I don’t remember that long ago, those things of mortals; money, illness, worry or any of those things that age us so quickly.  What I don’t want to remember is the one thing I’m forced to never forget.  The year was 1789. I was a local peasant in a small mining town.  Times were tough for everyone including the rich.  My life was expendable and the plague would not offer me an end. Although I had wished this fate for myself many times, I was not one of the lucky hundreds who died everyday.  I remember it was after Sunday vespers and I had just left the back of the church; vagrants were not allowed to sit in the pews with the “proper” folk.  I had decided to go for a walk along the path that led into the woods.  The town would not miss me.  

            As I slowly traversed the leaf scattered, limb fallen forest, I heard a woman crying.  I followed the noise.  She was in a clearing kneeling with her head in her hands.  She was dressed in very expensive, very beautiful fabrics.  I concluded that she was of some great importance, possibly royalty.  She noticed me as I approached and quickly dried her eyes and stood up straightening her dress.  She was also very beautiful.  Her red hair shone brightly in the little sun allowed through the canopy of the forest, her eyes were an almost iridescent yellow color and I remembered how they captured my attention.  I’d never seen anyone with yellow eyes.  I asked her if she was lost, she said no.  She took a step toward me and I could smell her.  It was a relaxing, trusting sort of scent as if I had nothing to fear from her and yet, I couldn’t understand why I felt the need to run.  She asked me my name and I gave it.  

She reached out and touched my cheek.  I wanted to recoil but I couldn’t.  She held me still with those yellow eyes.  She went on to tell me that her name was Felicita.  She chuckled as she said her name and I felt myself go weak.  I’d never had this reaction to a woman.  I snapped a bit back to reality and asked her why she had been crying.  She told me that I should not worry myself with those things.  She moved closer and still I did not, could not move.  I realized that her hand was still stroking my cheek and I’m not sure why, but I liked it.  My breathing was shallow and I was getting warm.  She chuckled again and moved yet closer to me until our faces were only inches apart.  I wanted to bolt.  I wanted to stay.  I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore.  She moved her face so close to mine, I thought she would kiss me but she only moved to my ear and whispered that she knew what I most wished for.  I buckled and I felt her arm go around me.  I don’t know how long she held me up but I realized that she was not shy about where her hands were.  I startled and stood up on my feet again.  She chuckled again and this time she did kiss me.  A slow deep sensual kiss that made me swoon unlike any kiss I’d gotten from a man.  She pushed her tongue against my teeth and I opened them for her.  I couldn’t believe I had done that.  She pulled my lower lip