Another Dark Knight
Fantasy Train Story
(c)1999 by Virago Blue


     It still happens occasionally.  "It" being
something I've always called the switch.  I'll be
living my normal, quiet all-American life one moment
and with little warning I'm sucked into the
other realm to live out an adventure of my alter
ego-Virago Blue. 
 
     Yes, I know, you're confused.  Virago Blue is a
pseudonym I use when writing.  Virago Blue is also a
fantasy character, my alter ego.  It's hard to explain
and even more difficult to understand, especially if
you happen to be one of the non-believers.  Let me
clarify that.  If the idea of a past life seems
laughable to you, you are probably a non-believer.

     Let me try to explain the switch in simple terms. 
My past life never ended.  A glitch in the system or a
joke played on me by the powers that be, I don't know. 
Virago Blue's life circle never closed before I began
this one.  My two circles overlap and the conflicting
times have worried a tear in the fabric.  Therefore, I
slip through on occasion.

     My life is strange, to say the least, but it has
never been boring.  My parents used to say, "That's our
little Viv.  One big imagination that one has.  She'll
be famous one day."  Of course, they didn't imagine I
would be telling my stories to a bunch of strangers on
the internet.  

     My children do not know yet, although sometimes I
fear they suspect something is different about me.  My
husband knows.  He deals with it quite well.  He thinks
I'm cute, quirky and creative.  You see, my husband, my
soulmate, is the same man I fell in love with back
then. Once a soulmate, always a soulmate.  Of course,
he doesn't remember his past life as Lord Peerce
DarkBlade since that life circle closed for him.  

     So, let's back up.  As I mentioned, I never know
when I will be pulled into the alternate reality.  This
time it happened over dirty socks . . . 

***

     "Damn.  How does this happen?"  Viv tossed another
lone sock into the odd sock basket.  At least eleven
dejected little socks in various states of wear and
tear pout up at her from the basket.  "Don't you worry,
boys, I'll find your mates.  They can't just walk off. 
Ha!"  (Humor is very important to Viv while performing
domestic tasks.)

     Viv tromps up the stairs, knowing her offspring
must be hiding the mates somewhere among their action
figures, toy cars and soccer paraphernalia.  Kicking a
cheap looking carnival toy leprechaun out of the way,
she lowers to her knees and cautiously peers into the
dark recesses of the underside of one child's bed. 
"Aha!  Just as I thought."

     Another pathetic little sock stares back at her
from beneath a pile of discarded Batman underwear,
coloring books and dust bunnies.  She crawls deeper
under the bed, wedging herself tightly within the
confines of the dusty darkness and sneezes.  "Achoo!"

     "Got it."  Viv backed out from the cramped
quarters and stood quickly, her discovered booty
clutched to her chest.  The room quickly darkens as
infinite black and white stars threaten her vision. 
With a thud and a "Bloody hell!" she falls to the
floor, the black stars having won the battle.

***

     "I said, get out of my way before you lose an
appendage, you creepy little green ogre." 
Virago sneers down at the overzealous leprechaun.

     "Not until you let me give you a gift."  The
little green man smiled evilly, patting the noticeable
swell beneath the leather apron.

     "I'll take your little shoemaker's hammer and
shove it up your arse if you don't leave me alone. 
You've already ruined my chaps with your spillage and I
didn't bring any spares."  Virago pushed past the nasty
creature.  

     "C'mon, pussycat, kiss my blarney stone."

     The dagger strapped to her thigh was burning into
her skin.  She was itching to release it from the
studded sheath and pummel the tiny clover-humper to a
slimy pulp.  Something about the little man made her
shudder.  It could be the resemblance to the village
cleric or maybe it was the sickly green pallor of his
skin.  After two days of no sex, Virago was near the
breaking point.  If the little elf didn't get out of
her way soon she feared she may start humping one of
those pointy ears.  For now she chose to avoid him. 
"Listen, Lucky or whatever your name is, even a small
thorn causes festering, you would do well to keep that
in mind."  She tried not to snicker but the
temptation was overwhelming.  He stood, mouth agape,
and if it were possible for a little green man to turn
red with rage, he did.  

     "You bitch, you slut, you whore."

     "I try, I really do."

     "May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind
and illegitimate children chase you so far over the
hills of damnation that the Lord himself can't find you
with a telescope!"  The leprechaun sputtered in
outrage.

     "Yeah, sure, fine, whatever.  See you in the
dining car, stretch."  Virago waved him off and slipped
through the door of one car into the next, the creak of
leather and jangle of chain mail following behind.  She
never saw the evil little grin on the leprechaun.

***

     "Oh . . . " Virago breathed.

     The nameless man strained.

     " . . . my . . . "

     "It's coming."  He strained more.  The veins
bulged in his arms and neck.

     " . . . Goddesses!"  Virago cried out.

     "Almost, Senorita."  His large, work-callused
hands gripped tighter.

     "Oh my Goddesses, Oh my Goddesses, Oh my
Goddesses!  Pull it out!"  Virago shrieked, still not
believing the situation she was in this time.

     "Wait . . . " He shifted his weight to add
leverage.  It didn't help.

     The carriage driver relented with a shake of his
head.  "My apologies, Senorita.  I just can't get a
good enough grip.  It's too slippery."  He took a step
back from the mess.  "That hole is too deep."  His
chest heaved as he swiped at the beads of sweat on his
forehead.

     Virago paced, quietly cursing the deep rut in the
road.  That evil little leprechaun was behind this. 
Just wait until I get back on that train, she thought.  
 "I cannot miss the train.  I must be in the village in
three hours.  How far is it from here?"  Her eyes fixed
on the desolate landscape and empty horizon.  Yellow
dust already coated the carriage. 

     "Too far for a lady to walk.  I will unhook the
mule and ride into town for help.  It could be days
before another carriage passes through here.  Do not
worry, Senorita."  The driver smiled uneasily behind
his thick mustache.  "You will be fine if you remain in
the carriage."

     "Sure.  Fine.  Whatever.  Just kick the mule into
a quicker stride, por favor?"  Virago hiked up her
voluminous skirts and disappeared into the carriage.  

     The carriage was dusty and dark, but at least the
view of the sun setting on the plains eased her
aggravation for a few moments.  The dress was confining
and odd.  She hated dresses.  Undoubtedly the
leprechaun had a hand in outfitting her in this way.  A
warrioress never wears a dress.  All the fabric just
gets in the way.  How could she possibly straddle a
horse in this silken contraption?  

     Despite the cushions on the carriage seat, she
still fidgeted.  The neckline of the plum-colored
bodice dipped dangerously low to reveal an excessive
amount of cleavage and creamy skin.   She straightened
the skirt and crossed her long, muscular legs.  "There
now. Perhaps I can pass for a debutante."  Her
'harumph' was cut short by the sound of thundering
hooves and the tinkling of chain.  She tried to pull
her sword out from under her seat, ready to do
battle with whatever would come through the door.

     "Whoa, Hurricane, whoa."  The deep timbre of the
male voice raised something within the woman Virago. 
Surely if he was trying to sneak up on the carriage for
some awful purpose he would not feel the need to speak
to his horse? 

     Virago knelt on the floor.  Her sword and scabbard
remained stuck beneath the seat.  The door flew open
and crashed against the carriage.  A large, dark figure
loomed over her, blocking any light from the passage. 
His legs were long and sturdy, hips narrow and filled
out to a muscled chest visible beneath the open laces
of his black silk shirt.  His dark, wavy hair moved in
the slight breeze.  

     Virago was the perfect picture of distressed
damsel.  Wavy gold locks strayed across her eyes and
slid over her arm, barely concealing the ample bosom
which now jiggled as she attempted to dislodge her
sword.  She held her tongue.  For the moment.

     "Fear not, fair lady, for I have come to carry you
to safety.  I am the Dark Knight, avenger of do-bads
and naughty deeds, and the unknown masculinity every
woman of good taste and fair fortune craves."  He held
his gloved hand out to her, one booted foot in the
carriage, his black satin cloak waving in the evening
breeze.  

     "Oh, wonderful."  Virago said with a hint of
sarcasm.  "Your middle name wouldn't happen to be
Stormy, would it?"   Virago brushed back her hair in
annoyance and studied the pompous prick.  He stepped
back from the shadows and she was able to get a clearer
view of his features.  He stood tall and proud, hands
on hips and chin jutted in the air.  His deep brown
eyes studied her.  

     For a moment she melted.  Something inside her
begged for a little release, a little touch, a little
press of the thigh.  There was something about this
tall, dark and handsome stranger that made her want to
forget her problems for the moment and engage in a
little recreational fuck.  Just to ease her stress.

     "It's you!"  The Dark Knight exclaimed, reaching
beneath his cloak.

     "So.  You've heard of me, then?  What can I say,
except---" Virago froze as he thrust his weapon in her
face.  She studied his blade with curiosity.  Never had
she seen such a thin shaft and smooth guard.  The
absurdity of the situation suddenly struck her as
funny.  "You call that a sword?  You couldn't cause too
much damage with that sickly thing.  Now THIS is a
sword."  Virago released her own weapon from its sheath
and brandished it over her head with both hands. 
"Eh?  What do you think?  Sturdy and thick with the
power to split you in two, that's my Ghelda." 


     Dark Knight sneered and wiggled his sword about
her face and chest.  She felt the tip lightly skim her
bodice.  With an exasperated sigh she struggled to her
feet, tripping over the dreaded skirt.  Without
warning, her bodice slipped from her body, as did her
sleeves.  The waist band was ripped in two causing the
rest of the dress to fall apart at her feet.  Virago
was left standing in nothing but a thin undergarment
which left very little to the imagination.  

     "So.  Size does not matter after all."  Virago
stepped over the remains of her dress and pushed past
tall, dark and heroic.  "Let's get on with it.  Rescue
me already.  But, mind you, I'm not one to go around
feigning the damsel in distress routine.  It just isn't
my style.  But if it makes you happy, I'll pretend just
for the two of us."

     "You!  You are the Fuken Whore!  The thief of
hearts, the woman who feeds off a man's strengths and
milks him dry, you are the virility snatcher!"  Dark
Knight sputtered angrily.

     "Oh please.  I've been called many things but
never a virility snatcher."

     A hiss rendered the air followed by a loud crack. 
Virago froze in her tracks as the tail end of a black
leather whip snaked around her ankles.  "I don't do
pain, Don Diego.  But if you promise to make it all
better I'll see what I can do."

     "You are under arrest.  What you say to me, even
in private, will be used against you in the court of
the Commandant.  Don't say I didn't warn you.  Mount
up."  Dark Knight smirked salaciously.  

     Even behind the black mask she could see his eyes
traveling the hills and valleys of her landscape. 
Perhaps Dudley Do Right had a weakness.  "Mount . . .
up?   Then can I go down?  Perhaps we can come to some
type of arrangement here."  Virago smiled at her own
weak joke.

     "What kind of an arrangement do you propose?"

     "I'll do anything you want.  Anything.  All you
have to do is deliver me to my friends in the next
village.  We have a train to catch."

     Dark Knight was thinking, she could tell.  All
superheroes rub their chin with their gloved and
gauntletted hand while thinking.  "No.  I do not wish
to end up as the others."  He quickly scooped her up
and dumped her roughly on the back of the black
stallion and mounted behind her before she could
wriggle away.  His steely arm wrapped around her waist. 
His free hand captured the leather reins.  

     Virago repositioned herself in the saddle.  She
pulled the chemise up around her waist to allow her
legs more freedom astride the beast.  Unintentionally,
she revealed the dagger she kept strapped to the inside
of her thigh.

     The moment he noticed her dagger, she felt his
arms grip tighter about her waist.  She bucked
viciously against his hard chest, slamming the back of
her titian-tressed head into his chin. He bit back a
curse.  The black steed pawed the ground as the two
strong-willed and hard-bodied legends struggled in the
saddle.

     "I see you come prepared for your battles."  Dark
Knight huskily whispered near her ear.

     "I always carry protection."  Virago wiggled her
hips back against his thighs.

     His hands gripped her waist and lifted her from
the hard leather.  Dark Knight jerked Virago to face
him.  He was much stronger than he looked for Virago
was no waif.  She held still for the moment.  Her
breasts tingled as he pulled her to his broad chest. 
The pale nipples reflexively hardened when they brushed
against the thin silk of his shirt made warm by his
skin. She knew he felt her arousal, just as she felt
his.  Virago lifted her unsheathed dagger and touched
the tip to the tender spot just beneath his
outrageously handsome cleft chin.  "Now, my dark and
careless Knight, you will bring me to the village.  I
have a train to catch."  

     Virago shifted in the saddle, pulling one leg over
to straddle the trunk-like thighs of the Dark Knight. 
She pressed a hand to his chest, slowly sliding it down
until she reached the stony package between his legs. 
A smirk cut across his delicious lips.  She arched a
slender blonde brow .  Her azure gaze challenged his
passion-filled brown eyes as she caressed his rock-hard
manhood.  With the expertise a woman of her nature has
perfected, she released his most dangerous weapon from
its trouser sheath and stroked it with reverence. 
"Let's ride."

     He nudged Hurricane into a trot.  She tightened
her grip on Dark Knight.  Virago wrapped her thighs
around his waist and lifted her undergarment to expose
her musky wet sex. She lifted her hips and impaled
herself on his thick shaft.  The movement of the horse
did the rest. With each strike of hooves to the ground
Virago plunged down his proud rod only to rise back
up, arching her back in ecstasy.

     The Dark Knight, broad of shoulder and thick of
head, had heroic stamina.  Through sweat, dust and
moonlight, they rode.  And rode.  And rode.  The third
orgasm left Virago so weak, the dagger tumbled from her
grip.  Dark Knight only smiled.    

     Suddenly they were upon a well lit tavern.  Dark
Knight dismounted, bringing his prisoner with him.  He
strode purposefully and proudly into the cantina,
dragging Virago behind him. "Compadres, I have captured
the Fuken Whore.  She tried to work her feminine wiles
on the Dark Knight but she did not succeed.  I am
immune to her type of sport.  She is a wanton hussy. 
Be careful not to get too close.  She bites."  

     Virago rolled her eyes, finally catching a glimpse
of Shon and Maria.  John A was in a darkened corner
with a Spanish vixen explaining the advantages of tacos
and trains.  "Well met my friends, 'tis about time my
woebegotten form graces the company of such esteemed
companions."

     A cantina patron, while studying Virago's legs,
looked up and remarked something undoubtedly humorous
to the crowd.

     "Maria, what did he say?  I seem to have lost my
magic translation card."  Virago asked.

     "He said you sound strange, almost purple."  Maria
answered, hiding a laugh behind her hand.

     Virago sighed, balling up her fist and delivering
a staggering right hook to the commentator.  He fell to
the ground with a groan.

     A commotion clattered through the door.  A man of
pleasing features pushed a blond woman to the front of
the crowd.  "It is her.  I caught her, um, red-handed. 
The Fuken Whore!"

     The whole room turned to gawk, an audible gasp
rising from Shon, Virago, Maria and John.  "But
that's----"

     "Denny?  Denny is that you?  And who is that
woman?  And, and, . . . oh . . . bloody . . .
'ell."

     Virago sneezed.

***

     Viv stirred on the bedroom floor after the sneeze. 
A phone was ringing.  She crawled to the table by the
bed and grabbed the phone.

     "What is it?"  Viv spewed.

     "Honey?  You okay?"  Viv's husband asked.

     "Mmmmhmmm . . . yeah yeah, fine.  What's up?"  Viv
waited for her husband's answer while picking a little
lego from her face.  Apparently it got stuck to her
cheek when she fainted. "Great.  Now I'm going to have
a lego bruise.  What a bitch."

     "Huh?  What?  Oh, I just heard that Pamela
Anderson Lee had her implants removed.  Can you
imagine?  I wonder what she looks like now?  Suppose
she'll get anymore acting jobs?  Heh...breasts or not,
I have a newfound respect for her after seeing that
Tommy Lee video."  Her husband gushed on and on about
Ms. Lee, continuing his mid-day chat as usual.

     "The Fuken Whore."  Viv said, holding back another
sneeze.

     "Whoa.  Honey.  That's a little harsh, don't you
think?

     "Nevermind."

     Viv replaced the phone on the receiver.  She
caught a glimpse of the ugly little carnival toy
leprechaun that always gave her the creeps.  It seemed
to be sneering at her.  She grabbed its pointy ear
between two of her fingers and brought it downstairs
with the laundry.  The kids won't miss this mean little
guy, she thought, closing the lid on the trash can. 
She continued matching pathetic little socks, wondering
at the sore wetness between her legs.