Elfin Hands
by Soren Nyrond

Cordelia recognised the dream: it was one she had gone through ever since she'd been about five years old, although with the years it had developed, and changed subtly.

At five it had been enough just to be a Princess, to live in The Castle, and have servants, and have a Wise and Secret Guardian (originally looking very like her favourite stuffed toy). As she grew up, she added on that she Did Great Deeds (although the dream carefully never specified them in too great detail), and that she had Friends who Loved her Unconditionally.

By fourteen, she had lost the Wise Guardian but had added one final element: the special friend who could understand what it was like to be a princess, forever apart from the commoners of her father's Kingdom (which she would, one day, inherit). Diamara was one of her handmaidens, but she was also Princess Cordelia's right hand ally in the adventures she had, and she was an elf - which meant she could cast magic (which saved Cordelia from having to remember all the complicated formulas - it had been so much easier at six, when all spells were flower petals, candy hearts and easy rhymes made up on the spot).

And now, suddenly, the dream was back, despite the fact that she was "all grown up" and working in L.A. She slipped back into it like a perfectly-drawn bath. The Castle was almost exactly as she remembered it (or so her sub–conscious memory told her), and the secret panel beside the mirror in her bedchamber was still there, so that she could slip back in without the guards (nice hunky college-boy type guards) being aware she'd been gone.

And, inside, waiting for her, was Diamara.

Except that now Diamara was grown up as well, and the leaf-green hose and darker-green tunic were wrapped round a body fully matured. Cordy looked at her best friend's face - and gasped.

"Diamara - "

She took a step closer, but there could be no doubt - Diamara was Willow Rosenberg.

"Hi, Cordelia," her friend said, in Willow's voice. "Did the dragon-slaying go well ? I'm sorry I couldn't come but I had to mix a batch of potions."

"That's all right," Cordelia "heard" herself say: "There was only one, and he wasn't really big."

Willow certainly looked good in that outfi- . Cordelia stopped, and then made herself carry on, to slip out of her adventurer leathers into her court gown. Surely (she mused), when first she'd seen her, Will- . Diamara . had been wearing hose: but now she had bare legs - nicely tanned, too (Cordelia idly wondered which parlour she'd gone to - or whether she'd taken a week in Aspen or some other resort - they were tanned to perfection).

Cordelia began to slip out of her . tan jogging suit - she had looked at it in the boutique windows, and now she was wearing it .

"It's your dream," Diamara told her: "Whatever you want, you can have."

Cordelia turned to look at her friend - and found that, somehow, the elfin tunic was cut a little lower than she remembered - it gave a tempting look at the inner curves of Diama . of Willow's breasts. There was no doubt - elves simply didn't have curves like those.

"Who are you ?" Cordelia asked.

"Does it matter ?"

Abruptly Diamara was across the room again, and Cordy was aware that her hose was now a lot shorter. Suddenly Diamara/Willow threw herself onto Cordelia's big bed, and her tunic rode completely up. There was no doubt about it - whether she was Diamara or Willow, she was a natural red-head, which nicely set off the flushed pinkness her pose also revealed.

Cordelia felt her throat suddenly go dry - which contrasted with a subtle but definite dampness elsewhere.

"Oh, come on," the elf said: "You know you always wanted to."

As abruptly she was off the bed (her tunic had altered again - it both clung now like a second skin, and was cut very saucily :: there was no doubt abou it :: she wore no clothing under it) and at Cordelia's side, twitching her court gown out of her fingers, leaving her in just flimsy silk and lace underwear.

"My father . the court ." Cordelia protested, weakly.

"Will manage very well without you," Diamara/Willow persisted.

Suddenly she was kissing Cordelia, their bodies separated just by Cordelia's underthings and the tissue-thinness of the little the elf wore.

Cordelia's blood burned, as their lips met, and as an elfin tongue speared between her lips to flicker sensually across the inside of her mouth. Then, even as she was forming the concept of replying in kind, of kissing back, of tasting Diamara and testing the textures of her skin, the elf-maid had sinuously slipped away, round back of her, to deftly unclip her bra and snake her hands round to cup Cordelia's already-tremulous breasts - cup them, weight them, caress them, and toy with nipples surging to life. (And Cordelia was aware of a pair of diamond hard nipples thrusting into her back as Diamara cuddled into her).

Cordelia was just relaxing in to the sensations, as electricity leapt from nipples to mind, sparking in to find deep sensual places never before (or certainly not in this dream-scape) explored, when Diamara (or Willow - by the giggle it was the red-haired witch) darted a hand down, across Cordelia's stomach and into her panties.

More electricity flared - her nipples shot to life (which made the attention being given them ever more stimulating) and she was helpless as the elf-girl steered her over to the big bed, stripping away her French-cut panties on the way.

Utterly naked now, they both plunged headlong onto the bed, and Diamara turned Cordelia in mid-air so that when they landed it was body to body, breast to breast, lip to lip.

This time Cordelia kissed back, totally caught up in the heady possibilities.

Entwined, their bodies rubbed against each other and Cordelia felt her inhibitions turn to mist - she was the Princess, this was her closest friend .

Delicately she twisted down till she could kiss the elf's pert little breast - or was she kissing Willow ?

Lower down Diamara's fingers were parting different lips, and were softly but insistently caressing Cordelia's love-channel, spreading her moisture and toying with her erect clit. If the earlier sensations had been electricity through Cordelia's veins, this was like being plugged into the mains current.

And every time Cordelia felt the tension becoming unbearable, Diamara would find another little corner she hadn't explored before and would build it even higher.

Cordelia felt like crying out in frustration, but (of course) she was the princess and there were the guards just outside the door .

Then she watched as Diamara's fingers wove a complicated pattern in the air before her eyes, then again above her breasts and then a third time ("Third time does for all," Willow's voice said in the dream) above her mount.

And then suddenly a wave of pure lust struck her - all that she could think of was getting seriously carnal with her friend. Even if this had been the middle of the Throne Room, with everyone watched, Princess Cordelia knew that she would have indulged herself heedless of who could see or of what they saw.

She was aware of her nipples swelling even further - of other things also swelling, and of her juices flowing even more freely.

And Diamara's nimble fingers seemed to have as urgent an idea, as they redoubled their sensual assault on the more private reaches of her body. Cordelia bucked and shifted on the bed, flesh slithering against flesh, as her wetness flowed, coiling and turning to get the pressures, the stimulation just right, calling aloud to encourage her lover, feeling the tension rising in her to previously-unimaginable levels.

Then the release - the jet-rocket ascent into the heavens, the explosive star-burst, the slow descent, the returning awareness of body, mind and soul, of reactions timorously returning to normal, of another body in (or on) the bed with her, of trying, in one word or less, to express .

"And that's just the beginning," Willow's voice said, as she reached out into the fringes of Cordelia's dream, "We've a long way to go yet, Princess."