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Like a Myth: Erotic Folklore & Fantasy [MultiFormat]
eBook by Cecilia Tan & Cynthia James

eBook Category: Erotica/Erotic Fantasy/Fantasy
eBook Description: Four erotic tales featuring folkoric settings of India, Japan, Korea, and a fantastic orient that never was. Circlet's newest eBook anthology features supernatural elements and steamy chance meetings set against a rich backdrop of faraway places. Like all Circlet books, LIKE A MYTH is both sex-positive and explicit, celebrating the erotic imagination and "erotic fantasy" in all senses of the term. [Warning: Explicit sexual content.] Includes: Tara is Compassion; Tara is Play by Teresa Roberts //Mud Licker by Elizabeth Black // One Thousand by Andrea Dayle // The Sultan's Savage by Argus Marks

eBook Publisher: Circlet Press, Published: 2008, 2008
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2009

6 Reader Ratings:
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One Thousand

by Andrea Dayle

This is not a tale of revenge.

To a human, it might sound so, but I am only who I am. Just as a jeju striped field mouse cannot change its markings or a dhole cannot exist on grasses and berries, I cannot change.

I am Kumiho, and what I do to men is just my nature.

You have heard many stories about me, no doubt, for my myth extends back to the beginning of time, before Korea was called as such. They will tell you of an evil spirit with nine fox-tails. That men cannot see my tails until it is too late, and this is true. That I am a seductress ... well, why would that be a falsehood?

There are still things that men forget to include in the tales.

They forget to ask why.

* * * *

Night slipped beyond the deep blue of twilight. The village was a small one, which means everyone was involved in the wedding festivities. Today, a sweet shy bride wed her handsome, slender groom. They feasted on rice cakes, sipped acacia wine (the groom indulged in some soju for added fortitude) before retiring to the bridal chamber.

It was a simple thing I did to cast a thrall across everyone, and send them to sleep, even the anticipatory bride. Then to convince her groom to go to a different room, where he saw me in the visage of his bride. The candles didn't provide enough light for him to see the nine red-and black furred tails that flick behind me.

He saw me, and I saw the face and form of my own true love.

"Jin-Hwan," I murmured. I knew it wasn't truly him, but for all my heart I wished to believe it was, if only for this short night we had.

"Beloved," he said, reaching out to cup my face in his hand.

At the beginning of the world, there were gods, and there were the rest of us: spirits, demons, fey, there are many names. At that time, the Kumiho was a fox spirit, sharing the sly qualities of the animal. A capricious trickster, yet not malicious.

But then my betrothed, my beloved, whom I loved more than the breath of life itself, was killed. How it happened is no longer important, save that it was some game of the gods he stumbled into, and his life was inconsequential to them.

I raged and I threw myself at the gods, denouncing them. They did what gods did; they cursed me.

Now, tonight, I spelled this man not only to believe I was his bride, but that it was months since their wedding night, that we were experienced together. I'd had enough of fumbling, enough of confused men wondering why an allegedly innocent bride acted with such abandon, and knew such erotic tricks.

We kissed then, the feel of his lips against mine sending a thrill through me. It had been too long. I had missed him so much.

I arched against the length of his body. Smooth, sleek muscles brushed against my slender curves. The yards of fabric that made up my wedding skirts were designed to hide my figure when I stood, but the red and blue silk was little barrier between us as we lay together.

Still, my clothing and his could have been made of wood or stone, for all they kept us apart. I sat up, swaying with heady desire, as Jin-Hwan untied my chogori and slipped it off my shoulders.

He followed this with kisses along my newly bared flesh, sweet caresses up my arms, in the hollow of my throat, along the curve of my breasts, until I could have screamed with frustration. I moaned, encouraging him, and he grew bolder, finally adding the scrape of teeth along my collarbone that I so craved.

Emboldened by my reaction, he fumbled with the long sashes that crossed above my breasts, anchoring my voluminous ch'ima to me. I hung, poised on the excruciating knife-edge decision of savoring the delicious delay or of giving in to frustration and helping him strip more away from between us.

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