Agrabah, 1000
Jafar's dark eyes narrowed as the storm raged outside of his tower and lightning streamed into a massive ruby. The legend said the Tiger Head Cave had a key; a golden scarab. The scarab would grant him access to all the powers of the world, if he could just find it. He leaned closer to his viewing orb, searching for a clue. The swirling sands of the orb condensed, and Jafar frowned. The sands would always swirl and then thin, but never condense. A deafening crack of thunder rent the air and the orb was suddenly clear. But the image seemed to have nothing to do with the scarab, the Tiger Head Cave, or the hidden lamp. Instead, it was the image of a beautiful young woman, with pale skin, far paler than any Jafar had ever seen. He might have thought she was a spirit of some kind, but her blue dress was so outlandish that he dismissed the idea at once. Despite the kneejerk reaction to start with a new gem, and to seek the scarab key, something about the image held his attention. Something that wouldn't let him look away…
Provincial France, 1769
Belle was polishing her father's tools as a surprise for him when he returned from the fair. She glanced up as a ferocious peal of thunder shook the night, and smiled. The book she was currently poring over had a scene with a tremendous thunderstorm. Her thoughts wandered as she thought of the thunder hiding the dragon's roars from the villagers in her book, when the back of her neck suddenly prickled, as though someone was watching her. She gripped the wrench she was holding tighter and glanced around. But the thick curtains were drawn and, of course, there was no one else in the house.
And yet she couldn't shake the feeling.
The storm crashed around the little house and Belle was growing tenser and tenser. She kept glancing over her shoulder, certain that someone was standing just out of her eyesight. The clock ticked on, and she vaguely decided that the presence was a masculine one. For what reason, she couldn't quite say, but she was certain. As soon as she came to this decision, she realized with surprise that in addition to being on edge, she was also highly aroused. The muscles between her legs were incredibly taught, and she knew if she put a finger there, the finger would come away slick.
It was inconceivable that anyone actually was watching her, therefore it must be all within her mind…although she had never fantasized about being watched, and she couldn't deny that the coil of muscles between her legs was winding tighter and tighter. It was the only feasible explanation.
Her hands drifted to her breasts, and a moan escaped as she massaged them through the front of her dress. That was one of the few good things about her father's absences; she could succumb to ecstasy and not worry about her volume. The thunder crashed outside, and Belle shivered, imagining she could feel the thunder shaking her very bones. A ball of warmth flared behind her stomach as her fingers rubbed across her breasts. Breathing carefully through her nose, Belle headed for her bed, undoing the front of her dress as she went.
The storm raged on.