I locked the front gate and hurried home to my one room apartment a mile away. It was a dismal and dreary place. On the other hand it was cheap and near work. I almost ran home. Dusk would be right eight o’clock and I wanted to shower and shave and put on a nice change of clothes. I needed to look my best for her, my mysterious angel. For in my mind, an angel she was. As O Henry and Tarkington had written back in the thirties, "I was smitten of her beauty." In the space of a few scant seconds she had become a grand obsession with me.

I returned to the cemetery just minutes before sun down and impatiently waited for her. Actually I was close to a half hour early. And If I could be early, why couldn’t she? I paced and waited for her. The sun came to rest behind the horizon and had finally begun to disappear when I heard behind me, "Ah, I see ye hae been anxiously awaitin’ for me. That’s good." Only the way she said it, it sounded like "guid."

"Are you Scottish?" I asked again, wanting to know everything about her.

"Aye that I am. But did ye come to talk or to act? I much prefer a man of deeds to one of words." With that she shrugged out of her simple shift and stood naked before me in the falling dusk. To just say she was beautiful would be the understatement of the century, this or any other. She was perfection. Somehow, I became naked also. I don’t remember undressing, but I do remember I was bare as when I was born and her cool, pale perfect body was nestled hard against mine.

I was throbbing with a desire I had never felt before. My whole being was charged with an erotic urgency. I was gentle as I pressed her down onto the grass on her back. "Wait," she whispered as I started to enter her. She slipped down and took me in her mouth and worried my penis, as a puppy would chew on a slipper. Her tiny teeth sent needles of painful pleasure through me and when the moment came, she took me whole in her mouth and drank deeply.

Then, still smiling wantonly, she sat down on me then and took me in a still semi erect condition within her and engulfed it as no woman has ever done before or since. It seemed almost instantly I was painfully hard again and tightly trapped. She leaned forward and said with demanding intensity, "Fook me. Fook me hard as if your very life depended on it. It does, ye know."

A part of my feverish mind wondered what she meant by that odd statement. But I thrust the thought aside and rolled her over on the grass and "fooked" her for all I was worth. I hammered and pounded my way inside her like a man demented. It seemed as if we went on forever and yet it seemed we were finished almost as soon as we started. I imagine we must have wildly coupled for at least a half hour or so. I exploded inside her and gradually became soft again. Slowly I felt myself start to slip out. I started to push to keep it in her because I knew that in a few moments I would be able to start all over again. That was the effect she had on me.

She pulled herself away from me and said with a giggle, "Twice is plenty enough. There’s no time for th’ third helpin’. I must be off." She scrambled to her feet and disappeared. As she vanished she told me, "Th’ gown I’m leavin’ ye for good fortune. Spend it well. She disappeared, quickly receding into the night’s gloom as if she had never been there with me just seconds before.

I jumped up naked and looked around for her. She was gone. Sad, I dressed myself again. Then I saw a white something near my foot. It was a white bit of cloth I recognized as her dress. As I bent and picked it up I heard a dull "clink" sound. I investigated and found that in the pocket of her dress were three silver coins of Scottish mint. I recognized Mary, Queen of Scots and her temporary husband, Lord Darnley.

"David my lad," I told myself. "If these things are what I think they are, you just became the most expensive whore in history." I grinned my unbelief at the whole situation. There was a feeling of unreality as if I had somehow stepped through Alice’s looking glass.

"And worth every schilling of it." a bell like voice seemed to tinkle from afar. Then there was a little more laughter and then all was silent again.

"Jesus. What have I gotten into here?" I asked myself. I was starting to get more than a little scared. I thought of her saying, " Fook me, fook me hard, as if your life depended on it. It does, ye know."

I took the dress and the coins and hurried home. To be more accurate, I ran home like a bat out of hell. When I got there I made a cup of coffee and examined the coins. They were black with age, but they were definitely old Scottish coins. For a while in High school I collected coins and read up on all of them. The Scottish Ryals with Mary Queen of Scots’ likeness on one side and Lord Darnley’s on the other were among the most valuable in the world to the ultra wealthy collectors.

Finally I went to bed and to sleep and dreamed of the tiny beauty and her great passion. The next morning I dressed and went to work by way of the strip mall that was located midway between my apartment and the cemetery. I stopped just long enough to grab a quick snack and a coffee for later.

Old Max, the foreman was already there and busy at work. "Max, Do you know anything about a woman in a white dress that hangs out at this cemetery? She has a Scottish accent."

"Who’s been telling you about Annie Wentworth? I thought that old tale had been laid to rest. What did you want to know?" He had a strange, almost guilty look about him.

"Well, anything you can tell me," I didn’t want to seem too eager. I waited while he collected his thoughts.


"Well, it’s really a tragic story. Sir William Wentworth came to this country in the early eighteen hundreds, when California was still a part of Mexico. He was an Englishman of noble blood who married a Scottish woman and lived near the town of Glasgow. His wife died of something or other, leaving him with a young daughter to rear. He was a dour man who had no laughter in him and a young daughter who was as lively as spring rain, all sparkles and laughter. As the story goes, she was a bit of a wild one. Anyway she met a young Mexican dandy who wanted to marry her. Old William ran him off and threatened to kill him if he came around again.

Undeterred, the young man returned to visit her a few nights later and climbed into her room/ There he undressed the very willing girl. The story goes that just as he put it in her, Angus came roaring into the room and shot the young man dead. Unfortunately, the bullet went through the intended victim and killed his daughter, Annie Wentworth, as well.

She was supposedly buried on these very grounds somewhere in an unmarked grave. In those days, as now, the Catholic Church would not allow murderers or fornicators and a select few others to be buried on hallowed ground. Some time later, crazed with remorse, William Wentworth placed a marker at the head of his daughter’s grave. Then he shot himself and died, falling across the grave of his daughter. Later the marker was stolen and now no one knows where that grave is located.

"Legend has it that every so often she comes back from the grave for an evening of sex that borders on the verge of depravity. If the man she chooses refuses her or doesn’t perform well, she kills him. If he performs well, to her desires and expectations, she will give him one, two or in one instance three old Scottish coins, according to how well he has pleased her. There have been some mysterious deaths here in this place over the years. All were young men in their prime. No matter what the cause of the deaths they all were attributed to wild and beautiful Annie Wentworth.

"Do they look like this?" I asked and showed him one of the coins I had been given.

His face turned white as all the blood left it. "Where in hell did you get this?" he demanded.

"From a very beautiful young woman who knows how to disappear into thin air."

He looked at me with respect and said, "You must be very hearty indeed, to rate one of those."

"She gave me three," I told him with an arrogant pride and showed him the other two.

He reached into his front pocket, pulled out a protective folder and opened it and showed me one just like my three. "I thought I was doing myself proud to get this one" he told me with respect. "There were two just before me that died supposedly of heart attacks. They looked like they had been scared to death."

"What are your plans now?" he asked me.

"Well, for one thing, to be here this time next year and see what happens. I wouldn’t miss it for the world." Then I went to work.

Next month is the anniversary of my meeting with that beautiful phantasm and I intend to be right there, waiting for her. Right now I wonder what it would take to be rewarded with four coins? But I know this, I intend to find out or die trying.

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