Terra Firma

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?