Journeys are unending.
Memories don't die.
What started as a trickle has now become a downpour. Thunderstorms turn me on and so does the thought of an late evening shower. The splattering sound of raindrops falling on tinsheet-roofs reminds me of my urge to dance with my angel. Seems like a distant dream, though, and that's what makes it even more fantastic!
My angel has been very shy, still is. She's enchained in her conservative upbringing. But deep inside, I know, she's a volcano waiting to erupt.
The cool sprinkle of water on my face wakes me up from sleep. The angel has just splashed more passion on me. I'm turning out to be a beast, waiting to prance on my prey. The innocent lamb sits across my table with a smile filled with snide; challenging me to make my move and prove my integrity.
My angel has grown up, fast, beyond recognition. She has rediscovered herself. Deep inside, the volcano has started erupting.
This train will go on but it's time for me to get down. I have another train to catch that could take me far away. I'll meet my angel who's moving forward, maybe many more times. But when and where and why are questions no one else can say.
I know my angel is good at flying; I know that I can see. The only thing that I do not know is if I can fly as well. My hands are tied, my legs are chained but still I sure want to fly. If my angel helps me and takes me up; high, I'd die for one such flight - I can hold her wings and hold her tight and feel her body fly. I can kiss her cheeks, I can kiss her lips, kiss her neck and her hips. I could run my fingers all over her curves and lick her salty sweat. I could take her up and then take her down as the winds begin to pitch and roll.
Once, or twice, or many more times; when the fear begins to melt down, we could come down to terra-firma and stay together for long.
Should two islands in the stream wait to join and become one when the waters around flow away? The storms within will wither away if we dont hold each other now. With just 16 days to go; now is the time to get closer to each other and bond, lest we stay detached as opposed to attached to fly and to fly for ever.
Angel, you'll always be mine; in my heart and my soul, 'cause no one has seen you like I have.
Angel, you'll always be mine; in my heart and my soul, 'cause no one has known you like I have.
Love me or hate me - for soon i'll be gone. You can always; always count on me - to fly or to lie or to talk or to walk or just hang on to each others wings.
Are promises meant to be broken? Not for a gentleman.
The challenge was to write something about the present - a gift she gave him to remember the Valentine's day of 2009.
These days everything appears to have meaning - even the most trivial and mundane things. This time a crafty flourescent green paper box in which you could leave a hundred knick-
knacks to a million kisses posed an even greater challenge. Create a story around it.
Throwing a bad habit of chewing tobacco was another challenge and my angel has started playing hard on me to give it up. I will. I am trying hard. It started rising slowly but has
almost reached the brim; to get into a quarrel any moment. He stretched his hand to touch hers and say: "I'm sorry, dear". She quickly pulled her arm back. "I'll throw this at you, the
next time i catch you chewing that dirty thing", she threatened. And she did.
The bruise was bad, if not nasty, though. the cut was deep and the blood gushed out like a broken water pipe had.
It took a while for him, recuperating out of the sickness.
She should not be with him, but she cannot stay away either. She paid him a visit at a time when there was no one to attend him. Not a soul in sight.
Quietly walking into the house, like a butterfly, she got into his room without even a crumple of her garments.
The tiny silver pendant hanging on the golden chain around her neck tapped his cheek as she bent over to touch his healing wound.
It was not but an accident that his lips touched her parted lips when he moved to get up from the bed. She hardly had time to stand to position before he flung his arms around her in an embrace. Caught unawares, she wriggled to be free, only he wouldn't let her go. She had no option but to fall flat on his chest, his tight hug not allowing her any room to manouvre. without realising that he was already wounded, she gave him a rather hard bit on his nose causing him a pain that would last, at the most, an hour. Without any anger, he retaliated with a bit on her sharp nose. Now, was this developing into a little skirmish?! She gave him a bite on his cheek and he returned the same, still holding her tight and countless bites on each other, they realised this has been going on for a while.
Trying to roll him over and pull him down, she realised that he began to loosen his grip. He speaks evenly that he needs to visit the closet.and punctuates the words with thrusts that he
knows are a little too deep; she could feel his heart drumming; or was it hers?She sensed every sharp breath disappear from her, and they were perfectly in tandem with his breaths. The rhythm perfect; and the pain blissfull. She did not beg to be released. She could see herself reflected in his eyes, in the light flickering through the open window between the fading leaves.
They have been in this trance for a while, scrambling to stop the mad whirl of space and time.
There were months of longing, maybe years. Brushing against each other until it seemed
the heat would make marks on their skin. For weeks they couldn't speak of it aloud, for fear of falling in and being lost. The decision to put to rest these conversations and encounters was rather unilateral. But he would not give up. "On one condition", he said. "provided you agree to find a time and place for this, exclusively.
Finally, there came a moment carved just for them, a secret sphere where they could linger. His hands uncovered flesh at her waist; he knew exactly how she would taste when he dropped to his knees in front of her, curling his fingers into the cup of her hips, he rasped a slow tongue along the side of her belly button. The faint salt of her sweat, the perfume she'd so absently rubbed there some while ago.
He could taste it in his mouth when he finally pulled her down.
She must leave him, now. His appetite was too intense; he will possess her piece by piece until there is nothing left. Instead they devoured each other helplessly at the overstuffed room upstairs. He was unable to wait.
At first she disliked the waterbed - nothing solid under her, no way to push back. She could feel every liquid molecule through the blanket and sheets, the false heat, the taut thickness
of plastic holding in the water. They thrashed on it like serpents; to calm her he growled and sank teeth into the flesh where her neck met her shoulder and then, below on her firm breasts. She felt the cut of incisors, the molars holding her in place, the threat of blood imminent.
When she, at last, lay still, he began a slow the pulse. in and down, out and up. When she moved, he stopped, watching her dismay, he stroked her shoulders. She calmed again, he renewed the movement. As his thrusts deepened, the waves of the bed buoyed her up and against his body. The room fell away and left nothing but the rhythm of fullness, of flying, the sweat hot and slick where her thighs slid over his hips.
And when she wanted more, as he had told her, she would ask for more and he would get more.
Shaken, he dreamt of her all day, looking for the answer and the question in the faces as strangers.
She comes back, she cannot stop. This is the ecstasy of the myth, of the marble saint falling and the arrow piercing her side, the arms of the angel outstretched. They ripple to a deep music, a bow drawn along the base of her spine, a note that vibrated so low and so high she cannot hear it, keeping time with the swinging chain, the tiny heart thumping between her teeth again and again...
Thud...!!! the hit would have been harder. The car almost broke the electric post into two, creating an accident that would have cost him his life. He woke up from the dream and got out
to check if the damage was bad enough.
Not too bad... for a dream that would never come true. She surely is an angel. she can save me my life.
Angel, when will you come to me?
Tryler trudged up the stairs. He had had a long day, at work.
He sighed as he pushed open his room door, and walked inside, dropping his bags on the floor.
“Why do I pay for cable TV services if I have nothing to watch?” he asked himself as he walked in to bath room and ran the water. He heard a knock on the door.
“Who's there?, I'm coming?” he screamed. Running down the stairs he did not know who was at the door.
She had long wavy hair and starry black eyes, she had a petite figure and relatively small but round breasts, She was his perfect fantasy. The girl looked at him and waited for his next move.
He stood there, like a statue.
The visitor seductively crawled up his chest and kissed him.“I’m yours”, she whispered smiling and showing off a set of perfectly white teeth.“No, what’s your name?” Asked Tryler, The girl clocked her head to one side and smiled sweetly“I don’t understand”, she said and plunged her hands into her shoulder bag.
Tyler wondered what was in the bag.“Hey, what are you looking for?” he said and put his arms around her neck, She looked at him hurtfully.
“Don’t you like it?” He asked.
“Well yeah I do, but why dont you let me in?” The girl looked at him and picked an empty bubble bath packet from her bag.
She threw it out into the drawing room and tried to crawl into the room. Tryler blocked her way with his leg. She stopped there and stood up. She stood so close that he started trembling.
He wanted to kiss her as if his life depended on pleasing her. Slowly Tyler bent down towards her cheek and ran his arms up and down the girl’s side making her shiver. He grabbed her bottom, it was soft, yet firm and made her moan a bit as he squeezed it. He gently ventured around her waist where his fingers found a short mound. He ran his fingers around the rim of her thigh and paused, The girl kissed him more intensely. Tryler slid one finger into her mouth for a moment then pulled it out. The bite was harder than he had expected.
“I’m sorry”, she said, breaking the kiss. She moved back and clocked her head cutely. “Am I doing something wrong?” she asked. “No, it’s just”“good”, the girl interrupted him; she kissed his finger with her soft velevet lips and licked his finger as if to heal a wound.
“Stop”, Tryler said, pushing her back a bit. The girl looked at him as if he had just broken up with her.
“Why? am I not pleasing you?”, She asked. Tryler studied her for a moment.
"I am sorry, I made you wait here at the door. Come inside."
“Why are you here? and what are you doing?” he asked.
“I., I... don’t understand”, replied the girl, she almost stood up to go. "No, wait, he pressed her sharp shoulders, in a motion that pushed her back to the couch. He sat down, along with
her. he put his arm around her neck and his other arm cupped her rund face.
“I mean, well you are perfect, You are my girl, just how I’ve imagined you to be”, he said, the girl smiled and coyly looked down.
“I have to be, to give you the greatest pleasure”, she said.
“Why do you want to give me pleasure?”“That's why I’m here”.
“what?”
“You dropped the soap in the bath, which summoned me, now i have to please you, or I’ll dissolve”, the girl said sweetly.
“Are you crazy?”
“No, who's crazy?, I’m an Angel”. Tryler looked at her, Humour flared in his eyes.
“You're joking aren't you?”, he asked, Unable to contain himself anymore he burst out into laughter.
The Angel goblin looked at him with empty eyes, ‘No’, she whispered and a tear rolled down her face. Tryler started in amazement as the girl sat there, in the couch, her left shoulder
was bubbling up.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t please you”, she whispered and another tear rolled down her face. Tryler grabbed her and pulled her close to him, He kissed her, holding her waist.“don’t go”, he whispered. She looked at him and her eyes lit up, Her shoulder stoped bubbling and returned to normal.
“Thank you”, she said and they kissed again. This time the Angel wrapped her arms around him.Breaking the kiss, she looked down. She put held him tighter and closer, making them
both breathe out shallowly. Tryler looked at her, He raised his arms and grabbed her breasts, and rubbed her nipples with his thumbs. The Angel bounced up and down and they both
moaned in pleasure, until suddenly the Angel screamed. She squealed with pleasure and bounded faster. Tryler felt a tingle in his spine.
The Angel bounced once more and Tryler squinted his eyes as he exploded. He lay back panting, his eyes still closed, he half expected to feel her soft lips on his once again, but they never came.
He slowly opened his eyes, nothing; He was still standing under the shower, alone. He looked around.
“Hello....?”, he called. Did that just happen? Was it my imagination? He got out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist, We walked up to the mirror and looked at himself.“Am I crazy?”, he asked his reflection. He sighed and opened the cupboard above the sink, Right there... there were two packets of sample bubble bath, and a note.... Try.. Keep trying. I'll be here.
Let me try...
Prince Menelik was fifteen years old when he the got the permission from his mother, Queen Saba, (usually known as Queen Sheba to the West,) to take a trip to Israel and visit his father, King Solomon, of whom he had heard many wonderful things, but had never yet seen. The trip was planned over many months, and a caravan of several hundred camels, horses, mules and donkeys, was organized. Finally, the young price left for Jerusalem with a great entourage of attendants, servants, and slaves. Prince Menelik was also accompanied by five hundred carefully selected young men, some of whom were his cosines, nephews, and close friends, and others were children of famous governors, rulers and principalities of the land.
Once they arrived in Jerusalem they were received by King Solomon in the only protocol befitting and appropriate to a Crown Prince, since it was widely known that on his return to Ethiopia, Prince Menelik was to be crowned king and inherit the throne from his mother, Queen Saba. And Solomon used the occasion of the visit to get to know his son, and to train him in the ways of the world, the artful handling of the reins of the empire, and the careful manner of bearing the burden of kingship. The following is a legend and a story that has survived the ages and come down to us.
It is told that King Solomon asked the young Menelik if he had a true friend, and the young man answered that yes he had many good friends. King Solomon then asked Menelik to pick the best of all and find out who might be the one true friend. Without too much trouble, Menelik picked one with whom he had attended traditional school, a friend that he really considered to be the closest, and named him to the king, his father. King Solomon then invited Menelik and this friend to attend his audience and join him for breakfast the next morning.
After the usual palace ceremonies of the morning, the King invited the two young men to the privacy of the breakfast table behind closed curtains, and retired to his own private table, since royalty should never be seen eating. Among loaves of freshly baked bread, milk, fresh fruits, and roasted lamb, there was a plate with three fried eggs, fried over-easy. The king, however, had a trusted servant to attend to the boys as they ate. While the kids ate breakfast the valet stood at the corner avoiding their eyes, and pretending to look away, but absorbing every word, sound and gesture they made. In reality, he was the eyes and ears of the king. The boys shared the food and ate all they could until they came to the plate with three eggs. The friend helped himself to one egg and said that he was really full and could not eat more than one egg. He insisted that Menelik should eat the second egg. After some protest, Menelik finally complied and ate two eggs while the friend had only one of the eggs.
After breakfast, the valet reported to King Solomon every word and every sound of what took place at the breakfast table. King Solomon called Menelik to his audience later that day and privately said to him, "Menelik, you have a very nice and caring friend. He is a very good friend, and I like him a lot. He will make you a very loyal subject, but he is not your true friend. I would like to know, if you have any other young man that you would consider to be your true friend. If you have such a friend, bring him over for breakfast tomorrow." Young Menelik thought hard and long and finally decided whom he would bring to breakfast in the King’s palace the next day. This time he picked another very close friend, and the son of the Queen’s adviser. Menelik thought very highly of him. They had known each other since they were little children, and had grown up together. Surely, Menelik thought, he must be my true friend.
The following day it was the same scenario. Loaves of freshly baked bread, plenty of milk and fresh fruits, roasted cuts of lamb, and the three fried eggs, fried over-easy. This time after taking one egg each, Menelik offered the second egg to his friend. The friend made a halfhearted refusal, but didn’t even argue too much when Menelik insisted that he have the egg. The friend helped himself to the second egg while Menelik had only one egg. The valet attending to the kids at breakfast went afterwards and relayed all that took place to King Solomon.
After breakfast, King Solomon called his son and said to him, "This friend of yours, I understand, is the son of the Queen’s adviser. He is a very ambitious young man. And that is as it should be. He may be your friend, but he is not your true friend. If this friend gets half a chance, he will not hesitate to take advantage of you. You should always be on your guard, and never give him an opportunity to do so. He may be a useful subject, but he might just as easily betray you. Such friends are very dangerous. They need to be watched very carefully. Do you have any one else that you consider to be a true friend? If you do, I would like you to bring him over for breakfast tomorrow."
This time Menelik would not sleep the best part of the night trying to determine whom he would take for breakfast the next morning. This went on for several mornings, and some friends would insist that Menelik eat the remaining egg, and other friends would eat the egg themselves. Finally, after about a week, Menelik decided to take a friend, not so very close as the previous ones, but a very cordial young man who always showed him, and all the other kids, great respect and was also well liked and respected in return by most. This kid did not come from a long line of nobility. In fact it was widely known that his father, though now a Rass, was the son of a common peasant. He had shown great courage in several battles and had led his troupes to many victories. He had had a meteoric rise through the ranks to become a legendary general in his own lifetime.
Menelik took this young man for breakfast to the palace one morning. The table was set in the same way as the all the previous mornings: freshly baked bread, milk, fresh fruits, choice cuts of fried lamb, and the ever-recurring three fried eggs. Menelik offered the young man to eat two of the eggs and he would have only one, but the young man refused and said he would eat one, and Menelik should have two eggs. They argued back and forth and neither of them would give in until they finally agreed to cut the over-easy fried egg in half and share it equally between them. But the yolk might be spilled and it is not an easy thing to cut an egg in half. They finally decided to cut the egg on top of a loaf of bread so that the yolk if it flows out, can soak into the bread. This they did. Not only did they share the one egg, but they also proceeded to cut the loaf of bread, where the yolk had soaked into, in to two equal parts and shared it equally. Thus ended the breakfast.
After breakfast the valet entered King Solomon’s private audience and gave a full report of what he had seen and heard. The king was very happy with the story. That evening, King Solomon called his son, Crown Prince Menelik and said to him: "The young man you had breakfast with this morning is your true friend. He would not take advantage of you, and he would not like you to take advantage of him. Such a man, you can easily take into your confidence and share your most secret thoughts with. Such a friend is very hard to come by. Take him into your heart and treat him with courtesy and gentleness. If you carefully cultivate the friendship of this man, he will become the most valued person in your life."
A warm summer breeze floated across the field and into the woods; carrying a subtle scent in its wings. It was exciting but mysterious. A scent that started to stir the forest. The birds in the woods noticed it first. They sung the mating calls to each other to celebrate the mood.
Slowly the larger animals started to recognize the scent. It was a lady’s perfume. But wait, this was not just any woman. This was a princess among angels, a beauty to the discerning eyes.
The citizens of the forest started a search for this lady. Finally, they found her. Laying on a large soft blanket, she was like a goddess. The strong and tall tree spreading its branches for shade over her head.
Her lovely brownish black hair flowed with a mind of its own. It was as light and fresh as a early spring day of May. Each strand falling; not knowing its place. Sitting up, she tucked one leg under her body. Her beautiful black eyes started searching all the roads that lead to her. She was waiting and looking out for someone. Where was the man of all her life’s dreams? When would he come to her? This time, she would be sure.
Finally, she found him coming up the rocky rugged path. His head was held high, but his scars were visible. Walking, he swayed with the confidence of few known. What did he really want?
As he neared her, the perfume began to take effect. He let his eyes caress her body. She was a marvelous creature dressed in the softest silk known to man. Sitting down an old-fashioned picnic basket, he knew this was not the time to eat. Dropping to his knees, he lowered himself down. His eyes were dancing with desire and excitement.
Reaching out a hand, he felt her tender soft skin. He had to kiss her. He had to taste those beautiful lips. As his lips met hers, fireworks exploded. Lightning struck. Those lips were like soft velvet with just a taste of a nectar from God-land.
His tongue lightly caressed her warm lips. It searched and probed. Responding to his tongue, her lips allowed a small opening. He slipped inside. The sensation was unbelievable. The inside of her glorious mouth was warm and alive. The slippery moist walls created sensations that his tongue had only dreamed of before.
Slowly he broke off the kiss. He felt so weak and helpless. Did the wonderful scent that she wore have this effect or was it just the presence of such a lovely lady? She was indeed very lovely, both to the eye and to the touch. She slowly slid her smooth silk-like arms around his neck. Drawing him closer, he saw those God-sent lips again. A whirlpool filled his mind. There was no more time to think. Laying her down on the blanket, he looked her in the eyes. Feeling himself fall deeper and deeper under her magical spell, time stood still. An unspoken message was passed between them. Playing with her hair, she communicated her wish perfectly.
His mind was whirling. His thoughts were scrambled. She smelled so good. The powerful scent surrounded her body. It was powerful and enticing. It made him want to hold her, to taste her.. As he lowered his head to kiss her smooth neck, a small grin came across her face, she knew her power.
Kissing softly, his lips explored her neck. She released a small cry of pleasure. His lips had found that nerve that thrilled her. He knew right where to kiss. He knew exactly the amount of pressure to apply.
Dipping low in the west, the sun begin to set. It took one last look at this troubled world. Finding the only comfort in the couple below, a couple that were relaxed and at peace. The night silently passed. Nature and love filled the night air with excitement. The glow of the falling stars highlighted the sweet love that was made on the hilltop.
The next day, the sun eagerly peeked over the hilltop. The couple was already starting to walk down the hillside. They were hand in hand, heart to heart, love and love. They were walking down life’s mighty road of time as one.
Written for the lady who will never say "I love you".
I only want to take the pain away
and help her mend her wings;
So she could soar again.
Confusion flies on broken wings;
my love tumbled toward the sun,
like Icarus, plunging head first.
Without a thought my arms reached out
to try to catch her as she raced by,
my heart open, wide, to hold her safe.
We are all flowers in a garden.
Daisys; dainty and bright,
Poppys; with sweet and contagious laughter.
You, If nobody knew,
are a flower, one of its kind -
A wild orchid, so full of life, colours and life,
Sprinkled with scarlett and purple,
Splashes of colors that race through your petals!
I stopped at this garden,
Seeing this flower with a soul;
a spirit; free, intense and vivid.
The tulip never told her to stand up or walk,
It told her not to open up too much.
They know not that you are
unique and so wild.
An orchid with a soul so different,
to touch or to hold or to just look at.
You've taken my wilder side
and let it live more.
Set me free with your fire
that I dream of everytime.
Let me discover you again,
there's not too many orchids in life.
It was fair to say that her not so long curly black hair was smooth and silky, every strand, just below her shoulder blades. Once I noticed the hair, it was not too long before they also noticed how striking she was. Very strong, chiseled features and sharp, moist black eyes and the even blacker eye-lashes that seemed to understand, to invite confidences.
Today she looked particularly lovely, she was glowing and giddy with excitement, talking far too easily and making no apologies for it, like she had a hot date tonight, her third one with this new man in fact, but tonight they were to meet at his apartment. She had been daydreaming, rather fantasizing, about this date since they had exchanged their first words many months before. He, of course had no idea that she had been in pursuit of him even then. Whenever he was anywhere nearby, she could feel his presence, his scent, she, was drawn to his warmth... not by choice necessarily, but by chance, perhaps.
He was your typical nondescript type. Not the one that you generally read about in romantic novels, a cool drink of water. The bonus was that he had no idea of how absolutely insignificant he was. He seemed totally unaffected by his obvious non existence. What was his charm that furthered her need to be with him, only she would know. Or was she, really?!
Apartment 207. This is it, she knocked gently on the door and took a deep breath.
He opened the door and held it ajar while he drank in every inch of her standing in the dimly lit hallway, he had to remember to breathe, she literally took his breath away. He had no warning that beneath her white cotton dress, she was clad only in fishnet stockings, black panties and a lacey black bra.
"Were you expecting me?" with that she loosened the shawl around her neck and let it fall open down from her left shoulder, Did he imagine her fishnets, black panties and the lacey black bra inside?! Her perfect brown breasts, firm, her hard toffee-brown nipples; strained against the floral lace fabric, which barely covered their soft roundness?!
He pulled her needily into his apartment and closed the door behind her.
His words were low and lost between them as he pulled her close to him and leaned down to kiss her thin cherry lips, he held her hair between his fingers and twirled it admiringly, smiling, he tucked her tresses back over her shoulders, revealing her lovely long neck even more. He stroked her cheek gingerly and looked into her clear black eyes, kissing her on the cheek and slowly down to her neck. He held her face with his hands and tilted her chin towards him, he began to trace his lips around her face and finally her lips, tasting her juicy gelly lip-gloss.
He started nibbling on her lips, slowly and with such focus that they both dissolved into the sensuality of his kiss; he moved to her upper lip and nibbled his way across, she arched her back and pressed her lips hard against his, he opened her lips with his tongue and thrust it in and out of her mouth filling her with anticipation, She responded by soft shots on his tongue now in her mouth and back to his lips.
He lifted her face to look at him, he loved her eyes with their sparkle and the promise of ecstasy that they held. She smiled and allowed her shawl to drop to the floor around her feet. He could smell her fragrance waft up around her, he closed his eyes and breathed her in.
Before the embrace got stronger, she wriggled to get out of his clutches and he let her go.
As he let her go his right arm tickled his way down her neck and her firm little breasts, down to her waist and her hips too.
Did she feel the need that she could see in his eyes? "love me", she whispered as she dropped her head back, her silky dark hair flowing over her shoulders and cascading down her back.
She pushed her hips forward as he pouned into her. She could feel the strong and all consuming wave deep inside of her. Or was it a tingle reaching its peak? She raised her head and looked into his eyes, wide with excitement. She squealed in absolute delight, once again as his lips found hers and kissed her hard.
"You are a gorgeous creature", he managed to whisper... "do you want to see the rest of my apartment?"
With that they both began to laugh, silly and sweet, that intoxicating kind of laughter that lifts you from your body and brings the intimacy of pleasure to new heights.
"Just the barbeque place", she giggled in that throaty voice of hers that drove him wild.
She looked around the roofed terrace with curiosity. She already knew that Devil was quite romantic as opposed to popular belief, but this room, decorated in a rustic style impressed her.
"I feel as if I'm in a garage," she confessed.
Devil laughed. "No, dear," he answered. His alluring voice made her heart stop for a second.
"Everything here is small. Why are you surprised?" I love small things, all.
"I feel, like we went back in time..."
"So?"
She smiled.
"Forget about Present," he continued and a dim warm sensation rose from deep inside of her core. "Today is the Day. You knew, I'm no ordinary man, and you're not just an average young woman."
"Not the first time you mention that", she answered, her cheeks went pale. "I started thinking that you liked me only because of her."
"Oh no, dear!" Devil retorted, leaning forward. "I just want you to increase your self-importance, you have to understand how unique you are! You should be the Queen of the World, and, believe me - you have this chance!"
Her breath was heavy, and her mouth was a desert. She grabbed her goblet, and drank all its water in one gulp. She put it down, and blushed even harder, when her eyes met astonished Devil's stare.
"Wow!" he said softly, as a patient teacher would. "No, honey, you should drink it very slowly, literally by drops, like wine would wash your mouth and tongue. Only this way you would be able to appreciate the flavor and taste."
He poured the new portion to her, and she followed his advice.
Yes, never in her life had she tasted such a delicious beverage.
Now it was her turn to gape back. But Devil appeared not to notice it.
A few minutes were spent cooling grills - vegetables and fruits, as he continued introducing dishes, most of them also exclusive and mouth-watering.
She finally relaxed. All her worries and concerns were gone. All her being, the body and soul seemed floating in hazy balmy substation, and the prediction of incredible pleasure grew deep inside her.
They were saying jokes and meaningless anecdotes, they laughed for the smallest reasons.
Invisible romantic music came from nowhere. Exited, the both got up and came to each other.
The candles slowly grew shorter, but their flames extended up. The dusk around the dancing couple expanded, pushing them close together, as if they were the only two living beings in the Universe.
"Want a ride?" Devil asked, and his eyes flashed.
"Yes!" she screamed, hanging at him with thrill.
The darkness fell... No, it was them, who plunged into the bottomless obscurity.
They flew above a gulch of rushing lava. Or it was a river of Hell?
Suddenly she discovered herself into some room that seems to be some kind of a chapel.
"What are You and who are You?!" she almost screamed with horror.
"And so?" he asked calmly.
She fell onto her knees. She only wanted to get away.
"Why are you scared?" his voice sounded with a tired sadness.
Yes, why? She thought, slowly getting up.
Did he see tears in her eyes?
"My task!" he continued, almost crying. "Nobody asked me if I want to do this! I'm doomed, I have no choice! looking at her with such soreness, that her heart turned over.
She tried to imagine how he would live without her caring love, without her support, simply without her!
"Sorry, Devil..." She hugged him, and he clapped his arms around her.
"You feel my pain," he whispered. "And from now on it will forever be."
The bodies twisted around each other, as mating snakes, they interweaved, as roots of trees, they clasped, like galaxies caught by the same gravitation trap. Flash! explode!
They burst in a firework of boundless enjoyment, and all went into an infinite abyss of a black hole that sucked them in.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She opened her eyes, and stared at the ceiling of her own bedroom.
She sat up in bed, looking around with amazement.
"How did I get home?" she mumbled, shaken. "What was that? Nightmare? Bad dreams?"
Not too bad... some inner voice whispered deep inside her.
"I'm late for work!" she said aloud, trying not to think about anything else.
X X X X X
She saw Devil next to her, in office talking on the phone and tyoing away on his computer.
She neared, as he was done.
Devil had already put his hand on the handle of the door, but looked at her with a smile, and his lips curved into smug smirk.
"Good morning, dear," he greeted her, winking and went inside.
Without a word, she went to her own desk, and dove into her job efforts, trying to drown in her work routine.
Strange dreams, these days....... Devil of small things!...
Now I feel no rain.
For each of us are shelter to each other.
And now we feel no cold
For each of us are warmth to each other.
Now there is no loneliness
When evening falls,
I’ll look at you and there you are;
ready to leave.
I want to take your hand
but you just dont want that.
When we turn around, and
look to the road;
we've traveled far to reach this
hour of happiness.
It stretches far behind
over more than 24 hours.
A long and winding road
where every turning means discovery
All the hopes, new laughter,
The adventure has just begun.
Do not tempt me...
Don't smile at me so...
My heart is too weak;
to endure such a blow.
Do not tempt me...
Don't avert your eyes,
for my spirit can't take
another one for sure.
Do not tempt me...
Don't speak a single word;
that rejects my passion,
they just might shatter my world.
Do not tempt me...
Dare not make me fall;
because if you do -
I just might give up my all.
Do not tempt me...
My whole self is at stake.
You and your very presence;
Is what makes my world.
To the world, love is a feeling,
that dictates,destroys, and then scatters; all around,
But to me, it is a state of mind,
It reminds me that nothing else matters.
To the world, love is a fairy tale,
That lives happily Never after,
But to me,It is a single moment in time, 'Now',
once realized, lasts forever - and then after.
To the world, you may be just one person,
Insignificant and small,
But to me, you are the World,
My compliment and my counterego.
Paint my love, the radio sang,
My Angel walks in; to add more colour.
Orange and pink and the toffeed nails.
Dangling on either sides 1, 2, and 3.
I need to feel the flavor of her eyes,
those two black fishes, dancing around.
They gaze deeply into mine
I long to know her heart's great depth.
My love now explores, explodes and grows -
while thanking black Sun.
My Angel sings a new song as adoration blooms.
She set my soul ablaze today, with a lavender delight.
Her softness and scent has yet to settle.
My love for her begins it's destined trek.
The chill from the fragrance is still seeping down.
Lavender bloom, will you let me smell you?
The whiff of that fragrance is still in my mind.
I'm hoping that you; will let me kiss you.
I died, forgotten by eternity; forever before birth
Mine is but one - an entire life in every breath.
All the same; all of difference in every future, past and present.
I am death, gnawing into it’s own birth,existing as a past;
less future of prelived eternities and unborn pasts.
A constriction of anger infests me as razor blades of misery,
slicing the tender skins of my secret selves. . .
Blood dripping masterpieces of hatred
on the hand-woven carpet of my slippery path forever unwalked upon.
A dark sun hangs brightly in my beautiful skies,
locked in my shrouded tomb of memories.
Vapours of unfulfilled dreams grace my final breath
remembering my death at birth.
A single memory clutched in the hands of he who slowly dies
a life afraid of its own dreams waiting for finality.
Living a purposeful failure obsessed of escape,
instead of choosing despair, forever dreaming of a soul;
woven in silk, forever unwashed.
Livening its owner at every breath
Sucked into a vacuum of darkness
I fight for breath but find none,for
I was born the day I died. . .
The weather was bad. It was hot enough to fry chips; the air smelt of pencil sharpenings; the sky was tinged with violet; and Angel felt weird. She had been restless in her room, and had gone out with nowhere in particular to go. She had walked through the streets and sat at the park, watching perfectly toned people in perfectly accessorised tracksuits stroll in and out before walking away, once again. She had gone to the mall and drifted with the currents, finding nothing and no-one of any interest. She drank a tasteless cup of coffee with an outlandish name to justify an outlandish price tag. She felt the lukewarm liquid seeping through her body. It was highly unsatisfying.
She tipped the waiter and wandered aimlessly out of the mall and up the road. She wished she had work to do, but she had worked late last night and finished everything up. What a stupid thing to do! She could have watched crappy American movies on TV, or learnt some useless trivia from Discovery channel, she could have chatted up friends on the internet. She could have read a book or even worked on her assignment on cryptology, or called some friends on the phone that she hadn’t talked to for ages because her life was so boring she could think of nothing to say.
She could even, and she realised this was a stretch, have talked to her husband. He had come up on chat once or twice, lurking hopefully, offering up some bait: “Mythbusters is just starting, if you want to...” or “I’m just making a fire in the sitting room if you want to...” Her husband never finished his sentences these days - he was as sure as she that no, she didn’t want to.
Contemplating her comatose marriage depressed her even more, and on a whim she walked into an art gallery. Here, at least, it was expected of you to stand around and do nothing. In fact the less you did the better.
The main hall which was peopled by large sculptures, an imposing army of malformed humanity, which at once appealed to her loneliness, and forced her further into her own skin. One in particular caught her attention - a little girl, crouched down, staring intently at something Angel could not see. She walked past some sculptures - a hand brushed across her breast and she jumped in surprise, but it was just a stone banker, his eyes staring eternally at a calculator. She reached the little girl, and saw she was staring into a small side room. One finger was pointing. Not knowing why, Angel murmured “thank you”, and walked into the room.
It held only one painting, but it seemed too small to hold even that. A woman smiled at Angel, directly at her, a knowing smile, a smile that cut right through Angel. This woman had what Angel wanted. She moved closer to the canvas, she wanted to touch it, to rip the woman off the wall. She raised one arm, fingertips outstretched.
“Don’t turn around,” a voice breathed behind her. “Just act natural. Act like you and I are both just looking at the painting.” Normally Angel would whip around and mace anyone who said that, but this voice spoke to be obeyed. It made the hairs on her neck tingle, but in a good way.
She continued to study the portrait - the lady smiled down at her, as if she knew what was coming, and approved. Angel felt the heat of masculinity behind her, wondered how close he was. Here was a complete stranger and she wanted to lean back and rest against him, he felt so alive.
“I’ve been watching you. You’re the most beautiful work of art in this gallery. Instinctively Angel started to turn, but, “Don’t worry,” the voice whispered, “I’ve seen the wedding ring. I’m not actually proposing anything. But I just wanted to tell you.” The voice was right in her ear now, lips touching her, sending bolts of electricity straight down her spine,“if you weren’t married, I know exactly what I’d do with you.”
There was a silence so tense that Angel almost stopped breathing. He was obviously waiting for her so she whispered.
“Yes?”
“I’d take you to my room - I have one of those big four poster beds, the kind you only see in movies and museums? Wooden, with red velvet. I’d tell you to strip, and I’d go into another room, but I’d watch you through my secret window. You’d undress without self-consciousness, and I’d see the real everyday beauty of your body, stripped of clothes, stripped of vanity.
While he spoke, his fingertips touched her neck. His touch was so light she thought she might be imagining it, but then the warmth from his hands started to permeate her skin, and soon the impressions of his fingers glowed in vibrant detail.
“Before I came in I’d let you drape yourself in a silk sheet, until you got so carried away that you wouldn’t care if anyone saw you naked, you wouldn’t care if we were in the middle of a highway performing for the world to see. You would get that carried away. I guarantee it.”
“You think I’m that easy?” she asked, her voice breaking uncomfortably.
“No. I think I’m good!” the man laughed, a warm laugh that should be collected up and sold in cans for lonely women to open on cold Friday nights. “I’d lie you in bed, draped in silk scarves, for you are my artwork to enjoy as I please. I would slowly draw down the silk sheet, exposing every tiny inch of you. And I’d watch with joy as your nipples sprang up in the cold air. I’d unveil you, and then. starting slowly from your toes, I’d stroke my tongue along your leg. Like a paintbrush, drawing you into existence. My tongue would trace each and every curve and hollow, and when one leg was done, I’d start with the other.”
As he spoke, her legs nearly gave way. She felt like someone else entirely. And it was a good feeling.
“I’m not making you uncomfortable am I?,” his voice spoke suddenly, a different voice almost. “I could stop?”
“Go on, I’m intrigued.”
“I’d kiss your body into life, your arms, each hand and every finger, your stomach. My mouth would form your breast, and then I’d suck each nipple into life. Your mouth would ache for a kiss, but first I’d explore your neck, each little kiss getting closer until I reached your mouth, and for the first time you could taste me and I could taste you.”
Her mouth almost watered for a kiss, but she remained motionless, willing him not to stop.
“It would be hell to tear myself away, but I would, traveling back down your neck, lingering on each soft breast before moving slowly down. I’d kiss the edge of your_____, you know what - are you sure you want me to carry on?”
“If you want,” she said, her voice almost a growl now. Her mind had been completely taken over by her body, and she knew now how men must feel almost every day.
“I definitely want. I want you. Where was I? Oh yes, I was gently nibbling your thighs. I would tease you, lick closer and closer to your ........, and then move away.”
“Of course you would. You’re that kind of a guy, bad guy most men cant even think of anything else!”
Angel had regained her confidence now, and spoke with a power that surprised her, and clearly delighted her seducer...or whatever he was.
“But I’m also the kind of guy who explores - an adventurer. I’d explore you, your deepness and darkness, your highs and lows. I’d play with you and you’d cry out in an agony of unrequited lust, and then, only then, only when you begged, I would plunge my tongue deep into you, and you will feel more alive than ever before, and your entire existence will collapse down into yourself. And you will be ready for me.”
Angel knew what he meant. Because she could feel the uncomfortable knot of the conversation, riding up into her body. Part of her wanted just to take her hand there and offer herself the relief she needed, but luckily somewhere in her brain some part of her remembered she was in public, in an art gallery.
“Listen, maybe I should just - “ the voice taunted her.
“Finish the stupid story!” Angel’s voice burst forth.
“I would devour you. I would eat you until you cried, your entire body shaking - you’re getting carried away now aren’t you?”
Angel felt her body start shaking. The tremor started inside her and radiated through her body, every nerve ending inundated with the most powerful feeling she had ever experienced. She heard herself crying out, and she didn’t care. A feeling as good as this, why should she care. The world went blank, a shower of tingling white stars.
When she recovered, she spun around, in time to see the corner of a black leather jacket. She had to find this man. She rushed to the main gallery, knocking into a thin, nervous man, glasses taped together, who was clearly used to knocking into people. “Excuse me,” he stammered, but Angel had already rushed past, chasing a man who was walking out the door. Bursting into the foyer, she saw two men in identical black leather coats about to step out the door.
“Wait!” she cried. They both turned - one a tall, languid, movie star of a man, the other an angry looking man in his fifties. She put a hand to her neck, where the fingerprints still burned. She waited for one of them to acknowledge her, to acknowledge what she had just experienced. She stared at the men, who stared back. Behind her, the nervous man had come into the room as well. Oh crap. He was wearing a black leather jacket.
“Sorry!” Angel said flustered. She turned back towards the gallery. The statues were still there, maintaining their stone cold silence. She went in to the little room, and looked at the painting. The woman in the painting was smiling at her. She looked - she looked a little like Angel. She looked gorgeous. Angel stepped closer, and read the title. “Satisfied”, it read, “Artist Unknown”.
“You had this planned all along, didn’t you?” Angel whispered to the portrait, smiling. And for the second time that day, Angel found herself thanking an artwork. She was about to turn when she felt the man behind her again. She was about to swing around, but stopped herself. She didn’t need to know, she just needed to feel.
“I come here every weekend,” he said, and her body for a split second remembered. Then he was gone. She waved goodbye to the portrait.
“I’ll be back,” she called, as she left the room.
Outside the world had become a cliché. The sky was blue, the sun was shining bright, the birds were singing in the trees, she had a swing in her step. She fully expected a bluebird to land on her shoulder and a gospel choir to strike up the chorus. She strained her ears, waiting. And her cellphone rang. A jolt back to reality: a client wanting a quote; then the bank wanting some details; an agency looking to put her on the books; her husband...A call to go back. Back to work, back to her life. Back home.
Bad, men in black... shoot them.
Writing has been a pleasure until it became a passion. Passionate writing began at a time when my editor/publisher started appreciating my writings. Writing has become a ritual, now
that my editor pushes me to the limit. I am afraid that it might turn to a rage if I continue to write at the same rate.
I begin my story not at the beginning, not in the middle and not quite somewhere near the end. I may lurch backwards in an attempt to backflash adequately, although I can never guarantee quite how effective that will be. The jigzaw has been piling up, one upon the other and the questions were fully justified in its essence: "How will this all connect?", "will they ever connect?", How does this connect with the other?" and so on...
I owe no explanation. I gave none either. I gave her an assurance, though. 'It will'.
However, the demand was reassuring to me as well but the deadlines made me die - for the joy of writing as well as the pleasure of waiting to hear her comments and feeback. I was not getting paid for the job. Nor was I being rewarded in anyway but the fact that I was getting an opportunity to work on my study as well as stuy while at work was rewarding by itself.
I cannot help myself - like an artist does a painting. Art is randomness at its best. There are no rules to start; no rules to end. Start anywhere, scarch anywhere. In the end, you have a beautiful picture.
Funnily enough, the prevailing sentiment is that I expect to hear, sooner or later, an expression; at some point, that these proceedings are not merely a waste of time.
It seems like so very long a time that we have merely communicated, and not been, quite, in each other's presence. In subtle detail I have described how we feel; and this time?!
I am not sure if this could be the moment of truth - in a literal sense.
The one thing i wish to experience more than any other at the moment, is to hear from you, "I love you". I want to hear the relief with you leaning on my chest while you open the river of passion that you stored for such a long time. I want to hear the same divine anguish that you wailed as you splashed for the first time. I know my recent letters had brought you close to a fearful climax. I thought I sensed the powerful arousal within yourself, enough for both of us to strain our vocal chords that will otherwise be occupied. Speak out, Cry out, Scream out your feelings, passions and ecstasy.
Say whatever you want; over and over and over, again.
I have a confession to make, I'm hoping that I could hold you in my arms, have you in my mouth and am able to feel you pulsate and tingle at the memory of the latest cataclysm.
My probing fingers, nose, lips and tongue will have explored the depths of the world that you are that you only show to those deserving. Could you feel how hot i felt? 'I was burning'. How wet I was? 'drenched' - like an overflowing mountain brook had just now gushed over me.
Another admission: I'm good at soixante-neuf, Madame...
I'm afraid I cannot adequately concentrate on another job if my body and soul are joyfully engaged in a conversation of physical convulsions. I could do my best, though, to have both events running in tandem as humanly possible, If it is a necessary part of the proceedings; as far as I am concerned.
Now that's a requirement for the distance between us to narrow, somewhat.
What do you want me to do?
There's one thing that isn't entirely accurate. My description of how this jigsaw puzzle would be solved." I have no clue". You wanted this to be an unending saga and here I am, groping in the dark, struggling to put these pieces together so that it makes sense - for you and for me. I do not want this to end, either. The challenge excites me. To discover and to invent, to write and to share.
I could continue this for ever but I do not know and I would like to know if you would approve of letting me getting into intimate details. For example:
Imagine us lying there, you sliding up behind me, whispering in my ear. Letting me feel the warmth of your body and occasional pressures - gentle; not forceful - tickling the back of my body so that i knew you were there, and that you had definite plans.
I never. Never. NEVER just lie there... Believe me, I'd give it back to you as good as i got it.
I feel your skin against mine as you constrict me. Your hands placed over mine, supporting your weight. Your breath in my ear, whispering extremely sweet nothings.
How my tongue, flattened at that point, lapped at you. My lips contained you. My teeth teased you. How my hands cuddled and caressed you.
As for the rest... well, I think you can guess. You are very inelligent, I know. That is what makes this exercise ever so interesting.
It's time for me to beat the work, to break the deadlock. I just cant wait to claim the prize - my reward, my remuneration.
Two days seems too long. So long.....