and gazing at the landscape as they drove on. Soon, Gretha and Kimeye fell asleep, leaning against each other in the back of the carriage as it glided along.

Eventually Count Carlo turned aside to allow the passage of a high wooden cart, drawn by a huge gray horse and driven by a blue-smocked peasant. Under the immense canvas hood which covered the cart, Miss Alexis saw three or four flaxen heads bobbing up and down, and presently these came more boldly into view, revealing the driver flanked by numerous progeny, all with cheeks as red as those Carlo had so recently described, and large wondering blue eyes. Their unabashed stares were rather disconcerting to Miss Alexis; and though their father nodded respectfully to Carlo, he too turned a curious gaze on her, obviously puzzled by the three girls’ appearance on this unfrequented road. Carlo was quick to sense her discomfiture and to ease it.





“Here babygirl, put your head in my lap for now...”, the Count spoke in a low tone, as he started to sing softly the song "For Cryin' Out Loud" by Meatloaf.

   "...and can't ya see my faded Levis...burstin' apart..."

With that, the Pisces princess checked on the sleeping girls, then eagerly took the Count’s throbbing manhood into her hands and began to spread her fairy-dust magical ways upon his distinguished Earthy presence...or should we say presents....

“Mmmm, good girl...that’s right...sweet Water girl...” the Count whispered encouragingly as the skillful Mermaid enjoyed her craft, her head bobbing along rythmically with the bumpy terrain the carriage traversed. The two enjoyed their perfect blending thusly for nearly an hour. Finally, the Virgin returned the favor of sweet ambrosia to fill his hungry Fishwife’s gulping throat. She then rest her head on his leg, gazing upward all the while at his handsome visage.

“We are coming on, er, I mean, to our own driveway right away now,” Carlo said. “I’m going to complete my turn and swing into the avenue just as soon as the cart gets by.” And as this clattered off over the crest of the hill, he set the carriage quietly into motion again. “Look ahead of you,” he said. “No, not down the road. Down that allée.”

Miss Alexis followed the sweep of his hand towards a long avenue lined with ivy-twined hemlocks, which transected twin apple orchards where sheep were grazing under the trees. There was no hedge between the hemlocks and the orchards, so she could see the blossoms in all their abundance as the carriage went slowly down the slope of the avenue towards the great iron gate at the end of it. They had almost reached this when a little boy appeared suddenly on a bypath running at right angles from it through a grove which lay beyond the orchard. He was leading a tiny mouse-colored donkey, with two shining milk pails dangling over its side, and a smaller child, dressed in a peaked hood and double-breasted coat of pale-blue wool, seated on its saddle. Alexis drew a quick breath and put her hand on Carlo’s arm.

“This isn’t real!” she gasped. “Any of this! It can’t be. I’d begun to think so on the road and now I’m sure of it. Hansel and Gretel don’t spring into sight like that except in fairy tales.”

“You’re so cute and funny, Alexis! Always thinking of fairy tales…such a Pisces! Yet Hansel and Gretel were German children, ja?. These are little Normans and just as real as we are. They are the gardener’s children, and they were both born on the place. So was their father and grandfather...Pierre, ouvre-moi la porte, veux-tu bien? It seems that Sanguine kept them around, which pleases me.”

The elder child nodded with a cheery “Tout de suite, monsieur.” Then he let go the bridle and ran quickly forward. The gate swung slowly and creakingly on its hinges and the carriage passed through it into a large circular area enclosed on either side by long thatched outbuildings which curved around it, and at the end by a large château towards which it sloped and which curved away from it. Apple trees in full bloom were scattered, apparently at random, through this area, giving it an effect of openness lacking in the more closely and precisely planted orchards through which they had been passing; but this pleasing effect was somewhat marred by the condition of the grass, which was nowhere cut or tended, and in places deeply furrowed by heavy cartwheels; over it wandered goats, cows, and fowl of every description. Disregarding the obtrusive presence of these creatures, Alexis gazed raptly past them at the turreted crescent of stone and brick which rose beyond.

“Oh Carlo, why did you say that Aradia couldn’t compare with Chassay? It can! It does!”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, really. It’s smaller, yet I like it even better. It’s more impressive, approached from the front this way instead of from the side like Chassay. And it has two turrets, with those intriguing pepperpot tops, instead of just one square tower!”

“It hasn’t got a fine outer wall like Chassay, or water in the moat, or well-kept grounds and gardens. This courtyard’s a disgrace. I must speak to Bernard about it. Yet I suppose, with no one but his father to help him, the poor fellow’s had too much on his hands. Perhaps Sanguine had him doing other things altogether. And then it’s a long time since anyone has shown any interest in keeping up appearances.”

“I don’t care. I still think it’s even more charming than Chassay. Somehow it’s more homelike too.”

She sprang out of the carriage, not-so-accidentally awakening the girls, her eyes still on the building before her. Then linking her arm in his, she pressed forward with unconcealed eagerness. Obviously the state of the courtyard had not proved disillusioning to her; in her preoccupation with the château, she was still hardly conscious of its inappropriate surroundings. Tremendously relieved by this attitude, and thrilled by the spontaneity with which she had taken his arm and the tone of her voice as she had said “homelike”, Count Carlo forgot his own momentary disturbance and began talking gaily and confidently.

“That’s Gilles standing by the drawbridge right now, bowing and scraping. He’s a good fellow, really, even if he doesn’t keep his livestock in the bassecour, where it belongs. You’ll help me persuade him he ought to, won’t you? Look, the little stone turrets you admired, on either side of the drawbridge, are identical, but the two wings beyond are entirely different. The shorter one, on the left, made of brick, is François I.”

“Ah yes, François I: born in 1494, yet he didn’t become king until 1515. He shines in the reflected glory of his court painters, his architects, his silversmiths, his mistresses, and the Field of the Cloth of Gold; but he really was quite a person himself too. I know that much about him, Count Carlo, and incidentally, quite a little about Benvenuto Cellini, believe it or not. I even know that Leonardo da Vinci died in his arms. Yet my chronologist skills are a bit hobbled at the moment, in light of this awe-inspiring estate! Is the longer, half-timbered wing Louis XII or Henri II?”

“Touché! However, we call half-timbered construction colombage in Normandy, right? We can read up on that during those long Winter evenings that are ahead of us too, if you like. Yet suppose we go on now and return Gilles’s salute. Here come the girls, too, let’s wait up. Oh, and incidentally, do you mind if I say you’re my fiancée when I present this brave homme and the house servants? The girls can be your attendants. It really would be the most suitable thing to call you, under the circumstances.”

“But I’m not. I haven’t promised anything. And you promised me...”

“I know. But couldn’t you be my fiancée just this one day? Or my future, if you like that better? If I only thought that you were my future, Alexis, I wouldn’t ask for anything else!”

Just then, Gretha and Kimeye caught up with Carlo and Alexis.

“Hey, phat farm, Carlo! It kind of reminds me of New Hampster,” Gretha said, as the two girls eyes fixed on the distant dwelling.

“Thanks Gia. Now just chill for a sec until we get inside, I’ll explain later.”

They were almost up to the drawbridge. When they first began to talk about medieval architecture, Count Carlo had stood still, with Miss Alexis’s arm securely tucked under his, giving her a chance to survey the picturesque example which confronted them. Now he was hurrying her along towards the smiling gardener, who was waiting beside the outer gate of the drawbridge, and Miss Alexis could already see that the inner gate was opening also, disclosing one of the house servants at attention. She could even catch a glimpse of a red-tiled floor and massive oak armoires, surmounted by shining brasses, standing against white walls. She had to answer some way, however rashly.

“If it has to be one or the other, I think it better be fiancée. Future sounds – well, so terribly comprehensive, the way you put it. I understand what you mean when you say you have to call me something suitable, under the circumstances...but it’s just for today, remember,” she said with a friendly wink.

“Very well, fiancée for a day. Nothing future about it just now. We can talk about that another time. Didn’t we agree from the beginning that we shouldn’t worry too much about endings?...Eh bien, Gilles, comment ça va? J’ai l’honneur de vous présenter à ma fiancée, Mademoiselle de Brie, qui est venue nous rendre visite en Normandie.”

“Nous sommes heureux comme tout de vous revoir, mon capitaine, et surtout dans des tels circonstances. Mes hommages, mademoiselle. J’espere que votre future demeure sera complètement à votre goût.”

The jovial peasant was beaming from ear to ear. He shook hands with them both, and nodded happily to Gretha and Kimeye who then curtsied. Talking rapidly and exitedly, he swung the gate still further open. Count Carlo laughed.

“You see, Alexis, it’s inevitable, that word! You better give up trying to escape it. Well, here is Léon, waiting to welcome us too.”

And when a second exchange of greetings, similar to the first had taken place, Count Carlo went on,

“Now for a tour of your...all right, chérie, I won’t say it again! I did promise. First, this little square hall we are entering is what we call the fort. That is what it was called four hundred years ago, when men-at-arms were constantly stationed in it, and knights rode their horses straight through it to a central court. The crescent-shaped building you see now is only half of the original château, which once formed a hollow circle. The inner court has now ceased to exist, unfortunately, but to us, the fort is still the fort. We have avoided changes whenever we could – unlike Americans, who make them whenever they can!”

Gilles had followed them into the fort, and now stood eying them, exchanging whispered remarks with his lover Léon while both awaited further orders. Carlo turned to them with a gesture of dismissal.

“I’ll get out of the commons sometime later in the day, Gilles, but I don’t know exactly when. Go on with your regular work, and I’ll find you, wherever you happen to be. Mademoiselle will want to see the kitchen garden, I’m sure, and I’ve a wonderful surprise for you connected with the stables, so we’ll need to give those special attention. That’s all or now...I’m going to take Mademoiselle over the house before we have luncheon, Léon, and I think we’ll save the kitchen wing till the last. That’ll give Blondine lots of time to perfect her luncheon. I’ll call if Mademoiselle needs anything. Otherwise we’ll see her later on.”

”Bien entendu, mon capitaine. She would have been with me to greet you and Mademoiselle, but you were a little advanced of what she expected. She has not yet changed her dress.”

“You’ll find that’s chronic,” Carlo remarked as the caretaker disappeared in the wake of the gardener. “Blondine has never had time to change her dress. Typical Leo, she...

“Maybe Blondine’s taken to wearing a latex dress, because of her old boss!” Gretha interjected, looking at Carlo.

“Perhaps. Yet it seems that the château’s staff is still here and rather well adjusted to the former control of Sanguine. Other than Léon’s eyebrow piercing and Gilles’ earrings, things seem back to normal...that is, from all outward appearances. Come, let’s have that look around!”

Gretha, Kimeye, and Alexis immediately took to exploring the main level of the château formerly known as Castle Sanguine. They remarked at the Gothic tapestries, beauty of original wood and marquetry, and gasped at cathedral-sized rooms, all which appeared to have been preserved by the château’s last occupant, the Countess Sanguine. The dominant former wife of Count Carlo had left the dwelling in haste to follow her passion and to mount the throne of a Dominant Women’s nation-state in Austria called the OKW. The girl Sybils were happy that the troupe finally appeared to have a home and headquarters. Strega Nona had not traveled with them, instead remaining at Carlo’s homestead in Calabria in order to see some friends before she would travel north to France to join up at the Sybil home.

Count Carlo excused himself to set about the task of releasing some slaves that Sanguine had left behind in the dungeons of the castle. He knew that he would encounter some “leftovers”, and that his task would be one mostly of emancipation. He excused himself from the other Sybils, and asked only that no one follow him until he were to return. This pronouncement caused Miss Alexis some consternation, yet Carlo knew that this was more a function of Miss Alexis’s Sagittarius Moon, which inclined her to a desire and a path in this lifetime to uncovering hidden mysteries and finding the Truth behind every situation. Yet she also understood the importance of Count Carlo doing this task alone. His own Aquarian Moon was not comfortable with anyone peeking over his shoulder, and only Carlo would be able to soothe and comfort the former slaves since it was his previous wife who had custody of them. Whether he would venture into any of their worlds would also be his own business.

There was certainly plenty to accomplish on the main floor of the château. Holding hands, Kimeye and Gretha opened the door into a small entryway at the left of the fort, which led to a paneled parlor both paved and walled in gray and hung with quaint pastel portraits. It was clear that the Countess had not used this room at all. A carved mantel, made of dark veined marble, dominated the farther end of the room; a large mirror surmounted this, and a silent gilt clock, sheltered by a silène and two matching ornaments, stood on the mantelshelf. The fireplace had been closed in, except where it provided an opening for a small porcelain stove. Gretha, the Fire sign, went over to this and put her hand on it.

"Just as I thought," she said. “It hasn’t been used Kimmy…sit down for a minute and I’ll put some wood on.”

“I can help, Gia,” Kimeye replied.

“No, it’s cool, I’ve got it...fires are a snap for me.”

Gretha pressed the youngest Sybil’s waist and took her arm away from it. Kimeye seated herself on one of the small stiff sofas near the fireplace and watched Gretha wrestle with the stubborn little stove. She wanted to help, but she was afraid that an offer to do so might come under the head of those unsuitable gestures of which there seemed to be so many in France, and after a time, as Gretha was getting no results whatever, Kimeye became afraid that her gaze might be adding to Gretha’s discomfiture and permitted this to wander around the room. It was certainly very formal. The pastel portraits nearly all depicted persons with powdered wigs, the gentlemen in scarlet uniforms with high collars, the ladies in brocade dresses with stiff bodices, and even the children posed in solemn attitudes, holding prim flowers or little wooden birds. In striking contrast to these was a superb painting of a woman whose honeyed ringlets fell in disordered profusion over her shoulders, and whose wide-sleeved dressing gown was parted to reveal a shift so sheer that the color of her delicate skin and the complete outline of her beautiful breasts were fully revealed beneath it. Gretha, looking up from her labours, observed Kimmy’s half-fascinated and half-surprised expression.





Just then Miss Alexis entered the room and offered a laughing word of explanation.

“That appears to be a family portrait of some sort,” she informed the girls. “The strange part of it is, as far as I know, that lady’s conduct was exemplary. She was not a king’s favorite, as you seem to be unjustly suspecting, yet the highly regarded consort of the Count’s most illustrious ancestor. Why she chose to be painted in such complete déshabille, and why he chose to let her, is a family secret so old I’m afraid we’ll never guess the answer to it at this late day.”

Kimeye then offered an explanation.

“Maybe she really was a slut! Ruggieri’s whore! I mean, just because he served as the Catherine de Medici’s closest adviser doesn’t mean he didn’t get some on the side. Take it from a triple Scorpio, men are dogs, and astrologers are even worse. Maybe he even got it on with the queen and her servants at the same time.”

Miss Alexis giggled, not completely surprised that the Scorpio Kimmy may be onto something.





Gretha groaned aloud, then resumed her futile efforts with the stove, and Kimeye and Alexis continued to glance discerningly about the room. Under the portraits were ranged glassed-in cabinets containing quantities of small porcelain coffee cups and various other fragile objects which did not seem to have been put there for any particular purpose besides ornamentation. Most of the furniture was equally useless, and none of it could possibly have been called comfortable. Moreover, the room was not as clean as it should have been; dark marks showed around the latches and on the jambs of the door, and the windowpanes were clouded under their complicated covering of lace and brocatelle. It was musty too, as if it had not been aired in a long time; and its mustiness mingled with its chill. But in spite of its depressing atmosphere, the Sybils realized that it had basic beauty, and individually, in various degrees of unwillingness, they began to see it not as it actually was, but as it easily might be: with the wonderful woodwork and the wonderful tiles scrubbed to shining cleanliness, and the floor partially overlaid with a jewel-covered rug. With the fireplace unstopped again, and a bright fire burning behind well-polished andirons on the hearth, under a gaily ticking clock. With the windows washed and the curtains drawn back to form a drapery and not a veil. With a few of the coffee cups and a little of the bric-á-brac deleted and something with more meaning substituted for them. With a few books and a few flowers scattered over the tables...it would not take them any time at all to transform this room. They could do it in a few days. They would love doing it.

“Please let me help you,” Kimeye said, rising abruptly and going over to the hearth. She could not bear sitting idly on the stiff sofa any longer, conjuring up visions which she found it harder and harder to resist, while Gretha continued to wrestle with the stubborn little stove. And as Kimeye protested, Gretha went on: “I know all about stoves, of every kind and description. It won’t take me but a minute to get this one going.

Just then, Count Carlo sauntered into the room, appearing weary. Alexis questioned him first.

“Well? Did you encounter any leftover slaves, mon petit chou??”

“Yes, and more than I had expected. It appears that my ex-wife had been involved with accepting former Tibetan college girls from the University of Beijing from brokers of the Chinese government. She was paid what appears to be a king’s ransom to house these girls and to indoctrinate them in the ways of submission, and to eventually return them to the university bereft of their radical political ambitions. It appears that she achieved the first part of her goal.”

"So how many of these girls are down there?”

Carlo spoke hesistantly, “Roughly a hundred or so. That is, now they are free, yet will remain in the dungeon area for now. We will need to arrange for them to be fed and clothed, and before they are released, we should rehabilitate them and help them to find shelter and work.”





The pretty Piscean at once sympathized with Carlo's Virgoan ideals, and intended to support his helpfulness and idealism with the ocean of her own Watery kindness.

“You’re very kind, my prince...of course they will remain welcome in our home. Perhaps I might teach them Piscean ideals of love and gratitude for their master...even the stubborn Taureans. Water has a unique way of wearing away rough edges over time, and filling itself into the tiniest cracks and crevices to provide a sense of completeness. It would be my joy and pleasure to assure that the girls grow for you the way Gretha and Kimeye surely have, sweet sire.”

Gretha then sighed, “Awww, that’s so sweet! No wonder Venus is so comfortable in Pisces. You’re all that, girl.”

"I think she could be That Girl," Carlo shrugged.

Alexis smiled, and Gretha said, "That's what I'm saying, Carlo."

"Nah Gretha, I mean...it's kind of when you asked me if I like Smashing Pumpkins, and I told you that I love to do that."

"Oh! I get it."

Kimeye then spoke up. “Yeah, Miss Alexis, you’re such a Pisces! So Carlo, they are all Tibetan college students? That’s so cool, maybe they can be Sybils too!”



Miss Alexis smiled, happy that the girl Sybils were interested in supporting those less fortunate than themselves, and knew instinctively, as all Pisces do, that each person contains Truth and Beauty, and to encourage that expression serves the common dreams of humankind far greater than any materialistic, selfish, more Taurean concerns. It is said that Pisces are not really of this realm, and exist as Earthlings only to provide support and hope for the other eleven Sun Signs. Either way, the Sybils agreed that it was very nice to have Miss Alexis around.

“There! That’s beginning to burn already! But I hate stoves, Carlo, why don’t you get rid of them? Why don’t you open up this beautiful fireplace and have big wood fires in it?” Gretha exclaimed.

“They wouldn’t give enough heat in really severe weather. You don’t know yet what Normandy winters are like. Why, you think it’s cold now, in May!”





“Well, does that horrid little thing give enough heat?” Gretha inquired scornfully, pointing to the offending stove. “I’m sure it doesn’t, and besides, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, it’s an eyesore. Is there any reason why you shouldn’t have central heating in this château? There’s a cellar, isn’t there?”

“Yes, of course there’s a cellar – that’s where the dungeons are now. It has a beautiful groined ceiling, which is quite an architectural feature in itself, though of course the purpose of such vaulting was to give the best support, not to provide the most beauty. It also has an excellent cave, full of fine vintages, which it appears the Countess did not plunder, since it was always her preference to drink cold champagne. The château’s been used so little, for such a long time, that they have gone right on mellowing. There’s plenty of room for a heating plant – I don’t suppose there’s any reason why there shouldn’t be one, except that heating plants are pretty expensive.”

“Too expensive for you to afford?”

“Not if I went without something else,” he said, after a moment’s thought during which he resolved to make no additions to the vintage wines, and silently revised his estimate for improving the stable. “I’ll tell you frankly, Gretha, I’m not rich. Yet yes, I could afford central heating here, if we all agree that we ought to have it.”





“I think you ought to have it,” Gretha asserted, while Kimeye nodded in agreement. “Plus, now don’t we have the Tibetans to think about? Are any of them cute, Carlo? I love Asian girls!”

“You’re bi?” Kimeye shouted across the room.

“Duh, yeah? Didn’t you know that?”

“N-no.”

“Gretha, do please keep your hands to yourself, at least until these girls are settled in. I suppose that they could be helpful in cleaning up around here. Perhaps you and Kimmy could provide some counseling, and teach them some basic English. Let me show you to your quarters, then we’ll call it a night and we can chat about this over the déjeuner tomorrow.” Carlo concluded.

“Day-jay-what?” Kimeye inquired.

“It means ‘breakfast’, Kimmer,” Gretha assisted.

“I’m wicked hungry now, what about lunch! Let’s find Alexis now.”

The Count led the way back to the little entry and opened a second door, on the left, which the girls had not previously noticed, disclosing a semicircular room so small that there was hardly any room to pass between the tall carved bookcases rising against the inner wall and the big flat-topped desk standing beside the one window. Yet it had all the cheeriness the formal parlor lacked. Two deep, well-worn chairs, covered with crimson plush, were drawn up in front of the tiny corner fireplace, and outmoded family photographs were scattered companionably about. There was even a wicker workbasket, with a faded ribbon bow on one side, which stood open on a little table, revealing neat rows of spools and a plump, punctured pincushion.

Miss Alexis then appeared in the doorway. “First dibs!” she exclaimed with an inquiring smile.

“My thoughts exactly,” the Count affirmed. “I could think of no better place for your writing room, dear girl. Every poet must have her special spot.”

Gretha and Kimeye looked at each other, wondering if they would also score their own writing rooms, and then grimaced separately as they looked askew of each other, simultaneously wondering if instead they would be required to share one room!

“I love this room the best, Carlo,” the Pisces purred.

“I thought you would. This was my mother’s private parlor – the other was for company. My father’s office was in the wing on the other side of the fort, which is one room deeper than this one. Yet he hardly used it except for transactions with his male employees and similar business. Instead he sat at that big desk, attending to accounts and correspondence, and my mother sat beside him, drawing or sewing. This room is so small that the fireplace could heat it, so it was always warm and cozy. In the evenings, after the day’s work was done, they moved over to those two big chairs, and my mother knitted while my father read aloud.”

“It sounds so pleasant, Carlo. Did you sit here with them?” Alexis asked.

“Sometimes. Yet they were very sufficient to themselves. I know they loved me dearly and that they didn’t mean to be selfish. Besides, I started away from school very young, and I was never home after that, I went straight from Deauxville to Calabria and from there to Alexandria for college, and to Courascant for my doctorates. Of course I had a horse here and went riding a good deal anyway, during my vacations. Yet I think I was sometimes a little lonely, I suppose rather typical for any Virgo boy with an Aquarian Moon.”

“Well, we’re gonna go look around ourselves, is that okay Carlo?” Gretha asked, intending to allow Carlo and Alexis to explore together. Both Carlo and Alexis nodded affirmatively. Gretha knew that Alexis and Carlo would continue to require ample time alone together, and besides, she felt that the ruse of exploring the new home would also give her a chance to explain a few things about herself to her closer companion and sister Sybil, Kimeye. Gretha felt that she should make it clear to Kimeye that although she had recently asserted that she was bisexual, that she did not mean to frighten Kimeye. Then she remembered that the dark-haired girl was a triple Scorpio, and her thoughts then drifted to whether or not Kim herself had ever fancied intimacy with other girls. The two girls then quietly exited the room.

“When you said perhaps you’d read aloud to me evenings and teach me more about Italian history, were you thinking of your father and mother, and the happy hours they had together in this sitting room?”

“Yes, of course.”

He seemed about to add something else, and this time she thought she read his mind, that he wanted to say: But if we had a little boy, he’d have his place here too. The room’s very small but it’s not too small for that. Our little boy wouldn’t be lonely, he wouldn’t have to go off riding in the woods with only his horse for company. We’d have him with us a lot, outdoors and indoors too. And besides, he’d have brothers and sisters to play with. She was sure that this was what Carlo wanted to say because it was what she wanted so much to say herself, and because she was more and more conscious of the harmony between their thoughts. Yet she still shrank from admitting that it existed, and she asked a wholly commonplace question.

“Is that curved surface by the mantel the inside wall of one of the little towers I admired so much?”

“Yes, and the space between the two walls serves a very useful purpose. It’s a cabinet de toilette. Would you care to explore that by yourself?”

“Not right now, thanks. Carlo, I really love it here. Thank you for letting us all stay. I will help make it a comfortable home, you’ll see.”

“Oh, I had no question about that Alexis, really. I…”

Just then, Alexis closed the door gently, turned, and pressed her body against Carlo’s. She then said,

“Carlo, you really are a special guy. Now answer my question from the carriage earlier. I know you’re a poet, a singer, a swordsman, an astrologer…what else, Carlo?” As she said this, she not-so-accidentally let the touch of her fingernails gently brush by Carlo’s pelvic area, perfectly grazing her mark with more ease than she had anticipated.

“I’m a lover, Alexis. At least I’m a suitor that wishes beyond anything in the world that he might be. A lover and a husband at one and the same time.” With his fingertips he began tracing petaled patterns on Alexis’s cheek and finally drew a whole flower. Then he let his arm slide down over her shoulder, and leaning forward, kissed the center of the design his finger had described. ”Chérie,” he murmured, with his lips still against the soft skin, “chérie, si tu savais seulment combien je t’aime, tu ne te retirerais pas autant.”

“I do know, Carlo, I’m beginning to feel the same way too, that I can’t help it. I don’t mean to withdraw, really I don’t. Certainly that time at Chesapeake Bay...”





“Yes, for the first time, I felt that you still would have been willing to have me stay when I left you – perhaps even glad.”

“I would have been glad. I wanted you too.”

“Then darling, why is it that this morning…”

“Because it’s still too soon to decide definitely.”

“I do not see why. You permit me to kiss you now.”

“Only once in a while!”

“Yes, to be sure, only once in a while. Yet I know that even that much is a favor you would not accord lightly, any more than I would seek it lightly from you.”

Alexis did not answer, instead reaching with her foot to quietly open the door which she had just a quietly closed moments earlier. The two smiled to each other, as if to communicate their longing, and to give assurances that they would have ample opportunity to continue this discussion. Until then, she would be content to indulge herself liberally in the delights of his opposite qualities, as well as to allow him to feed her the sweetness of his Virgo presence...one way or another...





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