The soft, steady rain on the metal roof is soothing, but she longs for more this night. She sighs and stretches in her bed, checks her phone. Nothing. Every time she gets a notification, she hopes it's him.

She can't stop thinking about him. He's intelligent, funny, and a little bit of a nerd. And those gorgeous eyes of his... they are so striking. Also, his voice has a certain quality she loves. He has a humble confidence as he speaks on matters he is passionate about, with a distinct masculine growl that runs throughout. He has a breathy laugh she longs to feel against the hollow of her neck and along the insides of her thighs.

There’s no way around it: he turns her on like no other. Her attraction toward him is magnetic. Gravitational.

Yes, his physical nearness and the sound of his voice at her ear would be divine on this rainy night. She feels a tingling warmth and knows sleep will not come now, not without release.

She wants to call him, but what does she say?

Hey... I want you to fuck me relentlessly.

She imagines him taking her roughly from behind, the fingers of one hand digging into her hip as he pulls her against him with hard thrusts. The way he ropes a handful of her long hair around his wrist, pulling like reins. Her squirms and noises of pleasure increase his excitement.

He whispers a breathless warning into her ear that he intends to destroy her in the most beautiful way. She shudders hard against him, crying out loudly. His chin grazes the skin between her shoulder blades as she finishes coming noisily beneath him. He can no longer fight her snug sleeve massaging him rhythmically. He groans as he empties himself into her. His grip on her eases and he slowly plants kisses across her shoulders and on her back. He says her name sweetly while his pulse pounds wetly within her. Indeed, she is destroyed for all others now.

These thoughts make her swallow hard with lust. Her imagination is one brutally horny slut.

Shit.

Frustrated, she decides that her favorite toys will have to do tonight.

Thank God for technology…

You're driving and I'm beside you, my bare right foot propped up on the dash. I hike up my sundress, the sun feels good on my skin.

You look over and smile at me, your eyes bright. I don't even know where we're going today. I'm just in a blissful state knowing we're together, finally.

You reach over and slide your hand over my knee, along my upper thigh, pushing the hem of my dress out of the way. Stopping there and squeezing for a few moments. I love the feel of your firm grip.

It occurs to me that other drivers may see us. Maybe even truckers with their elevated view. Good for them, I think. To think we may be seen just makes me more horny.

Your finger starts tracing my lips, exploring each curve enticingly. I recline my seat just a little bit to allow you better access.

I can hardly believe all the delicious feelings you're creating with just one fingertip. You gently press on my hardened button, swollen with sweet anticipation. I'm powerless against the firm, tight circles you start making there.

I shudder with a small orgasm and feel slightly self-conscious as your fingertip encounters my quick wetness. You laugh and raise your fingertip to your mouth, lick it thoughtfully, and then return to me, plunging in.

You are enjoying my silky smooth, wet folds as you slide in two fingers and leave them there briefly for me to enjoy. I squirm and squeeze against them tightly, savoring the feel of each knuckle as I eagerly envelop them with my wet heat.

You soon begin to work me rhythmically. Little sounds escape me and my back arches involuntarily as I can't hold it back much longer. I need more. I need you.

I beg you to pull over so I can feel your face in my lap, your mouth covering my lips, and so I can grind my swollen clit against your tongue. I can’t handle another second of your fingers teasing me. I'm sitting up now, quivering on your fingers, soaking wet, hotly pulsating, holding your hand tightly to me, squirming, squeezing, trying to bounce, begging you as my leg shaking orgasm builds—

My own noises wake me up. I'm naked and sweaty. Writhing against a body pillow, wet fingers working furiously, panting, reaching for invisible you.

Damn it.

She led him by the hand into the shower. Her wet hair soon turning into a dark chocolate waterfall coursing down the middle of her back. He pulled her to him by her hips. He buried his face in her neck and tenderly kissed her. He then lathered shampoo at her crown and temples, lovingly massaging the length of her hair. He whispers what he wants her to do to him in her ear. She sighs and nods, excited. He starts rinsing her hair. The thick suds race downward, over her breasts. Her brown nipples are hard and tight even though the water is comfortably warm.

She was lathering and rubbing her hands over every inch of his beautiful, tattooed body, savoring the feel of him. She slid her soapy hands onto him, gently encircling and pulling his firmness. He staggered slightly at her handling and steadied himself against the tiled wall.

After rinsing him, she went down to her knees before him. She cupped his balls, kissing and licking them, taking each into her mouth and gently sucking. Her full lips then worked their way up and wrapped around the sides of his swollen head. Her mouth watered with anticipation as her hot tongue prodded and firmly lapped the rigged underside of his cock. His sharp intake of breath told her he approved. In response, she moaned with excitement and firmly grasped the base of his cock. She eagerly pulled him into her mouth as deeply as she could.

Her other hand squeezed his ass, pulling him to her even closer. He groaned and grabbed handfuls of her wet hair and soon guided her to a rhythm he could not resist. She sucked and sucked, loving the wet sound of the motion, the feel of him sliding into her eager mouth repeatedly. She felt he was close.

His legs tensed and his back arched. He held her head tightly against him and she tasted his delicious explosion fill her mouth. She swallowed greedily. He pulled her hair and groaned loudly; his noise delighted her. Once he was spent, she began carefully licking the rest off his exquisitely sensitive head and sucking, lips sliding along the side of his shaft down to his balls.

He let out a breathy chuckle, pulling away, too sensitive for her affections now. He brought her to her feet and wrapped her in a huge hug. He kissed and nuzzled the top of her head, smiling and satisfied.

Suspended

There’s something about being high in the cold night air that just blends together. All I could do was smile as she was pulling my arm to follow her. I had no idea where the fuck we were, but I loved every moment I was spending with her. She was just what I needed with this high, she kept it going. She stopped and turned to me to hold me tightly in her arms.

"Just before anything..." she whispered in my ear "I just... I really like you and this is something that... I just hope you understand about me when you see it."

I took a step back and her emerald-colored eyes were staring back at me. I could see the worry wash over her eyes, as her wall of vulnerability begins to fall.

"Look I told you at dinner... fuck it... you promised not to hold back your love then neither will I." she hugged me as the words left my lips something told me she never wants to let me go.

"Ok, Ok..." I comfort her as I look up at the fogged lights and damped warehouse buildings "... so apparently this part of LA means a lot to you, so go ahead, show me why! Remember I'm up for anything as long as I'm able to smoke a bit more when I'm in there."

She laughs and kept pulling me to follow her down the alley till we reached this rusted sliding door on the side of an abandoned building. She turned to me and gave me one last kiss on my cheek before turning back around and inserting this key into a hole in the wall.

Just as I hear the lock turn my heart skips a beat with it. I took another hit just before walking across the rail, and she slid the door closed right behind me. I took a deep breath as the darkness surrounded me, and just like that, as soon as I exhaled this glowing black light appeared above a white door. She began to walk quickly with excitement, she was overjoyed. I just couldn't understand what it all was exactly, but I was drawn with fear… and lust. Yet, I undoubtedly trusted her. I took another hit, and she laughed, "You'll be fine I promise!" she said happily as she squeezed my arm tighter.

The door was like an entrance to another world. It led down this hallway with multiple doors on both sides, lights wrapped around each of the frames, each one with a different color. The most beautiful rainbow anyone has been able to capture below the clouds, trapped down in a hallway in some warehouse somewhere in shit filled LA.

She began to spin and twirl her way down the hall. Her fingertips gliding across each door. She stops and looks at me.

"I figured since you told me about yourself over dinner and were open about a lot, that you might enjoy this." My heart began to skip a beat with every step I took. My hands shook as I reached down my pocket to find my pen to calm my nerves. She was standing in front of a pink door. "Close your eyes." she told me, but I was frozen and couldn't move.

"Close them." She whispered to me, and like a stage curtain they fell. I felt her hands on my shoulders and she began to move me in front of the door. I felt her lips against mine one last time and heard the door open.

Even with my eyes closed, I felt her hands wrap around to cover them. She was behind me pushing me forward. All I could hear was the background noise, some sort of low beats mixed with people's whispers. My hands were shaking, sweating, and she kept pushing me forward, each step becoming shorter than the last. Then she turned me around with my eyes still closed.

"Don't worry you can open them. You're only going to see me." She whispered as I felt the warmness of her touch leave my face. My eyelids felt like a ton each, slowly, one after the other, they opened, and she was standing right in front of me. The wall behind her lit up with the same pink lights as the door frame outside.

"Just trust me." She told me as she began turning me around. Instantly the pen falls out of my hand. There were a few groups of people sitting, just hanging around having a few drinks, some on their phones talking about their day at work. Almost purposefully ignoring what I was seeing.

"This is what I wanted to show you." she said as she wrapped her arms around my body. Her hands felt the heart attack beating inside my chest.

In the middle of the room was this brunette. She was suspended in the air. Hands tied behind her back, and her legs wrapped in beautiful white scarfs keeping her thighs open. Another scarf hiding the rest of her beauty below her eyes. Some artistic form of Shibari.

She was staring at me without making a sound, but I feel her talking to me through her scarf. I looked underneath and couldn't believe what I saw, a "Caution When Wet" sign. My body was frozen. I couldn't register what it was I was seeing, yet I couldn’t look away. I began to feel her arms leave my body as she walked towards the woman floating in the middle of the room.

"I just wanted to show you... I am into things too." And her hands began to move between both their thighs. Her fingers began to move back and forth, and the brunette's eyes began to close.

Silence started to creep around the crowd. Soon all we could hear was the breathing and moaning coming from the middle of the room where we stood. Both their eyes were focused on me while everyone was looking at them. The scarf around her mouth began to move in and out with every breath. Then with one loud gasp, drops began to flow down the brunette’s thighs, dripping on the floor, next to the sign.

Just like that she started walking back towards me, licking her fingers. "Come!" she waves at me, and again she is pulling my arm to follow her back out the room. The people in the back murmuring with approval as they were lowering their decoration suspended in the room. She laid on the ground curled, legs shaking.

I opened the door and again it was like stepping into another world. She started walking down the hall to a different shade of color. I already knew to follow her.

As we walk down the hall, she opened another door. Red

"This is my favorite color." She says to me as she walks inside the room.

I walk in after her and close the door. It was just the two of us. We walk into the middle, and she starts taking off her clothes.

"This is what I like, and I thought… I could show you." she said as she began unbuttoning her jeans. They hit the floor, and the door opens behind me. It was the brunette from the pink room. She walked towards me and laid me down on the floor, wrapping her scarf over my face. She got on top of me holding my arms together above my head, tying them together so I wouldn’t fight back. Another female walked through the door, this one I had no idea who she was. She was wearing a white masquerade mask, and her silk robe matched.

The brunette slowly turns my head back towards her till I’m staring in her eyes again. Her hips began to move faster, back and forth as she leaned in close to me, biting my lips. The woman in the mask slowly stepping closer behind my Deity who brought me into her reality, her world.

I watched as my savior got on her knees, one hand between her thighs. Again, the brunette turns my head towards her, and leans in once more,

"See me." She whispered as she moves her hips quicker.

Then a loud gasp comes from the side, but the scarf held my gaze,

"Look at me." She says again as her hips move faster.

Another loud gasp, and the brunette reaches down and puts her hands around my neck.

Another, but I can't stop staring at the angel in front of me.

Then she turns my head towards the middle of the room.

The woman in the mask standing with blood on her hands.

My goddess, naked, licking the blood from her lips as she forces one hand deeper between her thighs, moaning with each punch she is given. The girl in the mask kicks her back against the ground, watching me as she moaned. Suspended no more, the brunette squeezes her thighs tighter.

Her hands never letting go from my throat.

THE QUESTION

By Valtunk and Mnezz

Theme Song/Music dedicated to the 2 lovebirdiez, for this work/story…..

‘Hooked on a feeling’

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UtreOlPr6lE&pp=ygUfSG9va2VkIG9uIGEgZmVlbGluZyBzb25nIGx5cmljcw%3D%3D

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

(A Midsummer Night's Dream)

MAIN CHARACTERS:

Finnard- patient (takes his time), also enjoys working on crafty tasks/projects, as well as

even helping out his neighbor(s).

Marjorie- loves to go shopping, taking short leisurely walks around the neighborhood, and drives like she was taught by none other than Vin Diesel from Fast & Furious (N.B. make sure to buckle your seatbelt/up...before she puts the pedal to the metal.)

Other or Supporting Characters:

Chucky (also known as the one not to be left in charge of handing out candy to kids because he will end up dressing up just like Chucky and scaring the kids so much so that they never ever go trick ’o treating ever again- later on he asks his close buddies, and kinfolks to just call him Chu.)

D.J. (famous D.J. who shows up to his assigned place of work dressed like a Man Bat- not to confused with Batman, the latter being much more scary or so Chucky always claims)

Jedy Brunson (the dashing dude who ends up later being the first and only guy in his family to lose a bet, his girl, and car, too)

Mickey (Finnard’s best friend/pal)

Marrisa (Finnard’s ex-wife)

***

VOLUMES….

Volume A—'garten

Volume B- High school

Volume C…College/University..

Volume D..Anniversary.

__________________________

Volume A—'garten

Finnard

He immediately hated the place. Mom didn't have the money for a real 'garten and he ended up here. With these snobbish kids, only one of them looked nice. Very nice, so much so that he drank in the face. He approached the nice face and saw that it was ... was a girl. Boys don't like girls, that was the law in 'garten. And not only was she a girl, she was taller than him, which was... was, ... not right. Girls aren't bigger than boys, not even if they were nice. All the boys said that. But she was taller than all the boys. If she was larger than him, she wasn't nice, Finnard decided. And switched to another face that belonged to a boy, a small, stuck-up creature. Her face stayed with him, confusing him. And a tiny voice in his head that said he will be sorry.

Marjorie

She felt kind of nervous about not being with her parents. The classroom was too noisy and most of the other kids all seemed to be busy making fart noises or eating their snot. Even though she felt nervous, she tried to make friends with the noisy kids. She had been paying so much attention to the others in the class that she didn't notice anyone keeping a watchful eye on her. When she turned around and saw one of the boys staring at her, all she could do was stare back. Why was he staring at her and not even saying a quick hello or "hi". Before she could say "hi" to him, he had turned his back on her and was talking to the boys instead. Now she felt angry. How rude of him to just walk away when she was about to try to be nice to one of her classmates.

***

Volume B- High school

Marjorie

I rolled my eyes at Chucky. Why did his parents name him Chucky? Didn't they watch the horror series about Chucky, a doll possessed by the soul of a serial killer? Strange. I hope he has a chance to change his name to something less horrible like George or even better Mikael.

The graduation ceremony at the end of Luse Senior High was highlighted. As a young student ambassador and member of the student council, I had the honor of assigning other younger students to help decorate the hall for the big day. The room was lit up with laser beams, and we were even able to hire a DJ for the graduation ceremony.

The only thing that almost scared me a little was the sight of Jedy Brunson. The boy who made most, if not all, of the girls in elementary school swoon. His voice was soft and excitable like Amapiano. I felt like I was about to swoon when he took my hand in his and asked me, "Would you like to dance with me, my dear Marjorie?"

When the music ended, I wanted to scream in anger, but Jedy Brunson swept me off my feet and pressed a kiss to my lips. I wasn't expecting that, and he asked me to be his lover. It must have been something in the juice that had me floating on cloud nine, or trying to make the other girls jealous. I nodded my head and agreed to be Jedy Brunson's girl.

Finnard

He meditated in the corner of the classroom. Chairs left over after the last day of school and study tables were his only company. Wooden witnesses to his gathering of courage. She ... she was here. At the last dance, the last school dance. In a dress that caused him embarrassment, he had to rearrange the inside of his pants several times, hoping no one would notice.

"I hope she won't see it; the bump isn't that big. And she said she wants to dance with me; with a smile, a sunny smile that I remember from 'garten. "

His best friend Mickey, who knew girls intimately, whistled when he saw her.

"Better grab her soon, such a piece like that doesn't stay vacant long. Jedy Brunson is here, too.," Brunson was whispered to be a womanizer no girl could resist.

"Meditate, the courage will rise in him to ask her and keep her from that rich sucker, Jedy Brunson. And to ask about what she said."

"It's time you asked me the question, Finnard." She looked at him expectantly, and he didn't know what to ask. He stuttered when he was near her, his head fogging, but his legs commanded him to stay with her.

"What now, a question? What kind of question? "

When courage flew over the rims, he stomped on the dance floor, to act, to get her. And there a macabre duo of her and Jedy Brunson did some dirty dancing, one on one, almost one on one, kissing in public.

They announced later they were an official couple.

***

Volume C…College/University..

Marjorie

“Marjorie - as I live and breathe,” cried a familiar voice, and I turned to see who had the audacity to pronounce my name in such an icy, Antarctic tone. Ah, of course it was none other than Finnard. I nearly gasped and took a minute for my eyes to stare at his new form, which reminded me of a Super Saiyan mode. How long had he been training? His muscles looked like they had muscles too. What in the world of Dragon Ball Z had he been training or practicing? I felt my heart begin to race as I thought about being lifted or thrown into the air and hoisted over his shoulder. Then he'd take me to a cool place where he'd massage every part of my body with his strong hands. But then I'd probably have to return the gesture and be his masseuse.

“Hey - what are you dreaming about?”

Marjorie

I accidentally bit my tongue and let out a little scream. He looked at me like I was Pennywise the Clown and he was one of the losers who was sick of my existence. He scoffed and went on his way with his head held high.

That kind of shocked me. What did I do wrong now? Was he still mad because I was dating Jedy Brunson? Unbelievable. He needed to let bygones be bygones.

Finnard

She was so beautiful, so sexy; his heart ached, his groin pumped nervously. How, how should he do it? What was he supposed to do to get her? She was the love of his life, forever in his thoughts. Even her name tempted him: Marjorie, MarJorie, My Joy...

And she was alone, sunning herself and smiling at him, Venus in a bikini. He had to pull back to collect himself. He had never slept with a woman and his knowledge of females was a potpourri of medical facts, men's stories, whispers, porn movies, alleged sex mores, and infallible techniques on how to "get it on."

He considered and decided.

"Hi, Marjorie, do you need an oil massage to prevent sunburn?"

"It would do me good, yes. OK, try it."

Finally! He approached her skin, which shimmered in the sun's rays. And began massaging her back. His hands trembled imperceptibly for joy.

"We've met so many times before. Is it some kind of destiny for us? What do you think?"

"If it's, then it's a fate I like, Marjory."

"Well, I am not complaining, Finnard. All you have to do is to ask..."

Bewilderment in his mind.

" What now, what should I ask? If she would not mind it if I kissed her lips? I keep imagining us lying au naturelle- in a state like when we first graced our presence on this earth from our mother’s wombs all bare with nothing to cover our skin, just the two of us in bed all night long. No, not that."

"You know, we're equals, but women still like men to express their feelings and questions first."

Puzzled, he was now massaging her buttocks.

And what had Jedy, who had deflowered half the students, said?

"When you deal with the opening in her, she'll moan first and hug you after. Do it, it's always a win, no fails."

His fingers reached for the little thing between her buttocks.

"If I had to start, I'd say I like you, but from now on you should say... What's that? What are you doing, pervert! Stop your sexual abuse right now. Run before I call the police!” He thought to himself.

His fingers, deep in an unknown orifice, twitched away. As she yelled at him, he ran with his head down, forever ashamed.

"And with your next victim, at least find the right hole!" roared Marjory, and the whole beach

laughed.

Effing Jedy Brunson appeared, talked to her, and calmed her down. Soon they were engaged in a deep discussion.

And they officially became a couple again.

With Finnard milling over the whole situation without finding answers. "How did I miss? What did I miss?"

***

Volume D..Anniversary.

Finnard

At first, he didn't want to go -residues of the divorce were still in his mind, trying to turn him into a monster of marital revenge. He preferred to think of his current job, as a plumber. Yeah, plumber, there was a desperate shortage of them. He quit his mind-numbing bank job, which his ex-wife would never allow to do, and retrained as a plumber. And became an apprentice to a grumpy, stingy old craft master who was a plumbing wizard. Master knew everything, but now that he was old, he couldn't do it anymore. Finnard filled in for him and listened to him when he was analyzing any and all of his work, because it was really instructive, helpful, precious; better than any university...

Finnard became a known plumber magician and had more and more offers. He was healthier than ever and in good spirits, now that he had been out. Of his meh marriage to Marissa; who lived her whole life on welfare and spent her whole time fighting for minorities, any minorities, as long as she demonstrated in the streets; and cashing every government check for her - she always applied for any state subsidy; she raked more than him. They had no children and virtually no property, divorce was easy; after the judge denied her multi-million claims of compensation as he was "torturing her in a racist, non-diversity, non-equality and non-inclusive way."

Now here he was, on the tenth anniversary; the usual sleazy event. The ever-smiling face was still in his thoughts, and he looked around to meet her. This time he didn't need to meditate, no advice from other men or premonitions from women. His thoughts were clear, straightforward--he loved her, with all his heart, with all silly, exaggerated, romantic feelings, with everything. Having decided to come, everything else was firmly planned in his mind. He refused the offered whisky, took a juice and stood at the entrance. She'll come; she must

come.

She was also divorced and it was rumored that she, like him, was alone, not in a relationship. He walked to the front door and waited there while sipping his juice.

"It's now or never. No boys' tales, no meditation, no fxxxing male prejudice and faulty lore about females. Me and her, and what is between us."

For over twenty years she had been in his mind, like a gentle ocean wave, relaxing and clean. And suddenly she was there. Older, yes, like himself; but attractive as a film star. With the eternal smile on her face. He strode up to her for a handshake.

"Can we talk in the park?" It grew all around the anniversary building. Surprised, she nodded and he took her hand. They walked into the first quiet part of the park, with benches, birds and fresh air. And a fresh decision.

Now.

"I love you; I have always loved only you, from kindergarten till today. Do you love me too?" Ha, the big question that all males tried to avoid, did not hurt at all. On the contrary, it was like an eruption that hid in him for an eternity-saying it was freeing him in a way.

Hands wrapped around him, little kisses on his face. "Yes, fool, I've been waiting all this time for you to tell me. And yes, I love you too, I always have."

The Question. So simple and yet so hard to say, but that was in the past now. He kissed her in the bliss of the embrace and joked.

"Now we have a tremendous, historically important few questions to solve, at least two of them."

"Yes?" she understood, she was smiling!

"Should we take your car or mine, and to which restaurant should we go to?"

"Simple, your car, and we'll decide about the restaurant while we're driving."

"My car? What about the feminist principles of equality?" he joked.

"They're below the female love principles. Which says, take his car, so that he will drive and not you, and he will pay for the gas. And cannot drink. Hehe."

Questions answered, they walked to the car and drove away, leaving behind all the sad recollections of college life talked at anniversary reunions.

And leaving behind The Question.

Which was finally asked and answered.

Marjorie

The thought of attending the event for folks celebrating their anniversary did not appeal to her. To make things worse, she had no one to go with this time around- which kind of felt odd, to still be showing up with a Monalisa smile and wishing other couples attending the very best in their marriage while she tried not to show that she had strong feeling of hopelessness for matters of the heart. She did hope for the best for the couples, and still kept on smiling for herself, too. After all Jedy Brunson was out of the picture, not that she had killed him, or had him killed. No, that had not been necessary.

What had happened was she ended up coming back to their home, well, it was her place actually. She had spotted his car, again, which was the one she had handed to him for a short while. Most of the stuff Jedy had was from Marjorie- she later made sure to get it all back. But now she was thinking maybe she should have left even a few, or other of her possessions maybe to the group of students that she mentored. They would have loved being informed that they can share and live at a home, or place that was almost the size of the Castle of Cini Monselice in Veneto.

Any way back to what had taken place...she had forgotten her briefcase for work, and was trying to rush back to grab important files, her client needed a document for the final steps for the adoption process. It was a passion of hers helping others who longed to have, and care for a child, or kids do their best and be granted the right to be parents/guardians of a little one, or young kid, even a pair, some did end up being in charge of a good number of children, close to even a tiny soccer team.

Marjorie had stepped into the Castle like home, and went up the round staircase, past the elevator, and headed toward her office space. Before she got there- she had heard someone giggling, and the sounds of exciting activity coming from her boudoir.

Lo, and behold to Marjorie’s disdain- there was not the maid, but the bellboy from the Grand Trine Hotel in a Michelangelo’s David pose. Marjorie’s mouth opened in disbelief. How long had this...whatever it was.. been going on? And right in her bedroom, of all places? Why didn’t Jedy use his own room, or did he prefer the queen sized feather bed instead of his king size memory foam mattress?

Since that day Marjorie had never spoken to Jedy, or even wanted to be seen with him in any public, private spaces, or outdoor event places.

“Marjorie?”

She turned and smiled at the familiar face. “Finnard?”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sigh of Finnard. His salt and pepper hair look gave her want to just want to style his wavy hair into a curly twist. She had heard that he was married to a woman, Marissa. The name did not ring a bell, and she had never met Marissa in person- only heard about her from Mickey and Chu. She was glad to hear that Finnard at least was not alone. But now she wondered where Marissa was. He had nobody, or this so-called Marrisa, clinging to his arm like he was a giant chunky tasty piece of fine dark chocolate.

He asked to speak with her somewhere more private, in a less crowded spot. She nodded her head, and was glad that he even took her hand in his. This made her feel a warm, tingly Christmas morning energy kind of happy way.

She listened attentively to his every word like he was one of the great orators of ancient Egypt predicting and informing her she would be the next in line for the throne-one to rule like Cleopatra.

His words were sweet, and like gentle playing music to her that she would want to keep listening to for ages to come.

When he reminisced about the first day they met, that brought a smile to her face. She was glad that their paths had crossed, and somehow after such a long time their paths ended up crossing for an unforgettable ending.

The End...

which is their beginning..

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

The defeated guy with the disheveled hair and sunken eyes who said it sat alone at a table for three. On the table were three empty cocktail tumblers, while an angry waitress held a maxed out credit card in her hand beside it. But the guy wasn’t paying any attention to the waitress. He was looking at me, while I was looking at a girl. His would probably have been good advice if an unworldly youngster at that age could have given a care what anyone else thought to start with.

You see, when a young man like I was back then sees a woman like the one I’d just seen he doesn’t think of how much money it takes to look like she looked. He doesn’t think about the cost of the tight, low cut, hip-hugging dress, or the incredibly high-heeled Versace shoes that she somehow manages to dance in, much less walk. He doesn‘t consider her December tan, her professionally applied nails and foundation, or her Coach purse. He doesn’t account for the pearly smile, the rounded boobs, the muscled calves, or the dyed and highlighted hair. All the poor son-of-a-bitch thinks is, “Damn!” And that’s exactly what I thought.

She was with an equally well-coiffed friend. Together the pair pushed easily through the throngs, somehow finding an unoccupied one of those high sitting tables that nearly every nightclub has near the dance floor, as girls like these two seem to always find whatever it is they desire conveniently free. They climbed/hopped/struggled up onto the high table’s high barstools where they proceeded to wiggle and grind to the dance beat in the most seductive of manners, as it was entirely too loud in their current location for effective conversation. As I watched them, I looked back once more to see that my soothe-saying friend was being hauled bodily from the bar by a gigantic bouncer. Looking back at the grinding girls I thought the only other thought that could come into a young man’s mind in such a moment. “Shit!”

Being an “aware” type of person I read the room, clearly seeing the hurdles on the track before me, yet I was too inexperienced and too hungry to be deterred by them. I was aware of the uselessness of approaching and attempting conversation above the musical din, so I did not. I was also aware that it was too early in the evening for dancing with strangers, and that mine was not really the look or type to pull much of an impression out of such a divinity in any event. No, if I was going to cross this finish line first it would have to be by a more devious route.

The “Moonshot” was a little known, potently secret confection devised by this very establishment’s top barkeep. I was only aware of it because I had happened to be ordering a beer earlier while he was perfecting it, and was happily offered a freebie if I would be his Guinea-pig. His Moonshot had been like drinking a candied buzz, only better. This mind bending delicacy could be my “in” if I could only manage to get close enough, quickly enough, to present her with one before her honey drew other flies.

So I waited my turn at the bar and ordered three. Thirty-six bucks plus a tip for the concoction-mixer later I picked the three shooters up with both hands and made my way towards their table, where I allowed the crowd to bump me into my angel’s little friend, for which offense I pretended to nearly drop my liquid cargo while profusely apologizing for “the mob hanging around the dance floor’s unabashed rudeness.” I then continued on my way. Once out of their sight I waited two slow minutes before making my way around again, loitering beside their table, pretending to be hopelessly searching for someone just long enough to ensure that I (with my hands still uncomfortably full) got noticed, and then I wandered off again.

Two minutes later I orbited around once again, only this time I stopped at their table, a pitiable look on my face. “I can’t find my friends,” I yelled above the pumping music. “Would y’all mind helping me with these?” Anyone can refuse a drink, but what woman can refuse an offer for assistance from one as obviously useless and helpless as I seemed to be? With appropriate drama I made a show of setting all three of the shooter glasses on their table and flexing my fingers afterwards, as though they were cramped from an impossible weight. I slid a shooter glass in front of each girl and picked up the remaining one myself. I held mine out over the center of the table, allowing the girls time to tap it with their own before downing it in one swallow and begging my leave. As I walked away I looked back to see them inspecting the strange color in their glasses before sniffing suspiciously at them, but I was not concened. They would try it. And when they did they would like it. Curiosity kills every cat.

Twenty minutes later, alone at the bar with my beer, I sensed rather than saw a presence around me. Turning I found them behind me, grins plastered across their tipsy faces. “Still haven’t found your friends?” My beauty asked over the noise. I sadly shook my head in the negative.

”Lucky for us!” She squeezed herself in closer. “What was that drink? It was sooooo good!” The other girl nodded with enthusiastic approval.

”It’s called a Moonshot.”

”Well, your Moonshot has got us going! Come dance with us?” It was not a question. Without waiting on an answer I was grabbed by either hand and drug willingly to the dance floor.

It was a grand, if exhausting three week whirlwind; late night clubbing, all night love-making, early morning work hours, paying for drinks, filling her gas tank, and stopping for “after clubbing food-calls” day after day, night after night, waking early and sneaking out for work while she slept in, calling during breaks or lunch to find her at the salon, or at the gym, or somewhere shopping with her Daddy’s credit card. When I finally told her I could not keep it up any longer, and begged her for a quiet night at home, she only frowned. “Ohhh pooh… and we were having so much fun!”

I suppose it’s easy to hurt others when you are immune to pain.

It was a rough few nights afterwards, driving home from work, passing by the club, seeing her BMW glimmering there beneath the parking lot lights. I stopped in one Friday night, still not recovered, arriving early before she was there, ordering a few drinks while I waited. I had nearly given up on her, and had asked my waitress for the tab, praying there was enough on it to get me the hell out of here when she made her appearance.

She and Candi arrived together, as always, both as hot as expected, but I could not do it again, could I; being leached of both money and time? They passed right beside my table without even noticing. As always, their table by the dance floor was free. Taking it over they proceeded to wiggle familiarly for each other, grinding along to the music. Beside my table I heard the utterance of a chiseled young man in jeans and boots as he stepped past my table and stopped, a familiar slack-jawed and hungry look in his eye. “Damn!”

Her next meal. If he heard my words of advice there was no outward sign of it, but then, what untried young man could give a care what anyone else thinks, anyways? But I uttered those words regardless, a fair warning from one fool on a stool to another.

”I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

The same way that I can sit in a forest for hours, eyes open wide in awe at the beauty of the life that surrounds me in every direction, I can get lost in the touch, the taste, the thought, the sight of him.

As I cup his face in my hands, I fall deep into his luminous, starry gaze. His eyes twinkle when they meet mine, reminiscent of a calm lake; the pull that tempts one to brush their hand across the still water to feel the cool dampness on their hand and watch the ripples travel across the surface. His perfect curls fall to the side of his face like ferns along the side of a woodland path, reaching out and listing softly as they bend towards the earth. I can close my eyes and still envision every inch of his face, from his forehead where I have laid a thousand kisses to his perfect nose; his soft cheeks like green, rolling hills on his face's landscape, flowers dotting the hills only making them that much more beautiful.

I imagine leaning in to touch his lips to mine, and I feel butterflies emerging and fluttering in my stomach like a forest that's been rejuvenated by the arrival of monarchs after their long journey. Our lips meet delicately, like the soft touch of a butterfly's wings. I can feel his breath mix with mine, like a soft summer breeze flowing through a grove, wisping between trees and warming all that it touches.

I can feel his hands glide over mine, the smoothness of a perfect skipping stone found along a river. However I could never throw this rock to the creek to see it skip across the surface once or twice; instead, this is the rock that I would keep in my hand, in my pocket forever, there to hold and touch and love every day forever - for it is the perfect stone. Our hands intertwine like the velcro-hooks of burdock seeds, forever holding on to one another and fitting together perfectly, as if designed for that very purpose.

His body is a living manifestation of the power and grace of nature. Our lips meet like waves crashing onto the shore, with passion and intensity. Our bodies move together, movements powerful and synchronized. Similar to the way trees sway in the wind and are caressed by its force at different moments, we can hold each other tenderly and mutually explore the depths of our desire. Nails leave marks, leaving permanent marks like engravings on the trunk of an old maple tree. Lips turn to teeth. Bruises are left trailing up the path from his collarbone to under his chin, the trails branching out and leaving his body bruised and bloody in my wake. His body ripples against mine, in consentual turmoil. I relish exploring the woods aimlessly, but I find that I always end up at the same destination.

A storm is good for a gentle forest every once in a while.

The end of the world was coming.

A close friend told her so. He was wise and had never steered her wrong. She made a decision that day to start being more bold.

She went about her day at work as normal, but mostly, she thought of him. Those imaginative and specifically carnal thoughts of him were drug-like and incredibly potent. She felt hot, sweaty, turned on. She had wanted him for so long.

She'd squeeze her thighs tightly together and squirm on her office chair. At times the ache was so unbearable, she just had to sneakily slip her fingers past the lacy elastic of her panties. She worked them rhythmically right there at her desk. Two fingers slid on either side of her swollen clit, imagining it was his tongue. Her silky lips became even impossibly more wet when she was nearly caught by a coworker. The risk heightened her pleasure.

At the end of her day, she stopped at the post office. She kissed the small, flat bubble mailer before dropping it into the outgoing box. She nervously smiled as she walked back to her car; she'd never done something like this before.

Three days passed. Then five.

Finally, the phone rang. It was him.

He sounded flustered, "I got your... mail."

"Are you shocked by my gift?"

"No. Yes- I don't know. No."

"Did you... enjoy them?" She asked boldly.

"Ummm, yes." His voice was thick with emotion. Lust.

She smiled. Now he has no doubt how she feels about him. It's his move now.

She wished she could have seen his face when we got the mail that day.

She had no idea.

What she hadn't seen was him tearing into the package once he realized what it was. She also did not see the way he buried his face into the fabric, inhaling her earthy musk as deeply as possible. The way his mouth watered and the room spun.

It would have pleased her greatly to know how he flicked his tongue over the most heavily scented area he could find, tasting her. He thought of her full tits and long hair as he stroked himself vigorously. He wished she was straddling his face.

Her scent was the most intimate part of herself she could share with him and she was glad she did so. Besides, the world was coming to an end. She had it on good authority.

It was time to be bold.

There was nothing left to lose.

Lights danced across our skin. Each breath, each inhale, adding to the feeling of the living thing that hung in the air between us. Tension. We knew its name, yet we couldn’t think to label it. The emotions running so high and so brightly that our minds emptied. They reached out, crossing the gap and touching me in an instant. Glitter left in the aftermath of their feather touches, every nerve in my body focused purely on where our skin met. Where our breath joined and held each other. Their hands slid down my sides, dragging a line from my heart to the centre of my soul. Forcing ourselves to keep breathing, each movement sapping attention away from the simple task of inhaling.

But I found a feeling, hidden between moans and stars, nestled in pleasure and destruction, slumbering beside despair and ecstasy.

A feeling of letting go, of doubt and insecurity, a feeling of joining. A feeling of finally realising that I was stardust and I could be stardust once again.

In that moment, my blood turned to glitter, glittering in veins, my tears turned to silver, sparkling in the night, my heart became ruby, almost too full for me to carry. I was pure feeling.

He tells her to speak into the mic so he can show her something. Before she can, he surprises her by pulling her onto his lap and pushing her hair aside.

"Closer," he says in her ear. Instant goosebumps. Her heart gallops. He knows exactly how to get her.

She blushes and says, "I'm not even sure what to say."

He says, "Let's fix that."

He kisses the side of her neck and down her jawline. His beard tickles the skin of her collarbone which is exposed by her slouchy sweater slipping down. She's instantly breathless. His actions are unexpected but quite welcome.

She sighs as he slips both hands under her sweater, deftly removing her bra. His hands now cup her breasts instead. His fingers intuitively know to roll her tight nipples firmly, just how she loves them to be handled. She reaches up and behind her, grabs handfuls of his thick hair. She feels the growing hardness in his lap and smiles. She can feel it pressing against the back of her thighs and her now squirming ass. She moans louder, excited.

"Talk to me," She pleads, "Anything-- just speak. Please."

He momentarily buries his face in the nape of her neck and chuckles. He knows of this kink of hers about his voice. As he continues to knowingly run his hands over her body and kiss her neck, he begins to speak again on the technical attributes of his new mic, his voice deep, growling, seductive. She grows wet, quivery, increasingly noisy.

Between all the physical stimulation and now with his glorious voice at her ear, she can’t hold back any longer. She lets out a long, loud, shuddering moan. She enjoys the surprisingly strong and delicious orgasm he has brought her.

She turns around to straddle him in his chair. Now facing him, she sees the most devilish grin on his handsome face. He motions to the mic and nods mischievously.

She gasps, "Holy shit. The mic is recording, isn't it?"

She kisses him deeply and unbuttons his pants. Now it's time for his sound check.