Her Gift Of Unrequited Love

He opened the little black velveteen jewelry box. Inside was a lovely, delicate silver chain -- actually, a pair of them, about ten inches long, joined at each end by matching clasps. Three tiny Celtic knots dangled from the slightly-longer of the two chains, dancing as he lifted the piece to admire it.

"Do you like it?" Ms. Morrigan asked him.

"It's ... exquisite," he responded. "Like the ankle that it belongs on. Do you like it?"

"I love it," she smiled. "I waited for you to get here to try it on. I would like you to do the honors."

She crossed her legs, left knee over the right, and extended her silk-clad foot toward him. She pointed her toes -- painted nails lurking seductively beneath the reinforced toe of the hosiery -- and extended her ankle, so the angle reached and exceeded a full 180 degrees, in that magical way that women can do.

He brought the anklet up from below, finding the clasp and latching it, then gently rotated it around her foot so that the three Celtic knots lay neatly on the top of her foot and down each side of her ankle. She rotated her foot gently, making the shiny silver sparkle in the light.

"It's so perfect," she purred, as he took her foot between his hands and began to gently massage her instep with this thumbs. "And I love the Celtic knots. Do you know why?"

"Well, because you are The Morrigan," he replied.

"Of course," she said. "But not only that. You see, from here, I can look at you, down by my feet, on the other side of it, and tell you ... for you, it's your Hadrian's Wall. The border which you may never, never cross."

His eyes grew wide and his lower lip quivered -- with poignant disappointment, she knew, but also with intense arousal.

"Yes," she continued. "It's very pretty, and it's very, very symbolic. My foot is on your side. And the rest of me is ... not.

She heard him release a little whimper.

"And you bought it for me. And you put it there.

"How does that make you feel?"