"Ninety-seven, ninety-eight," She pulled the brush through her thick dark mane. "Ninety-nine,
one hundred," she quietly announced, having counted each stroke. Hair as black as midnight
shone with a healthy radiance and fanned out across slender shoulders. It's ends dusting the
rise of her breasts. Setting the brush on the nightstand, she slid down between the sheets of
the bed. It had been a strange and confusing two days and she was tired
and far away from
home.
"He's
your room mate, with the emphasis on room," she chastised herself. Pushing the image of
him standing in the kitchen doorway, from her mind. Replaced much to her dismay, by another.
Wrapped in that damnedable blue speedo and perched on the edge of the table, lean muscular legs
swinging to and fro. "Enough," she cautioned herself, as one would a child, burying
her head in the pillow to exorcise the images that kept flooding her mind.
"I'd gotten up early to catch some waves at the cost of my first period trig class, and
they were just monsters. I'd gone ass over teacup dozens of times, I just couldn't stay on the
board, and everything was shifting so much. I just gave up in disgust and sat down on the beach
and quit thinking...just watching the waves roll in, feeling them move through their rhythms,
and not much else."
His voice drifted hauntingly, transporting her. She could feel the damp sand squishing beneath
her bare feet, between her toes. The smell of salt air invading her nostrils, whipping through
the sheerness of the pale blue negligée that clung to her. Gazing out across an unforgiving
ocean, restless waves crashed against the ragged shore. Clutching her arms to her midsection
to ward off the pre-dawn chill, her eyes drawn to the sky. Still dark around the edges, the blue
gray morning filtered through with a yellow-orange glow.
From out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of something white. Refocusing her gaze,
she squinted barely able to make out the form. It was a seal
a white seal! It's oil slicked
coat shimmered in the pale morning light, as it dipped and dove through the cresting waves. Mesmerized,
she watched it dance and play, scarcely aware of the salty foam tickling at her ankles. She watched,
as each wave brought it progressively closer to the desolate strand of beach she occupied, never
once taking her eyes from that pale bobbing head unless it dipped beneath a wave.
As it neared the shoreline, that particularly imagined though curiously real point where the
ocean meets the sand
something odd occurred. Rearing its impossibly white head, it rose
from the water on two legs. Tall and slender, with a remarkable elegance, he walked towards her.
Though he was naked, his yellow gold hair clothed him, falling well past his waist.
Captivated by the magic, a prisoner to its beauty, she opened her mouth to speak. Two pale white
fingers brushed against her lips. Silencing her. The nails trimmed in a neat half moon style,
shone with a translucent sparkle. She realized why, when the sound of the ocean transformed into
the lilting tinkle of a piano, the sound swimming melodious through the air in a hauntingly sweet
serenade. Without a word exchanged between them, he took her in his arms.
His touch was as cold as the sea, though his searing kisses warmed her blood and scorched her
skin, as he slid the thin strap of her negligée off her shoulders. The soft blue silk
billowing to her ankles, pooling upon the sand like so much water. Cloaked only in modesty, he
took her in his arms. Lifting her as easily as if she were made of the air itself.
At the water's edge, he took her. Filling her as if she were an empty vessel waiting for only
him. 
With the surf crashing against their bodies, they rode the waves of passion. The white capped
crests, lapping, his tongue expertly caressing in all the right places, making her shiver in
ways she never dreamed possible. Soaring, each crest lifting her higher than the last, the concerto
climbing at a frenzied pace carrying her on butterfly wings to a grand crescendo, serenaded by
the seagull's plaintiff song.
Gazing up into her lover's eyes, the world tilted on its axis. His strangely androgynous features
shifting and changing. His eyes a sparkled blue, no brown
then black and pupiless and still
the piano played. It's song warping discordantly, fading in and out, until it became painful
to hear. Like a satyr, he pushed into her, cold, hard and insistent, nearly tearing her in two.
His hunger was palpable, so real that she could feel it emanating from every pore, threatening
to consume her. Looking up into that oddly mutating face, his scarlet lips curled back like petals
of a rose, exposing two white fangs.
"They're killers, hunters of men, reviled as evil, but oh so sexy." She could hear
Gordon's words echoing, as this fanged monster consumed her body and soul. From somewhere deep
inside her came another voice. Straining to listen, she realized that it was her own. Repeating
the same word over and over
Scream! With her heart pounding a frantic timpani, she opened
her mouth. A foaming crest blanketing her, its' salty taste erupting upon her tongue. Forcing
herself to swallow, despite the nausea cramping her body.
At the water's edge, he took her. Taking from her as if she were a vessel waiting for only him.
With the surf crashing against their bodies, he rode the waves of hunger. The white capped crests,
lapping, his tongue expertly caressing in all the right places, making her shiver in ways she
never dreamed possible. Soaring, each swallow lifting him higher than the last, the concerto
climbing at a frenzied pace carrying him on raven black wings to a grand crescendo, serenaded
by the seagull's plaintiff song.
At the water's edge, he took her
and made her his own.
(c) D. H. Search. All Rights Reserved
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