A Study in Satin

by Tigger

 

Part III: Dum Vivimus Vivamus!

Chapter 7. Feminine Terror in the Dark

 

The world began shaking madly and all Irene could do was hold on. "TANTE IRENE! TANTE IRENE! WAKE UP! OH, PLEASE WAKE UP!"

Bleary eyes opened, and then blinked hard several times. Surely, she was still dreaming. Irene opened her eyes again and forced them to stay open. *My god, it is Katrina next to my bed. She IS nude. . .except for that rather lewd pantalette, and she IS frantic.* "Wha. . . ," Irene's still sleeping tongue tried to get out, "What . . is . . wrong?"

"Oh you MUST come," Katrina wailed, her hands grabbing and Irene's arms and jerking the larger woman from her warm bed with unusual strength. "Oh, God, Tante Irene, I have killed her! There is so much blood! I tried to be gentle, but it was so exciting and she kept telling me to go harder and faster and. . ."

Irene was now awake enough to free an arm and put a silencing hand to her daughter's mouth. "Quiet, dear. Is it Sherla?" The still hand-silenced girl nodded vigorously. Irene looked down at the man-made phallus hanging from Katrina's drawers and saw the rust colored stains up and down its length. *It could be nothing, and yet, we don't know how fully female or how fully mature Sherla's transformed woman's parts really are.*

Both hurried back to Sherla's bed chamber where pitifully agonized moans and groans greeted their arrival. "Irene, is that you? Oh, god, help me. I think I am dying!" Sherla said, stress and pain evident in every word.

Irene sped into the candlelit room. The sheets were a crimson mess about a Sherla's hips and thighs. The girl had rolled herself into the fetal position, and Irene could see the glint of tears reflecting the candle's light on her cheeks.

Refusing to panic, Irene put a hand on Sherla's forehead, finding it warm and not cool as she would have found it from blood loss had the girl been hemorrhaging. Then she looked at the girl's bared bosom, and saw the rise and fall of normal, if sob-wracked breathing.

Smiling in relief, Irene turned back to the anxious Katrina. "Katrina, help me, please, to get our little nymph out of that messy bed so you can change the linen. Sherla, let us clean you up so that I can ensure that my diagnosis of your condition is correct, but I don't think there is anything to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?!??" both girls squawked.

~----------------~

"Her MONTHLY??!?" a relieved but disbelieving Katrina shrieked.

"More quietly, please, Katrina. We don't need to apprize the entire hotel of that fact. Not to mention the fact that we just got Sherla calmed down enough to rest."

"But how could she not know that she was bleeding? How could she be flowing like that and not have known about it?" Now Katrina sounded almost disgusted.

"What happened?" Irene asked, deciding not to go into the answer to Katrina's question just yet. "All I know is from when you woke from a very sound and pleasant sleep in that. . . . very unique piece of sleep wear. How did that scene in there just now come to pass?"

"Well. . . we were. . .well, making love. . ."

"I quite inferred that given your state of dress, my dear. What happened AFTER that."

"We fell asleep, but I woke up later. Sherla had rolled away from me taking all the blankets. I was going to demand my share back, but realized I needed to visit the necessary first. Inside the water closet, I lit the oil lamp so I could see where I was going. I went to pull down my. . . ummm. . .my drawers," Irene's naughty, knowing grin made the younger woman blush crimson but she pressed on determinedly. "And that was when I saw the dried blood on the . . . on the thing. It was very obvious and I knew. . . .oh curse it, Tante Irene, I knew that she was not a virgin. Not that way, so it was not her rose d'amoure, her virgin's blood on the . . .the thing."

"You knew she was not a virgin? How? Oh yes. That day you were both determined to protect the other because you each had taken shameful advantage of the other?"

Katrina nodded. "Anyway, I lit a taper using the flame of the lamp and rushed back to the room. When I woke Sherla, she started to move, then groaned in extreme pain, unable to straighten her knees from her belly. I pulled the covers off and we both saw all that red on the sheets and on her thighs. Like I told you earlier, she had been so demanding. . .insisting that I . . go . . ever harder and faster."

"And so you assumed, as did Sherla, that you had hurt her. . inside?" Again, Katrina nodded. "Well, I checked that journal of hers. She is several days late from what was her first period, so I suspect that is a good deal of the reason that this one hit her so hard."

"But, Tante Irene, how could any woman not know that her monthly is upon her? That makes no sense. This should not have been such a nasty surprise."

"Because our monthly friend has not been a part of her life before, sweet. You've been female for your entire life, and a fertile woman for more than a third of that time. Sherla has been female for mere weeks, and that only after decades of being a man. This is, from my reading of her journal, only her second monthly of her entire life." Irene thought about their afternoon's excursion, and grinned. "And she did have a great deal on her mind today that could easily have distracted her."

"Oh really?" Katrina was suddenly intrigued. She had seen the young Herr Kreuger about the town and recognized him as a very handsome man.

"Indeed," Irene replied. "She had to confront some new and potentially for her, frightening feelings today."

"She told me she loved me today," Katrina said shyly, almost afraid that admitting that gift might somehow undo the saying.

"Good." Irene said firmly. "That was one of the feelings she had to deal with today. I'm glad she thought to tell you so soon. It speaks well for the strength of her feelings for you because I know that Sherlock never said those words to a woman."

"What happens now?"

"Well, if I am any judge of Eve's Curse, our Sherla is going to have a very rough time for the next few days. She was already cramping rather severely when you took me in to see her." Irene gave a slightly malicious chuckle. "Mere men have no idea of how strong a woman must be to function with any degree of normalcy or efficiency during her time of the month. You and I have had years of experience to inure us to most of the discomforts. Sherla has to learn to be strong during these days."

"I remember my first few times. I thought I was going to die and thought I wanted to, once or twice."

"Until I decided I wasn't going to let my own femininity get the better of me, I felt much the same," Irene told the younger woman. "Sherla is your age physically, but we must always remember that she is but a mere babe as a woman."

"Maybe I will go tend to her. She'll need nursing, won't she?" Katrina said with an evil grin.

"She is liable to be a thorough and complete bitch, dear," Irene warned her.

"And won't I enjoy telling her that?" Katrina's grin grew wider as she strutted toward Sherla's bed chamber. "Almost as much as she'll hate hearing it."

~------------------~

Date: March 15, 1911

Entry in the Journal of Miss Sherla Joan Holmes

Location: The Brienz Hotel, Brienz, Switzerland.

Time: 9:00 A.M.

My Dear Doctor Watson:

I am in the throes of my second menses, old friend, and, according to my beloved, acting like a complete bitch. Well, so be it. A bitch must feel better than I do at this moment. My god, John, do I have this bodily torment to face for four days, every month for the rest of my now-extended life? If I could scream in writing, I would.

In fact, consider it screamed!

My stomach is not merely rebellious, it has declared war on me. The merest smell of food, not to mention the sight of food, has me crawling, literally, for the chamber pot.

The most grievous insult of all this, however, is that I have been told I shall not be permitted (PERMITTED!!!) to participate in our ongoing investigations until I am "more the thing," according to Irene. I suspect she said it in that oh-so-very condescending manner to get me to stiffen my British upper lip and put this feminine atrocity behind me. It should have worked quite successfully, too, had my traitorous body not won that particular confrontation. I took a mere two steps to attempt to follow Irene out of the bed chamber, and then barely made it back to the chamber pot in time. Extremely humiliating, John. And just when we have uncovered our first real clue in the person of this, as yet, unseen poorly spoken Englishman. Both Irene and I are certain that this individual was Moriarty's advanced element, coming here to make arrangements for whatever property that currently serves as the Professor's lair.

Rosenlaui, once again, my dear friend. If this clue proves to be as telling as every instinct I possess tells me that it is, then I shall soon enough be looking at the Reichenbach Falls. The last time I left that fearsome chasm, it was in the firm yet mistaken belief that I had rid the world of Professor James Moriarty forever.

I shan't make such an error this time. THIS time it ENDS here - once and for all.

Oh, curse it, another cramp and it's a bad one. Excuse me, John.

Date: March 15, 1911

Entry in the Journal of Miss Sherla Joan Holmes

Location: The Brienz Hotel, Brienz, Switzerland.

Time: 9:23 A.M.

My Dear Doctor Watson:

I am back, obviously. I shall never refer to women as the "weaker sex" again. I swear it.

Irene hypothesizes that my difficulty in dealing with this "time of the month" has several possible causes. First, she points out that I am "late" since my last visit by this malady was more than 30 days ago and in her experience, women who are not regular tend to suffer more when the even does arrive. LATE, the woman says. My God, John, I have, throughout the course of my life, always made an extraordinary effort to be meticulously punctual and now my body is "late"?!? I don't know whether to be embarrassed or affronted - in addition to feeling absolutely vile, that is.

Her second supposition is that something may not be quite "right" or complete about my feminine internal arrangements. However, we will only be able to ascertain that over time. Especially in light of her third possibility.

Watson, you will not credit this, but that heartless woman as much called me a whining and spineless weakling! Told me that REAL women do not allow anything so banal as "a bit of bleeding and some minor cramping" to inhibit them in this way, but she would make allowances for me since I had not "grown up learning to deal with such things with the innate courage, strength of will and determination of the female of the species."

Good god, John, she as much told me to be quiet and bear up under this female onslaught like a man! Can you imagine, John? I have not yet proven myself, in Irene's eyes at least, to be man enough to be considered fully a woman! Heavens above, I would laugh at that blatant contradiction in terms. . . .heavens, that contradiction in genders, if the spasmodic movement of certain gravely overtaxed abdomenal muscles would not send me back to my now very familiar chamber pot.

In any case, I will be alone here in our hotel suite for the next hour or so. Irene is primping for her house visits with Herr Kreuger the Elder, and Katrina as Karl, is off running an errand for Irene. I think (make that fervently HOPE) that she is seeking a chemist who may have some remedy for the worst of this . . . affliction. At least Katrina will be here most of the day since young Loche has started school again now that the snows have cleared.

Damn. Irene was right - I AM whining. I am actually glad I will not be alone while I am miserable. Well, I hereby make another promise. I will not take out my . . . not-so-very-minor comfort on Katrina.

Really, I won't.

But it will take a great deal of effort on my part, I am afraid.

In fact, the only time that I have had any semblance of comfort during the night was when Katrina spooned her lovely warm bottom into my painfully cramping belly. HEAVENLY! And of course, being that close to Katrina, holding Katrina that close is wonderful as well.

Unfortunately, or perhaps, in light of hindsight, fortunately, I still had a very difficult time going to sleep, even with Katrina so close and warm. We began talking, about so many things. I don't believe that I ever. . .no, let me be honest . . I never had a conversation such as that with a woman before. It was long overdue. It all began when I shifted myself about for what must have seemed like the hundredth time. . .

~-----------------~

"Can you not at least LIE STILL?" a tired, husky voice demanded.

"Sorry," Sherla mumbled into Katrina's tangled tresses. "Can't seem to relax."

"Cramps again, Cherie?" Katrina asked.

"Yes," was the unhappy reply.

Katrina turned over and pulled Sherla close, their pert bosoms touching beneath their soft nightgowns. "Let me rub your back for you while I keep your belly warm with my body."

"But it is my stomach that is cramping," Sherla whined.

"Trust me, petite. I have been dealing with the monthly visitor far longer than you have." Katrina said as she began to press firm fingers into the muscles of her lover's lower back.

"Ohhhh!" Sherla squealed with Katrina's knowing fingers found a particularly knotted muscle. That was followed by a nearly ecstatic, "Ohhhhhhhhh."

"The belly muscles are being pulled from two places, Cherie. The front and the back, and we will deal with both."

"Thank you," Sherla sighed as she laid her head on the pillow next to Katrina's.

Continuing her ministrations, Katrina thought a little conversation might distract Sherla enough to fall asleep. "So, what happened yesterday that got you so excited that you didn't realize something like this was impending?"

"Well. . . ." Sherla wasn't sure where to start, or how much to tell. "We went sleigh riding with Hans-Peter Kreuger, the estate agent's son, after Irene and his father spoke about our supposed requirements for a house here in Switzerland."

"Ah HA!" Katrina said knowingly. "I thought the very handsome Herr Kreuger was involved." Katrina felt Sherla go very still and her already tight muscles lock up. "Relax, dear. You came home to me."

"You're sure?" Sherla asked, almost meekly. "I mean, nothing happened except flirting which Irene and you have both told me I am to do. . . . but. . "

"But what, Cherie? You were very excited when I arrived home. Am I to conclude that you wish to have this fine young man in our. . . your bed?"

Again Sherla became quiet, but this time did not stiffen as she considered the question. Finally she sighed. "I did become excited and a great deal of it initially had to do with him. It began when we first arrived at the office. I am afraid I very shamelessly and quite ruthlessly teased him."

"How?" Katrina demanded. "Surely you didn't" she said moments later after Sherla had finished her recollection of the interplay.

"I did, and had Irene explain the errors of my ways to me before we boarded his sleigh. Then I did as Irene directed, and acted very shy, very. . . submissive for a while. Then he began to tease me back, very gently. It was. . .rather sweet, actually."

"And this gentle flirtation so excited you? You are fast, Cherie," Katrina teased.

"I'm not sure. My arousal started when I was teasing him. I must say it was very exciting to see him so . . .flustered by my audacity. He looked so like a school boy caught out at something naughty, and he literally jumped to do my slightest bidding."

"And later?"

"Later, he managed to touch me - nothing overt or offensive really - but he'd hold my hand longer than was quite necessary or put his hand on my back to walk me to and from the sleigh."

"And you became more excited?"

"Yes. It was very . . compelling. In some ways it felt like I feel when we are . . . getting ready for, um, each other. But in some ways it was . . . different . . . "

Sherla's eyes looked off into nothing, yet Katrina felt her lover's nipples press sharply into her own soft bosom and knew Sherla was becoming aroused by the memories she would not share.

"A man can be . . . satisfying, sometimes," Katrina whispered softly.

Sherla's head lifted up and she looked into Katrina's sad eyes.

"You don't like men," she said, though there was a question lurking beneath that so blunt declaration.

"I, um, don't really like men, it is true," Katrina replied. "But they are, uh, their bodies have, certain . . . abilities that I can't provide."

"You provide all I need," Sherla asserted, but Katrina thought there was a still a question in her words.

"Ma Cherie, it is not the same. Do you not find that toy satisfying, at times?"

She felt, rather than saw, Sherla's response as she just nodded silently against Katrina's breast.

"Well, the real thing can be even more satisfying. Though it can seem almost as hard, there is still a pulsing warmth to it that can be quite. . . . "

Sherla's softly feminine voice held tones of worry and uncertainty. "Do you . . do you truly want me to take a man to my bed?"

"Cherie, what I WANT is for you to be happy," Katrina replied fervently, "Happy and satisfied in every way a woman can be satisfied. If that means a man, then that is what I want for you."

"And you?" Sherla asked, "I could not be satisfied without you."

A heated kiss was all the answer Katrina could give at that moment, her throat tight with emotion. When the kiss broke, both women had tears streaming down their cheeks. "I am glad, petite," Katrina managed, her voice still husky with need and other emotions, "For I am most desperately in love with you."

This time it was Sherla who felt the unmistakable signs of arousal in her lover, though she was so distracted by her own thoughts that she hardly noticed. And when she did return from her silent musings, her first thought was of the pain she still saw in Katrina's eyes.

"I had noticed that ours gets dreadfully cold. Between times, that is," Sherla said with a snicker as she tried to lighten their suddenly somber mood.

"I suppose we must fetch a basin of warm water then, hmmm?" Katrina asked quietly, but Sherla's joke was not enough to clear the anguish from her eyes. "Ma Cherie, at some point you must . . . experience. . .must KNOW the full measure of pleasure a skilled and gentle man can give to a woman he cares for - to a woman such as you. You owe it to yourself."

"Perhaps," Sherla said. But she snuggled herself and in particular, her still cramping belly closer to her warm and cuddly bed mate and murmured, "But not immediately. And not, I think, with Kreuger-the-younger."

"And why not?" Katrina asked, beginning to be mollified, yet still worried about any chance that she was being selfish to Sherla's detriment.

"Well, he is a handsome man," Sherla giggled, "and very sweet in the bargain, but in weather as cold as this? Why, I'd be afraid his . . . equipment . . .would break with MUCH less than the stress I have come to enjoy."

That earned Sherla a short giggle from her lover which gave her. . . . other ideas. Her slender fingers started tickling Katrina in places only a true lover could have found, and only a ruthless one would exploit. "And besides," Sherla added in her suddenly squirming lover's ear, "I am currently too besotted with you to want anyone else. I LOVE you, you lovely French tart, every bit as desperately as I know you love me!" In moments, Katrina was gasping for breath, begging for relief. Relief Sherla was only too happy to supply, despite her own inability to enjoy the same for at least a little while.

When she finally allowed her beloved to catch her breath, another advantage of a real man came to Sherla. She snickered and whispered to the languid Katrina, "I suppose we would not be walking so stiffly, if we had something a bit less, um, unyielding than that so-rigid and too-often-frigid device."

"Oh, don't be so sure, Ma Cherie," Katrina whispered back, her saucy grin once more firmly displayed. "Some men have equipment so much larger than that little toy that you would hardly be able to walk at all. Though, one could not fault the durability of our device. No man has that much endurance."

Sherla made no reply. At least, no verbal reply. But the heat of her arousal made any pretense of secrecy worse than useless. Not for the first time, she cursed the sensitivity that made even the most loving of caresses intolerable at that time. Then a sudden yawn caught her by surprise.

"Ah, so Momma-Katrina's back rub is having the desired effect, is it? All right, no more talk. YOU will need what sleep you can get."

"But I am not sleepy," Sherla protested as another huge yawn took her.

~-----------------~

Only I did fall asleep, John, but mere moments later, and managed to sleep fairly restfully until dawn.

It has been a very full twenty-four hours, John. I don't quite know where this will all lead, but I am looking forward to the journey.

Farewell, my friend. I am going to try and rest. Irene assures me that the worst of this will be over with tomorrow. I should very much like to be asleep for as much of the time until then as is possible.

End of Journal entry.

 

 

 

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