Fatima fingered the dull ache just above her breastbone for the umpteenth time that evening.  What’s wrong with me, she silently questioned herself, cautioning another glance at the stranger who’d entered the already crowded conference room just moments earlier.  The dull ache on her chest turned to a deep throbbing. 

The man literally stood heads and shoulders above the rest.  She estimated that he had to be about 6’7, if not taller.  He was smartly dressed in dark slacks, matching collarless shirt and tanned blazer.  She hadn’t had a chance for a closer look but even from her vantage point she could tell that he was handsome.  She wondered what University he was with, certain that she had never seen him at any other of the Myths, Legends and Folklore conferences before.  She blushed, turning her head quickly as she was caught observing him, at least she thought she were caught, from that distance he could have been looking at anyone in her general direction.

            “Dr. Smith, I’m looking forward to hearing your discussion on Gargoyles tonight.”  The mousy young man in front of Fatima was saying.  He’d been talking for five minutes and she could only honestly admit to hearing a portion of what he’d uttered. 

            “I had the opportunity to read your article in Mythology Today and was very intrigued by your theories on the origins of Gargoyles.  Your supporting material is some of the best I’ve seen.”  He continued.

            She tried again to focus on what the young grad student was talking about, but found herself giving sideways glances to the giant across the room.

            You’re here for the conference.  She reminded herself.  To present your findings to fellow students of mythology.

            “Thank you,” She responded appropriately as the man continued to lay it on. 

            “Excuse me.”  A familiar voice belonging to her colleague, Dr. Gordy Singleton interrupted the younger man’s praise.  Gordy was a fellow faculty member at the University of California, Santa Cruz.  He’d already attained his tenured status a few years earlier after several articles and two books on Germanic Folklore.  Fatima had aligned herself with the budding professor after discovering how extensive his interest was in Gothic folklore.

            “They’re ready to start seating everyone, and I want to make sure that we’re in our places before you’re called up for your presentation.”  He explained.

            “Of course Gordy.”  Fatima placated.  “Please excuse me.”  She apologized as Gordy took a gentle hold of her exposed elbow.  She looked down to where their flesh connected, noting the drastic contrast between her almost espresso coloring and his own alabaster fingers.

            “Stop worrying, I’m sure things won’t start for several minutes.”  She reassured quietly.

            “I know.”  Gordy muttered, “But I thought I’d save you from your ever growing fan club.”   He motioned with his head to the young man they’d abruptly left. 

            “He was just being polite.”  Fatima explained before wondering why she was even bothering.

            “I swear sometimes you are completely oblivious to male/female social cues.”  He admonished.

            She groaned aloud.  “Not again.”

            “What.”  His look was innocent.

            “You know there are actually people who support and believe in my work out there.”  She hated having to rehash this with him.  Over the last two years they’d worked together Gordy had become increasingly protective of her.  Why?  She wasn’t sure; she’d never given him any indication that she wanted anything other then a professional relationship.  If he kept this jealous lover act up she wouldn’t even want to maintain that acquaintance.

            “Of course there are.”  He offered.  “It’s just that-“

            “Don’t Gordy.”  She interrupted slipping her elbow from his grasp determined not to let him dampen the mood of the evening.  She was one of three speakers in this evening’s segment on Gothic folklore, having been honored when the committee approached her about the opportunity some seven months ago.  As the only Associate professor speaking she realized that she needed to prove she was worthy of the privilege bestowed, and was determined that Gordy  was not going to get her out of her zone.

*   *   *

            Gordy resisted the desire to maintain his hold on her, reminding himself that there were still three days left in the conference, plenty of time for him to move beyond the position of co-worker that she’d relegated him to for so long.  After all, he’d waited patiently until she came into her own, not wanting to start a relationship with some pseudo-professor.  No, Fatima was not just a pretty face; she was well on her way to becoming an authority on Gothic Folklore.  What more could he want in a woman?

He allowed her to take the lead letting his gaze linger on her firm well-rounded backside that swayed seductively in loose fitting slacks.  She wore a slimming pink silk top that clung to her slight waist accentuating perfectly rounded breast.  He could feel the thickening of his cock as he thought about taking, what he was sure to be dusky nipples, in his mouth.  Something caught her attention causing her to turn her head and he was gifted with the perfection of her side profile.  Her pink tongue darted out over full lips and his eyes lingered for a moment as he thought of how those lips would taste, better still how they would look around his pink cock swallowing him slowly, imagining those whiskey colored eyes looking up at him with desire.  He gave his head a mental shake dislodging the image that had assisted in many nights of masturbation.  To think he’d once ruled her out simply because she was black.  Well, he was big enough to overlook her one flaw.

*   *   *

            Lorn continued to ignore a voluptuous catering assistant as she made what had to be her twentieth pass in front of him.  Normally, he would have found her obvious flirtation amusing, but tonight he was on a mission.  He’d followed various literary works on Gargoyle mythology over the centuries hoping that somewhere a scholar could discover that vital piece to the puzzle that he and his kind managed to over look in their desperate search for answers to the one question that would help him restore hope to his dying community. Did Fledglings still exist?

            From across the room his eyes zoomed in on the young woman whose recent research on Gargoyle origins had fascinated him above any others.  She’d looked even more beautiful in person than the one picture his private investigator had supplied.  He had expected to find a studious face framed by owlish glasses, complete with a severe bun or some other form of disguise modern day career women used to down play their looks.  Instead he discovered a woman who could have just as easily given any miss America a run for her money. 

The photo he had was snapped while she chatted with a group of students in a coffee house.  Oblivious to the photographer, the woman had been caught laughing over something said.  Her dark eyes rounded in surprise, teeth gleaming, while her hand clutched her chest.  Lorn remembered searching the picture wondering who was responsible for the reaction.  Unlike tonight, her thick shoulder length hair had hung loosely about her face, its dark tresses gleaming in the fluorescent light.

            He was surprised at the primal way in which his body responded to her picture.  The more he studied her image the more aroused he became until he finally tossed the photo aside cursing his body’s reaction.  He’d wondered if he was so far gone that he was beginning to loose control over his sexual functions.  He’d heard of that happening to one of his brethren before the change finally took him over.  The Gargoyle had said that his sexual drive was the only thing that provided sanity, emotion, and a sense of connection the world, while his heart became a stoned metaphor for his eventual transformation.

            Now standing in the bustling conference room Lorn found his cock stiffening with the same affliction as he watched Dr. Fatima Smith being engaged in conversation, first with a modern day Poindexter, then by a man who seemed a tad too familiar.  Lorn found himself grinding his teeth in an effort to keep his incisors from lengthening.  Who was this man and why was he touching her?

*   *   *

            In spite of Gordy’s unwarranted over protective behavior Fatima found herself enjoying the speakers who presented before her.  This were like a dream come true for her, detailing her research to a group of respected colleagues and aspiring students. 

            “…Presenting her work tonight on Gargoyles in Antiquity please join me in welcoming a woman that we will be hearing a lot more from in the future.  Dr. Fatima Smith.”

            Fatima smiled graciously as she made her way to the podium, her unpublished paper on Gargoyles secured under her arm like the Holy Grail.

            “Good evening... first let me start by thanking you all for your gracious welcome, I am humbled to be presenting my paper here tonight.”  She began, ignoring the dull ache on her chest.  “When we think of Gargoyles, images of water spouts or stoned figures that adorn the cathedral of Notre Dame immediately come to mind.  However, indulge me if you will in thinking of Gargoyles not as statues but living breathing creatures that roamed the earth thousands of years ago.  These noble giants lived, mated, and built communities living by their own form of government and social order…”

            Lorn couldn’t believe what he was hearing as he leaned in closer from his seat at an isolated table. 

            “…they were a magnificent race of beings, superior to man in everyway, dependent on no one but themselves except for the very continuance of their race…”

            His ears tuned into every word she said, turning over each syllable. Where had she gotten her information?

            “…human females being given to these beings as brides in exchange for protection from enemies, for wealth and prosperity.  Imagine if you will a complete system of interdependence.”  She emphasized intertwining her fingers.  “Now that you have that picture in your minds, can visualize these splendid creatures, let’s come back to reality and talk about Gargoyles in antiquity.”  She smiled at her captured audience, her eyes darting throughout the room until they landed on the well-dressed giant who now sat in the shadows of a corner table trying to remain inconspicuous.

            Fat chance, she thought to herself.  The throbbing on her chest intensified as she began to speak, momentarily unable to draw her gaze away.

*   *   *

            Fatima concluded her discussion inviting others to take a closer look at Gargoyles.  There were a few seconds of silence before a deafening thunder of applause filled the room.  Curious to see if the giant had the same reaction she looked eagerly to the table he occupied alone.  Disappointment set in when she realized he’d already gone.

            “Fantastic!”  Gordy exclaimed as she re-took her seat next to him.  “Absolutely brilliant.” He gushed not at all surprised that he actually meant it.  Her presentation only reaffirming what he’d been thinking over the past few months, he had to have her.

Chapter 2

            Exhausted, Fatima was eager to return to her hotel room for a quiet evening.  She looked forward to a long soak in the tub with her latest John Grisham novel.  What better way to end an event filled day?

            “You can’t be serious?”  Gordy asked incredulously.

            “As a heart attack, I’m not much of a night owl anyway.”  She found herself explaining.

            “But I’ve already promised some of the other UC professors that we would join them for a night cap.”

            “Perhaps you should have checked with me first.”  She explained trying to hide her annoyance. 

            “I just assumed you would want to celebrate your success.”

            Of course he did, but if he’d known her at all he would have realized that she’d never been a praise seeker, had never needed to be.

            “You go ahead.”  She urged.  “Trust me; I wouldn’t be good company anyway.

            “Suit yourself.”  He shrugged nonchalantly, although his body language spoke volumes.

            Fatima shook her head at his retreating back, not feeling the smallest bit of remorse for shooting down his high-handed assumption.  Perhaps now he would get the hint that he couldn’t take liberties with her.  On a sigh she turned wanting to make her exit before anyone else got the notion to stop her.

            She barely had a chance to register the dull ache again as she slammed into the hard surface of a wall.  A warm wall, she thought as she raised her hands to push away from the barrier that hadn’t been there a moment ago.   She stared at the synthetic cloth that greeted her, gradually regaining her composure as her eyes traveled upward, and further up still until she was looking up at a chin chiseled from granite.

            “Oh.”  The sound escaped as strong long fingers easily encircled her wrist.  “I’m sorry.”  She managed to take a half step back, which was as far as the giant with the hold on her permitted.

            “You!”  Came out in a croak as she took in the handsome face of the man she’d been drawn to earlier.  Up close he was breathtaking, she mused.    His full arrogant mouth set in a firm line as he measured her up.  Fatima continued her assessment swallowing a second gasp when she reached eyes the color of a rain forest after a fresh downpour.

            “Do you know me?”  He peered through the questioning emerald pools.

            “Yes… I mean no.”  She answered breathlessly.  “That is I noticed you earlier.” 

            “You mean when you were staring at me across the room.”  He remembered aloud.

            “I wouldn’t exactly call it staring.”  She babbled embarrassed that she had been so obvious.  “It’s just that I didn’t remember seeing you at any of the previous events.”  At his silence she rationalized.  “And you do stand out.”

            “How so?” he asked arching a dark brow quizzically, enjoying the way she rambled.

            “I shouldn’t have said that.”  She apologized.  What if he were self-conscience about his height.  She’d always hated being the tallest girl in school, wishing for a more petite frame.  The throbbing on her chest seemed to radiate through her entire body.  

“Excuse me, it’s late and I’ve had a very busy day.”  She tried to pull her arms away but couldn’t.

Ignoring her attempts to gain freedom he continued.  “The night has just begun.”

From him it sounded like a promise, an invitation of spectacular things to come.  She was being foolish, she knew, but his lightly accented words conjured images that were best left for the privacy of her room.  

“I was intrigued by your presentation.” He switched gears, pulling her thoughts away from the naughty direction they’d deviated to momentarily.

            “Intrigued?”  She queried.

            “Yes, by your theories on human and Gargoyle dynamics.” He answered easy enough, but there was something more in his eyes.  Wow, those eyes! Perhaps emerald wasn’t the correct description for their odd coloring.

            “Oh that.”  She smiled nervously, wanting to severe the contact that he maintained, maybe then she could get her pulsing body under control. 

            “It was more for dramatic effect then fact.”  She explained.  “There really is no basis for that supposition.”  Except in those oh so erotic dreams that had plagued her for years.  She’d never confided in anyone about her subconscious fantasies with one of the fierce looking creatures and the delicious things he did to her body, making her climax so hard that in the morning there was no denying the sinfully erotic dreams happened.

            “And what if I told you there were?” 

            “Well then there is some ocean front property in Kentucky that I’d like to sell you.”  She responded lightly, despite that fact that he maintained a hold on her. 

This man couldn’t really believe in the existence of Gargoyles.  God why did all the handsome one’s have to be defective, she wondered to herself.

            “What if I were able to provide you with evidence to support this?”  He asked, finally releasing her wrist as if realizing he no longer needed the physical restraint.

            “And where would this documentation be?”  She humored, feeling a momentary sense of loss.

            “Stored in my families vaults.”  He replied, his eyes fixed on the depths of her amber ones.  He could feel the excitement that began bubbling inside her at the possibility, overtaking the physical attraction he’d sensed from her just seconds before.

            “You know the items would have to be authenticated?”  She warned.

            “Of course.”  He answered matter-of-factly.

            "Assuming that they are authentic, why is this the first time anyone has ever heard anything about them?"

            "Up until recently my family has only been interested in the preservation of these materials."

            "And now?"  She asked.  This couldn't be true.  Gargoyles only existed in fables and her fantasies. 

            "We are interested in an exchange of information."  He provided.

            "Well since you're the only one claiming to have actual documents proclaiming the existence of Gargoyles I'm not sure how much of an exchange anyone could provide."

            "We will grant you full access to our materials in exchange for your time and scientific know how."

            "Look, I'm not sure who you are, but this isn't funny."  She wanted to walk away but couldn't will her legs to obey.  "Anyone in their right mind with that kind of evidence could make a fortune, why seek out an Associate Professor for this assignment?"

            "I already have plenty of money, what I need is information and I believe you're just the person to help me."   He stated.

            "Help you, how?  If your documents are authentic-"

            "I'd also require your services as a cellular biologist."  He interrupted all the while thinking of other ways she could service him.

            "Cellular biology."  She lowered her voice.  "That isn't my specialty any longer."  She was surprised that he even knew that bit of information.  Her work as a cellular biologist seemed like a lifetime ago.  Most people who knew of her was on the basis of her work in mythology and folklore, having no idea that in her undergraduate years she'd studied microbiology or that she'd received an MD in the field of cellular biology.

In her current position she'd tried to keep her 'Doogie Howser'esk' background out of the limelight.  Prior to accepting her teaching post at UCSC she'd asked that her work in microbiology not be listed amongst her credentials.  While most would have been proud of an IQ that nearly soared off the charts, Fatima didn't want the attention her genius status brought her.

            Growing up she'd never had a “normal” childhood.  The daughter of two average parents, her father a postal carrier and mother a bookkeeper, they were ecstatic to find their only child was a prodigy.  From the moment her aptitude was recognized at the young age of five it had been one test after another, more books then her parents modest three bedroom house could store, scholarships to private schools, skipped grade levels and a non-traditional social life.  Through it all she never complained, never rebelled just accepted her lot in life, if she were honest with herself she'd admit that it wasn't too bad.  She never felt like she were missing out on anything.  The small select group of friendships she'd developed were like herself, kids more interested in learning Einstein’s theory of relativity than planning parties and playing dress-up.

            By the time she'd turned eighteen Fatima had completed her undergraduate studies and begun an early admittance to UC Davis' Medical School.  To say that she was on the fast track would have been an understatement by anyone's standards.  At twenty she'd finished medical school and begun what seemed to be a promising career in research with the CDC.  Two years into her appointment her father became very ill with sickle cell anemia which, until that point he'd only been diagnosed as a carrier of the trait.  She watched as he suffered for a year before finally succumbing to the deadly strain of the disease.  Her mother, having taken his death the hardest became a recluse in her grief, her isolation forcing her into early retirement.  Her spiral downward was abnormally swift, first being diagnosed with major depression, mild dimension and finally Alzheimer’s.  Fatima was devastated over her mother's diagnosis, feeling completely helpless as she watched the woman who'd once been so full of life reduced to an unrecognizable shell of her former self.  Eventually she stopped acknowledging Fatima altogether while she vocally pinned away for a husband that she didn't remember had died. 

            It was almost a relief when her mother finally passed quietly one evening leaving Fatima truly alone for the first time in her life.  It was after her mother's death that she gave up her position as a cellular biologist opting to go back to school a final time and earn her PH.D in Mythology and Folklore, her one interest that had developed from her coveted love of the various fables and legends she'd managed to read as an outlet from her more scholarly pursuits. 

*   *   *

            "From my understanding you are one of the best."  The tall giant continued, bringing her back to the present.  Fatima gave a light snort at that.  The best could have saved her parents, she thought. 

            Through her dark eyes Lorn could see the internal struggle that waged inside of her and wondered what caused it.

            Real life Gargoyles, she briefly toyed with the notion.  Science dictated the he was off his rocker, while at the same time leaving the wide chasm of possibility, no matter how improbable. 

            He watched as she nervously fingered a spot above her breastbone.  She'd absently touched the same spot several times already, drawing his attention to her pert breast that were concealed by the silky pink material of her blouse.  He wondered what the firm globes would taste like in his mouth, how they would respond to his warm tongue.

            When he'd first stumbled across her research he couldn't resist the slight tug of hope that possibly she could be a descendant of a gifted family.  Disappointment prevailed when the obvious mark of the Fledglings was not visible on the nape of her neck as it had been with his mother and all other gifted women before her.  However, the knowledge that she wasn't a potential mate did not dampen his attraction for her.  He was certain that there could be many hours of mutual enjoyment gained between him and the good professor, albeit fleeting.  It never took him or his kind long to tire of "ordinary" females.  He couldn't count the string of affairs he'd experienced in his lifetimes.  He'd enjoyed himself and left the women anticipating their next encounters, but in the end he would eventually sever all ties.  Over the last millennia his acquaintanceships had become fewer and shorter, a sure sign that like so many before him that he might be entering the final cycles of life before the darkness took him over completely. 

            It was a plain simple biological fact that Gargoyles or Protectors as they had come to be called needed mates to survive.  Procreation was essential to the continuance of their species since mated Gargoyles typically produced one or two heirs in their thousands of years existence.  Mates were also essential to the very survival of Gargoyles because without them their couple thousand-year life-span became limited to mere hundreds.  The last few years slowly turning them into the stone statues that had become the popular human representation of his kind. 

            It had been over 600 hundred years since the mass Fledgling suicides, 600 hundred years when the community of Protectors had been torn apart to their very core.  It had taken 500 hundred of those years and many human and Protector lives for the community of Gargoyles to begin to form some semblance of cohesiveness again.  Lorn was a young man, just over a hundred years, when the chaos wrecked havoc on his world, he would later become instrumental in the reformation of the Counsel of Protectors.  Now with the arduous task of reforming ties among the Gargoyles behind him he could focus his attention on more pressing matters such as the location of Fledglings.

            "This is all very fascinating."  Fatima began after several seconds of silence.  "But I think I'm a little too old to go chasing after Gargoyles and other creatures that go bump in the night."  She decided, whoever this guy was let him go find someone else to pitch his outrageous proposal to.

            "Good bye Mr.” She paused, not realizing until that point that she didn't even know his name.

            "Lorn De LaRue."  He supplied sensing her dilemma.  "And I assure you Dr. that this will not be our last meeting."

            You wanna bet, she thought as she huffed off, even if that meant calling security she would be sure that she'd had her last conversation with Mr. De LaCrazy.

*   *   *

            Gordy tried to calm the slow rage that had been building inside him as he watched the exchange from across the room, while waiting for the other members of his party to join him.

            Who the hell was that freak with Fatima, he wondered.  He’d observed the man earlier but tried his best to dismiss him because until that point he'd kept a room’s distance between himself and the woman Gordy had marked as his own.  Now the stranger stood watching her retreating form as if he had some rights of ownership over her.  Well he'd be damned if he let some Viking looking pretty boy come between himself and the only woman who was his intellectual equal.

            "Looks like the gangs all here."  Someone announced pulling him out of his reverie.

            "On second thought, I might have to take a rain check on these evenings festivities."  He stated trying to mask his annoyance.

            "Oh."  Came the collective response.

            "I just remembered that I have something I need to do."  He provided, not giving the group a second thought as he stalked off in the direction Fatima had gone.

*   *   *

            She was grateful when the elevator opened on her floor.  Between Gordy and the giant… what did he say his name was? Lorn, that was it.  Well between the two of them she’d had enough of the male species for one night.  Foregoing the long soak she’d craved earlier she opted instead for a quick shower.

            Real life Gargoyles, she silently ranted as she began pulling clothes from her body not caring where the discarded items fell.  Finally free of the fabric she made her way to the surprisingly large bathroom.

            What Looney-bin had he escaped from, she wondered about Lorn De LaRue as she turned on the shower making sure its settings were on hot.  Documents in his family vault indeed, she fumed standing before the misting mirror as she secured her hair underneath an plastic cap.  Were the family vaults kept in the east or west wing of chateau De LaCrazy, she should have asked him.  Smiling at her own thoughts she stepped underneath the sultry spray.

            “Whatever.” She mumbled.  “The last thing I have time for is nonsense.”  She closed her eyes succumbing to the hard pelting of  water.  Crazy or not, she couldn’t quite shake the vision of him.  Lorn De LaRue was one very sexy hunk of maleness.  He was handsome in a very rugged way with an old-world feel to him.  Very old world, she thought remembering the long corded ponytail that reached somewhere between his shoulders.   Oh and what mighty shoulders they were.  She’d never been one to go in for the body builder sort but looking at him had her thinking twice.  He wasn’t your run of the mill steroid induced type; rather, his body was that of a fine tuned athlete with muscles that called for a woman’s touch. 

Did they allow weight lifting in mental institutions, she pondered as she recalled the obvious definition of his chest through the fabric of his shirt.  Even his fingers were long and strong, not callused like a man used to physical labor but definitely well defined.  She wondered what those fingers would feel like against her breast, would he be soft and gentle or would those large hands cup her perfect size B’s with firmness.  Definitely firm she thought closing her eyes against the fantasy in the making.  Yes, his hands would be firm, fingers tweaking her nipples into hardened pebbles.  The slow familiar ache began as she pictured them together, his broad hard body behind her own softer form as he massaged her breast like a man born to conquer.  His teeth nipping at the base of her neck increasing until she would cry out half in protest and pleasure.  His fingers would travel down her almost non-existent stomach, over her freshly shaven mound seeking until they found the treasure betwixt her thighs, one long finger dipping between her dark folds, searching for her clit that throbbed in anticipation of his touch. 

Fatima moaned aloud, ashamed that her thoughts had taken such a quick regression but too turned on to stop.  Flipping off the showers steady jets, she quickly made her way through the bathroom, removing her shower cap and grabbing up a towel to pat dry her overly aroused skin.  The feel of the rough cotton material only aiding her heightened state.  She regretted that she’d left her favorite vibrator at home, but at the time she’d thought that she would be able to control her sexual drive on a four-day trip.  Not deterred she slipped across the thick quilt that covered the queen-sized bed moving to its center.  She wet two of her fingers in her mouth before letting the moist digits travel down her body while she conjured up the image of the giant named Lorn.

*   *   *

For the briefest moment Lorn thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.  He’d followed her sweet musky scent to the twentieth floor, settling on the balcony outside her room like a voyeur, hoping for the slightest glimpse of her.  What he got was enough to send the blood rushing to his already large, flaccid penis bringing him to an enormous erection.  He stood in the shadows watching through the thinly parted curtains as she stretched naked across the hotel bed, crawling to its center.