Posted by PK on January 24, 2002 at 18:06:07:
Ducks deluxe.
"Robert?"
"Him."
"Oh, I told you. I'm sure I did. I almost forgot. Look, don't tell anybody. Humans are SO
judgemental..."
Joke, right?
Relatively used to coping with the darkness underground
Cubs and Brownies blink as they emerge
Solar Flares
They Burn
For you
Burn
For you
Just
For you.
What do Cubs and Brownies do at home after a boring day? Shine their boots and practice
tying knots? No of course not...
Felice smiled.
Joke, right. Whew.
Felice smiled. Deja fucked. One of us.
Felice smiled knowingly. Dawn bright. "It's a jungle in there," she said. She seemed..what?
Can't be, Eric thought, ordering the next round. Can't be. The routine of ordering drinks (it
wasn't his turn) gave him space.
Clutching in the dark....
Descending spiral, recurring Wyatt, winding down to (of course) Robert again. She (Felice,
his mind insisted on the parentheses) seemed..what?
This is the bit where you get a montage and a line of dots. Pixels. Quanta, sans Koalas.
Causality did its bit, trust me. The lust factor, strong as strangeness and charm. The spin
came later. Not spin, what....?
[Author's note} Oh come on, you know what happens next. They fucked each others brains
out. Bonked. Inevitable.
{Julian could hardly believe his luck, even now after what seemed like hours of the wildest
sex he'd ever had. And with Her. Exhausted, sated beyond expectation, he lay with his
succubus sprawled on top of him. He bathed in the musk and salt sweat scent of her, he
could feel her hot breath as he inhaled. Fluids and air conjoined. Deja fucked.]
But not quite the same, not quite. Still, the positions matched. Two-body problem, soluble in
sweat. Yes, stoned and fucked again. Nobody does it better, he thought. Nobody could. He
was sure. Shored. Don't call me Shirley.
Called down far, brawling and star-stalled crawl. Rhyming smiles, repeating teapots. Jagged
bottles jar stone solid stop.
jump
Erosion. Memory loss. Meet me at the bar, she had said. Dark meat, dark meetings. [Lamia,
one spluttering neural net noted, was 'gnored. Gnawned.]Norned, gnot gnawed. Norn, not..
Colour, right.
fiioof[[f,, kkd dppd kp0a0felice ;f'[felice liucv=ifer luivy kkd l love ]kikj liquorice lucy oijad
lucifrer ferem hjfh fe c skkf jso elicfelice hundred thousand monkeys not Lucifer but
morningstar
Twelve might do. From far, from eve and morning and from yon twelve-winded sky.
Housmans or whatever, Felice had gone witj - sorry, with - the dawn. Witj. Etymology
overload, Scotty. Nets cast too wide.
Eric woke up.
Felice had departed with the dew. As fairies do.
"Juicy," she had said, cradling his balls in her hand. "So soft. Like lovely little fruit."
And just before they slept - or was it later? - something like: "It wasn't my fault. Anyway, I
couldn't just waste them, could I?"
As Eric put on his jeans he could almost feel Felice's fingers (near miss, nearal - no, neural
net intersection, associative memory, witj...)
Lacing his trainers, the sense memory persisted. Witches had been burned for less. Burn.
'They burn For you.'
"We were just playing," she had said.
Will you, won't you
Will you, won't you
Won't you join the dance...
They Burn for you.'
Emphasis? Colour, right.
He could almost feel Felice's hand, her palm warm and firm, her fingers strong and gentle,
holding his center. He stiffened. Hold off on that, he admonished himself. Zipper coming.
Witch?
Empathy. The honey trap.