Chapter contains sexual situations.

My Darling Love

Chapter 49 – Two Lovers for Mrs. Darling

"Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies."

-William Shakespeare

Mary rested her head upon Captain Hook's chest. "God will never forgive me for committing this act with you in my marital bed."

Captain Hook looked up and gazed about. "Your bed? This is my bed, madam."

Mary sat up and saw the regal cabin of a pirate captain on his prized ship; she jerked her head toward him and asked, "How did you do that? Every time, I always end up here, how?"

He smirked and shook his head wide eyed with the knowing gloat he gave her when she questioned the magic of Neverland. "I just assumed you'd prefer my bed rather than the cold floor." He nuzzled her back into his embrace.

"I'm not in my body, am I, I mean I'm here in spirit, but my body is still home?"

He repeated his expression and shook his head sticking out his lower lip, "Perhaps," he answered in a raised pitch, "Perhaps not," he finished in a lower tone.

"Captain, where is my daughter? Is she dead?"

He turned on his side as she did and touched her lips, "Madam, I speak the truth when I tell you always I do not know. If she has not yet returned home to you, then I won't even venture a guess as to her whereabouts. All I know is that she is not dead."

Mary gazed past him; the sun was setting and the most beautiful light poured in through the windows. She rose from his bed and wrapped herself in a shawl, taking her place nearest the window. "Why did she leave Jane with us? Why not keep her here with you?"

Captain Hook stood up and stretched, acting as if he had no idea of whom she spoke about when he queried, "Who is this Jane you always go on about?"

Mary spun about and declared, "Your daughter." Whenever they spent time together Mary always rambled on about Jane, wanting to give Captain Hook knowledge of his only child and her happy life in the Darling home.

He pulled on his breeches and raised his brow and eyes to the ceiling, trying to recall. "Oh yes, Madam, is that why you always go on and on about her."

"And you don't care after her condition, you don't want to hear of her, you don't want to know your own child?" she asked as she approached him.

"That is completely ridiculous, Madam. You know as well as I that Jane is the daughter of Mary and George Darling." Captain Hook stood at his full height and folded his arms.

"Oh really, liar."

She turned from him and he grabbed her arm with a little more force than he meant to. Seeing the pain hidden in her folded lip, he released her with a bow and a formal apology, "My mistake, Madam, I forget you bruise so easily."

Mary regained her composure, and glared into his oblivious expression. "Jane is your daughter. Just admit it!"

"Yes, I'd admit she is my daughter, but Madam, for me to be her father is impossible."

"How can she be your daughter, if you are not her father?" Mary was the one holding him roughly by the arm now, and knowing it was to cause her pain he pried her grip and once again released her hand with a bow.

"Because George Darling is her father, and Mary Darling is the child's mother." He moved from her, then, without warning, twisted his face closely to hers, "Madam, indulge me, will you? When Wendy was here in Neverland she never told me she was your daughter, as you knew her, Wendy Angelina Darling, she told me she was the virtuous fair maiden Gwendolyn from one of her many stories. So please, when you are here, leave Mary Darling at home, and just be a Queen in need of protection from a cowardly king afraid of his own shadow. Speaking of things that bring you misery, it just breaks my heart so."

"What heart?" Her comment made Captain Hook raise his hand to her, only to lower it cordially to her own, raising it for a kiss as an act of continued good faith. With this sentiment completed, he turned and waltzed casually to his wardrobe, his approval to his own taste to his attire evident on his face. Mary followed after him as he continued to dress with more concern with fastening his buttons correctly than the distress that filled her face. "Is that why she left you? Because you didn't want Jane, you only wanted her?"

Captain Hook stared at her with a blank expression, and then glanced past her with a peculiar face. "No, that is not the reason, I'll have to tell you the story sometime, remind me again, won't you?" He ignored her as he picked out a shirt and new coat, while she remained nude wrapped in a shawl.

"Where are my clothes?" Mary asked, looking about.

"They are home in your bedroom, Madam," he replied, trying hard to dress with only one workable hand.

"Must I go home?" Mary questioned as she helped him, he smiling from ear to ear,

"Absolutely, Madam, for supper is ready. Wake up, dearest, dinner is on the table."

Mary blinked on the ship in Captain Hook's cabin, and the simple act of closing her eyelids and opening them in a split second, she found herself lying on her bed, nude, wrapped in her shawl. Without thinking and without preparation for George's company, Mary sat up quickly and swung her legs around to the edge of the bed and said, "I hate it when he does that."

George sat beside her with a quizzical expression, and rubbed his chin in thought, "Hate when who does what, dearest?" George got into the habit of always called her a loving name, "dear, dearest, sweetheart, my love, darling," instead of her proper title in an attempt to squash her nervous disposition and give her the impression that, in fact, he was as harmless and lovable as a kitten.

"I'm sorry, what did you ask? I was dreaming," Mary replied when she realized she was not alone, her fearful and respectful disposition toward him suddenly returned.

"Dinner is ready, my love, the children set the table and are quite excited about it," he also tried not to command her to do anything or say a anything that sounded that way, and so this was more of a suggestion, "Perhaps you could compliment them on their efforts, dearest."

Mary nodded in submission and George shook his head and mentally kicked himself when he left her to dress.

Mary was the last one into the dining room, and the last to sit with her guests after serving the meal. She served George first, as usual, and then passed out the supper from there. Harry, his fiancée forever, her name was Constance, (who was not a barmaid at his tavern), John, his woman friend -- a young widow named Caroline -- and the five children, two of whom were the widow's, were already well into their meals before Mary even took her place beside her husband. "The children forgot the butter, Mother, could you bring it to the table?" John asked. "I need another napkin, Mama, this one is dirty from breakfast," Edmund said next. "Mary, the wine for dinner, brought it special from the tavern," Harry recommended next. "Mama, we forgot to say grace before we began eating." Jane requested. "Mama, can I have another glass of milk?" Joseph added, and so Mary went and did. She was up and down from her seat at every request, with her plate still empty while everyone else was nearly through with their meals. George was the last to make a request, and his he directed at the table, "Please, let Mama eat her dinner while it is still hot. If you need something, go get it yourself."

George stood and pulled out Mary's chair and tugged on her sleeve to sit and enjoy her meal. She did as she was told and smiled to him, "Thank you, Mr. Darling." The "Mr. Darling" part slipped out, she and George shared the same curious expression at her words. With that quick glance to George, Mary had suddenly found herself back in time to the very night when she had her engagement feast at the table of Mr. Frederick Darling the Fourth. Out of the corner of her eye, that is who Mary saw and remembered, for he had done the very same thing to her that night, with the same welcoming tone, "How rude of my boys to not rise when a lady enters the room, Mary Elizabeth, please have a seat."

The table fell silent, and Constance did her best to break the tension, complimenting Mary on her fine china pattern. "Thank you, you're very kind to notice," Mary replied, staring down at her plate, still empty of food.

"Here, Mary, let me help," George offered shoving a large pile of potatoes onto her plate. The dinner conversation was strained at best. John said nothing, only glaring at his father, Harry joked with Constance, his lover of many years, and the widow Caroline, while the children darted their eyes back and forth between the display of voices and uncomfortable faces around them.

"May we be excused, Mama?" Jane spoke for her brothers and herself.

"Yes, to the nursery for your nap, please," George replied, before Mary could even move her lips to speak. The children waited for Mary anyway, and she smiled and nodded to them, and off they went.

"Dessert, anyone?" George asked as the rest of the guests leaned back and rubbed their stuffed tummies.

"Not now, George, or we will all explode!" Harry laughed, still trying to ease the tension that had blown into the dining room.

"Alright, to the parlor then. We can sit and talk until midnight mass. Mary, my love, we will we leave you to this," George suggested, and everyone was up and out of their chairs, with the exception of Mary. She stayed behind, having barely eaten any of her food; the potatoes George gave her, for nothing else was put on her plate. George counted each time she raised her fork to her lips after quartering the smallest potato. Four pieces of potato it was, and nothing else for the Christmas Eve feast.

Mary gazed out over the table and the mess left by her family and guests. Plates, dishes, cups, glasses, silverware, and all her best dinnerware that needed to be washed, dried and put away. She picked up her plate and George's, and carried them and their glasses into the kitchen. A mass of dirty pots, pans, cookie sheets, cooling racks, spoons and spatulas piled in the sink almost to the ceiling. The children helped make dinner indeed. The stove was covered in splattered gravy and grease. She shook her head, knowing this straightening and cleaning up was to take her the rest of night. Feeling it best to start with the easiest she returned to the dining room to strip the table. As she straightened the chairs that everyone had left in disarray, she saw him.

Captain Hook sat at one end of the table, in Uncle Harry's chair, and munched on a drumstick he'd ripped from the bird, still warm on the table. "I think, instead of 'Madam' I will call you Cinderella." He smiled from ear to ear, tilting his head toward her, raising his brow. "You know, you can't go to the ball with me until you clean the castle, Cinderella, so you'd best get started." He chuckled at his own joke, raising his hook to the air to orchestrate the imaginary music that begun to play,

"Cinderella, Cinderella, All she hears is Cinderella,

from the moment that she wakes up, till shades of night are falling.

There isn't any letup, and even I can hear them calling,

'Go up and do the attic and go down and do the cellar,

you can do them both together,

but they both must be done before the ball

Cinderella.

How lovely it would be if she could live in my fantasy.

But in the middle of her dreaming

they're still there for her screaming

Cinderella."

He sang raucously, and when he was finished, Mary, who stood, arms crossed while he performed, shook her head and replied, "How wonderful, did you write that yourself?"

"Ah, Madam, just for you." He toasted her with Uncle Harry's wine goblet and swigged on it before setting it down on the table and relaxing back, lifting his legs and slamming his boots onto her table. Mary sat back down in her own chair and folded her hands in her lap.

"You know, Madam, I told you if the King asks for your forgiveness and is truly sorry for his actions against you, you must forgive him. God has forgiven him and he has done a sincere and lengthy penance I assure you. Now it is your turn." In all seriousness, Captain Hook began.

Mary jerked her head up to him and he raised his brow to her once again toasting her with another wine goblet. "He has never given an apology, at least not to me," Mary replied, lowering her head.

"Yes he did Madam, while you were in the hall closet this morning. In fact, he came up with his own punishment for his misdeeds against you. I believe his words were something to the effect of, 'I'm sorry, cut my heart out Mary,' were they not, Madam? I meant to remind you when we were together earlier this afternoon, but I forgot in our passions. A thousands pardons, Madam..."

Before Mary could respond there was a knock on the front door and the sound of footsteps to answer it. Suddenly there was an enormous eruption of sound, laughing, shouting and carrying on. George's voice, choked with tears called out to Mary, "Darling Love, come quickly! See who is here, home for Christmas!" Mary looked to Captain Hook who shrugged his shoulders, picking meat from the bone he held in his hand with his hook.

Mary exhaled deeply and went to stand; she had barely left her seat when she heard her voice, Wendy's voice, from behind her. "Mother, I've come home."

Mary was shocked to hear that voice, but Captain Hook was the one aghast. He sat up at once, and peered over Mary's shoulder to the young lady standing behind her mother waiting. It had been years since Mary had seen her daughter last, and feared pulsed through her body that she would not recognize her. Mary turned around slowly, and faced her oldest child, now a woman of thirty-one.

The change in Mary was apparent the moment Wendy saw her mother's face. There was no joy, no life found in her pale cheeks. The first thought Wendy had was that her mother was ill; second was that something terribly wrong had happened in the home since her departure.

"Hug me, Mother, I have missed you so." Wendy was now as tall as Mary. But, where her beauty had once been greater than Mary's, the places Wendy had been had aged her face and body. She was no longer slim and well formed, now she was rather plump and very thick in the waist. The simple explanation given to her father the moment she entered was, "The cuisine of foreign lands in unforgiving on the figure." More so, the eldest Darling child had let her self go, attempting to eat her way out of the emptiness she felt inside. Wendy clutched her mother without Mary's arms returning the hug, and danced about to introduce her mother to, "My fiancé, Peter, remember him mother from New York City?"

Peter was a tall skinny young man with floppy blond hair and a clumsy manner, which became quite obvious when he nearly knocked Mrs. Darling over embracing her tightly around the waist instead of shaking her hand as would have been more appropriate.

"We've brought lots of presents for the children, John wrote me that you and father had another baby right after he was married. Mother, I must say I am utterly insulted that I was not told. You had my address in New York City, you should have written."

Wendy pulled her mother by the hand out into the hallway and showed her the pretty dresses she picked out for Jane, "I hope they are her size, I just guessed, I also brought her many dolls. I always wanted a sister! You, of course, will help me wrap them, Mother, I was afraid they would get ruined if they were decorated in the ship..." Wendy just kept rambling to anyone that would listen, while Mary stood alongside her expressionless.

Mary leaned back and glanced into the dining room, Captain Hook had vacated his seat and was nowhere to be seen. Mary checked all the rooms, including the hall closet. She heard a man weeping in the basement and she went down the stairs to the dimly lit room to investigate. George sat on a stool nearest the back wall with his head in his hands, crying in a manner Mary had never seen before. Harry stood at the top of the stairs, "Psst," he hissed to Mary, who quietly crept up the stairs.

"Why is he crying?"

Harry pulled her over by the kitchen sink full of pots, pan, dishes and silverware, glancing down the hall to make sure everyone was busy with their congratulating and merry making. "Mary, John knows what really happened between you and George. He had his suspicions all along, and your strange behavior as of late and tonight proved his theory true. He threatened his father after dinner."

John entered the kitchen to start tea and gather some dessert from the guests just as his threat was mentioned. "What did he say?" Mary asked Harry, but it was John who responded. "I didn't threaten him, I told him flat out I'm taking you and the children away after Christmas, and he will die old, alone and unloved like he deserves. I will not let my mother nor her children live in this house with that foul beast, I hope he stays in the basement and weeps until blood pours from his eyes. A man like that should die all by himself with no one to save him."

Mary watched John as he spoke, and looked at Harry. Then, on instinct alone, she moved her head right again and saw Captain Hook eavesdropping alongside of her. When he saw he had her attention, he politely asked her for a moment alone, "When you are done deciding the fate of the king, of course, Madam." She looked back to Harry and John, with Captain Hook tapping her on the shoulder to add his observation, "Your son here, John is it, believes his existence is the true and only reason you were beaten, Madam. Now, while others may think he is a perfect choice for judge and jury I should ask you to reconsider, as you are aware of the unknowns of this delicate matter."

Mary nodded her head in agreement and with one slap across the cheek, Mary put John in his place. "How dare you speak of your father like that? What happened between the two of us is none of your business. And who are you to tell me where my children and I are to go? You are neither my husband nor my father, they and only they will take me from this house."

Unseen -- so far -- is that there were also two Mary's. One was a loving kind wife and mother who was the picture of elegance, grace and adoring devotion to her family, only present to give undying love, unquestionable forgiveness and limitless mercy. The other was a wicked witch who plotted and schemed behind the scenes. A clever backstabber, ruthless in her endeavors with a foul tongue when provoked, the witch's presence was not always used to get only what Mary wanted for herself. For Mary was neither selfish nor heartless. The sole purpose that God intended for the wicked witch was to protect and defend those Mary loved more than herself. For the wicked Mary, there was nothing she would not do to save the ones she loved with her life. She would sacrifice everything, including herself, to rescue them, no matter how underhanded she had to be.

The evil George didn't like either of those Mary's, so he created a third, one who would be subservient and easily controlled by her own fear. The only difficulty the devil had to worry about was the simple fact that George -- the man -- had a heart that was more good than evil. So it was only a matter of time before the goodness pushed out the badness, and the old George of London returned.

Now the Good George had always known there were two Mary's but was unaware of the third, fashioned in his absence. Therefore, he was at a loss as to whom the woman was that he spent his days with. Finally, when he figured it out, it was too late, for both of the Mary's who had ensured him a happily ever after had been defeated by his own hands and impatient boot, and left for dead in the darkness, murdered by the evil of his father's blood. George could not even hold any hope of winning over the new Mary, for frankly, the third side of her heart already belonged to someone else.

Or so George thought as he cried in the basement. But neither of the first two Mary's was really dead. Actually, they waited in the magic of Neverland for a time when it was safe to return. One of the Mary's had always been stronger and that was the one that had returned and stood forward proudly and put her hands on her hips, gazing about at the mess in her kitchen, after putting her son in his place. "Everyone out!" she yelled, as she made her way down the hall and opened the front doors. She pecked John's check and led him forward, "Lots of work to be done before mass tonight, and you people sitting about chit chatting is a hindrance to my work. GO! Out!"

Harry and his fiancée, Constance, were the first with their coats and hats, John followed behind them with his lady friend and her children in tow, Wendy and Peter tried to say something, but Mary, being a loving wife and mother who wanted to forgive and dole out mercy where it was needed most only shushed them out the door and slammed it behind them. She looked up the stairs and listened, three young children fast asleep in bed. She opened the hall closet and stepped in. "What is it?" she asked the pirate captain, who sat dismally disheartened on the floor within.

"Do you love me or do you love that man you call a husband?"

Mary without taking a moment to consider her choice replied, "You know I love my husband."

He lowered his head, then looked up at her, "And me?"

Mary shook her head and rolled her eyes, "I love the part of you that is George, and you know that."

Captain Hook stood up at once and sadly offered, "Fair enough, Madam, then I will leave you to him. But, may I suggest that you tell him of your intentions." He leaned down and brushed his lips gently over hand, finishing with a bow and was then gone.

Mary entered the kitchen to find George hard at work washing dishes. He had removed his coat and tie, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he stood by the sink wearing her apron and a dishtowel over his shoulder, which he used to wipe his face. His glasses were smudged by his tears, and, with a false cheer, he offered through his broken voice, "I'll do the dishes tonight, dearest, and you can just sit back and relax!"

Mary walked over to him and gently touched his face. He turned and smiled, but cowered to hide his swollen eyes when she tugged on his shirt to face her. With both hands in the dishwater full of suds, Mary moved her head into his. Finally he moved to watch her expression, still afraid himself that she held a fear that he was angry she was not doing her job in the kitchen. Mary softly kissed over his face, ending on his lips. "I love you, George."

George Darling dropped to his knees in his kitchen and clutched Mary around waist, tightly but not too tightly, mindful that she still ached at times in the region where he'd hurt her. His rush of tears, sorrow and regret were intensified by his constant babbling of, "I love you Mary, I am sorry, please forgive me, don't leave me, please don't let any one take you from me, please. Kill me, I want to be dead without you, please cut my heart out. I'm not my father, Mary. I am not my father."

She held him back just as tightly, and when he would not rise, she fell to her knees in front him and began kissing and holding him, feeling that, with all her might, she could not get close enough to him. Her feelings of fear and dread disappeared, and as he responded in love like he always had with her, she realized the man kissing her neck and pledging his undying love to her was the one she married and not the monster that lay hidden within the dark deserted crevices in his troubled mind and heart.

"Not on the floor," Mary requested as George unbuttoned her blouse and unzipped her skirt at the same time. He valiantly lifted her up and carried her to their bed. Both wanted a rushed interlude, although neither could have offered a reasonable explanation why. They both tugged and yanked at clothes to rid of their bodies just enough to give them contact. But as he began, George did not hurry his pace, he kept a slow and lingering movement that made Mary moan with anticipation, for she already felt her completion building in her as he gave the first of many thrusts. She rolled him over on his back and mounted him, running her hands through her long hair and down her bare chest to his. He looked on in awe as she placed her index finger in her mouth to taste his sweat that she gathered from his pelvis. She gently guided her fingertip down her neck that glistened with perspiration and offered him the same which he anxiously devoured begging, "More, Mary, please, I want to taste you..."

Captain Hook sat in the armchair, directly in front of the bed watching their exchange with a look of utter disgust, rage and jealousy. His face was blank and his eyes burned hellfire, staring at his lover and her husband engaged in their passion.

George pushed Mary down on her back again, and again climbed on top of her. He lifted one of her legs straight in the air and began pushing into her hard and deep with a fiendishly swift pace, as she begged him not to stop and continue on faster. Mary cried out at the sensation that hurt but felt extremely pleasurable just the same. "Deeper, harder, faster. Give me no mercy George..." she groaned and he obliged filling her completely.

"Tell me you love me, Mary..." he asked, she answered, "I love you George."

"Tell me you want more, Mary..." he asked, she answered, "I want more George. Give me more."

"Say please, Mary..." he asked, but Mary could not answer, or give voice. His relentless movements in and out while rotating his hips to pound her deeper, harder, faster and without mercy left her breathless and in absolute ecstasy. Suddenly, George slowed his pace and leaned down to his Mary. They met in a kiss that both silently prayed would last "forever." They embraced, they kissed, they touched, and they loved, keeping all that ever was and was to be, alive and never ending between them.

So deep into their love making were they that they did not notice the door to their room creak open, nor were they aware that someone other than Captain Hook was watching. Jane, a little girl innocent of such things, curiously gazed into the room in wonder of her mother's voice that awoke her from bed. But before her eyes hit the bed her parents were on, they met Captain Hook and he hissed at her like a nasty stray cat about to attack its prey. She fled and he took to his feet after her, sneering his loathing and revulsion at the married couple consummating their undying love to one another.

George finished and then finished again. Mary did also, again, again and again. They rested alongside each other, completely out of breath, drenched in sweat, and utterly drained. Feeling it best not to ruin the moment with words of little or no meaning, George stood and went to his dresser. He pulled out Mary's dagger, entrusted to her by the dread Captain Hook himself, and raised it to his chest. He pulled it up high above his head and sent it forward aimed at his heart.

Before it could reach its intended destination, Mary jumped up knocking the dagger from his hand and George to the floor. "George, what are you doing?" Mary screamed.

"I'm doing what the blade says, I offended your heart Mary, I shall cut my own from my chest."

Mary, already in tears, pulled the knife from him, "No George, that is not what this means, did he not tell you?"

George looked to Mary with a peculiar expression, "No, he didn't. What did he say it was for?" he asked. Before Mary could respond Jane called out for them.

"MAMA! PAPA!" Jane screamed from her room. In an entangled naked mess, George and Mary darted their heads up to listen. Jane called for Mama and Papa again, and throwing on their robes, they both ran out into the hall to her room. "What is it, dearest heart?" George asked as she practically flew into her father's arms as he entered first.

"There is a wicked pirate over there!" She pointed to the open bedroom window and Mary made her way there quickly and looked out.

"There is no one there, Jane, you had a nightmare." George soothed her back into bed and covered her up. Jane begged George stay with her, even after she went back to sleep, and so he agreed, having no other choice.

Mary went downstairs after dressing for midnight mass, and again began cleaning up the dining room and finishing the washing up. Footsteps behind her made her question, "Is Jane alright, George?"

But it was not her husband who responded, "Taken another lover, Madam?" Captain Hook adoringly wrapped his arms around her waist, only to push her away with malice, "Eh, you reek of him."

The first Mary was back and now the second returned as well. The wicked witch was far more spirited in her imagination and quick-witted with her tongue and so she replied, "Funny, he never says that about you."

Happy to have his comrade back from the dead, he leaned closely to her ear and whispered, "Which one?"

Mary pulled out a chair for Captain Hook, and he sat at the table. "There is only one," Mary replied as he began tapping his fingers on the table.

"Now," he added flatly for clarification.

"Jealous, are you?" Mary offered, ending their lovers' spat, causing him to rise to his feet pointing the tip of his hook to her throat after yanking her around. Mary firmly held her stance before him; after all, she was wicked as well, and gently took his hook from her throat, clasping his left hand in hers. "There is no need for you to be jealous. Your revenge is my revenge," she whispered in his ear, and then curtsied to him as she returned to her dishes.

Captain Hook was a tad dumbfounded by her remark; he often forgot that Mary's two versions of herself could coexist in harmony at the exact same time, as they did with everyone else. But more importantly to the story, with her old self resurrected, the third side of her heart was destroyed. With George, she would be a loving wife and devoted mother, with Captain Hook she would be a wicked witch, and that was fine with him, 'so why worry after the third' he thought to himself.

Playing it cool, he leaned on the counter, alongside of her, and grinned in anticipation. "And whom do you wish to seek revenge on, Madam, surely not the King?"

Mary gazed devotedly into his crystal blue eyes, and batted her eyelashes. Hook continued: "If you had to choose between a pirate captain and his lovely ship," he returned her stare and her smile, "or a husband and this place he calls his castle," he glanced around as if sick to his stomach, "which would you choose, Madam?"

Mary continued to bat her eyelashes, giving him half a smile in the corner of her once mocking mouth, the scar from her split lip now evident on the side where George's kiss was once placed.

Mary held her seductive appearance and continued to smile, licking her lips slowly to wet them. All at once, she pushed him out of the way and strolled into parlor to George's desk. She unlocked it with her key, and removed a letter that had arrived at her home only the day before. "Can you read?" she inquired and Captain Hook, greatly insulted she thought him illiterate, snarled and yanked it from her hand, looking it over.

"This is the deal you made with George then?" Mary asked and he smiled showing she was correct in her assumption. She nodded, impressed by his shrewdness, but countered that plan with one of her own. She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered her own strategy into his eager ear. Again he smiled coyly at her clever mind. "Hm...you have given this much thought indeed Madam. Very well, however you prefer it then."

Mary offered her hand to his for a handshake and accepted the hook he offered in return carefully with her fingertips as not to cut herself on the blade's edge.

"Oh yes, Madam, but I must advise you not a word of this change in plan can be said to your husband. I gave him my word that our deal, his and mine, was the deal."

He leaned his head down for a kiss that she gave on his cheek instead of his lips. Mary finished their conversation for now with, "If you had to chose between a virtuous fair maiden or the evil queen, whom would you pick?"

"I would think my choice was already quite obvious, Madam."

"Why did you not tell him of the dagger?" Mary asked, stepping into his waiting arms as he once again read the letter. Captain Hook held his gaze to the paper and not to her when he answered, still holding her about the shoulder with the arm that held his hook, "I never thought for even a moment your husband would use it on himself. I was actually a bit shocked; luckily for him you were there to save the day. Madam, I am truly sorry. I have become absentminded, venturing back and forth, I only told you it's meaning, not the king ... although I meant to."

Mary pecked his cheek and neck, pulling on his breeches for access, while searching for his lips that he kept smirked to the side deep in thought. "How is it possible that you already thought of a better plan than the one the king concocted in only an hour's time? After all, Madam, I must say you seem so sweet, innocent and proper when in my company." He gave her an appalled expression as she managed to loosen his pants enough to have them drop to his ankles.

"What can I say? I'm a quick thinker when my mind is as it should be. Like I said, your revenge is my revenge, and George's revenge shall be my revenge as well."

Mary lowered herself to the floor and looked up to the undressed pirate captain with longing. When he did not fall to join her, she yanked him down by his shirt, causing him to land beside her with a loud thump, that made him bolt his head up to see if anyone came running at the noise of his impact. "On the parlor floor, Madam?" Captain Hook queried with raised brow. "Did your husband not ride on top of you in this way only a short time ago?"

Mary shook her head as if she had no idea what he was talking about, "George was with his wife, I am the wicked queen, Captain," she whispered, covering his neck with kisses.

"Let us seal our deal then, Madam," he replied through her affections.

"Alright, if you insist." Mary knocked him over on his back and began tearing her clothes off. Captain Hook was quite overcome by her domination of him, and interrupted her only to inform her, "I am not taking you to my ship. If you want to have at me, you will have to do it on the parlor rug."

Mary looked down at the infamous rug and about the room. "Turnabout is fair play, Captain." She winked as she hoisted herself on top of him.