Seeker of Lost Souls

[Mistress Jorja]

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The carnival atmosphere had dimmed with the first growl of thunder and died when the rain had come. Strands of lights swayed from atop the ferris wheel that dominated the fair grounds, a riot of watered down color in the rain soaked dusk. Hawking shouts of “...three tosses for a dollar...step right up and win your lil’ lady a prize...three for a buck...try your luck...” and the feisty cries from losing patrons that had flooded the midway just moments earlier faded into pensive echos. Rain pelted the tattered primary colors of the awnings that the few remaining brave souls crouched under, the damp material fluttering like flannel shirts on a clothesline. The rides groaned grudgingly to a halt, raucous music hushed and replaced with staccato drumbeats from the thunderheads. Wet grass clutched at the ankles of those who made a mad dash for cover, as if the Karlsburg Community Show Grounds was reluctant to be abandoned before it had a chance of being able to prove itself.

Those who tore up the muddy ground like a running of the bulls passed by the dark maroon tent standing by itself. They neglected to notice the flickering of the candlelight inside, flames stabbing and warding off the impeding dusk like the rapiers in a heated duel. And a neatly hand-written card crafted in the brazen strokes of a black calligraphy pen failed to catch their attention.

Madame Chavi Ruv
the crafter of future dreams
the denier of future nightmares
the conductress of faltered tempos
the seeker of lost souls

Chavi’s sultry dark eyes peered into the rain-kissed night, the silver love beads dangling from the tent’s entrance divided the outside world into vertical slices, making the chaos usually witnessed beyond these canvas walls much more palatable. She leaned her elbows against the white crocheted cloth that swirled around the dark globe of her seeing crystal with a sense of anticipation that storms always carried with their bravado of lightening and thunder.

A nervous rustling from the back of the tent echoed a particularly clamorous boom of thunder as Chavi’s raven, Lucifer, shifted in his wrought iron cage. The beady eyes, almost intelligent for belonging to one of these hollow-boned creatures, observed the dim room that took on a romantic feel when the dappled fire of the carnival midway glared down in shadows of light through the peaked tent roof. A pile of dog-eared tarot cards, a silver pendant hanging from a strip of black leather, the hand-crafted terracotta incense burner, and other trinkets and miscellany that she had collected from her days of nomadic wanderings throughout the vast world were all taken in and dismissed without hesitation at their remarkable strangeness.

A slight movement outside caught the attention of her silhouetted form backlit by the provocatively rich scented herbal candles. He, for it moved with the masculine grace of the feline leader of a pride of lions, stood timidly bathed in shadows cloaked from all but the acuity of her keen eyes. Beckoning forth this apparition with a polished crimson nail, Chavi called out in a voice similar to the tinkling of glass on a tiled mural floor.

“Enter, dark traveler and take a respite from this weary world.”

As she uttered those words of welcome, Chavi couldn’t help but to remember a stanza of a poem her mother had recited to her again and again when she was a child.

Oh follow me dear traveler,
I will not lead you astray,
I’ll just take a little nibble,
And then be on my way...

 

[darrenfate]

Emil Ducharme’s quest for her had begun in Budapest, where he had thought his journey was at its end. To have come all this way, and to leave Europe broken and spiritless was no longer his fate. What had seemed like chance, to be in that café where the gypsies had laughed, drank, and fought was anything but. A macabre set of circumstances had seen a man knifed before him. The other gypsy had vanished as only the homeless can. Quickly, Ducharme staunched the bleeding with his jacket. As he bent over the stricken man spoke. "What do you seek?" Emil’s eyes widen with surprise at the gypsy’s strength and clarity of thought. "I seek an end to my quest, he said simply. I must know the answer, to be revealed the WHY."

With his last breath, the gypsy spoke. "Chavi Ruv, Madame Chavi Ruv is the one you seek”.

Long weeks of hunting had taken him to this small circus in Karlsburg. Emil’s search for her had finally ended, now the moment was at hand. Madame Chavi Ruv, you are finally here. Candlelight flickered in the night, her countenance lit up by bold lightning strikes. He stood there in the darkness, drinking in the scene like some old black and white Bogart movie. The seer,muse of the dark ones, Madame Chavi Ruv. He was stunned by her appearance. Far from being an old hag, Chavi Ruv was young, and beautiful. With an almost clairvoyant alacrity, she suddenly froze, her eyes fixed in his direction, and bid him enter. The Raven, a Poe like fixture of darkness and mystery completed the picture. Smiling ruefully, Emil wondered if she could hear his “telltale heart” pounding as he advanced. His quest momentarily forgotten, he was drawn forward by the sheer magnetism of her person, the desire for her washed over Emil as if he were some adolescent groping his date in a van. Damn her and her charms!

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Chavi sensed his entrance rather than heard it, for he moved with the uneasy grace of someone accustomed to flitting from place to place, not merely cloaked by shadows but a part of them. He was met by a cold, unacknowledging profile of this bewitching woman, but as he paused to take in his surroundings she turned to face him, her eyebrows arching as if in recognition.

When she spoke, it was with a rich accent that poured one word into another, so if one was to close one’s eyes and just listen, one could almost be lulled to sleep by this soothingly rhythmic chant.

“Good evening...”

She paused and let her eyelids droop slightly as if she was trying to remember some elusive tidbit of world-shattering knowledge. Holding his name on the tip of her tongue, she plucked the thought out of the incense-thick air as if it was an overripe fruit hanging heavily and bending the supple bows of it’s slender tree.

“...Emil.”

In the corner of the candle-lit tent stood a tall, oriental vase. A single rose wrapped its way around the intricately crafted handle that resembled a thorn bursting into the neck of a serpent. Classically handsome in every aspect, but with an underlaying sense of darker ambitions. Exactly the way she felt him assess her with his roaming eyes. Half-filled with leaking rain water, the monotonous drip...drip...d.r..i...p.... was the only sound, save for their soft breathing and the occasional disheartening sqwak from Lucifer, that filled the anticipation-laden air.

“Your heart cries out in need, yet your mind is unsure. What unkind twist of fate do you seek me out to rectify?”

Tracing a finger down the sides of the luminescent orb that sat in from of her, leaving slight ripples of a fiery magenta on the smooth, papery surface in the wave of her touch, Chavi closed her eyes and withdrew her hand. She shuddered slightly as images flashed rapidly between sealed lids, and suddenly opened her eyes and gazed fixedly upon him, expectant of an answer.

 

[darrenfate]

Emil steeled himself for the first words. Regaining his physical composure, he strode through the room on the balls of his feet unaware of his smooth movements. During the last few steps, he consciously shifted into what his eastern sensei had called “slow mind”. For many years he had apprenticed in aikido, perfecting this singular ability. Most people only have brief stress induced glimpses of their mind’s capabilities, those few seconds before a car crash for instance, when they say their “life” flashes before them. Emil saw all, said nothing. He saw the perfect curves of her body, the full breasts barely concealed beneath the purple silken fabric. Her eyes, were opaque, almost black, her skin glowing with health and youth. Chavi exuded a dark smoldering sexuality without the slightest apparent awareness of its impact. She simply was. He stopped short in surprise, when the seer said his name, as yet unspoken. How had she known? His mind raced through the possibilities in mere fractions of a second. Emil’s only visceral reaction was a slight widening of his eyes. He spoke.

“I have come to seek you Madame Chavi. My journey has been long and arduous, and by the greeting I just received, I know I am in the right place.” He held out his arm, outstretched from the waist. Suddenly, to her surprise, Lucifer flew to Emil, alighting on his arm. Lucifer had never done that before, her eyes narrowed as she contemplated Emil with a new appreciation. It took a great deal to surprise Chavi. They were now even.
“I have come to alter my fate, Emil continued. The forces of this world sought to push me down a their own unchosen path. I will not be led like some lemming off life’s cliff!” Emil thundered now as he went on, “All that I held dear has been stripped from me, never to be regained. A modern Job, I am. I seek from you to know the WHY, the reason for me to continue onward. To reforge my life from the raw iron material that stands before you.”

Emil paused, and losing some of his resolve, gave in to his urge to stare at Chavi, at her overwhelming physical beauty. He hated himself for showing this weakness. Electricity crackled in the night skies, as he looked up into her flashing eyes, she spoke ….

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Chavi looked on with surprise as Lucifer alighted on Emil’s hand, for he was a creature as surly as herself and didn’t take well to strangers. This small indication of trust was enough to allay the doubt about this man’s intentions that Chavi held in the back of her mind. Looking between the two - both airing an elusive yet enticing facade - she let her eyes soften and offered him one of her rare meaningful smiles.

“It seems he’s laid differences aside, for once, and found a new friend.”

Nodding towards the widespread plush chair that sat opposite her, she crossed her legs shifting under the pale chemise. Breaking his rather direct concentration with her voice, she ran her fingers idly over the crocheted white tablecloth, tracing patterns that only her eyes could see.

“It sounds simple enough, yes, but let me assure you that a tedious journey, paved only with half-thoughts and the slightest breath of an emotion-wrought wind from the seas of consciousness, awaits you.

From the top of a tiny mirrored shelf, she drew a carefully tied parcel, that in this light couldn't be distinguished between the color of Lucifer's wings and the darkening azure of the storm enraged night sky. Unwrapping the deck of tarot cards from the piece of black silk, she shuffled them rapidly, fanning the colorful faces in a graceful arch before his intrigued eyes. Sliding the candle aside from where it dominated the center of the table, hot wax spilling over it’s melted full lips, she held out the deck for him to cut.

“I offer you only a glimpse...how and if you rewrite your story is entirely in the hands of only one man. But Fate is a temperamental creature and I warn you not to anger her...”

 

[darrenfate]

Without taking his eyes from Chavi, Emil cut the cards. The faces were meaningless to him, unschooled as he was in the mystic arts. Emil glanced down at the tablecloth expecting to see the intricate Belgian patterns that Chavi was tracing, instead he saw nothing but pure white. It created an unsettling emotion in the pit of his stomach. Chavi was an exquisite creature, finely boned and almost hypnotically attractive. He could feel himself being drawn down to the darkness, drawn by and then to, Chavi. His mind thought fleetingly of the old cemetery nearby, and how he would love to ravage her on the headstones. Her garments would be ripped asunder, and then used to tie her to the largest tombstone.

And then, Emil shook his head as if to clear his mind. This was not his mission, not the stuff of which his quest would be fulfilled. He pushed these wayward thoughts aside. For now.

Chavi was speaking, offering thinly veiled warnings about larger, more powerful forces at work than man can know. Emil, smiled ruefully, for he had nothing to lose, he was at his nadir in this life. Emil felt cornered, his back against the wall, and like a primal animal, ready to lash out at any that dared come to close. Except for Chavi. His guide.

He spoke, quietly with utter conviction “Whatever directions the cards shall lead us, we will go. Make no mistake woman, you shall accompany me on this quest” . He continued, “You shall be handsomely rewarded, not only by the coin of the realm, but also by a method of your own choosing. I fully understand the implications of this pledge, and I say to you this is my vow.” As if on cue, the wind whipped in from the open tent door, and with a supernatural gust, extinguished the candles that provided the only light. Chavi moved first …

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Chavi could see the way he scoffed at her references to fate. Being that way herself once, naive and denying, she could see that he struggled internally against what he knew to be true. There was a fleeting moment when his eyes shone dangerously in the candlelight and again she doubted herself for offering her services. A desperate haunting look of a villain entrapped in a web of deceits of their own doing, that echoed the essences of his biting words.

The chilling gust of wind, as if angered by Emil's skepticism, doused the candles throughly, leaving them in the murky shadows. Whipping the hair from where it fell in a sultry cascade over her face, she tossed the wind blown tresses behind her shoulders, enjoying the evening air caresses of the gust. A stillness settled over them as she turned to him, her keen eyes taking in the dramatic features of his face. She was comfortable in this darkness, in fact it was more natural to her. Sighing, she snapped her fingers commandingly and Lucifer fluttered to perch on her outstretched hand, a half-glove of the finest black leather covering her palm and wrist.

“You speak the empty words of unfulfilled promises, Emil. But idle talk is for fools and makes me tire of this dreary world. The burden of your tale weighs heavy on me after such a draining day, but perhaps a few hours rest will rejuvenate me.”

She stood silently and fetched a book, the cracked leather lining evident of years of use, a red velvet strand serving as a marker. Debating about whether it would be wise to leave him to his own devices or keep him under her constant eye, she had seen the way he had ranted, she finally turned and faced him with a questioning look.

“I don’t suppose you have somewhere to stay?”

 

[darrenfate]

Kindness, the first words of their type within Ducharme's memory. Just the way Chavi had phrased the question promised a reaching out to him that was totally unanticipated.
His eyes welled with tears, as he spoke softly "No". With that utterance, much of the angry, malevolent demeanor towards Chavi drained from Emil. Perhaps he was not alone. Perhaps this mere slip of a woman, perhaps, perhaps.

That which he had with him was contained in a sturdy leather saddleback preferred by those wander. His gaze locked on Chavi, who had not waited for his reply, had already known what it would be. Chavi turned away, fetching something from the farthest recesses of the room. She would speak in due time. Emil, having nothing but time, could wait forever if need be.

She turned back to face him, secretly pleased that he had not interrupted her reverie. Chavi saw the change in his countenance, and with it, for the first time, her heart was softened. Quietly she spoke ....

 

[Mistress Jorja]

There was more to this dark stranger than met the eye. Although the glimpse into his memory was brief, the gruesome images were more than one soul should have to bare alone.

Two mountains set against a stark gray sky...a yellow sticky note with the words Funeral ~ 2:00 scrawled dejectedly on it...the taunting face of a clown, the gaudy makeup dripping down it’s sagging skin....the gleam of a raised knife blade...a bare bulb, dangling, the length of it’s cord swaying wildly to and fro.

She sighed and blinked in a futile attempt to rid herself of these emotions of pity and empathy. Nodding at his softly uttered “No,” as if she expected it all along and only asked out of common courtesy. They were in luck, for the fair had gathered in what could now be called her home town, and her tiny artist’s loft was a short walk over dew laden grass and muddied fields.

Beckoning to Emil, she shifted Lucifer to her shoulder as she slipped into a masculine-cut leather jacket two sizes too broad for her willowy frame. If she closed her eyes and held the black leather to her face, she could still smell his spicy cranberry cologne. But that was all in the past, and unlike some others, she did not have a death wish to go meddling with the hand she had already been dealt. She had aces up her sleeves, anyway, so why worry. Chavi didn’t know why she still kept his jacket - it was torture every time she wore it - but she just couldn’t bring herself to throw it away

Parting the silver curtain, she stepped aside and held them open for Emil. Pointing in the distance to a dilapidated, once-stately building, she tilted her head to look up at him.

“Home, if one can refer to such a place as more than four walls and a roof, is just over there...”

 

[darrenfate]

EMIL

Chavi was pointing to a place of refuge, once obviously grand, and now run down. It cried for strong, expert mending to regain its once regal stature. Not unlike me, thought Emil, not at all unlike me.

She led, and he followed, Chavi stepping surefooted and swift in the night. He saw the large, rather curious jacket in which she wrapped herself to ward off the cold and the rain. A fellow performer's or maybe her kinfolk he thought. He then saw her unobtrusively smell the jackets scents, in a deep and longing way. Ahhh, a former lover, perchance he was taken from her before his time.

A kindred spirit Chavi is then, as he painfully thought of his own lost Celia's last hours. So unfair, so unexpected had her departure been! He had railed at the cavalier God that would rip her asunder from him so suddenly, ruthlessly, and finally.

The door to the abode hung askance, its upper polished brass hinge needing repair. It was smaller than he had thought from the distance, and as he stepped inside, he gasped at the marvels that lay before him....

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Chavi’s tiny artist’s loft was a trove of treasures, her visual journal, a proverbial jar of eye-candy. It was amazing how many interesting trinkets and strangely carved pieces of furniture could be placed in such a small place. The room they were standing in had a small double bed with numerous throw pillows piled onto the silky black sheets. To the side sat a loveseat and a small cherry table beneath the single window that looked out onto a dilapidated and overgrown, yet hauntingly beautiful courtyard. Two doors on the far wall lead to the kitchen and bathroom that were equally fascinating in their state of cluttered oddity.

Smiling, Chavi hung her coat on what looked to be a wrought iron doorknocker in the shape of a gargoyle. She always loved peoples reactions to her home, she had put a lot of thought and effort into it, it was a shame that so few got to appreciate it. His eyes were drawn to the walls, a pale shade of stormy blue , that were peppered with numerous framed pieces of art. Oil paints dominated the collection, although there were a few done in charcoal and chalk scattered through-out. Most featured her as the subject, set in bizarre landscapes and compromising situations. But the obviously most prized piece was hung grandly above the head of her bead. It was done on parchment with gilded edges, each fiber of the paper distinct under the light and heavy strokes of a loving brush. The artist had done a shadowy nude silhouette of her, embellishing some of her more dramatic features, yes, but still true to it’s subject.

Emil looked between her and the art, a question on his lips, but kept in check for fear of touching upon something in her past she did not want unearthed. She broke the silence with a simple nod, and answered what she knew he wanted to ask.

“Yes, Bryce painted those...”

 

[darrenfate]

"Bryce", Emil said, languishing over the name, treating it with the respect he knew it deserved. "Leather jacket Bryce, the man of your past. " From the looks of the place, it hadn't known a man's repair hand for at least several years.

Emil said all this, eyes remaining transfixed by the nude form of Chavi which hung so prominently above him. Far from being a raw portrait, the painter obviously was gifted in his art. But there was more, much more. Chavi's likeness was crafted with an overt reverence, the kind of worship born out of a lover's passion.

"He loved you, and you him" Emil said. As he spoke, the pain in her eyes was evident, her emotions for Bryce so long dormant bubbling again unwanted to the surface. Hurrying on to stop her protestations, Emil said "I came here to receive, I see that I was also put here to give. Let us take solace in one another. You of all people know that this moment was meant to be. Celia's death still stabs at my heart. "

With that, he held out his hand in an easy way, and she grasped it tightly. Of her own volition - without a word she flew in his arms and kissed him deeply, lingering for long minutes. With just as much speed and dexterity as when she moved forward, she darted back, eyes flashing, breasts heaving. Her breath now coming in quick gasps, she spoke ....

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Chavi felt the weight of his arms, the heat where his skin scorched hers, his calming voice, and she almost gave into her heart. Shivering she stepped back, dropping her eyes to the side and wrapping her arms across her bosom.

It’s not right...I can’t...not in the same place...the same bed...

She side-stepped his attempt to reach out to her, darting towards the bathroom door, nearly tripping over an Oriental statue with a widespread base, a faint stream of water trickling over it’s curves to form a soothing fountain. Turning back to him at the door, she mumbled under her breath, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry...please...just....make yourself at home....I’ll....I’m sorry...”

Closing the door with a decisive thud, she risked a longing glace at the muraled wall that separated them before retrieving the plug and twisting it into it’s place in the bottom of her massive, lion’s-foot tub. Selecting a tiny bottle of bath salts from the dainty silver shelf, she sprinkled the lavender into the steamy water and swirled her hand through the porcelain colored water. Replacing the glass container, she turned it so its label, tattered yet still readable, faced outwards to match the identical collection. Aroma Therapy ~ To heal the mind, the body, the spirit ~ To remedy indecision.

Slipping off the sheer layers of the dress, she settled into the water filled with thoughts of Emil and Bryce, closing her eyes as a sigh somewhere between bliss and utter frustration escaped her lips, drifting on the steamy air.

 

[darrenfate]

Emil stood stunned by the turn of events. For the first time since his beloved Celia, he had felt something deep for another, not just the surface lust that he had infrequently given into, in those dark bouts of despair and frustration.

This was different, warm waves of contentment washing over him as he swore he could still feel her lips on his. Far from indecision, all Emil desired was to reproduce this feeling. His being cried out for those moments to be brought back. They had melted together so perfectly, it had all seemed so right. He heard the water begin, and knew she was drawing a bath.

Being a man of action, he impulsively knew what he would do. He scanned the room, finally spying an ancient bottle of cognac next to a single stemmed glass. Like so many wonderous objects in this place the glass was fine blue Hungarian crystal, heavy to the hand, impeccably adorned with motifs of dragons and maids. Clearly it had its own story, but that would wait for another time.

Pouring a glass for them, summoning all his courage, downing the glass, refilling it, he went to the door and quietly swung it open. Inside Chavi was immersed, eyes closed, in the cloudy steamy water, the scent that assailed his nose was sweet yet, utterly feminine.

He padded up to the tub, sat silently, and held the glass out. Chavi, sensing rather than seeing him, flew her eyes open. Quick anger flashed at him from her famous withering "look", pity the man who was on the wrong side of that for long! Almost immediately, Chavi felt his compassion for her, and involuntarily softened.

She should be angry she told herself, how dare he! Try as she might, she could not say those words. Instead, as he offered the goblet, she drank. She knew their time was now. She spoke ....

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Chavi knew Emil was not a man to sit idle for long, had known this since the second they met, for although Fate had gotten an upper hand over his previous life, she doubted any mortal ever would. When he entered silently and moved to sit on the weathered, gray trunk that sat upended in the corner and served her well as a place to store linens, she felt the shift in the humid air that clung greedily to her cool skin.

"Why must you torture my heart so, Emil?"

Receiving his small token, she brought the cognac to her lips slowly, as if accepting the bitter sting of the liquid as some sort of punishment for betraying Bryce's memory and waging war against the tentative steps of her heart. But she had mourned far longer than she needed and was afraid if her dark soliloquy went on for another day it would somehow taint the treasured past, turning her angels of memories into the demons of melancholy reverie. Biting off the scything comment before it could escape her parted lips, she felt not only lust in his gaze but the refreshing caress of empathy.

Without regret, she stepped out of the flowery water and into the terrycloth towel he held open in his widespread arms. His eyes shifted for a second, but didn't linger on her body as one would expect, a soft smile turning his lips as he saw she had finally chosen between the past and the present. Wrapping her tightly against him, he ran his fingers through her bittersweet chocolate tangles of damp hair, kissing her with a decisive note of possession and ownership.

 

[darrenfate]

Emil, held her closely and firmly against him, the mirror behind her fogged for now his view of her image and his entwined. His hands slowly roamed through her long wet hair, the scent of her wafting in the humid air like that after a spring rain.

He let her go, and cupping her face with both hands, kissed her fully, deeply, and longingly on the lips. After an eternity lost in this kiss, her lips parted slightly, and his tongue gently moved forward into Chavi's inviting mouth. They stood there transfixed, each fleeting second seeing the passion for the other burn a little more brightly. As a fire that begins with just a few simple twigs and leaves gathers speed and purpose as it grows, so too was their passion. The fire needs more and more fuel to rage to its fullest intensity, and in the same way Chavi and Emil needed more and more of each other to fully inflame their long dormant passions.

Emil's large yet gentle hands began their inevitable decent over the rest of Chavi's body. Down they went, inch by inch, over the long graceful neck, to her shoulders and beyond. Chavi moved up towards him farther still, and in that instant lost the robe that had covered her. Emil know knew that she no longer needed the robe for warmth, that role was his now.

As Emil kissed her shoulders, he saw that the mirror now showed the true image, and seeing her reflection from behind, powered his intensity. Emil uttered a long low sound, as his gaze lingered on her magnificent back and her perfect ass. At that instant, Emil lowered his mouth to her breast, and with a huge smile began to suck. "Anything you desire Chavi, this night it is yours, he whispered." As her nipple hardened between his teeth, Emil was hers to command...

 

[Mistress Jorja]

There were unspoken measures of threadbare hope in Emil’s voice, as if he were pining for a long forgotten memory. Words of consolidation were on the tip of her tongue, but she dared not stir up the troubled waters of the past that were just beginning to settle and clear, parting for the future. Instead, Chavi only leaned against him, turning her back to the world and purposely putting herself in a vulnerable position, as she whispered in a tone caught somewhere between pity and abandon.

“I think we are each haunted by our own ghosts.”

Slipping from her robe, the moisture on her skin condensing and slipping off her mocha skin, she shivered despite the heated sensation that tingled to her very core each time he touched her. Leaving moist trails like tiny slugs, the water droplets ran in rivulets over her curves and heavy rise and fall of her chest. Her pebbly nipples ached at the alteration between cool air and a warm mouth. Emil’s hands moved over her in a practiced pattern and he held her as if she were a china doll wrought of the most fragile porcelain, and one wrong move and she would fall to the floor and shatter into countless pieces scattered over the turquoise and plum tiles.

She reached for the buttons at the front of his rain soaked shirt, keeping one arm possessively around him, her fingers splayed and tenderly massaging the back of his neck. Without head for his skin beneath, she tore viciously at the buttons that prevented her from touching him more intimately to echo his own caresses. Pushing the strands of hair that fell over her face as she lowered her eyes to better tend to this task, she paused to give him a purposeful gaze from beneath heavy lashes, the smile obvious in her voice.

“But perhaps, together, we can find a way to dispel these unwanted wraiths.”

 

[darrenfate]

“But perhaps, together, we can find a way to dispel these unwanted wraiths.”

The passion, the pain, the plaintive almost pleading nature of Chavi's words echoed in his brain long after the actual silence had returned. With Chavi, Emil sensed with his intuition and his heart rather than his brain that they were meant to be together in this place. This magical, almost mythical house was a safe haven for them.

" We, Chavi, each to the other is like a lighthouse of trust and hope against the typhoon like destruction that is our current lives. We must take no moment for granted, let no time pass that we do not cherish this bond we are forging. Tonight, let us relish and take comfort in the security of our bond"

They had a future together, of this Emil had no doubts. Duration, ahh, duration, another matter entirely. This was up to the fates. Their wraiths. With an involuntary shudder, Emil cast this last thought aside as quickly as he had summoned it.

His chest was bare with long red lines running diagonally from shoulder to waist, from Chavi's frenzied fingernails, her frantic pullings on his tunic fastenings had done their job too well. The small pain from scratches seemed only to fit his growing lust, the fire within finding more combustible fuel turned hotter still.

With a sudden move, he gathered the lithe Chavi in his arms, his naked chest holding a beating heart now pounding so hard that Emil was sure that Chavi could hear it aloud. He drew Chavi's mouth to his, her nude form now as physically intertwined with his as their souls were. Arching her backwards, Chavi's breasts were forced upwards and straight to his eager mouth. Holding her hands tightly so as to have his way, he let his mouth run wild on her breasts. From one to the other, alternating between each, sometimes biting her nipples, sometimes sucking as much of her breast as could fit in his mouth, he caused Chavi to start to tremble. Moaning his name audibly now, louder and more insistently with each passing minute, Chavi was his to possess in every way.

As Emil gathered his breath, A solitary bead of moisture clung to her nose then fell, off her chin, between her now aching breasts, down her flat stomach finally melding with her very core. Inspired by the trail this little droplet had blazed for him, Emil's tongue now traced the route, only stopping when he too was one with her wickedly wet core.....

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Glad to be out of the humid atmosphere of the bathroom, Emil laid Chavi ceremoniously on the sheets that bunched beneath her crumpled form as he clawed his way to her mouth. She gasped in the crisp air, laced with the scent of eucalyptus, as a drowning woman struggling to the surface would. Marking these frenzied inhalations were uttered forms of Emil’s name, syllables that rolled off her tongue as he sought out the gates of her nether regions with implacable ferocity.

Like a crow clutching at it’s shining treasure, his grasp was firm upon her flesh, leaving slight indentations each time he shifted his weight when the burden became uncomfortable. Branding her as his own, he settled territorially over top of her, his physical actions in direct compliance with the murmured words of trust and hope, cherish and relish.

His lips delicately parted Chavi’s silken folds of skin, the supple flesh warming beneath his delegating touch as she arched against him, already seeking something that only time would give, and give grudgingly at that. For Emil, despite his heavy handedness at times, was ginger in his ministrations that would shatter her placid surface and cooling emotions more than any forceful vigor would, given time.

Faint images again filled her moments of droopy eyed pleasure, but the portrait wasn’t gruesome as it was before. Ever-changing visions of skin and silk and thorns of a rose overwhelmed her as she felt the dagger-like edge of his tongue plunge into her depths, coaxing cries that could be heard over the restless shifting of Lucifer and the battering force of rain that had again picked up against the paper-thin pane of glass that separated their sanctuary from the vindictive world outside.

“Oh, my Emil...only you could find this softness and light among a dark world of sharp corners....”

 

[darrenfate]

Emil felt her reticence her muscles slightly tensed, holding back. Chavi's body was a truth teller of her mind in that it reflected perfectly her inner thoughts. And now her body was telling Emil that she had her doubts, her fears were just below the surface.

Ahhh, Emil thought but what a surface! Her skin now cooled in the bedroom air was smooth and alive, covered with thousands of miniscule bumps brought out from the chilly air. Emil had evaded her reaching for him thus far, so still fully clothed from the waist down, he continued.

As his tongue darted in, out, and around sweetness Emil was completely lost in the sensations that cascaded over his body. First and foremost, Chavi tasted of an almost indescribable sexually charged feast. Erotic too was her scent, musky and pheromone laden, the smell drew Emil as surely as the bee is drawn to the primrose. With Chavi on her back, Emil's hands now lifted her up to his mouth by placing his hands underneath her buttocks and raising her entire lower body. All Emil’s senses were now fully engaged, sight, smell, taste, and touch at satisfied by her.

Gradually, inexorably, Chavi began to relax her body growing more and more compliant to Emil, wanting him more and more. Emil undeterred by her slow pace, he inwardly relished that they had found a rhythm that fit them. Chavi's legs now akimbo, opened them wider and wider by her own desire. Suddenly, the first wave of an orgasm swept over Chavi, almost electrically shaking her entire body from head to toe. In its aftermath, Chavi feebly tried to push Emil's face away, yet he resisted. Chavi built again, much faster this time until another shock roared through her body. Yet again, Emil continued. Over and over, sometimes gently, sometimes quickly, as she needed, Emil's tongue brought Chavi to intense, explosive orgasms. Finally, Emil rose, Chavi's pupils now were absurdly large as if drug induced, as she struggled to comport herself. Emil laid next to her, and holding her then spoke.

"Tonight, we have laid aside the reality beyond, for this night we are one" and with that Chavi leaned to kiss him, ever so softly, and spoke ....

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Emil’s lashing caresses and tongue-soaked pleasures had Chavi lost in the moment again and again, head thrown back and tongue wetting her dry lips. Her throat was raw from silent screams and there was an almost constant ache at the apex of her thighs where teeth and lips had ground out the crescendi and blissful shudders of climax. Finally relenting his assault, Emil returned to her side, never breaking their closeness and intimate touches.

Caught in the candlelight his angular face returned some of it’s lost softness, capturing her imagination as he reminded her somehow of a tragic, yet beautiful, star-crossed lover. He paused his tirade of kisses over her collarbone, a teasing smile on his lips as he drew a rough, denim-clad knee between her legs, wondering idly why she fixed him with such an intense gaze.

Catching her breath and looking demurely away, Chavi reached for the bottle of cognac raising it directly to her lips and drinking. Raising herself onto her knees beside Emil, she draped both arms around his neck, opening her mouth to his tongue. Purring softly as he drank from the crimson goblet of her lips and slowly licked her mouth clean, she ran her fingers over her previously inflicted scratches. Tracing the crisscrossed lines of red down his chest, she found the clasp on his pants, working them open with a more gentle hand, obliging him with a less ferocious approach than that used to strip him of his shirt.

Pushing herself on top of him, the glint of unsatiated hunger still flickering in her shadowy eyes, she growled deep in her throat. Punctuating this guttural sound with another kiss, no longer soft and sweet but harsh and tearing, she spoke in a low voice that blended with the metallic chiming of the rain.

“I do want you so...”

 

[darrenfate]

The time for words had ended. The time for the satisfaction of long dormant physical desires was at hand. Without another word, Emil pushed upwards entering Chavi. Emil, with that single long upward thrust buried his cock in Chavi to its hilt. Suddenly, Emil held Chavi shoulders down while she was spilt asunder and fully impaled upon his manhood. Emil wanted this first moment to last. As if in tribute to this milestone, a brilliant white streak of lightning lit the room up, the walls revealing handpainted murals of a myriad of people places and things. This was followed immediately by a clap of thunder so loud that Lucifer jumped from his gilded cage in a rare display of disquiet.

Instead of being able to focus totally on this spicy exotic creature above him, Emil flashed back to his life's story over the past year. How happy and content he had been! The grand party, the drinks, the friends, and the laughter of that fateful night replayed in his mind in an instant. Chasing Celia out to the car, jumping in beside her, too drunk to drive. Celia gunning the car out of the chateau, flying down the road too fast, too fast! The curve not made, the air, the sickening silence. Emil had awakened from his momentary blackout to find his dear Celia's blood in his eyes and on his hands. Yes, he thought grimly, on his hands in more ways than one. He had watched as her very life drained from her body and left her eyes. If only if only Arghhhhh!! Emil shook his head as if to rid himself of this past memory, but Emil knew that though he may banish it for a while, he would carry that night with him forever in his mind's eye. A single tear slid down his pained face.

With a physical jolt, Emil willed himself back to the present, back to Chavi. He turned his face to the side to hide the wet weakness trickling down his cheek. With a surge of lust and renewed rage at the fates, Emil began to pump Chavi wildly. Her breasts now began bouncing up and down out of synch with the rest of her. She was intoxicating in her mysteriousness, and dazzling in her simple exotic beauty. He wanted her thoroughly and totally in every way. Having her on top was just the start ...

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Perched upon him, grinding heatedly in time to the ebb and flow of the intensity of the storm, Chavi studied his face fixedly in the dusky light. Emil seemed like a man drowning yet not caring, his eyes open yet not seeing. Struggling to break the surface of this heavy burden of memories that weighed him down, a tear slipped down his cheek. Turning away from her, Chavi fought the urge to kiss his cheek tenderly and lick the salty despair from his skin. Instead, she pretended it was only, in fact, from the long nails she had embedded in his shoulders, pulling him towards her as her guardian, her savior.

The temptation of his one finger, tracing slowly down her spine, was overwhelming. Her single gasping moan as she shuddered to orgasm against him spoke volumes. Chiefly, a singular carnal reaction to Emil, but a cry for a lost lover whom had shared these intimacies with her a thousand times before, and the shattering of a once-strong resolve to never love or be loved again.

Relaxed, she bent her supple form to his, laying her cheek in the crook of his neck. Encircling her head flowed long locks of hair, tickling his chest each time she moved. Breathing deeply, her heart calmed and her raspy breaths slowed as she enjoyed him stetching and filling her and the echoing beats of his heart.

 

[darrenfate]

Emil knew that Chavi had seen his momentary faltering, and yet if anything she became softer in her bearing, more eager to please him. Her long black hair seemed everywhere, the scent of the lavender from her bath rose from her every pore with intoxicating results. Emil began to get fully aroused. Over and over he plunged into her, faster and faster, higher and higher she rode him.

Without withdrawing from her, Emil stood and reversed positions, with Chavi's back firmly on the bed. Emil's heart beat strong still, this time from passion not lost love. They found a pace and a motion that pleased them both, an experience all new lovers share. Emil's desire was peaking, Chavi utterly compliant as if she were an extension of his own body. He stopped feeling where he left off and she began - so entwined were they in each other's bodies.

Still, he sensed Chavi wanted more from him just then, something he had physically yet to give her. He whispered in her ear "What do you desire? " Chavi gasped at his connection to her, the mere fact that he even knew of a secret yearning stunned her. With a cryptic smile, she leaned forward and told him what to do ....

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Chavi could sense Emil's hesitation and although his lustful strokes were undeniably pleasurably, she only desired that his mask be thrown off and the true demon lurking somewhere in him to be revealed. He fell into a rhythm, stretching her as he showered her in tiny kisses and nibbles, making it almost impossible for her to think or do anything much more than moan softly and concentrate on him.

Closing her eyes, she could tell he held himself in check, reining in his carnal tendencies as if unsure yet enticed by the thought of her delicate features twisted in shrieks somewhere in that happy medium between searing pain and overwhelming pleasure. He too was intrinsic by nature, perceptive as she sometimes to the details and oddities of human nature, for they were not merely joined physically, him embedded in her, but each sigh spoke volumes and the slightest shift in pitch foretold of their greatest desires.

"Don't hold back, my sweet..."

It was not only the roughness she craved, but to taste his darker side that she had had revealed to her through his most vivid memories and almost palatable thoughts. Gentleness and a firm and loving hand may be all that some women needed to feel fulfilled, but Chavi was a fickle creature. Running her tongue over his mouth, she pulled at his lower lip with her teeth until he bled slightly, relishing the coppery taste as she moved her canine ministrations to his neck. Whispering with a teasing laugh, the heady tone of castanets playing under its silvery facade, she bit harder to emphasize her point.

"I promise you...I won't break..."