Leopard 04 - Wild Fire

My cat is a hussy.”

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    Mary laughed. “During the Han Vol Dan, all the females are hussies. And it’s the only time your male is going to be tolerant of flirtations. Our men are very jealous.” She laughed again and looked through the open door toward the den where Doc’s voice murmured in low tones. “Even old silly men.” There was affection in her voice. “He still finds me attractive, even in this old body.”
    “You’re not that old, Mary.”
    “Seventy-one, child. I look younger, but I don’t move as spryly as I used to.” She poured the batter into a cake pan and scooped out the last of it carefully. “As for you and your leopard, it’s an exhilarating experience. Are you afraid?”
    “Nervous. Well . . . a little afraid. Does it hurt?”
    “Some, because you can feel the transformation, but in a good way. Don’t hesitate. Just let it happen.
    You won’t be lost. You’ll be there fully, just in another form.”
    “And she’ll want to mate with her leopard?”
    “Yes. And you’ll have to let her.” She laughed, her expression dreamy. “She’ll only make you wilder for your man.”
    “If that’s possible,” Isabeau muttered. “I’m pretty wild for him already and he knows it.”
    “He wouldn’t be leopard if he didn’t know it, honey,” Mary said. She pushed the pans into the oven and stepped back, dusting off her hands. “Come on, let’s go take a look into the treasure chest and see what we can find.”
    Isabeau’s heart jumped. She wasn’t going to hurt Mary’s feelings no matter what. The woman was being so kind. Isabeau felt her cat close, stretching, pushing, almost purring with need. Her breasts began to ache, and when she walked, her jeans rubbed along the junction between her legs. Not yet. I’m a little aggravated with you, she cautioned her cat.
    The female leopard didn’t seem to care. She rolled, making Isabeau want to arch her back. She was feeling a little desperate for Conner. The burning between her legs grew stronger with every step she took.
    “I was married in 1958 and had a very daring wedding dress for those times. I had to make my own wedding dress, as we didn’t have access to dresses. Doc was from a different village, and many of those in my town treated me as if I was a scarlet woman. I was quite the flirt back then, and very defiant of tradition.” Mary laughed as she climbed the stairs to the attic and shoved open the door. “A friend drew the design and basically did the actual sewing for me. She’s remained my best friend for all these years and lives just down the road. In her time, she was a wonderful designer, always raising the bar. To me this dress represents adventure, a deep-abiding love and everything romantic and magical.”
    She glanced at Isabeau over her shoulder. “I loved Doc with all my heart when I married him, and I love him a thousand times more now. I would be honored if you wore this dress and perhaps passed it on to your daughter some day. Each time a new way to preserve it came out, I had it done. It’s as fresh now as it was fifty-two years ago.”
    Mary knelt in front of a chest made of cedar and slowly opened the lid. Reverently she took out several items until she came to a large sealed box. Isabeau held her breath while Mary broke the seal and pulled out the dress.
    “Mary.” Isabeau breathed her name, staring in awe at the dress.
    The dress was champagne and ivory, the color less traditional than stark white. The nearly form-fitting gown had a silky slim skirt that dropped dramatically to the floor with Belgium lace swirling around the hem.
    “Back then, the style was full skirts, and lots of lace. Neither suited either my personality or my figure, and so Ruth adorned the hem and bust with the finest Belgium lace, but left the rest plain. The bust is beaded over the lace. Few designers were doing beads then, but Ruth had always incorporated beads into her drawings. Of course the strapless bust was totally risqué. Some designers were doing it, but they covered the shoulders with a small jacket or lace so the bride would be decent in church.”
    Isabeau laughed. “Mary, you were a rebel.”
    “No one back then paid much attention to Ruth’s designs. They told her she would never amount to anything. Only men could have their own businesses. Women were supposed to stay home and mind the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter,