Night fell quickly as I moved at a steady pace along the seldom-used trail. The thick elms and sugar maples darkened in the twilight, their shadows turning from charcoal to coal. I wrapped myself tightly in my cloak against the late September chill, pulling its hood further down over my face. It was the autumn of 1692, and the evening brought a chilly reminder that an early winter was on the way, one this fifteen-year-old girl didn't relish.
In the distance, I heard the screech of an owl beginning his nightly hunt. The wind swept the tops of the tall poplars like a witch's hand; the scent of a few remaining fall flowers mixed with damp decay and hardwood. My small lantern gave an eerie glow, barely lighting the path leading me deeper into the dark woods.
Despite the chill, I felt warmth growing inside me. My heart raced with anticipation at what lay ahead. There were eight of us: all girls from Salem and the surrounding villages who met at the rising of each full moon. Deep in the forest, hidden by rock, thick brush and sweeping evergreens we came together to celebrate our sisterhood in the Coven.
Soon, the darkness was eternal; the wind moaned a haunting lament around me.
Spiny branches nipped at my cloak and boney roots reached up to trip me. It had been almost an hour since I left Salem, but I was finally getting close.
"Bridget? Is that you?"
I heard a soft voice call from up ahead. I recognized Ann, the sweet girl from a village to the north.
"Yes, it's me," I said. My pulse quickened as I recalled only a month ago helping to initiate Ann into our small group of girls. She was eleven, the youngest and newest member of the Coven. Tituba, our black sister, had brought Ann into the sisterhood during the summer while caring for her while Ann's parents were away on a long trip to Boston and New York. Ann had proven to be a delicious and incredibly eager choice; her passion for sisterhood pleasure was unquenchable, and I could not wait to share it with her again.
Ann burst from the shadows, running to me and throwing her arms around my neck. "I have so yearned for you, Bridget," she said breathlessly. Her eyes filled with tears of joy.
"And I, you." I trembled as I covered her hungry mouth with mine. She tasted of cinnamon.
Pressing into me, Ann whispered, "Each night I dreamed of you. It has been so hard waiting for tonight."
"Wait no more," I said, brushing the brown hair from her small, round face.
She sighed, her breath warm on my face. "I grow moist in anticipation," she said shyly, obviously embarrassed at speaking of such things.
I too felt a tingle in my belly and an itch between my legs knowing that soon she would be dancing naked before me in the glow of the fire as she offers herself completely. I took her face in my hands. "You make my heart flutter, little one," I said, kissing her softly.
Then we walked up the trail hand in hand until we came to a high rock cliff. We found a well-hidden, narrow space that we squeezed through and entered the protected clearing of our secret place. I was the last to arrive and smiles greeted me as each of my Coven sisters came to kiss and embrace me.
First, there was Martha, a timid girl of fifteen with large mysterious eyes; her hair was worn in beautiful golden braids. Her tongue slipped across my lips like the flutter of a butterfly as her eyes sparkled with mischief. I craved her talented tongue on my nether lips.
Then there was Abigail. She was a twenty-year-old blond from Holland who had enormous breasts that begged to be suckled. She pressed them into me like soft feather pillows and my mouth watered at the thought of making her nipples grow hard in my mouth.
Sarah came next. She was sixteen with delicate, porcelain skin and flaming hair. Her Irish blood made her passionate and vocal when we shared the pleasures of sisterhood. She gave me a wink and a naughty smile. I could not wait to hear her cry out in ecstasy.
Rebecca followed. She was sixteen, small and tomboyish. She liked me to lick her from behind, and she had a fascination with my bottom, spending an eternity sniffing and licking it.
Susanna was next. She was fourteen, and had the face of an angel, pure 1nnocence. Susanna had been a member of the Coven for over a year, and considering the enthusiasm she showed at pleasuring her sisters, she was definitely not innocent. She particularly liked sucking toes and licking underarms. I had never considered those things until Susanna. Now, we all made them part of our lustful rituals.
Finally, Tituba wrapped her chocolate arms around me, her dark skin smelling of spices. Tituba was the oldest - twenty-two - the one that had brought us all together, teaching us the ways of sisterhood love, and the forbidden pleasures only women can share. I'll never forget the first time I parted her legs and tasted brown sugar.