The Vigilante

Ann practically skips up the stairs, Anne following close behind, constantly checking behind her to see if any of the servants are observing their movements. Ann opens her bedroom door wide, spins around to drag Anne in by her wrist, then closes it and falls back against it. Anne is on her in seconds.

Both her palms are flat against the wood, just above Ann’s shoulders. She leans in, her lips almost touching Ann’s, and she hovers there, teasing. Without a word, Ann grabs a fistful of Anne’s waistcoat and yanks her forward, bolstered by the surprised huff Anne lets out. Their mouths collide in a mash of lips and teeth. There are hands in Ann’s hair, pulling out the pins in her curls and slipping through the loosened strands, fingers trailing over her neck, making the lower half of her body turn to liquid heat with that intense touch. They kiss until their lips are plump and wet and raw.

“Take off my dress,” Ann whispers.

Anne growls at the provocative tone of Ann’s voice and her gentle command. Her hands fumble with the buttons at the back of Ann’s gown, but after a couple of attempts, she shucks the fabric down around Ann’s feet, holding her hand to help her step out of the ring and her slippers. 

Anne’s hands skim over the curve of Ann’s hips and tug at the lace ribbons holding her corset together. She watches with delight as Ann’s breasts spring free from captivity, right into her waiting mouth. She feels the little breath Ann sucks in in anticipation of her teeth making contact with a nipple. 

Having been apart for a several weeks has Anne struggling to take it all in. She is almost paralyzed by indecision over what she wants to touch and taste first. Her hands and lips can’t keep up with her thoughts.

She leans back and glances over at Ann’s bed, then steps backward, tugging Ann with her. She turns her and gently presses her down onto the bed. Ann puts up her hands and whispers.

“Wait!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I want to see you, too.” Anne stares at her for a few moments, then steps back and stands up straight. In one smooth move, she tugs the cravat from around her neck and tosses it to the side. She simultaneously kicks off her boots and unbuttons her waistcoat, sending it to the pile of clothing accumulating on the floor. 

Ann sits up on the side of the bed and reaches for the buttons on her pelisse while Anne slips her shirt up and over her head. Anne watches as she deftly slips each button out of its corresponding hole, then slides the skirt down Anne’s muscular thighs. Only her knickers remain. She presses Ann down again and wastes no time mounting her thigh

Anne’s eyes are dark and engorged with desire, and its only seconds before she’s kissing Ann again, parting her lips and sliding her tongue in her mouth, like that space is its natural home. Her hands are on Ann’s body, groping and squeezing and kneading at every bit of skin she can reach. Ann gasps at the almost-too rough contact, but it’s making her wetter by the second, so  she perseveres.

Anne’s hot mouth starts kissing down her throat, sucking and lightly biting at the tender skin there, moving to lick along the ridges of her collarbones. Ann’s chest is heaving by the time Anne reaches her breasts, nipples stiff and ready for whatever she chooses to dish out. Every time Anne’s mouth closes around her nipple, Ann feels a powerful ache in her groin that only one thing will satisfy.

Ann watches as Anne kisses her way down her abdomen, shuffling on her knees on the mattress as she goes. She groans when Anne puts a hand on each of Ann’s knees and pushes them up and apart, spreading her wide open. The look on her face when Anne’s eyes drop between Ann’s legs is almost criminal. 

The first swipe of Anne’s tongue makes Ann’s head thud against the pillows. She wastes no time diving in. He tongue runs along the length of Ann’s slit, back and forth around her folds, and around her opening. She dips into Ann, working her tongue deep, licking the front wall of her pussy and dragging as much of Ann’s wetness into her mouth as she can. Ann can only moan and surrender to Anne’s efforts, her legs dropping open even wider, exposing herself even more.

Soon Ann’s hips are circling, grinding into Anne’s face while her abdominal muscles flutter like there’s no tomorrow. She shivers and whimpers, cries out for more, then grits her teeth as the sensations become almost unbearable. She’s never had it so good. 

There’s a brief moment when Anne lifts her mouth off her to drag some errant strands of hair away from her face and Ann cries out, “don’t stop!” She releases her clenched hands from the bedsheets and sinks her hands into Anne’s hair, urging her back down. 

It doesn’t take long for the impending orgasm to build. Ann feels the tingles in her feet, the heat building in her lower abdomen. Anne feels it in the tempo of Ann’s rocking hips, how she pushes against Anne’s tongue in that specific way. Anne slips in a finger, the grip from Ann’s muscles so strong it sucks her in. She adds another, aided by the wetness oozing from Ann’s hole.

Her fingers slip in and find that perfect target, then curl at just the right angle. Ann’s butt cheeks flex and grind, her back arching even higher. It’s the combination of Anne’s tongue and fingers that sends her rocketing over the edge. Her whole body locks, spine arched, head tilted back, every inch of her convulses and shakes around Anne’s mouth. She shivers from the rush of euphoria caused by the mouth and fingers of none other than Anne Fucking Lister.

An hour or so before dawn, they finally collapse in a heap. The sheets are rumpled, the room reeks of sex, and Ann can no longer feel her thighs. She curls up into Anne’s arms and falls asleep within seconds, Anne stroking the back of her hair, listening to the rhythm of her breath. She could get used to this. She wants to get used to this. There would be a lot to consider - the tribe, Anne’s family, the whispers of the town - but Anne thinks they could make it work. It won’t by any means be easy, but together…they could handle it. 

Anne smiles and kisses Ann’s head. It’s settled. She’ll ask her soon, when the timing is right.

//////////////////

“It’s a beautiful day for a wedding, wouldn’t you agree?” Anne smiles across at Ann sitting on the carriage bench opposite her. She leans forward and places her hands on Ann’s knees.“You look so pretty. That color really brings out the blue of your eyes.”

Ann’s heart feels like it’s going to explode. Anne Lister telling her she looks pretty! What are the odds?!  The fact they even met up again after all these years is just pure dumb luck. Or destiny…fate perhaps. After a while, the lines start to blur, but does it really even matter? They found each other…that’s it. Job done. 

Ann leans forward and cups Anne’s face in her hands. She doesn’t know if it’s the beautiful weather, the fact that they’re going to a happy event, or just all the incredible sex they had last night, but she has no problem letting the words pour forth.

“I love you…Anne.” The tender kiss that follows doesn’t have the fire that burned through their lips just hours ago, but it’s still filled with want and need.

“I love you, too.” Anne turns her head to kiss Ann’s wrists and the tops of her hands. She holds onto those hands and looks at Ann thoughtfully. “Do you ever think….”

“…what?” Ann tilts her head waiting for Anne to finish the thought.

“…think about us maybe…getting married?”

Ann squints. “You mean like….a wedding?  In front of people? Can ladies do that?”

Anne shakes her head. “No, no…not…not in front of people. It would have to be a private matter. But…we could…exchange rings…say vows. It would just be us…in front of God and one another. To me that’s all that matter. Bugger everybody else.”

Ann’s smile is electric. “Have you been thinking about this for a while?”

Anne chuckles, her cheeks blush. “A fair bit. Week two of your ankle.”

Ann’s mouth drops open in astonishment. “Weektwo?! Why didn’t you say something sooner?!”

Anne hems and haws. “Well…I mean…there was your foot…and then the constable…and then, well…we hadn’t really known each other for five minutes. I don’t know, you know how these things go. It just never seemed like a good time to broach the subject.”

Ann giggles and it warms Anne’s heart through and through. “So is that…?”

“Yes! It’s a YES!!” Ann launches across the carriage and wraps her arms around Anne’s neck, hugging her as tight as a boa constrictor, wiggling in her lap. They kiss, and laugh, and kiss, then kiss again, Anne keeping one eye on the carriage window.

“Ann,” she mumbles against her lips. “The church is coming into view.”

“Spoilsport”, she whispers into Anne’s ear, then provocatively licks into the shell and sighs. A chill runs up and down Anne’s spine, and it takes every ounce of strength not to push her back on the carriage bench and fuck her until she loses her sanity.

Ann pulls back and looks into Anne’s eyes. They’re dark and full of an energy she recently experienced, and the end result was Ann crawling to the edge of the bed searching for a glass of water, exhausted and whispering breathlessly, ‘no more…no more.’

“I think…” Ann places her fingertip against Anne’s lips, and begins to push herself off of Anne’s lap. “…it’s a good thing we’ve got this wedding to go to, Miss Lister.” She takes her seat on the carriage bench and straightens her clothing. 

Anne looks at her with a playful sneer. “Yeah, you’ll be paying for that later.”

Ann gaffaws, “Oh really?! My future wife, telling me what’s what! I don’t think so.”

Anne feigns astonishment as Ann looks out the window. “Ah. We’re here. Straighten up.” Behind Anne’s smile, she wonders whether she’ll be able to manage little Miss Walker. She’swillful, thatone.

/////////////////////

The church is jam-packed. Most of the people in attendance are laborers, some Halifax vendors, a few upper class invitees, including Anne and Ann, her father and Marian. Aunt Anne’s mobility issues prevented her from attending.

The church pianist tickles the ivories, playing a pleasant rendition of Handel’s TheArrivaloftheQueenof Sheba. Everyone is quite gay and pleased to be attending the wedding of two wonderful people who seem to be so in love.

Ann turns in her seat and sees James and Thomas chatting animatedly in the back corner, Thomas doing his best to adjust James’ cravat. It appears they are both frustrated with the silly piece of cloth and getting it to lay properly. It seems the cravat has a mind of its own. Ann turns to Anne, “I’ll be right back. It looks like James and Thomas are having a wardrobe malfunction.”

Ann makes her way to the back of the church and offers assistance.

“All right, you two. I saw you back here struggling. What’s the problem?”

Thomas throws up in hands in frustration. “Ah, Miss Walker. Thank God you’re here! This pillock can’t get his tie t’ set’le. Only you bet’uh take him in t’ back room, Suzannah’ll be here any second.”

Ann takes James by the arm and turns him around to a door leading into a dressing room at the back of the nave. James looks at her embarrassingly. “Right. Let’s get you straightened out.”

Ann removes the cravat from around James’ neck, straightens out the fabric and then loops it back around his neck. She evens out the length on each side…then stops dead in her tracks, her hands on each end of the cravat, staring at a empty space around his neck. Her blood runs cold and she shivers hard.

James looks at her, puzzled. “Miss Walker?”

“Your…you used to have a …a cross.” Ann feels her chest tighten. She looks up at James, her hands stay where they are.

James chuckles, “Oh! Yeah…that. Wow, good memory! My mother’s.I lost it somewhere… a long time ago. Who knows where. I think Thomas is right, I am a right old pillock!”

Ann remembers it now…clearly. Ornate…gold…a small ruby in the middle. Ann drops her hands and takes a step back. She doesn’t want to believe that James is a killer, but the facts are starting to line up.

“Where…where do you think you…lost it?” 

James innocently shrugs and jokes. “No idea. If I knew that, it wouldn’t be lost.” He knows she knows, she’s a clever girl. He tells himself he must not panic. 

“We should really get this cravat going, Miss Walker. Suzannah will be upset if we hold up the ceremony.”

Ann backs up another step, her hands reaching behind her, blindly searching for support.

“James…what did you do?”

James scoffs. “Wha- what are you goin’ on about? Miss Walker?” 

He turns toward her. Ann suddenly realizes how tall James is…how imposing he is…how threatening he could be.

“You killed him…didn’t you? Reverend Ainsworth.” She takes another step backward, trying to remember where she is in proximity to the door. The piano continues to play in the next room, buffering any sound they make in the dressing room.

James realizes there’s no sense in pretending. He respects Ann, has treasured working for her.  Truth be told, he’s carried her in his heart since coming to work for her more than seven years ago. Feels a great degree of affection for her. But that doesn’t mean he’ll let her take him down, not without a fight.

He suddenly turns fierce. “Yeah... I did. Bastard was raping you…right in your own house! And I couldn’t do nowt ‘bout it. I wanted to…I wanted to rip his face off! Shoving that pitchfork through his chest was the best thing I’ve ever done!” He takes a step toward Ann.

“So..so…you killed him because of …what he was doing to me?”

“Tha’s right. You and probably so many others. I’d heard rumors of more…some in his local village. Bastard just takes whatever he wants…doesn’t care how it affects others…women. You know he killed his wife…weren’t no carriage accident. He got what’s coming to ‘im.”

Ann bumps into a table, then casually slides along its edge, ever so slowly, feeling the wood with her hands.

“What about Christopher Rawson? Did you kill him, too?”

James considers the question, unsure as to whether he should admit to everything in one fell swoop. 

“Your cousin. I saw ‘im.  Just before he ran t’at family right off t’ road. And for what?! Test driving his fancy-schmancy gig?! T’at lit’le boy lost his leg! And Rawson didn’t even stop. A life for a life, if you ask me. I’m sure Mr. Rawson is guilty of many more crimes, some probably way worse than what he did t’ Henry! Nah…this world is way better off without him in it.” 

He rolls his neck and shoulders, glad to have that off his mind. 

Ann feels the path behind her open up again and she takes another soft step backward.

“And Mr. Sowden?”

James looks off in the distance and huffs. “Sam. Boy…he was a piece of work. Just like me dad. Always drinkin’… spendin’ what little money he had on booze…and then coming home to beat us…all of us. Night after night, day after day, the constant hitting and yelling…never knowin’ what’ll come walkin’ through the door!” 

James’ eyes begin to well with tears. The memories of the abuse he endured…his mother, too. He wipes at the moisture with the back of his sleeve.

“He used t’ tease me. Called me a ‘sissy boy’ and ‘Girly Girl’ ‘cause I had small feet. Still do.” Ann looks down and sees that he does have small feet for his size.

“He killed me mother…he beat her so badly one night…hit her in the lower back…she went down…stayed on t’ floor for hours, spittin’ up blood.  I got her into her bed and stayed with her. She was cryin’ ‘n heavin’..it were awful. She didn’t make it through t’ night.”

James takes a step toward Ann, pleading his case.

“I had to stop ‘im, Miss Walker. He were killin’ ‘is family. I would see ‘im at t’ pub all the time. Drinkin’ and carryin’ on. And Thomas…he’d come get him, almost every night. Like a loyal lit’le puppy. And then he’d go home…and beat the hell out of ‘em. So I stopped it. Don’t you see? I righted t’ wrong. For all of ‘em! These people were going to get away with what they were doin’! I couldn’t let ‘em.”

Ann takes another step back, then realizes she’s backed into a corner…and James is coming closer.