Persephone's Wings

  PERSEPHONE’S WINGS

  An Ellora’s Cave publication written by

  SAHARA KELLY

  Chapter 1

  Persephone Jones tugged uncomfortably on the lapels of her ill-fitting brown jacket and pushed her glasses further up on her nose.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Marshall, I don’t quite understand.”

  “You’ve been most satisfactory, Persephone. In fact, your organizational skills are quite extraordinary. The office has never run so smoothly. But now we no longer have any need for your services. I’m sad to say that as of today, we are terminating your contract. We shall, of course, be sending a glowing reference to the temporary agency.”

  “Of course.”

  A hollow feeling settled in the pit of Persephone’s stomach. Once again, she’d worked herself out of a permanent job. She sighed.

  “Thank you, Mr. Marshall.” Rising, she held out her hand and got it firmly shaken by the older man.

  “I know you’ll do well, Persephone. Your talents are really quite amazing when it comes to getting a management system up and running efficiently.”

  She smiled weakly as she left his office. Yeah, right. She was so good that within a month no one needed her anymore.

  Her desk seemed unfamiliar to her as she returned to her cubicle and found some thoughtful soul had put a box next to it. Soon she was packed and gone, few people even stopping to say goodbye. Such was the lot of a temporary employee.

  Here yesterday, forgotten today.

  And once again, no one needed her.

  Perhaps it was that fact that hurt the most. Temp work was fine when you couldn’t decide what to do permanently, but it never really allowed friendships to build, especially when one was cautious by nature and not the sexiest woman on the block.

  Persephone closed the door of her apartment behind her, dropped the box on the floor and stood silent for a moment. It was ten-thirty on a Tuesday morning, and she was home. It was all wrong.

  She shook out her raincoat and hung it up, realizing that once again the heating system was on the fritz. It had to be close to eighty degrees and she was breaking out in a sweat.

  Tossing her suit jacket over a chair she went into her bedroom, stripping off her blouse and skirt and pulling awkwardly at her pantyhose. One day, she promised herself for the fourteen millionth time, one day she’d try thigh highs, but until then, it was pinch and roll, tug and wriggle.

  Finally free of her nylon torture, she stretched her arms, breathing comfortably.

  The mirror over her dresser reflected her image back at her. Average height, average brunette coloring, average weight.

  Huge breasts. The curse of the Jones women had struck Persephone with a vengeance, and she winced as she noted the sharp cleavage and firm swell of her breasts above their lacy underwired support.

  Someone else was watching, too. Someone with a dark and slender tail, eyes of gold, and a set of long whiskers of which he seemed extraordinarily proud.

  “What do you say, Pat, old fellow?” asked Persephone, slanting a quick glance at her very best feline friend.

  Pat, whose name was actually short for Patent Leather because that’s what he resembled in Persephone’s opinion, wrapped his tail elegantly around his feet and looked at his mistress.

  “They’re big, yeah, but they could be considered sexy by some, I suppose.” She turned sideways and studied her profile. Pat’s ears flicked back and forth and his golden eyes followed her movements.

  He licked his lips.

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.” She grinned at the cat.

  Pat had come into her life about a year ago, entering unannounced through her window and onto her kitchen counter where he obviously liked what he found. He suffered through a trip to the vet, bit the man when he suggested neutering, and had remained staunchly at Persephone’s side ever since.

  His wants were few: a clean box, the occasional catnip treat, and lots of loving. He also had a lace fetish.

  Persephone had been puzzled when she began finding her lingerie in a damp heap when she got home from work, until a little bit of undercover spy surveillance resulted in the sight of Pat nestling into her underwear and blissfully licking the lace until he reached some sort of advanced state of euphoria.

  She wanted to feel outraged, but the warmth of his body nestled against hers in bed at night more than made up for his eccentricities. It helped ease the loneliness she sometimes felt at not having a human body to cuddle up to.

  So they co-existed in a state of friendly affection. Persephone told Pat all her problems and shared her thoughts with him, while Pat returned the favor by eating the food she put out for him, cherishing her undies and snuggling up at night. If he felt like it, of course. He was, after all, a cat.

  “You know it’s my birthday today, don’t you, Pat?” She posed this rhetorical question as she went into the kitchen with Pat padding behind her. She didn’t bother with clothes. The underwear was more comfortable, and until the heat decided to turn off or explode she was better off wearing next to nothing.

  “I’ll forgive you for not getting me a present.” She gazed forlornly at the birthday card from her parents. Happy Birthday, Dear. Enjoy the day. Mom and Dad. Ten dollars had been enclosed.

  She sighed. She loved them, but would have been very happy if they ever decided to emerge from their sheltered TV-sitcom existence and acknowledge that she was now twenty-seven years old. Perhaps they might even realize that ten dollars didn’t get much more than a newspaper and coffee anymore.

  She hadn’t seen them in almost five years, and even the weekly calls had dwindled to monthly, and then semi-occasionally. She sent them a card now and again, and shrugged it off. Closeness had never been part of their family motto.

  She went to the fridge and opened it, vaguely hoping that a “Miracle of Saint Whirlpool” had occurred and magically produced an assortment of delectable goodies since the last time she’d checked it.

  Nope, no miracle today.

  Only a cup with one egg white in it—going hard, some leftover mashed potatoes from her Sunday dinner—going soft, a piece of cheese—variety dubious, a container half full of milk and the cupcake she’d swiped from the employee lunch room. There was also something that looked like it might have been lettuce in a previous incarnation.

  She pulled out the cupcake, looked at Pat and shrugged. “Hey, it’s my birthday. The frosting may be a bit hard, but hell, it’s a cake. Now if I can just find…” She rummaged in her drawer and pulled out a used birthday candle.

  Sticking it in the top of the cupcake, she gazed at it.

  “Okay, Pat, this is it.” The cat crossed the kitchen and jumped silently onto the table. “Hey. You know that’s against the rules.” He purred and looked at her through slitted eyes.

  “Yeah, I love you too.”

  He rubbed his head against her breast and purred again.

  “Watch it, there, fella. I might get to like that too much. It’s been almost a year since I let a guy get that fresh.” Like she’d had a choice. Men were as scarce as hen’s teeth in Persephone’s life, and her words simply brought that fact back to her.

  Sighing, she pulled Pat closer to her body and placed a smacking kiss right between his ears. “Thanks for the birthday nuzzle, sweetie.” She reached for the matches that lay next to the candle in the center of her small table and lit her little birthday treat.

  “Happy birthday to me.” Persephone sang the words softly to herself as her eyes filled with tears. This was one sucky birthday.

  “Okay, Pat. I’m going to make a wish now.” She smothered her pain, and stared at the candle. “What shall I wish for?”

  A harsh tongue swept over the lace on her bra, sending
a little shiver down her spine.

  “Oooh. Bad cat. Reminding me of what I haven’t got, haven’t had, and god, do I want. Well, perhaps that should be my birthday wish. Fabulous, fantastic sex with fabulous, fantastic, magnificent lovers. Lots of them. Oh, and a good-paying permanent job, too.”

  Drawing in her breath, she blew out the candle and closed her eyes, wishing with all her might as the smoke swirled upward around her face.

  It seemed very pungent smoke for a small cake candle. Her nose tickled and her eyes felt funny.

  All of a sudden she felt very drowsy, and wanted nothing more than to lay her head down on the table.

  She felt Pat’s body rumble with another loud purr and sensed his face as he brushed his whiskers over her breasts. Another long slow lick to the lace of her bra brought a sleepy smile to her face.

  “Awww, Pat. Pat the cat. What a guy.”

  Persephone’s eyes closed, and she sprawled over the stained white Formica.

  Pat watched interestedly as his mistress disappeared.

  * * * * *

  The first time Persephone awoke, she was aware of nothing but an extraordinary amount of pain radiating out from her spine to every single nerve ending on her body.

  She moaned, and something cool and soft stroked her face.

  “Easy now, sweetie. Just breathe slowly.” The voice was gentle and comforting, and a very delicate fragrance permeated the air around Persephone’s face. It just begged to be sucked down into her waiting lungs.

  She lapsed back into unconsciousness.

  The second time she awoke, she blearily opened her eyes to see two creatures hovering over her.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed past what felt like the Sonora desert in her throat.

  “Here, sweetie. Drink.” A hand raised her head slightly and something smooth and cool nudged her lips apart.

  She sipped the liquid that brushed her mouth, and then sipped some more. It was refreshing, sweet with just a slight tang, and the taste reminded her of the scent of flowers.

  “Mmm,” she sighed, finally opening her eyes again. The creatures were still hovering. She squeezed her eyelids shut.

  “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “When I open my eyes I see two creatures fluttering over me. I am in a coma or dead. It was my birthday, if I remember correctly. Therefore, some enormous cosmic joke has been played on me, since nothing could have put me in a coma. I must be dead.”

  A merry laugh greeted this statement.

  “On the other hand, I suppose the heating system might have blown up, thus causing my apartment to collapse and putting me in a coma.”

  “Very logical, sweetie.”

  Persephone opened her eyes again. The figures had stopped hovering and were now standing on either side of her bed.

  Tentatively she reached out a hand and poked the blue one.

  “Ow. Mind the shirt. It’s new.”

  “Oh shit.” Persephone sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re solid.”

  “Well, thank you. I think. I have actually dropped a couple of pounds.”

  “Who…what…where…”

  “You’re stuttering, dear. Take a deep breath.” A hand gently stroked the hair away from Persephone’s face. The hand then unobtrusively wiped itself on a towel.

  “You need a bath, too. My goodness, you humans get dirty in a flash, don’t you? A quick trip between dimensions and you pick up all kinds of grime.”

  “We humans?” Could that pathetic squeak have actually come from Persephone’s throat? She gazed at the man, if that’s what he was.

  Tall, with long golden hair, he was clad entirely in blue. His tight fitting shirt was a marvel of tailoring, and his tighter-than-tight pants left nothing about his strong and muscled figure to the imagination. He wore a deep blue braided belt that looked like it was the finest leather, and it matched the deep sparkling blue of his eyes.

  His shirt was several shades darker than the soft blue of his skin, however.

  “I’m Salvias.”

  “I thought salvias came in red.” Persephone struggled with a number of issues, prime amongst which was that she was talking about horticulture to a blue man. Being. Creature. Whatever.

  “Oh, sweetheart. I can come in whatever color you’d like.” He grinned. “But call me Sal, why don’t you? Salvias is such a mouthful, isn’t it? Or…” he coyly nudged Persephone in the ribs, “…so Clover likes to say.” He giggled. Really giggled. A blue man was giggling next to her.

  Unable to process this information successfully, Persephone gave up and turned to her other side.

  The lovely being standing there smiling at her was definitely feminine. Sort of.

  “Hello, I’m Clover. And you’re quite lovely, you know…” She allowed her hands to trail delicately up Persephone’s naked thighs while her green eyes feasted on the sight of her rather prominent breasts.

  “You do realize that there are those of us who’d pretty much kill to have those, don’t you?” The woman nodded with awe at the nipples pointing at her.

  That she was stark naked began to register with Persephone, but in light of the fact that she’d just had a conversation with a blue man, it seemed rather unimportant.

  “Thank you, Clover.” She gulped, eyeing the beautiful green woman.

  “Now, now, Clover, time enough for that later. We’ve got to get Miss Persephone up and about.” Sal bustled around the room and gathered wispy draped things in his arms. His wings brushed the low ceiling.

  His wings.

  Aha. He had wings.

  Big ones.

  Persephone swallowed. “Um, excuse me.” Sal turned with a smile. “Did you know, er—how do I put this, do you know you have wings growing out of your back?”

  Sal giggled again. “Why you silly thing. Of course I have wings. All fairies do.”

  “Well, that explains the blue,” muttered Persephone, glancing over at Clover. Her wings were neatly folded behind her.

  “Don’t mind Sal. He is a bit on the flamboyant side. There are fixed-wing fairies and swing-wing fairies, and Sal, well let’s just say his wings swing more than anyone’s.”

  “And I didn’t hear you complaining, Miss Nice-in-her-Notions. Certainly not last night when I made those wings of yours shake like aspen leaves.” Sal pouted teasingly.

  Clover laughed, tossing her long green hair over her pale green shoulder. “That’s absolutely right, my love. That tongue of yours is a killer.” She grinned down at Persephone. “Just you wait ‘til you feel it tickling its way up into your sweet pussy.”

  Persephone blinked.

  “Not until she’s bathed, Clover. I’m looking forward to some fun as much as you are, but we’ve got to get that awful earthy taste off her skin. And her hair, well…” Sal clicked his tongue and sighed. “We’ll work on it. But first, something to wear.”

  He held out what looked like an armful of fluff held together by a bit of pink mist. ”Here you are, lovey. I think this pink is just right for you. It’ll bring out the leeedle touch of color in those lovely cheeks of yours.” Seeing as he was gazing at her buttocks as she eased herself off the bed, Persephone was left in no doubt as to which cheeks he was referring to. Her other cheeks blushed.

  “What’s this?” She stared at the thing he was offering.

  “This, as you so bluntly put it, is your robe. Here…”

  He slid her arms into a soft mass of pinkness and Persephone gasped as it tumbled down to her thighs. It hid nothing.

  “I…do you see…this is completely…I can see right through this.”

  “Mmm…so can I.” Clover licked her lips on the other side of the bed. The sheer want in her green eyes stirred Persephone’s hormones in a new and unusual way. She’d never been stared at with such lust before.

  She should have been shocked. She wasn’t. She was tickled—er—pink.

  Chapter 2

  “Where on earth am I? And what am I doing here?”

  Persephone emerged from
her small room with Clover on one side and Sal on the other. A long corridor stretched out before her.

  “You’re in Fairyland, dear,” answered Sal. “Didn’t you know?”

  “Fairyland. Right.” She looked around her as they moved along the corridor to see something that resembled a cross between a sophisticated office building and a rabbit warren.

  Open doors revealed computer workstations, busily humming or displaying screen savers. Soft buzzing tones indicated some kind of telephone system, but it was more of a chime than a ring.

  “What am I doing here? How did I get here?” Persephone asked the questions again, vainly trying to accept the notion that she was, in fact, in Fairyland, not in the psycho ward of some well guarded mental institution.

  Her eyes darted around, noticing that the walls were cleverly crafted to look like dirt encrusted roots, slithering this way and that between the doorways. She glanced down at the floor. Soft green moss, or carpet which looked amazingly like soft green moss, cushioned her footsteps.

  Not Clover or Sal’s footsteps, of course, because they weren’t making any. They were flittering gently just above the floor and holding onto Persephone’s hands. She got the feeling that she was anchoring them as much as they were leading her.

  The draft made by their wings stirred the soft silky robe and she felt a whoosh of cool air swirl up around her buttocks.

  “Mmm…who do we have here?”

  A deep voice sounded behind Persephone, and a pair of warm hands slid up beneath her robe and around her stomach to cradle her breasts.

  She gasped and tried to turn, but found herself held tight against a very hard and warm body.

  “Good morning, your Majesty,” dimpled Clover.

  “Your…your…Majesty?” Persephone struggled to free herself, but the arms binding her to his body were strong and his hands were now rolling her nipples between his fingers in the most enticing way.

  “Persephone, this is King Oberon.” Sal waved his hand behind her, and she once again tried to turn and see who was there.

  “Sssh, little one. Don’t move for a moment. Let me enjoy you.”