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The Visitation This story was written as part of a writers' *homework* on Solo Flights. The first line was fixed after that it was up to the imagination |
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| Topic Talking
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As before, she waited for him, half
hoping half -fearing he would come. Certain the faint air stirring, shifting drapes signified another visitation. Palpable silence washed the smooth stone walls, silky retreating waves beneath the sturdy wooden door, eddying at the half open window. No rustle of leaves or night bird call, careless chatter, church bell chime or ethereal resonance whispered through the canopy concealing the bed. Absorbed, engulfed by darkness his form had been defined by contact points.Caresses slight and tender brushed her forehead. Longer lascivious strokes had reached and cupped her breasts. Following the hollow of her cheek, the sensual fingertip traced a line. Pathway for a tongue, a feline rasp lapping at the hollow base of her throat. Sheets lifted from her shoulders, trickled down the abdomen tightening across her thigh. Sweet warm aroma had drifted as they entwined and enclosed. As before, she waited for him, half hoping half -fearing he would come. Finally the cock crowed, as she felt the faint tearing, exquisite pain deep within. Two puncture marks blood red against virgin white, his trail of nocturnal carnivorous passion. Comment: Written: August 1999
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