That Story I Promised...

May 09, 2006 16:49

Like I said, it's not finished, but I felt compelled to put it in here for you dear readers. I wonder how many of you read my journal anymore.

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She has dreamed about him several times and yet still fights to remember what it must feel like to have those sensations once again. Sitting on her bed, she begs to dream once more of him. Her beautiful eyes, so full of kindness and passion, grow weary and at last, they rest in hopes of Queen Mab will visit her once more to give her the satisfaction her body begs for.

Darkness encloses in on her and the wonderful mass of matter inside her head begins to wander peacefully. It begins, the world she craves the most, her dream. Floating down walking in place as if to be dropped down from the sky; her gentle feet touch the on the smooth and warm sand as she continues to walk west up a small sand dune which guards a small walkway to her house by the sea. Ah sunset, her favorite time of the day. Brilliant colors kiss the sky as to tease the moon of the beauty it possesses. Looking to her right, over her exposed shoulder, the Atlantic Ocean dances gently to the breath of wind that carries sweet whispers to her, “he waits.” Wandering are her eyes as she scans the horizon and again the wind whispers sweet nothings in her ear, “he is very pleased with you,” and drops a single red tropical flower with soft white spots on the inside of the petals at her feet. Glancing down at the flower and moving her toes playfully she bends down gracefully and picks up this delicate flower and places it softly behind her ear, pushing back the long straight strands of black hair. “How fitting, the colors of this flower and my dress,” she whispers to herself as she makes her way up the three steps made of wood. The steps bow slightly at the pressure from the weight of her body. She reaches the top of these steps and turns around, the white linen sun dress flares outward ever so slightly as her body rotates one hundred and eighty degrees clockwise, and quietly she sets her soft bottom on the warm concrete that was kissed by the sun during its reign over the earth. Hands cradling her legs and her chin on her knees, she watches silently as the sun goes to sleep and the stars rejoice, twinkling with brilliance and excitement, for this is their time to play. Strands of her hair slide down the side of her arm giving her goose bumps; this is the beginning of her senses being heightened.

The sky has turned a dark blue; she raises her body and turns around towards her house. Slowly and calmly she makes her way to the glass door and pushes down on the knob to release the barrier in front of her free. As she enters the house, she notices a soft smell and very low light. Closing the door behind her, she steps on something soft and slippery. A rose petal rests on the white tile, as if it was pointing in the direction in front of her. Many rose petals, all a deep red color, flowed though the house leading straight to her room. Wandering through the hallway, on the floor were small candles that lined the wall on tiny glass plates as if to worship the ground she walked on. She stopped at the door frame putting one hand on the right side of this etched frame, and noticed the whole house was filled with candles and soft lighting as if they were coaxing her to enter her chamber. “Go,” her body tells her, but she stands there, slouched against the square hole in the wall that separates her bedroom and the hallway that seemed to dance with every slight breeze that flowed through the entire house. Her eyes begin to look up as soon as she hears the soft music of Barbra Streisand playing somewhere in the house. Piquing her curiosity, she glides through the door frame with wondering eyes and makes her way to the bathroom, where the rose petals have seemed to have fallen into the bathtub. To her right, she notices her favorite bathrobe hanging on the wall where she left it that morning, so fluffy and white, it was almost heaven to put it on at that moment, but she thought against it. To her left was her trusty table. Much to her surprise sat a green glimmering tall bottle of wine and next to it a smaller red glass bottle of liquid she did not recognize right away. Sitting adjacent to these two bottles was a simple glass with a luscious red wine inside of the round opening filling it only half way; a rose, very red rose, a symbol of love and passion sat on the edge of the tub along with a small black hair tie on top of a small white hand towel. Smiling ever so slightly and still staring at the table, she begins to unbutton the front of her dress and letting it slide off her body to float down to the floor where she stood. More goose bumps cover her body as the heat from her dress disappears and she is exposed, completely exposed. The light from the candles on the window sill, the two vanities that sit perpendicular from each other, and the floor cast playful shadows on the curves of her body. The light makes her body seem as it was glistening and pure. Her hair rests on her mid back as she makes her way towards the table. The soft smell of vanilla and cocoanut fill her nose and kisses her body ever so slightly, as she stops in front of this table made of wood and picks up a small index card. “The color of your lips,” is what it read, referring to the rose and wine that lay before her. Turning her head to the right, she notices the tub screaming her name, so inviting, begging her to step inside. Steam begins to rise from the water and the shinny mass of bubbles that dance around playfully.

Taking a deep breath, she bends her body slightly at the waist to pick up the small black ring that waited for her to put her mop in a mess on the top of her head. With her left hand, she pinches the stem of the glass as the wine flows around slightly with every movement she makes, leaving a soft residue on the side of the glass where this sweet liquid used to sit. Lifting her leg up ever so gently and silently, toes pointed, glides her skin through the hot water. The feel of the heat caressing her foot makes her nipples harden and the rest of her body to relax, as if it was giving off a huge sigh. Her other foot follows suit as she eases her very naked body into the soothing water and bubbles. Taking a small sip of wine, she places the glass on the window sill to her left and slowly runs her pink tongue over her full lips, making them wet and retrieving the remains of the wine that just caressed her mouth. Using the towel as a pillow, she places her head back and closes her eyes to absorb everything around her, the smell, taste, and soft music. By this time the music has changed to Claire De Lune, a beautiful song and so soothing to the heart if played on the piano. The sound of the keys being struck against the strings inside its fortress is the only sound heard, silence all around her, breath taking.

Short moments pass and she can feel another entity present in the room with her, but she does not open her eyes. The soft touch of the tip of the rose that had been sitting on the ledge of the tub slides along the edge of her nose only to flow lightly down over her lips. Playfully this time, it runs along her jaw bone up to her ear only to have soft kisses pressed up against her pale skin. The water moves at the site of hands, masculine but soft hands enter the water. Caressing and touching excites her to the point of her opening these stunning eyes to capture the image of the owner of these hands. “It’s him!” So beautiful and sexually alluring as he stares intently into her eyes. Not a single word was spoken, nothing had to be said, everything was said in the exchange of their eyes making love with each other in silence.

Slowly he takes the towel from under her head and lays it in the water to make it wet. From the red bottle that sat on the table, a lavender liquid glided from its place inside the bottle to the surface of the towel. The erotic pleasure ran through her body as he slowly caressed each area of her skin, to the point of intoxication. This is what she had been waiting for, wanting, begging for the return of her lust and passion that was formed in this man. She wanted to keep him, but she knew that wasn’t possible since he was so far away and only the sound in her ear every night. At this point, she sits up for him to message her back with the cloth that seemed to be making love to her, and she never takes her eyes away from his as to say, “don’t go, stay with me forever.” A rush of love over came her whole body and she proceeded to kiss him ever so lightly on the lips until it became more passionate and deeper. She didn’t want this to end and cursed the sun that would soon rise and end this…

…and it does with the blaring sound of a radio. Opening her eyes, she reaches over to the small clock radio and turns it off. Placing her hand under her left cheek, she smiles sweetly and lets out a small giggle. Oh how she wishes she could return to him and stay with him forever. One day, it will…

Yeah, I know I ended it abruptlly, but I have to leave work!...lol I will compose another soon.
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