The Call
Sultry, shimmering, slanted low, sol banks its blaze, retreats. She gazes blind to waning rays and idly flicks her hand past pale organza curtains. Feather light they waft as waves, undulating, flowing in shadows lifting, shifting, melting to gold.
Wistful, she pauses, stroking a finger, eyes lit in silent plea: seal my secrets within thy fold for I am adrift, in pain. Hunger gnaws her belly as gentian haze sweeps a mantle, soft and slow, o’er her weary soul.
Aching yearnings mingle and mix and meld, roiling into madness, uncertainty. She thought he might …
Sweet susurrations, bell tones jar and jangle, throbbing beats, lightheaded she grasps her lifeline. Murmurs: deep, throaty, hesitant. Breathless sighs beat back the fear, racing, chasing, air alive with promise. He pauses, would she …? She pauses, oh yes …
She loves the night, cooling to chocolatey silk, melting, pinpricks ablaze to fade to teasing haze, slithering, soundless screams of joy, ease down, ease down, sweet slumber sequesters her senses … adrift, all is still.
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©Diane E. Nelson, July 27, 2010 in English Stories Tweet This Post------------------------------
When the Authorities discover people (well, Diane Nelson) are writing such incredibly pleasurable material, they will declare it exceptionally illegal, injurious to the health and likely to drive impressionable persons such as myself yet further into sweet madness.
Donnie: give Coco a kiss for me :-)
May I suggest, Anneke, that you issue a health warning before Diane’s offerings. They have an alarming effect on hormones and when you get to my age, with only two or three to … er … rub together, it plays havoc with your whole metabolism. Superb control, mastery and art, Diane.
Bill, maybe I should add: 18+ and 60-
I love your use of form and style, Diane.
You’re right, Donnie, so I suggest we (you, Bill, me…..) jump the gun and become the Authorities, or a support group. Delicious words, Diane.
Oh, y’all are making me blush.
Pull yourself together, woman.
I gave Coco a kiss as you suggested, Diane. It appears that le Parfum du jour is Lapin Morto, with an arriére-gout of Vole-au-vent.
Well, just long as it isn’t eau de chicken livers…