Anyone want to see the evolution of a story?
Here's something I started to write for a fantasy friday,
but it turned into something else entirely.
(So don't get too excited.)
Let's get naked.
naw, come on...i can see you...you're not naked yet.
I want your shirt off.
AND your pants.
I want you to be a little chilly in the night air,
in the dark of your quiet home.
I want you to feel the strange sensations of your desk chair against your bare skin.
I want you to imagine that you are not there, but here...
and not really "here" so much as...just....somewhere near....
somewhere vague and distant, but close.
You're lying on your back, arms and legs sprawled in the carelessness of sleep,
a sheet hiding a few patches of skin.
I approach, quietly, for you are a sleeping angel--
no, not quite that innocent, but nearly that perfect.
my heart roars up into my throat and almost makes my eyes water.
One knee is on the bed, as I lean toward you for a better look.
Carefully, I ease myself onto the large bed, the opaque drapes hanging down from every side dropping back into place.
We are alone in this veiled place, and alone in the room, the building, the town...
there is no one else.
I sit quietly for a few minutes, studying your form.
You stir, and I sit back, knees drawn to chest.
You sit up with a start and our eyes meet--
yours still groggy from sleep, mine sparkling with expectations.
You know instantly who I am, noting the edges of my folded wings peeking over my back.
The sheet had not covered my favorite part of you, and so I continue to watch it--
as I rise to my knees and allow you full view of my own nudity, I watch you grow.
You reach for me, and without moving, we are clinging together--
lips locked, arms holding tightly, chests pressed firmly.
Kissing is the most exquisite experience of my long, one-dimensional life, and I nearly melt into a puddle of mercury and silk right there.
You sense me slipping away and pull back, smiling.
"...it's great, isn't it?"
your eyes twinkle, knowing how much better the rest will be.
I nod, totally unaware of the tidal wave of pleasure that is approaching
and you run a finger lightly across my shoulder, down my arm, sending shivers through me like small earth quakes.
I could go on, and I probably will.
(although, frankly, I feel it's a bit of a dead end...so they're going to have sex, then what?? I think that if I want to take it beyond the bedroom, I need to lessen the sexuality of this scene, or at least wrap it up well and move on...)
But I have to get showered so I can go shopping in the brief interlude I am allowed while the chirrin are at school for their "short day".
fucking short days.
next year is full day, next year is full day, next year is full day.
I know, I know...
I have SUCH a rough life.
Sorry for the lame whining.
So after I wrote the story, I plowed through the second 7 chapters of Amorlia,
a most exquisite sci-fi novel being written in real time over on Chris's Spontaneous Fiction, and then I started to wonder if the seeds had been planted from the first 7 chapters I had plowed through a few days ago.
In any case, it is well worth your time.
He has the chapters very neatly linked so that it's easy to start at the beginning and work your way through, then come back another day and pick it right up where you left off.
...and did I mention he's an amaaaazing writer?
And enjoy every second of this fine spring weekend!
(yes, that's an order. non-compliance will be met with the most severe punishment--like, I'll block you from the site on Tuesdays. I know! It would be a tragedy!)
Karaoke with Becky tonight.
If we're lucky, mayhem will ensue.