"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
I am unsure as to what I am feeling right now, anger, grief, happiness? Neither one of those descriptors truly express what I am feeling, for I am lost, devoid of all emotion. One would expect the daughter of the dead to be mourning, driven almost mad with grief; however, here I am stood in the rain, watching as the priest tries to reassure us that this is not the end.
How would he know? The only thing this skeleton of a man would know is how many bottles of wine he can smuggle out of mass without the altar boys noticing, all in an attempt to drown his sorrows and restrain his lust for flesh. And by the glances he sends toward my right, I would say his depravities are geared towards Ms Westerguard or her son Hans, either could be a possibility. Poor thing, how hard it must be for Ms Westerguard to lose such fine business couple. How hard it must be for her to accept to take over as head of the company until I am of age.
Poor unfortunate soul.
As I look around all I see are frauds, people pretending to care that my dear mama and papa died tragically in a boating accident where a fire caught on the mainsail. Where in reality, their eyes scream out murder, deception and greed. I know the accident wasn't that, how else would you explain my parents being the only ones on the ship to perish? Coincidence, fate, misfortune? I call it betrayal, the same betrayal that with no doubt in my mind, will lead me to an untimely death just after I reach the age of twenty-one.
I might sound paranoid and deserve to be locked up for thinking such things, but when you are the daughter and only heir to the largest company in Arendelle and entitled to more money than any other gentry could dream of owning, you have a right to be…suspicious of those around you.
The only one during this wake who looks like they truly care is the grave-digger, a young girl, no older than I, with eyes of teal and hair of copper. I have never seen such beauty, yes her mud laden trousers and collarless shirt make her look like a man and her hands are as dry as the children's who work in our factories, but her eyes. Those gentle eyes, full of sadness and regret despite having never known my parents give me comfort and slight hint of joy on a hard-hearted, raining morn.
"We now commit their bodies to the ground;earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust:in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life…"
And with that the memories of my parents will be nothing more than the name on a piece of paper, my birth-right.
As I watch the young girl fill the graves with soil, the others around me turn and leave with haste. They have no desire to stay here longer than needed and neither do I, however no matter how I try and move I simply cannot. It is as if I am anchored to the floor, that something does not want me to leave. I would like to think if it mama and papa wanting to say one goodbye, but a more likely explanation is I am too weak to accept what is happening, too scared to go back to an empty town-house.
"I am sorry for your loss."
The sudden sound of gentle speech startled me, causing me to jump in my skin and let out a single squeak, much like the noise of a mouse that had been caught by a tomcat. Looking to my left I see the grave-digger woman smiling apologetically, the shovel over her shoulder and dirt streaked down her face. I desperately wanted to thank her for her kind-hearted apology, except all I was able to muster was an apathetic 'hmm' as if I was trying to dismiss this woman.
Her eyes darkened and her head turned away, I had obviously insulted her, made her feel as low as she had be reared to believe. Despite this I made no attempt in mending the situation because deep down I know that no matter how kind she is towards me, how breath-taking I find her natural beauty, I will always believe I am of a higher importance. Even if I have a soul forged from the Icy depths of the underworld, while she most likely has the soul of an angel which had been kissed by God.
What did surprise me were two single Crocuses being pulled from her back pocket, which she placed on each grave just below the stone. With a smile she bowed her head before turning her back to me and walking through the muddy cemetery, her two plaits plastered to her back from a mixture of sweat and rain, and her shovel nonchalantly thrown over her shoulder. And that made me smile.
Every moment I feel any sort of overwhelming emotion, whether it be happiness, rage, sadness or indifference I find myself here, staring at the graves. I am yet to decipher as to why I do this, it could be for comfort, support, and even possibly deep down I am trying to punish myself for feeling nothing towards their death.
While I am here, the only thing that seems to calm my nervous and my racing mind is the sight of the young grave-digger, always stood by a nearby tree, shovel in hand and a caring look on her face. We say nothing, we don't even move, we just watch each other for a few moments before I nod, turn and take my leave.
Although today is going to different, today I shall find out if I love this woman. I know what you are thinking; love, without even speaking to the woman? That is preposterous. I admit, even I believe that, but as I leave the cemetery each week all I can think of is her and her beauty. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, and all I can see is her face burning in the back of my eyes. I am not certain if what I am feeling is love or just admiration and respect for the kindness she has shown me.
So I request you wish me luck as I lift my head, take in a deep breath and walk my way over to the girl by the tree.
"I never thanked you for the flowers and your kind words."
Shrugging, the girl placed the shovel over her shoulder and gave me another kind smile, causing dimples to appear in her sun kissed cheeks. "No need to thank me Miss, I was only paying my respects. I do the same with every burial in this Cemetery."
How dare she speak of such a thing, acting as if my family were no better than any of the low-life's buried in this burial ground, it sickens me. "You treat the upper class as the same as the lower? I have never heard of something so disrespectful, you miserable little bitch." I am well aware my tone of voice is just as harsh as the words I spat out, but I could not stop myself even though it pained me.
"I am sorry Miss, I meant no disrespect. However I believe the dead, no matter where they originated should all be treated with the same respect and value." How can she be smiling when I spoke so appallingly towards her? "But I did see one difference with this funeral, something I found heart-breaking yet captivating in one package."
"Which is?" The perverted priest, the callous spectators, what?
I am unsure as to why, but when that single word came out of her mouth my heart skipped a beat. Is it a sign that I am in love? It is a possibility.
Taking a step forward, I watch as the copper haired girl diverts her eyes from my gaze, a blush finding its way across her cheeks, bringing out the deep brown of her freckles. "How do you mean?"
"You – you are the most beautiful woman I have even laid eyes upon. Even when in mourning and struggling with losing a piece of your heart you radiated warmth and magnificence." Biting her lip she brought her teal eyes back up to mine, causing my heart to palpitate uncontrollably and my stomach to flip. "I – I am sorry Miss, I spoke out of turn. I better leave, I have graves to dig." No please, don't leave.
"Wait." What are you doing? Grabbing a woman's wrist so suddenly, have you forgotten all the etiquette lessons you had to painstakingly sit through as a child? I am no better than a man who cannot control his urges. "Please don't leave. I would like to talk to you more. I am Elsa; it is nice to meet you."
Staring at my extended hand for a few moments, the girl rocked on the balls of her feet, clearly she is in need of some etiquette lessons herself. "What seems to be the problem, are you offended by my offer of my hand?"
"No not at all Miss –"
"Elsa – however, I do not want to dirty your glove with soil."
Oh of course, I am wearing my white leather gloves, ones which I do not wish to stain with earth. However that means if I wish to shake her hand then I am to remove my glove, something which I only do for – intimate practices. I do not enjoy touching items that others may have touched, which is why I am capable of touching myself with unclothed fingers.
The more I look at the girl, her smile fading, the more I want to touch her. So here it goes, for the first time for as long as I can remember I am removing my gloves outside the comforts of my own bedroom.
Holding back a flinch as she takes my hand happily, giving it a strong handshake was harder than I was expecting. I felt a mixture of heat and reflex coursing through my arm and deep into my core. Her hands are so delicate because of her gender yet rough from her occupation, in spite of this it is not as – revolting as I was expecting, quite the opposite in fact. "I am Anna."
"It is a pleasure to meet you."
I have no need to turn to see she is looking at my parents graves behind me. "I never saw you cry at the funeral, may I ask why?"
"Many have created their own theories; however I believe it is because I am cold and heartless who does not understand the meaning of emotion."
"I am sorry, but I have to disagree."
"Do you now?"
"Yes, the way you smile with your eyes yet your lips stay stoic shows you are scared of being yourself in fear of rejection." I have just realised she has yet to let go of my hand, instead opting to rub it soothingly with her thumb. "You have no need to be scared Elsa, you are amongst friends here. The dead are awfully good listeners, and so am I."
"Oh no Anna, I couldn't intrude."
"Nonsense, you are not intruding. I have no work on at the moment, so if you are comfortable we could go to my home and chat over hot milk."
Taking a step closer to Anna, I push a single strand of hair from her face before allowing her to guide me to her so-called home. I say that because it is nothing more than a small shack in a dark corner of the burial ground, surrounded by imposing trees that remind me of the monsters in my childhood nightmares.
Only when I had nightmares did my father come to show his love towards me. The normally cold man would come into my chambers, sitting himself on the edge of my bed before cradling me as if I was porcelain. But now, at the age of twenty, with no parents I am to bite my tongue, hold back my screams and hope for my nightmares not to take over.
"May I get you a drink?"
"Oh no thank you, I am fine, but don't go without because of me."
Nodding, Anna turned to a small coal stove, placing a saucepan of milk on the hotplate before adding a few coals on the dying embers. For a few moments my glances were captivated by the deep oranges and yellows until my eyes slowly drifted back towards Anna who was sat on a small stool, pipe in her mouth.
I cannot help but wish I was the wooden instrument being licked sucked by her thin, pale lips. Looking down I watch as her throat and chest rise and fall with each inhale of smoke, normally I find smoking a disgusting habit, but with Anna, she makes it seem – dare I say it – erotic. Just the same as when I removed my gloves, I feel exposed yet safe, confused yet confidant. A ball of tightness and heat is forming in my throat while I watch this spectacle before forcing its way down to my stomach, causing it the flip and lastly settling between my legs. A heat and obvious wetness pooling in the crotch of my bloomers forces a blush to take control of my white cheeks.
"How long have you been aware you have a fondness of the fairer sex?"
The sudden voice causes me to jolt slightly, Anna's bed creaking from under my weight. "I – uh – I am not sure." And that is the honest truth; some parts of me believe I only feel like this towards Anna for she has shown me much desired kindness. But for many years when I felt – an urge of an indecent nature, I would think of soft curves and fair skin.
"I understand it can be a confusion revelation. Trust me; I have been in your position."
"I highly doubt that." I want to hide my frustration, but am unable.
With an equally frustrated huff Anna placed her pipe on a nearby table, picked up a mug of milk which she had poured moments earlier and sat herself next to me, milk in one hand and mine in the other. "And why would you say such a thing?"
Her bright eyes are looking for answers and I am uncertain what to say, so opting for a more practical explanation I push my lips onto hers. And my goodness, does she taste beautiful.
In that one moment I find everything I had been searching for, comfort, sincerity…love, and I know Anna feels it too when she starts pushing her lips further into mine. Her tongue gliding over my bottom lip, removing some of my purple lipstick in order to ask for entry, which I have no intention on refusing, much to Anna's delight.
With my head swimming with lust I barely recognised the sound of enamel hitting stone as the mug of hot milk collided with the floor below. All I can focus on is Anna's calloused hands running across my jaw and neck before lightly hooking at the top of my collar.
Pulling apart for a few moments I watch Anna with hooded eyes before nodding, giving this woman, a stranger, permission to undress me and defile me in ways I have been brought up to deem inappropriate.
But I don't care.
I watch as Anna slowly starts to undo my black, velvet bodice with troubled hands. It is clear she is inexperienced with such clothing considering she spends her days in men's attire. I know it would be kinder to allow her to watch as I pull the numerous layers of clothes from myself, however, I get this sense of power from watching the young girl struggle.
Letting out a triumphant growl, Anna dropped my bodice on the floor to lie amongst the dirt and spilt milk before turning her attention to my blue-green, tight fitting dress.
Within less than a breath her hands are running up my legs, under my dress, carefully pulling it over my body. She most likely thinks she has finished undressing me, but what she does not know is this gift is harder to unwrap than any common whore. However, to be perfectly honest I feel much like a child on Christmas Eve, staring at the presents before me, wishing I didn't have to wait for me to run my fingers over the delicate covering and slowly prize it open until all was revealed.
A barely noticeable hitch made its way out of Anna's throat, showing she is clearly nervous. I try and calm her nerves by kissing her neck and slowly pushing the braces off her shoulders. With each groan she pushes her fingers deeper into my hair and paws at my scalp which I find most relaxing. Anna eventually finds her way to the clips holding my perfectly untidy hair in a twisted bun which she pulls out with little thought, allowing my thick plait to fall onto my back, forcing a thump to run through my chest.
Clearly finding my new hairstyle to her liking, she starts to push down my underskirt while her lips attack my cleavage which is on display thanks to my low undershirt. Each touch forces an unladylike moan to escape my mouth and for my hips to buck, driving my centre to attempt to rub itself against Anna, begging to be touched by her hand.
My desperation growing I let out a small dog-like whine, "Anna please, do not tease me."
"Of course Miss." Her hungry eyes and loving smile sends my heart and my core racing, a feeling which is amplified with her sudden quickness with undressing me. In less than two minutes she has removed my boots, stockings, corset, undershirt and lastly my lust-soaked bloomers.
For a brief moment I had the feeling of nervousness coursing through my body, telling me to cover up my body, run home and forget about this situation, but as Anna proceeds to undress herself all feelings of doubt leave my mind.
Without any attempt on unbuttoning her off-white shirt, Anna pulls it over her head, revealing a toned stomach and two, perfectly formed, free breasts. I am so enthralled by her pert breasts and small nipples I almost don't register her pulling off her shoes, socks and trousers before she clears her throat. This action forces my glances to look down as she removed her bloomers which had hidden a thick covering of copper curl, concealing her womanhood.
Noticing the glaze of desire covering my ice blue eyes, Anna straddles my waist, her hot, wet core dripping onto my thigh. With warm breath she whispers in my ear, "Touch me, I am yours."
A powerful shiver ran itself up my spine sparking an action I would never contemplate doing in my twenty years existence. I push her down on the bed with force; a low growl ripping through my throat as I feverishly kissed, bit and licked her neck. My hands clumsily knead her breasts, and pinch her nipples which cause my Anna to buck and moan with excitement.
I feel powerful, wanted, needed. As of now Anna is mine and only mine. Ms Westerguard can have the company, the money, even the house, for as long as I have this small, copper haired grave-digger I can die a happy woman.
Yes woman – I am soon to be a woman and nothing fills me with more excitement.
Now fuelled by desire I run my right hand down the lithe body of Anna, trying my hardest to memorise every curve, bump and minute imperfection, and that is when I feel them, her dense curls. With a tentative hand, I explore further down, my own core throbbing as I feel just how much she wants me, needs me.
Lust taking over I dip my fingers into her, running them against her wet, swollen lips before gently pressing a finger inside. "Please…Elsa." I never thought the sound of begging could be so erotic, for a few moments I am tempted to tease her further just so I could hear her say my name again, but my body takes over, pushing the finger inside her.
I have known for as long as I hit puberty what it feels like to have a finger inside a woman, the tightness, heat, the soft flesh rubbing against the bony appendage, but this, this is far more enjoyable than any form of masturbation.
With each thrust her moans become louder and I become filled with confidence, spurring me on to filling her with two more fingers while I use my mouth to give her nipples much needed attention. Curling my fingers I find a familiar rough patch that I often found arousing to touch and by judging by Anna's sudden bucking of her hips, so does she.
As I continue to make love to this woman I watch as a spotted blush climbs from her face, down her neck and across her chest, followed by beads of sweat. She is enjoying this and my goodness; I am having just as much enjoyment being the reason for her looking as if she has run a pleasurable mile.
Almost without warning Anna's back arches, her inner walls clench and her body starts to shake as a powerful orgasm rips through her body. An orgasm caused by me. Pulling me closer Anna lets of a series of moans and mutters before assaulting my mouth with hers, our tongues dancing their own waltz.
When the orgasm finally subsides and my fingers are let free, I start to do something I would never have ever thought about doing. I lick the remainders of Anna's high from my fingers, marvelling at the salty yet sweet taste as she coats my tongue.
"Elsa…" Anna muttered with a low voice before kissing my neck and playing with my breasts using her warm hands. I know the reason she said my name was to ask permission to take my virginity, but she had no need to ask as I open up my legs, waiting for her take me.
With a nod she started to kiss down my body, each touch sending a spark down my back and through my right leg. At first I was expecting her to use her fingers, much in the way I did for her; I was not expecting for her to touch my most intimate place with her tongue.
Lightly flicking my swollen bundle of nerves, my hips buck and my voice turns into not much more than a whimper, "Anna, oh goodness."
I had never felt anything like this. The way she is licking my centre, sucking my lips and lightly grazing her teeth across my clitoris is driving me insane. So much so that I am worried that the moment I orgasm I will be no use to anyone, and will have to be sent off to the nearest mental hospital, for how can being touched by a woman feel so pleasurable?
Propping myself upright on my elbows I watch Anna with bated breath and dark, lidded eyes. I want to so close my eyes and just feel as Anna uses her tongue to play with me, yet I want to watch as her copper hair moves between my legs, a sight that I find extremely alluring.
Feeling my body is close I reach out to Anna, my right hand running through her thick hair, giving it a slight tug with each animalistic groan I produce. This is no way for a woman to behave yet it is exactly how a woman behaves. We are expected to be polite, quiet, perfect, yet we also have these primal desires much like man, however for us this act is just a polite and perfect yet so savage and imperfect. This is more than just sex; this is love on a deep level.
I can feel myself coming close, but I don't quite want it to be like this, I need to feel Anna even closer. "Anna, please, I need you inside me." The moments those words left my mouth I bit hard on my lip, mentally scolding myself for saying such vulgar things, but when I feel one, then two fingers enter me all those doubts left my mind.
Anna thrusts with her fingers, curling them just in the same as I did to her, while her tongue also teases and plays with my clitoris, quickly bringing me to my peak. I let out one last, pleading, "Anna." Before the most powerful orgasm I had ever experience rips through me like a stampede. My back arches, my hips buck, my toes curl and I whip my head back as I scream like a woman possessed.
Then everything goes silent, my head is a buzz from such a tremendous feeling, my heart racing from the exercise.
I let out a small grunt when I feel two fingers pull out from inside me, I felt as if I needed them in just a few moments longer to keep reminding me of what a wonderful step I have taken. Laying herself on the bed, Anna pulls me closer before placing a thick, woollen blanket over the top of us both to keep our sweat covered bodies from becoming too cold. She is thoughtful.
Resting my head on Anna's chest, I listen to her heart which was still racing from her own excitement. I feel the need to tell her how amazing this experience was for me, that I would without a shadow of a doubt do this again and again until we fall asleep with our fingers inside each other, but instead I say a thing which surprised me.
"Anna, please do not be alarmed but I believe I am in love with you."
To which she replies.
"And I feel the same."