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A Twisted Bard’s Tale
    Lady Capulet
heard her daughter’s footsteps fading down the hall. Fair Juliet was going to
marry Paris. It was settled—her husband had decided the match. He had left for
town to brag this morning, leaving it to her to bring news to the girl, and she
had done so as well as her own mother had delivered the news to her at such a
tender age.
    She could
still remember her mother’s hand against her cheek, imploring her to consider.
“Elizabeth, he is a fine match!” She had been Juliet’s age when she had married
into the house of Capulet and she knew what it was to be given into such
service.
    Although, she
thought, Juliet was a great deal more headstrong than she had been at that age.
Her daughter was young and would outgrow it, but her heart led her now. Her
heart—and the steady, throbbing pulse beating between her gentle thighs! Lady
Capulet smiled. Ah, to be that young again! But no, she wouldn’t trade it. She
was a lifetime away from the young girl who had lain trembling beneath her
husband’s sweaty, thrusting body on her wedding night.
    She
shuddered at the memory, hearing the old nurse knocking at her door.
    “Anon,
m’lady!” the woman hissed, knocking again. “She is arrived!”
    Lady Capulet
stood, straightening her gown. She was not so different from her daughter, she
realized, even now. She still let her heart lead her. “Enter.”
    The old
nurse giggled and smiled, her eyes bright as she opened the door. A woman whose
radiant beauty rivaled Lady Capulet’s, a bright sun to her dark, full moon
night, swept into the room wearing a smile, her eyes burning with something
warm and rich.
    “Catherine.”
Lady Capulet took the woman’s hands and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
    “Elizabeth.”
Lady Montague turned her cheek slightly, so the kiss found the corner of her
soft, smiling mouth.
    The nurse
giggled again. “Montague and Capulet will be joined anon.”
    “Leave us,
pray.” Lady Capulet nodded toward the nurse, still holding the other woman’s
hand in hers. “We do not wish to be disturbed.”
    The nurse
sniffed, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. “Years upon years I have kept
you both aloft, with no man to find you, your secret mine alone to keep.”
    “Enough,”
Lady Capulet held up her hand. “You have done so, sweet nurse, with gracious
goodness in your heart, and I beg you to do so now—with much haste.”
    “Yes,
m’lady.”
    When the
door closed, the two women looked at each other and smiled. It had been wholly
near a season since they had had occasion to meet. It was treacherous enough, a
Montague being seen within a Capulet’s walls, but for the lady of the house?
They both knew what risks they were taking. And still, nothing could keep them
apart. No man-made walls—no man.
    “Nurse sent
word your husband was to town for the day.” Lady Montague lifted the other
woman’s hand and kissed her palm. “I heard about Juliet and knew I had to come
hence.”
    Lady Capulet
shivered, her breath catching. “He is gone and you are here, as I wish it were
so always.” She pulled Lady Montague close to her, rubbing a soft cheek against
hers. Their breath mingled as the two women sought and found the sweetness of
each other’s lips, their kiss a tender re-exploration after months long apart.
    The Lady
Capulet still wore only her dressing gown in the early morning hours. The Lady
Montague had come dressed for an outing—her long gown sweeping the floor, her
full breasts pressed up as an offering in a tightly laced bodice. Their hands
found one another, the thin material of the dressing gown giving one greater
access than the other, to which Lady Capulet’s moans could attest.
    “These
damnable garments.” Lady Capulet pressed her cheek to her lover’s bodice, her
fingers groping along her back. “Turn.”
    Lady
Montague turned and leaned against the bedpost while the other woman began to
unfasten her gown. “Oh, Elizabeth… hurry,” she