Her finger tips brushed against his lips as he tried to speak. Her eyes calming his thoughts as he lay here reclined and swaddled in the arms of this angel. The peaceful feeling Ryder had was only momentary. It was broken by the line of tear, falling from the radiant blueness of her eyes. The tear changed those eyes somehow, from the blue of a summer sky, to the deep liquid of blue oceans he had only seen in photographs. He watched as the tear left the corner of her eye, leaving a hint of its path along her cheek. His finger came to it as it pooled low on the line of her jaw.
What possessed him to draw that tear across his own lips was uncertain. The contrast of it left him puzzled. It was of no tear he had experienced before. This tear was not salty on the tongue as others, but sweet like the bottles of spring water he enjoyed on hot summer days. It also changed him. That tear cleansed him. Washing away the hidden memory of the accident, the shrill crying of the sirens, all of the things lying somewhere in the darkness of his mind was gone.
"I have held you," her voice almost whisper like began. "Much like this before. I was powerless to do anything at that time." Her tears came stronger now, swelling to pools in the corners of eyes before cascading downward. "I held you, powerless against the cold growing through your body. I can not bring to bear the pain of doing it yet again."
Ryder, loosing the comfort he held wrapped in her arms, lifted himself to sit before her. The setting he was in, tranquil and washed from the odor of exhaust and pollution seemed no place for tears. Yet they fell from her eyes, and he, was apparently the cause. The appetite of his mind devoured everything around him in a desperate attempt to understand. He had many questions, but now was not the time to find the answers. The time for those answers would come if he could simply sit and listen. A task he currently didn’t feel quite up to at the moment.
"His sword was sure as it ran you through." She began. "It was the glint of the steel I remember most. How it matched the glint of evil in his eyes. That and the tint of the blade in the sun, as it wore your blood." Her eyes, welled with tears not yet fallen, turned to the ground. Her breath was deep and long. Ryder sat silent, consumed by her words, and held helpless by her tears. He waited as she paused, his eyes never parting the point where hers made contact with his. The glow of the sun breathed through hair. The slow rush of a breeze soft and gentle rustled the leaves above. The light on the ground began to dance in time with the song of the rustling leaves. Moments had passed, and yet somehow they seemed and eternity. Again her eyes rose once again to meet his. "It was planned that way you know. He planned to find us there, his punishment to be carried out on us both. The day we were to be lost together, forever missing from that place."
Ryder searched his mind for the memories she spoke of. He searched into the depths of his soul but nothing was found. He wanted to find something, anything that would bring that past to his present. What he needed was her name, and the way to find it, was to ask.
..................................Stories By Ryder.................................
Here rest the words that stream through my mind and through my fingers at times. Stories that pull me toward their ending. If you care to journey with me, read on.
----------------------------WARNING----------------------------
Adult subject matter may arise in these words, so if you're not of the age of consent, or are offended by such ... Move on dear reader to another place.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Masquerade (Part 6)
The instant that Ryder’s car collided with the source of the persistent horn, a small gust moved the draperies in the old house. Her cry was heard only by the small silver dust particles that danced dreamlike into the sunlight. They lofted softly around, stirred from the stillness by the breeze that drifted through the house. As the draperies came once again still and at rest, Ryder was listening to the last bits of shattered glass landing on the street and hurried voices from a cloudy but close distance. Much like those tiny particles dancing in the sunlit room, his thoughts drifted aimlessly. His eyes fell slowly closed as his fingers tightened onto the scrap of white paper still in his hand.
As his thoughts drifted, people from the parking lot, and stopped on the edge of the road, milled restlessly around the perimeter of the cars. Someone shouted from the payphone that an ambulance was on its way. Others talked secretly about what had just happened. Some asking if someone was hurt, looking into the cars hoping morbidly to catch a glimpse of the victims. The siren in the distance grew louder by the moment, announcing its progress toward the scene. Someone in the back of the gathering crowd mentioned something about it arriving in time. Ryder’s mind drifted between the picture, the cold soda and thoughts of Dominic waiting for his arrival. Blackness hazed deeper into his mind, covering the thoughts he had. A blackness drowning his thoughts in a sea of nothingness, dark and empty, it swallowed him.
The old house was silent. Its personality changed. Cold and lifeless, it stood against the warm sunlit sky. Outside the windows seemed to inhale the mid day light like black holes, somehow magically captured by pieces of wood and a few nails. She stood motionless at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes shifting from left to right as she watched the accident play like a movie in her mind. Her hand rested on the warm railing. She watched as they pulled him carefully from the car. She watched as the men tried to keep the crowd at a distance, their curiosity offending her. She watched in the silence of the old house, and tears, ones she had felt burn the skin of her cheeks so long ago, began to run from her eyes. The wooden floor, old and dry from years gone by, drank them greedily.
Lost in darkness and alone, Ryder drifted. He was present and absent, he was whole and yet incomplete. He drifted in thought and he drifted into dreams. There was no past, and no future. It was endless, dark and drifting. It was silent and somehow it was peaceful.
His fingers curled around something warm. Soft and assuring he held onto it with all he could comprehend. Warm, her hands in his, she held onto him, guided him and her voice surrounded him like a blanket as she spoke.
His eyes began blinking away the fading darkness. Brilliant and warm, the sunlight filtered through the trees. It mottled across his face, and across hers. Her eyes were brilliant, and as blue as any sky he could remember.
As his thoughts drifted, people from the parking lot, and stopped on the edge of the road, milled restlessly around the perimeter of the cars. Someone shouted from the payphone that an ambulance was on its way. Others talked secretly about what had just happened. Some asking if someone was hurt, looking into the cars hoping morbidly to catch a glimpse of the victims. The siren in the distance grew louder by the moment, announcing its progress toward the scene. Someone in the back of the gathering crowd mentioned something about it arriving in time. Ryder’s mind drifted between the picture, the cold soda and thoughts of Dominic waiting for his arrival. Blackness hazed deeper into his mind, covering the thoughts he had. A blackness drowning his thoughts in a sea of nothingness, dark and empty, it swallowed him.
The old house was silent. Its personality changed. Cold and lifeless, it stood against the warm sunlit sky. Outside the windows seemed to inhale the mid day light like black holes, somehow magically captured by pieces of wood and a few nails. She stood motionless at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes shifting from left to right as she watched the accident play like a movie in her mind. Her hand rested on the warm railing. She watched as they pulled him carefully from the car. She watched as the men tried to keep the crowd at a distance, their curiosity offending her. She watched in the silence of the old house, and tears, ones she had felt burn the skin of her cheeks so long ago, began to run from her eyes. The wooden floor, old and dry from years gone by, drank them greedily.
Lost in darkness and alone, Ryder drifted. He was present and absent, he was whole and yet incomplete. He drifted in thought and he drifted into dreams. There was no past, and no future. It was endless, dark and drifting. It was silent and somehow it was peaceful.
His fingers curled around something warm. Soft and assuring he held onto it with all he could comprehend. Warm, her hands in his, she held onto him, guided him and her voice surrounded him like a blanket as she spoke.
His eyes began blinking away the fading darkness. Brilliant and warm, the sunlight filtered through the trees. It mottled across his face, and across hers. Her eyes were brilliant, and as blue as any sky he could remember.
Masquerade (Part 5)
By mid morning Ryder turned the car into the parking lot of a small convenience store. He let the car idle its way through the parking lot and come to rest in a spot near the bank of pay phones close to the front door. He sat lost in thought only for a moment then stepped out of the car.
Absently he prodded through the store, bought a candy bar and a can of soda. As he walked back to his car he paused at the phones.
"What the hell," he thought "It can’t hurt to ask."
The change dropped in the phone, and he dialed. Sipping at the cold soda as the phone rang. It was Dominic that answered. They talked for several minutes, and even when he questioned him, Dominic had no answers to who this woman might have been.
"I have a picture' Ryder added "It might jog your memory"
"Bring it by," his friend stated. "Maybe I will recognize her."
Ryder laid the phone in its cradle and walked to the car. He would be at Dominic’s in less than 10 minutes. Maybe then he could get enough of an answer to let this puzzle rest for a day. Dominic was great with faces and names, close by, and would surely be able to provide some needed answers.
Before he placed the key in the ignition, he reached out to the dash and grabbed the picture. It was warm enough to drive with the window down, and he wasn't about to chance loosing the picture. He tucked it into his breast pocket; and idled his way to the edge of the parking lot.
As he waited for traffic to clear, he again reached to the picture. Maybe in an attempt to verify what had actually transpired. He looked at the traffic, still time. He lifted the picture out of his pocket and looked at it. A field of solid white met his gaze. His heart rate increased when he flipped it over to see exactly the same thing. That small 3 by 5 inch square of photo paper, blank on both sides, took away every ounce of strength he had left.
The horn, persistent in its shill yell, went unnoticed as he pulled into the oncoming traffic.
Absently he prodded through the store, bought a candy bar and a can of soda. As he walked back to his car he paused at the phones.
"What the hell," he thought "It can’t hurt to ask."
The change dropped in the phone, and he dialed. Sipping at the cold soda as the phone rang. It was Dominic that answered. They talked for several minutes, and even when he questioned him, Dominic had no answers to who this woman might have been.
"I have a picture' Ryder added "It might jog your memory"
"Bring it by," his friend stated. "Maybe I will recognize her."
Ryder laid the phone in its cradle and walked to the car. He would be at Dominic’s in less than 10 minutes. Maybe then he could get enough of an answer to let this puzzle rest for a day. Dominic was great with faces and names, close by, and would surely be able to provide some needed answers.
Before he placed the key in the ignition, he reached out to the dash and grabbed the picture. It was warm enough to drive with the window down, and he wasn't about to chance loosing the picture. He tucked it into his breast pocket; and idled his way to the edge of the parking lot.
As he waited for traffic to clear, he again reached to the picture. Maybe in an attempt to verify what had actually transpired. He looked at the traffic, still time. He lifted the picture out of his pocket and looked at it. A field of solid white met his gaze. His heart rate increased when he flipped it over to see exactly the same thing. That small 3 by 5 inch square of photo paper, blank on both sides, took away every ounce of strength he had left.
The horn, persistent in its shill yell, went unnoticed as he pulled into the oncoming traffic.
Masquerade (Part 4)
Ryder's hand shook as he reached to the picture on the step. Suddenly the air in the room became heavy and thick. It was difficult to catch his breath as his unsteady hand grasped the edge of the photograph and lifted it closer. He scanned it diligently. There were friends, gathered in the background. Friends, if only in a photograph, were real enough that he could hear their voices. He could place a name to each face. Real friends he had gained over the years. Real the word that echoed through his mind. Then there was her. Her arm elegantly stretched outward, her hand placed into his, pressed tightly against his lips.
Moments after she had gone, his memory already had somehow become clouded. Did he have her name? Was she here with a common friend? The questions rolled though his thoughts at an overwhelming pace. He struggled against the haze creeping into the edges of his vision. As he stared into the depths of the photograph another unknown face became apparent. Who this man was, Ryder had no idea. But in some way its unfamiliar presence offered him a small amount of recovery. It captured his attention just long enough for the cloudiness to subside.
He stood slowly, his eyes shifting over shadows in the room below. Morning sun pried its way through the small seams of the heavy window coverings. Its silver edged beam slicing along the hardwood of the empty floor. In his right hand as he stood, the photograph, he began tapping unconsciously against the finger tips of his left. Lost in reminiscent thought, his steps carried him down the stairs. Crossing the room his steps passed into the silver beams of sunlight, momentarily peeling them from floor, as they shifted to climb the side of his leg.
The door sounded less angry as it swung open to the morning sunrise. Closing his eyes against the brightness, Ryder stood completely still, pulling the freshness of the morning breeze into his lungs. Stepping out onto the porch, and into the birth of this new day, Ryder furrowed his brow, looked at the picture once again, and headed down the walkway to the car.
She watched from the window as he pulled away. The picture of them, placed on the dash of the car, face down.
She would wait for him yet again, to return.
Moments after she had gone, his memory already had somehow become clouded. Did he have her name? Was she here with a common friend? The questions rolled though his thoughts at an overwhelming pace. He struggled against the haze creeping into the edges of his vision. As he stared into the depths of the photograph another unknown face became apparent. Who this man was, Ryder had no idea. But in some way its unfamiliar presence offered him a small amount of recovery. It captured his attention just long enough for the cloudiness to subside.
He stood slowly, his eyes shifting over shadows in the room below. Morning sun pried its way through the small seams of the heavy window coverings. Its silver edged beam slicing along the hardwood of the empty floor. In his right hand as he stood, the photograph, he began tapping unconsciously against the finger tips of his left. Lost in reminiscent thought, his steps carried him down the stairs. Crossing the room his steps passed into the silver beams of sunlight, momentarily peeling them from floor, as they shifted to climb the side of his leg.
The door sounded less angry as it swung open to the morning sunrise. Closing his eyes against the brightness, Ryder stood completely still, pulling the freshness of the morning breeze into his lungs. Stepping out onto the porch, and into the birth of this new day, Ryder furrowed his brow, looked at the picture once again, and headed down the walkway to the car.
She watched from the window as he pulled away. The picture of them, placed on the dash of the car, face down.
She would wait for him yet again, to return.
Masquerade (Part 3)
The scar stretched below his left nipple. It was pink tissue in a single straight horizontal line. Ryder stared at the mirror, the razor humming in his frozen hand. His mind searched for the time in his life when he acquired the injury, and why had it never grabbed his attention before. He flicked the buzzing razor in his hand off and set it on the counter. Slowly he lifted his finger to his chest. He touched it carefully, a fingertip tracing the path it took across his chest. His mind raced from one blank moment to the next searching for the defining moment of that scar. An image flashed through his mind. A woman, distressed, crying, but oh how beautiful she was. His fingers continued to trace, another image, a man, a sword. Something brushed his flesh, chills covered his body. He looked into the mirror. His night was filled with dreams; the images he thought must be tied to them in some way. He shook his head, dismissing the dreams and explaining the scar as an accident he could no longer remember. He turned to leave the bathroom, the mirror the only witness to the equal sized scar on his back.
The day was spent setting out tables, the buffet of foods he had prepared. The elegant room began taking shape for the evening to come.
Undetected she watched from the stairs. Her heart sinking each time he paused, unconsciously rubbing the spot on his chest. Long ago he had protected her, with a cost of his life. The love they had shared was exposed, others had searched them out. They had brought him with them. The man she was fasted to. Forsaken, he was brutal and his actions harsh. If he was not worthy of her love, then she would have the love of no man. She held her love, his body naked with hers, gasping for breath, the sword running through his flesh. She held him when his flesh grew cold, and her life was spent holding that coldness in her heart.
Ryder pounded quickly up the stairs. He passed inches from her and had no idea she was there. He turned in to the bedroom, and began laying his costume across the bed. Guests would be arriving shortly, the time had come. His preparations the lighting, the feast they would have, all of it was ready.
The evening was elegant. He passed though the now crowded room, laughing and conversing with is guests. Friends old and new gathered in costume, conversations and introductions chattered about the air. Very few noticed her, her elegant foot fall carrying her down the stairs. She walked among them, returning smiles and nods from others. She wound her way though his guests. Someone nearby took pictures, the candles giving way to the flash bouncing brilliant white against the walls.
When he took her hand in his, he kissed it gently. His eyes turning to hers, he smiled. He had barely noticed the twinge in his chest as he done so. The touch of her eyes was electrifying. It raced through him and settled low in the pit of his gut. Her striking beauty held him captive. The world around him froze as he realized the image this morning was her. His eyes became hazy and his breath was labored. Politely he excused himself and made his way to the stairs. His hand rose to his chest as he climbed above the gathering of friends below. She followed moments later.
He sat on the edge of the bed, the layers of his costume unbuttoned. The scar on his chest burning under his finger tips. She approached him as he sat on the bed.
"Let me help with that" she sat beside him.
"I don't know what it is from" Ryder's voice shook as he spoke.
Her open hand moved to his chest. She pressed the warmth of it against him. She told him of the time she had waited, to feel once again the warmth of his flesh. She told him of the love they had shared, so very long ago. He watched her as she spoke. He learned of a past long ago forgotten. A past that was somehow coupled to him. As she told her tale the pain in his chest faded. She told him that her presence, brought with it the past, and that her desire to hold him yet again would be his demise.
His world spun. Nothing she said made sense, but everything at once was clear. He leaned close to kiss her. Their lips began hungrily tasting each others. Passion, flesh and desire collided between them. Their fingers rushed to expose skin. Breath was rapid, torrent. His lips wandered her flesh tasting her, savoring the feel of it against his lips.
He hips arched into him giving into his exploring mouth. Her breath heated and rushed.
She pulled him over her, his weight upon her. Her eyes closed as he entered her. Their hips began rocking in unison. Their pace grew faster, her fingernails dug at his back, as he held her hair in his hands. Lust took them over the edge. Leaving them spent in each others arms. Her fingers traced the square of his jaw, and a small trail of blood was left.
"It is time" she hurried to dress. His questions went unheeded. She turned to him, her hand resting on his cheek. "If I stay, I bring the same fate we have suffered before." She turned and stepped into the hall. Quickly Ryder followed. At the top of the stairs he stopped. The empty room stretched below him. He sat at the top of the stairs, his thoughtss swirled.
"A dream." He thought. All crazy dream.
He rested his head between his hands, and noticed a picture on the step. He looked at her, there in the picture, as he kissed her hand.
The day was spent setting out tables, the buffet of foods he had prepared. The elegant room began taking shape for the evening to come.
Undetected she watched from the stairs. Her heart sinking each time he paused, unconsciously rubbing the spot on his chest. Long ago he had protected her, with a cost of his life. The love they had shared was exposed, others had searched them out. They had brought him with them. The man she was fasted to. Forsaken, he was brutal and his actions harsh. If he was not worthy of her love, then she would have the love of no man. She held her love, his body naked with hers, gasping for breath, the sword running through his flesh. She held him when his flesh grew cold, and her life was spent holding that coldness in her heart.
Ryder pounded quickly up the stairs. He passed inches from her and had no idea she was there. He turned in to the bedroom, and began laying his costume across the bed. Guests would be arriving shortly, the time had come. His preparations the lighting, the feast they would have, all of it was ready.
The evening was elegant. He passed though the now crowded room, laughing and conversing with is guests. Friends old and new gathered in costume, conversations and introductions chattered about the air. Very few noticed her, her elegant foot fall carrying her down the stairs. She walked among them, returning smiles and nods from others. She wound her way though his guests. Someone nearby took pictures, the candles giving way to the flash bouncing brilliant white against the walls.
When he took her hand in his, he kissed it gently. His eyes turning to hers, he smiled. He had barely noticed the twinge in his chest as he done so. The touch of her eyes was electrifying. It raced through him and settled low in the pit of his gut. Her striking beauty held him captive. The world around him froze as he realized the image this morning was her. His eyes became hazy and his breath was labored. Politely he excused himself and made his way to the stairs. His hand rose to his chest as he climbed above the gathering of friends below. She followed moments later.
He sat on the edge of the bed, the layers of his costume unbuttoned. The scar on his chest burning under his finger tips. She approached him as he sat on the bed.
"Let me help with that" she sat beside him.
"I don't know what it is from" Ryder's voice shook as he spoke.
Her open hand moved to his chest. She pressed the warmth of it against him. She told him of the time she had waited, to feel once again the warmth of his flesh. She told him of the love they had shared, so very long ago. He watched her as she spoke. He learned of a past long ago forgotten. A past that was somehow coupled to him. As she told her tale the pain in his chest faded. She told him that her presence, brought with it the past, and that her desire to hold him yet again would be his demise.
His world spun. Nothing she said made sense, but everything at once was clear. He leaned close to kiss her. Their lips began hungrily tasting each others. Passion, flesh and desire collided between them. Their fingers rushed to expose skin. Breath was rapid, torrent. His lips wandered her flesh tasting her, savoring the feel of it against his lips.
He hips arched into him giving into his exploring mouth. Her breath heated and rushed.
She pulled him over her, his weight upon her. Her eyes closed as he entered her. Their hips began rocking in unison. Their pace grew faster, her fingernails dug at his back, as he held her hair in his hands. Lust took them over the edge. Leaving them spent in each others arms. Her fingers traced the square of his jaw, and a small trail of blood was left.
"It is time" she hurried to dress. His questions went unheeded. She turned to him, her hand resting on his cheek. "If I stay, I bring the same fate we have suffered before." She turned and stepped into the hall. Quickly Ryder followed. At the top of the stairs he stopped. The empty room stretched below him. He sat at the top of the stairs, his thoughtss swirled.
"A dream." He thought. All crazy dream.
He rested his head between his hands, and noticed a picture on the step. He looked at her, there in the picture, as he kissed her hand.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Masquerade (Part 2)
The chainmail coif made the hangers hooked in his fingers unusually heavy. Ryder, with the costume flung over his right shoulder grinned again as the steps to the porch groaned angrily under his footsteps. The chainmail glistened against the afternoon sun in flashes of brilliant light. It was something he admired, the chivalry of knighthood, and all that its legends entailed. What better to be for an evening, he thought, than a nobleman? He stepped into the house, hung the package carefully on a chair and went to work.
With the second day drawing to a close, he had accomplished several of the tasks he had planned and decided it was time to turn in. A few small tasks left and the time would be come for the masquerade to begin. He fished the key once again from the depths of his pocket, and stepped toward the door. He turned, looking back into the room. Something about this place comforted him. Its warm lighting soaked though him as he spent his time making preparations. Tomorrow night the laughter of his guests would fill this room. He dropped the key back into his pocket, grabbed the costume, and headed to the staircase. Spending the night in this place wasn't in his plans, but plans change, and Ryder's were no exception.
She had watched him during the day, her presence always at a distance. He was as she remembered, diligent to his tasks, and even if this was different time for him, she could see the time that she knew of him, in his eyes.
The bedroom was that of lovers. Soft light filled the room. The bed, large and solid, took command of this room. His costume deposited on a nearby rack, he moved into the bath, and turned on the shower. Steam began to fill the mirrors as he stepped inside. The water cascaded over him. Its heat relaxing as he stood under it. His thoughts drifted like the steam that rose from the shower walls. They drifted to the night to come; they drifted between reality and fantasy.
He didn't know she was there watching, standing in this steam filled room. Unaware she watching his silhouette, broken by the droplets of water against the glass door. Watching his hands move over his flesh as hers had done so long ago. Watching as he stepped from the shower. Watching as he toweled himself dry. Watching that towel fall to the floor when she touched him.
His fingers unknowingly begin to follow her touch. His mind filling with thoughts of a dream. Here in this mist of steam, a lover, real and imaginary combine. She guides his thought, she guides his touch. His mind striving to bring this lover into focus but he can not. All he knows is that she is there, with him. She knows him; she knows how to take his breath.
Standing the mist that clouds the mirrors like a dream, she takes him. His fingers follow hers. He leans against the wall giving into the realness of his fantasy, her presence only a dream to him. Images of this lover bring his fingers to the base of his swelling cock. In his mind her fingers find the tip, swollen, and wet with wanting. Images of her lips, surrounding him as his fingers trace them fill his mind. This woman in the mist has his every thought as she touches, licks and kisses. His back rests against the wall. His eyes closed to her thoughts. His fingers trace her every move, driving him closer and closer. He feels her moans as she pulls him into her mouth. The tension builds as she guides him. She guides his thoughts and his fingers as she drives him breathless into release.
When he returns to the bed, his mind is shaken from his dream like haze. It is turned down, something he had not remembered doing. Tired, Ryder dismisses his shock, and climbs into the bed. As he drifts into sleep, his fingers subconsciously brush over a scar on his chest. That scar, one that had never existed until tonight, he would notice for the first time in the morning.
With the second day drawing to a close, he had accomplished several of the tasks he had planned and decided it was time to turn in. A few small tasks left and the time would be come for the masquerade to begin. He fished the key once again from the depths of his pocket, and stepped toward the door. He turned, looking back into the room. Something about this place comforted him. Its warm lighting soaked though him as he spent his time making preparations. Tomorrow night the laughter of his guests would fill this room. He dropped the key back into his pocket, grabbed the costume, and headed to the staircase. Spending the night in this place wasn't in his plans, but plans change, and Ryder's were no exception.
She had watched him during the day, her presence always at a distance. He was as she remembered, diligent to his tasks, and even if this was different time for him, she could see the time that she knew of him, in his eyes.
The bedroom was that of lovers. Soft light filled the room. The bed, large and solid, took command of this room. His costume deposited on a nearby rack, he moved into the bath, and turned on the shower. Steam began to fill the mirrors as he stepped inside. The water cascaded over him. Its heat relaxing as he stood under it. His thoughts drifted like the steam that rose from the shower walls. They drifted to the night to come; they drifted between reality and fantasy.
He didn't know she was there watching, standing in this steam filled room. Unaware she watching his silhouette, broken by the droplets of water against the glass door. Watching his hands move over his flesh as hers had done so long ago. Watching as he stepped from the shower. Watching as he toweled himself dry. Watching that towel fall to the floor when she touched him.
His fingers unknowingly begin to follow her touch. His mind filling with thoughts of a dream. Here in this mist of steam, a lover, real and imaginary combine. She guides his thought, she guides his touch. His mind striving to bring this lover into focus but he can not. All he knows is that she is there, with him. She knows him; she knows how to take his breath.
Standing the mist that clouds the mirrors like a dream, she takes him. His fingers follow hers. He leans against the wall giving into the realness of his fantasy, her presence only a dream to him. Images of this lover bring his fingers to the base of his swelling cock. In his mind her fingers find the tip, swollen, and wet with wanting. Images of her lips, surrounding him as his fingers trace them fill his mind. This woman in the mist has his every thought as she touches, licks and kisses. His back rests against the wall. His eyes closed to her thoughts. His fingers trace her every move, driving him closer and closer. He feels her moans as she pulls him into her mouth. The tension builds as she guides him. She guides his thoughts and his fingers as she drives him breathless into release.
When he returns to the bed, his mind is shaken from his dream like haze. It is turned down, something he had not remembered doing. Tired, Ryder dismisses his shock, and climbs into the bed. As he drifts into sleep, his fingers subconsciously brush over a scar on his chest. That scar, one that had never existed until tonight, he would notice for the first time in the morning.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Masquerade (part 1)
The footfall of his first step made the stairs groan angrily. He continued upwards onto the porch. The weathered grayness of it extending from the first of its steps entirely to the carved wooden door in front of him.
"Perfect" Ryder thought, reaching into the depths of his pocket searching for the key.
He paused to enjoy the age of it. The long slender shaft reached the breadth of his palm. Its elegant head worn from time was looped in a small throng of leather fed through the ornate carvings.
The latch, etched with the patina of past times appeared tired and weathered. His fingers handled the key diligently as he turned the lock set in motion. Its audible cry of neglect resonated thought the dense wooden door as he rotated the key.
The air wafted from the newly opened door. Its odor was antique, with the smell of age and dusty wood. It permeated his nostrils; it smelled to him of harpsichords, quintets and of chamber music. It smelled of ages.
The thick tapestries hanging over the windows filtered the daylight into a surreal golden haze. The light falling across the wooden floors brought a mystical elegance to the emptiness of the vast room before him. Four days from now this room would be full. Not of furniture and material things, but people, friends, some he would not know, but welcomed just the same.
He entered the house, envisioning the night to come. The heavy medieval clothing, the elegant mood of the evening, and the masks they would wear. The masquerade was approaching quickly and he had many things to accomplish before the time would come.
As he stepped across the threshold, and stood in the foyer, she watched from the top of the stairs. He had returned to her. She had waited for so long in this empty house, for him. He had finally returned. Her lover which had been brutally taken from her so very long ago had returned. As a team of gust blown leaves galloped across the porch, her image faded into the softness of light. She knew of his plans, and would go to him then.
The time she could easily walk among them, when it was safe to be unknown.
Ryder shifted his eyes upward, following the flowing line of the staircase opposite him in the room. He thought it was the excitement of the evening to come that brought the shiver though him. He was unaware of her breath brushing against his flesh, the true cause of his sudden chill. He was unaware in fact of many things that would soon come to pass.
His attention turned to the items in his car, the costume he would wear rested on hangers in the back seat. He stepped back to the porch, and headed to fetch it from the back seat.
"Perfect" Ryder thought, reaching into the depths of his pocket searching for the key.
He paused to enjoy the age of it. The long slender shaft reached the breadth of his palm. Its elegant head worn from time was looped in a small throng of leather fed through the ornate carvings.
The latch, etched with the patina of past times appeared tired and weathered. His fingers handled the key diligently as he turned the lock set in motion. Its audible cry of neglect resonated thought the dense wooden door as he rotated the key.
The air wafted from the newly opened door. Its odor was antique, with the smell of age and dusty wood. It permeated his nostrils; it smelled to him of harpsichords, quintets and of chamber music. It smelled of ages.
The thick tapestries hanging over the windows filtered the daylight into a surreal golden haze. The light falling across the wooden floors brought a mystical elegance to the emptiness of the vast room before him. Four days from now this room would be full. Not of furniture and material things, but people, friends, some he would not know, but welcomed just the same.
He entered the house, envisioning the night to come. The heavy medieval clothing, the elegant mood of the evening, and the masks they would wear. The masquerade was approaching quickly and he had many things to accomplish before the time would come.
As he stepped across the threshold, and stood in the foyer, she watched from the top of the stairs. He had returned to her. She had waited for so long in this empty house, for him. He had finally returned. Her lover which had been brutally taken from her so very long ago had returned. As a team of gust blown leaves galloped across the porch, her image faded into the softness of light. She knew of his plans, and would go to him then.
The time she could easily walk among them, when it was safe to be unknown.
Ryder shifted his eyes upward, following the flowing line of the staircase opposite him in the room. He thought it was the excitement of the evening to come that brought the shiver though him. He was unaware of her breath brushing against his flesh, the true cause of his sudden chill. He was unaware in fact of many things that would soon come to pass.
His attention turned to the items in his car, the costume he would wear rested on hangers in the back seat. He stepped back to the porch, and headed to fetch it from the back seat.
