The Heartstone (Closed)

[Elbigirid]

Reserved for the incomparable PearlNecklace


A mirror turned in place, reflecting the same woman in a thousand different forms.

The writer Jorge Luis Borges saw this place in a fraction of a vision, and called it the Aleph: the place from which all other places could be seen, distinct yet co-located. It was Mill's Panopticon, the gaol of unbounded observation, where one watcher could see the entire span of the world, yet be imprisoned by her omniscience. It was Lovecraft's throne-room of Azathoth, at once the centre and ultimate extremity of the universe. It was the borders of Fantasia, the quantifiable limits of reality surrounded by the infinity of imagination.

Shown within the glass was a curved sliver of ruby on a gold chain. It was a jewel necklace in the shape and symbolism of a heart, twirling and twinkling in the light. It reflected more light than struck it, seemingly filled with fire.

Is it done? asked Venus. Her toga glistened like snow in the reflection, her skin like ivory.

The mirror turned. Yes, said Hathor, tawny beneath her queenly garb.

Branwen's reflection tossed its auburn locks. Will it be enough?

Aphrodite smiled, reaching out to hook a finger through the chain.

Blond and stern, Freya answered Branwen's query. It must. Our time is coming to an end, sisters. They will no longer have us to watch over them, by their own choice.

P'an Chin-lien continued, her silk robe shining like rose petals. We will leave them this gift, this Heartstone, to ensure that love blooms where it should, and that passion and pleasure follow.

The Goddesses of Love reached out as one, taking the Heartstone in their hands. Together, they reached into the mirror, and sent the crimson necklace tumbling away into the darkness, a final benediction to an ungrateful race of children.

Where did it fall? Who picked it up? That is a long, long tale. Suffice to say, it has adorned many breasts in its time: it hung at Cleopatra's neck, and against the throat of Helen of Troy. Lisa Gherardini wore the Heartstone when Leonardo da Vinci painted her portrait, though he later erased it. Around Wallis Simpson's throat, it helped bring about the abdication of Edward VIII.


But we are not telling that tale today. Instead, let us look to the present. The Heartstone lies, dusty and all but forgotten on the shelf of the Golden Cornucopia, itself a dusty and almost forgotten antiques shop. Surrounded by old chests of draws, standing lamps, faded tapestries, claw-footed tables and luxuriously upholstered chairs, no-one had worn the necklace for a long time. Nevertheless, people often remarked on the nearly seventy-year marriage of the old couple that owned and ran the shop, which seemed as strong, loving and romantic as ever.

The bell above the door added a querulous note to the warm tones of I Can't Help Falling In Love With You coming from the old gramophone. A young woman stepped into the Golden Cornucopia, looking around the age-subdued furniture appreciatively.

 

[PearlNecklace]

Elizabeth Fuller.
Single, never been married.
25 years old.
Head Teacher of a Childcare.
5'6 in height. With long red hair, often worn in a ponytail and blue green eyes that were a mirror to her feelings. Creamy white skin and hour glass curves she does her best to hide behind jeans and tshirt, her kind of unofficial uniform.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<@>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked past the quaint looking store many times, it was on my route to work. I usually had a million things on my mind. Supplies we needed to buy. How was I going to talk to little Jeffery Andrews mother about his biting other children? How many staff would be off sick today? Just where was an Octopus' mouth? But today was different. I'd taken the day off work, potentially the whole week. Childcare is more than just changing diapers and entertaining children and I was getting burnt out.

So this morning as I walked past 'Golden Cornucopia' I saw no need to merely glance in the window and wish I had time to go inside. I was out shopping, enjoying the day off and today I was actually going inside. I open the door carefully, wondering how many visitors it had each day and smiling as I hear the strains of music and the warning of a bell.

Looking around the store no one is immediately visible, its run by an older couple and I'm sure they're busy. I begin to walk down one of the aisles, my hands lightly touching gorgeous antique vases, feeling the fabric on upholstered chairs or the varnish of solid wood furniture.

As I progress towards the back of the store a shelf with scarves and hats draws my attention. Smiling to myself I begin to try them on, looking in the mirror provided as I do. I laugh and smile with appreciation as each hat or scarf changes my appearance. Fingers tracing the lace and or flowers used in decoration. Scattered amongst the scarves is pieces of jewellery, brooches and pendants. I shuffle through them, admiring the detail. As I do I see a glint of gold, the shimmer of something red. Reaching out I find a thin gold chain, pulling it off the shelf it further reveals a ruby in the shape of a heart.

I gasp softly, my hands once more tracing the contours of the pendant in my hand. I'm sure its out of my price range but I have to know. I move carefully through the store to the front counter, ringing the bell to call for assistance.

 

[Elbigirid]

Elizabeth wanders the store in a subtle ecstasy of touch. The solidity of mahogany; the smooth, cool roundness of glazed pottery; the dirty but silky feeling of dust on glass; the alternating smooth-rough of worn velvet under her fingers (like a lover's cheek and stubble, she thought glumly, realising how long it had been since she felt that). It seems like she has hours to whyle away just looking at old beautiful things, and wondering who last own them, what house they last sat in. Were they prized love-gifts and treasures, only sold once their owners moved on? Or trinkets, carelessly thrown aside?

Moving through the shop, her shoes, slightly heeled to emphasise her shapely legs, whether she wants to admit it or not, clicking on the wood floor. The bristling rows of antiques seem to gobble up every sound she makes, muffling her steps, even the sound of her breath. She comes to the clothing trove, some of it in drawers or hanging in wardrobes, other items folded neatly on shelves.

Like a chameleon, she begins to change her appearance, one piece at a time. Cotton, silk, lace, taffeta and other materials flow through her fingers like wine as this hat lets her look coyly out from under the brim; this skirt clings to her hips but lets her calves and ankles flutter out teasingly; this blouse shows her shoulders enough to prove her a commanding business woman. As each aspect of her image alters, her worries drop away. Jeffrey's unfriendly nibbling vanishes. Concerns over the mysterious anatomy of the cephalopod fade.

Then she finds the jewellery.

Overlooked cogs in the machinery of fate click into place.

From out of the pile of costume tiaras and earrings, she retrieves the cardioform gemstone, her hand almost drawn to it of its own accord. The chain loops easily around her fingers (the links... are they Möbius strips? she ponders, seeing the odd way it twists), the stone hanging from her hand, glittering like blood in the firelight. She touches it; the ruby is warm.

Elizabeth idles her way to the desk, tucked away behind the spines of old novels. A little brass hand-bell sits by the ledger-book that records the income and expenses of the shop, as well as which goods have been brought in and sold - no cash register in the Golden Cornucopia. She rings, and waits, her thumb following the valves of the heart-shaped necklace. Glancing around the dim interior of the shop, Elizabeth found that no-one was watching her; only a little statuette of a preening cat observed. She stepped towards a full length mirror, watching the way her rich, auburn locks swished, the contrast of the ruby against her skin.

Daring, she held it to her throat, shifting the neckline of her dress aside to let it rest against her décolletage. Again, it felt warm on her skin... Elizabeth bit down on a gasp as a hot flush passed through her, seeming to ignite the flesh of her breasts and belly, making her arms and legs tingle, her fingers and toes curl in delight and then fade, leaving only the lingering echoes of gentle pleasure.

"Some people say that a redhead should never wear ruby..." a gentle, creaking voice says behind her. In the reflection, Elizabeth sees a small, smiling woman, lively and kind despite being in her late eighties at least. "But they're wrong. It looks as good on you as I've ever seen, dear."

 

[PearlNecklace]

I can't help but smile at the kind looking lady in the mirror. "Thank you Ma'am." I say softly, watching the ruby splash gentle rays of red over my chest. I look around, not recalling seeing any rays of sunlight coming into the store. Wondering how it could possibly be glowing like that.

I blush as I look down at the dress I'm wearing. "I'm sorry. I was trying on a few of your clothes." I laugh softly as I look at my tshirt and jeans under the dress. "I rarely get the chance to dress up." I move my hips from side to side, watching the dress sway against my body.

My hand rests back on the ruby, looking in the mirror to admire it once more. "Could you tell me how much this is please? I'm sure it is out of my price range but I seem to have fallen in love with it." My hand runs down my torso, feeling the fabric of the dress beneath my fingertips. "And the dress also. Its also too beautiful to pass up."

 

[Elbigirid]

The woman smiles, helping you do up the clasp around your neck. "Yes, I remember that feeling when I first saw it." She steps back, tottering towards the desk. "As for how much it is? Let me check..."

The old dear goes to her ledger-book, thumbing back through the pages. Eventually, she opens the book all the way to the first, yellowing page, and runs her fingers up the columns, until she comes to the first entry. You wonder; does that mean the ruby necklace was the first thing the Golden Cornucopia ever had in stock?

"Let me see..." she balances reading glasses on her nose, peering at the ancient script that looks like it was written with a quill pen. "Ahh, yes... 'the Heartstone'."

She looks up at you, smiling. "I remember when John and I first got that little treasure. It was just before the War... '35." Her grey eyes mist over in memory. "There was a gypsy fair. So much laughter, so many colours. John was courting me, so we danced with the gypsies to their tambourines and violins. Later, I remember we ate sugared apples and played a shell-game with one of them. I never thought we;d win, of course..." she laughs musically. "Aren't all carnival games fixed? But John whispered something to the man, and he picked the right shell... and there it was." She reaches across the desk, stroking the necklace with one finger. "Such a pretty thing... and the wonders it worked." She smiles enigmatically. "I agreed to marry John that very year. He looked so handsome in his uniform. I'm just grateful that God brought him back to me, after the War, and gave as seventy wonderful years together, and counting."

She smiles. "It never cost me a cent, dear, but it brought so much joy into our lives. I think... it came to us as a gift from that kind Roma man. I can't in good conscience charge you anything for it. I want you to take it, with my blessings."

Her tone changes, becoming businesslike, with a tinge of mirth. "The dress costs twenty-five dollars."

 

[PearlNecklace]

I glance in the mirror over her shoulder one last time and consider the dress. The deep V of the neckline is daring but I doubt I'll wear it in public so its of no real concern to me. The thin straps at my shoulders feel as light as air. The slight shimmer to the fabric makes me feel like a princess. It ends in the middle of my calves, flaring from the hip downwards.

"I'll take it please." I say with a smile, opening my backpack and finding my wallet. Counting out the correct money and offering it to her. As she records the transaction I carefully undo the zip at the side and slip out of it. Folding it carefully and placing it in my backpack.

The woman hands me a hand written receipt, smiling as I close my bag.

 

[Elbigirid]

"I hope you like them both, dear!" the woman calls out cheerfully as the door jangles shut behind you.

An old man, his hair white and thin shuffled out of the back room, smiling at her. "So, that's that then, Dorothy." He approached her, his hand reaching out to take hers in a gentle squeeze.

She smiled back. "Oh, John. It feels good to set the cycle in motion again, doesn't it?" He moved closer, and they kissed.

A little while after, his voice came, hesitant. "Were you... ever afraid that once we lost the Heartstone things might.... change? That we'd stop..." He left the question hanging.

Dorothy's silvery head lay against his shoulder, and she smiled. "No, love. Never."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<@>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elizabeth emerged into the city's streets. The contrast from the time-lost silence of the Golden Cornucopia to the bustle, blaring traffic and arguing pedestrians makes it seem like walking into a storm. Faces and bodies loom like waves out of the crowd, and the voices on cellphones or shouting across the street are like a wind. Her steps feel oddly light as she moves around the rest of her day in the city. Her feet seem to skate across the ground, and there is the scent of something always in her nose... roses? Oranges? It's intoxicating, but somewhat mystifying, even annoying.... where could it be coming from?

She browses more shops, picking out a few accessories that accentuate the new dress, just for the fun of it. At a pavement café she stops for lunch, enjoying a mocha and panini, watching the people pass by, letting the sunlight wash over her. The Heartstone seems especially warm as it rests between her breasts, and the chain is cool against her neck.

Her day passes pleasantly. At any rate, a maze of buses eventually leads her back to her home, a block of flats overlooking a quiet, tree-lined street just off the central business district. Just as Elizabeth steps off the doorplate and the bus pulls away, she collides with someone. There's a grunt from the collide-ee and a yelp from the collide-er. As she bounces off, a bag of groceries bursts, scattering cans and fresh vegetables over the ground. Startled, she looks up.

He's as tall as her imagination, with shoulders as strong as a promise. His brown-blond hair flows rakishly around his strong features, just long enough to make her want to run her hands through it. His lips, surrounded by a haze of stubble, curl into a surprised smile.

 

[PearlNecklace]

I gasp as I land on my ass on the pavement, groceries scattered around me. It takes me amoment to decide if they're mine or the person I've bumped into. Looking up I gasp once more. My dream man, the one I fantasise about in my most private moments is standing over me. Not just that, he isn't mad or frowning but giving me the endearing smile I'd lusted after in many a late night dream.

I look to him once, then twice. Finally giving into the urge to run my fingers over eyes and face, as if to wake myself up. Finding hes still standing there I smile up shyly. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going and now I've spilt your groceries on the floor.

I begin to gather up the vegetables and cans, brushing dirt off the carrots and apples and gathering them back into the brown bag they escaped from. As I bend t pick them up the ruby hangs freely from my neck, bouncing against my chest as I lean forward and back to pick up the fruit. Still not quite able to make eye contact with my handsome dream man.

 

[Elbigirid]

"Hey, no..." he says, his voice a deep, chocolate sound. "Are you okay?"

He drops into a crouch, helping you gather up the groceries. Your fingers brush several times, each one seeming to set up an arc of electricity between you. With the last can of puréed tomatoes back in the bag, his hand rests against your shoulder. "Are you okay?" he repeats, grey eyes on your blue-green ones.

 

[PearlNecklace]

"Only a bruised ego." I say with a smile, looking into his eyes for only a moment. The compulsion to stare into their depths and never look away is so strong that I have to look away.

The groceries are all gathered up and I really have no need to continue to sit on the floor. Brushing dust off my legs I slowly stand, blushing as I straighten up. "I'm truly sorry I bumped into you. I just didn't see you. I was in my own world I suppose." I dust the back off my jeans off as I speak, straightening myself up as I reach for my bag. "I should give you some money, to replace the groceries I've ruined?"

 

[Elbigirid]

"Please let me," he smiles, his eyes lighting up silver as his lips bow. He stands, cradling the torn bag awkwardly against his chiseled muscles.

"Must've been some world," he continues, chuckling warmly as you trip over your tongue explaining yourself.

"Money? No, I won't hear of it. Nothing's ruined." His head leans handsomely to the side for a moment, thoughtful. "If you want to repay me, though... would you, ahhh, like to have dinner with me tonight?" He colours minutely, seemingly in excitement more than embarrassment.

 

[PearlNecklace]

I feel myself blush brightly as he offers to have dinner with me. Me? Liz? The quiet, shy one. I bite my lip as I consider refusing but then almost without meaning to I'm nodding my head and smiling at him. "I'd really like that."

Even as I wonder why accepted I'm offering my hand. "I'm Elizabeth. You can call me Liz though." Smiling once more at the handsome man I've encountered on many a hot, steamy night alone in bed.

 

[Elbigirid]

He shifts the load of groceries, embracing your hand in his. "I'm Bryce." He flashes you a smile of his own, one that makes the butterflies nesting in your belly quite giddy. "Great. I'd like that too. I, ah, mean, obviously." His expression turns attractively rueful, self-deprecating.

"I'd invite you to my place." he jerks his chin at the apartment block across the street - just opposite mine, you think - "and offer to cook for you, use up some of these," he glances down at the bag. "But maybe, for a first date, it's more appropriate if we go to a restaurant."

 

[PearlNecklace]

I bite my lip as I listen to him speak and shake my head "Who deems something appropriate? If you're giving me a choice I'd rather eat in your home than go out to a restaurant. Its far more intimate and I'd prefer it."

I smile up at him, once more wondering where this bold move came from then. But then is it really boldness or just that I'm speaking my mind for a change? "You, you don't have to? I don't want you to be uncomfortable." I find myself quickly adding.

I stand there, wondering if he'll decide I'm really some insane person and he was wrong ot invite me. My mind raving over all the possibilities. "I mean, we could eat at my place if you'd rather not go to yours. Or we could go to a restaurant or maybe we could just forget about it?" I feel colour flooding my cheeks yet again as I look to the ground. This is the Elizabeth I know. The one that talks at a million words per second when shes nervous, usually stopping herself by putting her foot in her mouth!

I look to the ground, awaiting the rejection that is no doubt coming..

 

[Elbigirid]

Bryce looks startled, but thrilled at your counter-offer. "Hah, yeah... intimate..." He pauses for a heartbeat. "No, I'd really like that, too." His smile broadens, and his hand seems to linger on yours for a moment before he retracts it to snatch at a can of pears that drops from the bag.

"So, where do you live? Should I come and pick you up, or would you prefer to make your way to my... oh, it's flat 216, by the way." He shuffles his feet, eyes still on you... though they suddenly widen, as if brushed by panic. For a moment, Liz's heart turns to a ball of ice, quite in contrast to the fiery necklace hanging against her skin. She worries that, as her paranoid fears suggested he's changed his mind... but his next words confirm that he hasn't. "Are you allergic to anything? What, ahhh, should I prepare?"

Even nervous, his voice strikes that particular note that can make a woman's knees tremble.

 

[PearlNecklace]

I feel my heart beat faster as his eyes widen. I have to stop myself from shrinking back in preparation to run away. But then he asks if I'm allergic ot anything and I feel myself sigh with relief. Smiling brightly I shake my head "No allergies and what you prepare is your choice. But if it was me cooking for you, I'd cook the thing I did best. So I could properly impress you!"

I wink at him once more, feeling more at ease with him. More like my real self, the person my kids and colleagues see daily but rarely anyone else, especially strangers. I place my hand on his arm and turn him, pointing to the apartment building across the street from his.

"Thats my building. I can walk acropss the road to you, don't worry about picking me up. Tell me what time and what I can bring, because I'll have to bring something or I'll feel bad." I smile up at him, admiring the way the sunlight lights up his hair. I have to clench my hand into a fist to resist the urge to slide it up his arm and into his hair. Just to feel the texture of it.

 

[Elbigirid]

He smiles. "The best thing I can cook. I'll be sure to do that, then."

You feel the hairs on his arm goosebump as you rest your hand on them, the muscles moving under his skin. Bryce turns to look, grinning in pleasant surprise. "I'd say that that was an astonishing coincidence, but given that we ran into each other essentially right outside our doors, it's not that surprising. Let's just call it a regular coincidence."

He glances at you, and you can imagine his eyes unwrapping the clothes you use to hide yourself. Better, you can imagine his warm, sure hands doing the same. "No, make that a happy coincidence."

"Perhaps you could bring a salad? Does Six O'Clock suit you?"

 

[PearlNecklace]

I glance at my watch. Its only just past 3 o'clock. That should be enough time to make a salad and get dolled up.

I nod my head, smiling up at him. "Sure, 6 is fine by me, if it is by you." I smile as I pick up my backpack and put it on. "See you later on Bryce." I say softly, tucking a lock of hair that escaped my ponytail back behind my ear. I take a step away then hesitate. "What kind of salad would go best with your meal? A green salad?"

I stand a few feet away, looking back at the handsome stranger from my fantasises, still half expecting him to laugh at me and tell me it's all a joke.

 

[Elbigirid]

His expressive lips bow upwards, somewhat mutely as you brush your hair back. As Bryce leans back under the loose weight of his groceries, you wonder what he could be smiling at, what has so caught and kept his attention rapt. Then you realise:

You.

The Heartstone glimmers warmly where it rests against your chest. As enchanted rubies go, it feels pretty smug.

“Yeah,” he says at last, the word coming out with an explosive release of breath; almost a sigh, but bereft of sadness. “A green salad'd be great... Elizabeth. Ahhh, Liz.”

He likewise takes a few steps towards the door to his block of flats. He glances up at it, then wistfully back at you. “I said 216, right?” Bryce clears his throat. “Well, ahhh, I'll see you later, then?” his deep voice both excited and hopeful.

 

[PearlNecklace]

"Yes Bryce, you said 216. See you in a few hours, with a green salad." I smile at him once more, blowing him a kiss and then walking down the street to the traffic lights so I can cross to my own apartment.

As I walk I ponder what I'll wear tonight, thinking over all the option in my wardrobe. Then it occurs to me, the new dress. I didn't think I'd have anywhere to wear it to but this seems perfect. I smile as I let myself into the building and take the stairs up to my place.

I dump my belongings on the couch and head straight to the kitchen to prepare the salad. It can sit in the fridge while I prepare myself. Getting a bowl I place the lettuce in and other vegetables, humming as I pour dressing over the top. Croutons and a little cheese are the last step before I cover it and put it in the refrigerator with a smile.

Quickly going to the bathroom I run a bath, lighting candles and pouring bath oil into it. I haven't felt this excited about a date in a while. I'm not even sure I’ve been on a date like this. A few blind dates and a couple of group dates but I've always felt completely incompetent. Tonight I feel the opposite, confident, self-assured and it’s a heady feeling. It feels fantastic.

I quickly get out of my jeans and t-shirt, placing them in the laundry hamper. Assessing my body in the mirror I feel almost beautiful, my full breasts and too large hips seem today, to just be a lovely hourglass figure. I run my hands over my torso, caressing my stomach and cupping my breasts. I smile as I wonder what tonight with bring, and find myself blushing as I wonder what Bryce’s hands would feel like on my breasts instead of my own. Shaking my head to clear the thought out I step into the water and lie down.

After all my pampering is completed, once I'm clean and dressed I look in the mirror one last time. The electric blue dress hugs my body as if it were made for me, close fitting at my breasts, the v-neck just low enough to hint at what’s hidden there. It hugs my body to my hips then flairs out into a full skirt that ends just past my knees. I feel feminine and gorgeous; my legs seem longer though the slight heel of my strappy silver sandals helps that. Adding a touch of silver to my eyelids and a little bit of pink to my lips, my hair left out around my shoulders to fall in waves I feel as if I could do anything.

Picking up the salad and my bag I lock up my apartment and make my way down onto the street. The necklace hasn't left my neck but now feels as if it’s a part of me, no longer a heavy weight. Finding Bryce’s apartment I feel the flutter of butterflies in my stomach but excitement about what the evening might hold is more prominent. Knocking on the door I smile to myself, waiting for him to answer.

 

[Elbigirid]

Hot DAMN!

His mind clouded by the subtle perfume of Liz's body and hair, Bryce staggered back towards his block of flats, moving on muscle memory rather than conscious will. It was like she had painted herself on him... the ivory velvet of her skin, the auburn silk waterfall of her hair, eye of turquoise perfection... and her body!. She imagined that he could still see her, hear her, so surprisingly intense was the memory. He revelled in it.

The feel of wood and plastic as his hand bumped into the entry buzzer brought him back to the mundane world. Pushing the door open with his rump, Bryce climbed the stairs with a long-legged swagger, only made slightly uneven by the precarious weight of loose groceries. He reached his own door and, with a sigh, realised he'd never get it open while loaded down. Setting his burden on the floor, he unlocked the door and picked it all up again as he went inside.

Bryce apartment was simple in lay out: a short hallway lead from the door into the large lounge and adjoining kitchen. To the left, as one entered, were the doors to the master and guest bedrooms, and near them the toilet and bathroom. Most of the hall's walls were taken up with photographs of thoughtful, smiling, or mid-game cricketers, rugby players, netballers and other athletes, along with a few framed articles. On one shelf, along with various photos of Bryce with friends and family that look to have been taken overseas, a TP McLean Award for sports journalism. The décor of the rooms beyond was understated - a simply patterned carpet with polished boards around it, comfy leather sofas and chairs, the walls mostly bare bricks with a few paintings and shelves to break up the monotony. In one corner, a computer and peripherals sit n a desk under the window.

As he files away his provisions, Bryce's mind races a mile a minute. Okay... so I've gone from No Plans For The Evening to Date With A Mysterious, Beautiful Stranger in about thirty seconds flat. If this is your way of making up for all that shit you pulled on me before, God... it's working. He shook his head. It'd been a long time - by some people's standards - since he'd had a girlfriend, and the few dates, mostly arranged through friends, hadn't amounted to much. Talk about jumping back in at the deep end... he thought, as wistful images of the red-haired girl and her sparkling blue-green eyes danced before his eyes. His steel-coloured eyes took on a thousand yard stare as visions of the way her legs moved as they walked away - oh, how he wished that direction had been reversed - filled his mind. When his forehead bumped against the door of the above-sink cupboard, he remembered where he was, and that time was pressing. "Okay, right..." Bryce mused.

What do you cook for the most beautiful woman you've ever seen?

"But if it was me cooking for you, I'd cook the thing I did best. So I could properly impress you!"

You heard the lady, mate.

"Too early to start cooking it... but I can get it out to defrost, peel some spuds and shallots..." he said absently as he moved about the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<@>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bryce wiped steam off the mirror and examined his face. A towel was wrapped around his narrow hips and lean waist, with a broad, muscular chest sculpted by half a dozen different sports rising from it. Pale hair tangled between his pectorals. He reached for the razor and daubed a handful of cream across his 5 o'clock shadow, quickly slicing it off. The bite of the blade against his skin makes him think of finger nails, clawing at him in passion... and that made him think of the woman (the woman... because there could be no others, now... he could want no other, now), looking more glamorous than any model in her everyday clothes. And that made something twitch tumescently against his thigh.

Settle down, he thought crossly.

A few minutes later he was changing into tidy, designer jeans and buttoning up a white long-sleeved shirt. He combed his hair perfunctorily, and dabbed on a touch of aftershave. As he sat on the sofa, slipping into his shoes, he heard the timer on the gas stove clatter to him, indicating thinks were reaching a gustatory climax.

It was at that moment the door bell rang.

Hopping up, he strode to the door and slowly opened it. Smiling as he looked down, he saw...

A vision in lightning... Every sense (save taste and touch... but, God willing, they won't be denied later...) tells him that she's a woman: generous curves in all the right places, the contrast of rich coppery hair against lilly skin and the vivid, exquisitely chosen dress. The tiny silver lines of make up, applied judiciously to enhance, not cover or dominate her lovely face. The smell of her... how a woman should smell, like fresh milk in a field of wildflowers in summer. The sound of her voice as she says "Hi," sweet and musical.

The noise of his own, sounding brutish and embarrassing to his ears as he greets her in reply and stands back, holding the door open for her. Bryce swallowed, but smiled. God, this woman was so beautiful and graceful

 

[PearlNecklace]

Watching him step to the side the first thing I notice about Bryce is he's changed. His clothes are different and he smells so good. I step into the apartment, smiling up at him as I do, stopping just inside the door and looking up at his face.

Not quite knowing what else to say in that moment I hold up the cloth bag I'm holding. Inside is the Salad I'd made earlier, a container of homemade chocolate brownies I'd added at the last moment and a bttle of wine from the wine shop I had to pass to get to his house.

Looking to the bag and then into his eyes I smile. "The salad, to hopefully compliment whatever that delicious smell is. A little something for dessert and a little something more to get you drink so I might have my wicked way with you."

Laughing softly I give Bryce the bag, winking as I begin to move down the hallway, intrigued by the photos on the walls. Not to mention a little embarrassed that I blurted out the very thing I didn't want to.

 

[Elbigirid]

"Here, let me..." he says with a smile that seems, incongruously, confident and a touch shy all at once. Bryce takes the bag, his fingers brushing yours for a moment longer than strictly necessary. "So, you found your way here alright, then?" God, that was dumb. She's a grown woman (and very well developed), Bryce! She can walk across the road without aid! he silently berates himself.

Clearing his throat as she moves down the hall, he glances in the bag. "Mm, that looks crisp and tasty. It'll go great with the béarnaise butter steaks. And brownies... yum. And..." he looks up, startled, at her salacious suggestion of what the wine's for. Damn. Did she really just say that? His manhood shifts slightly against the denim, testing its limitations. She must've been joking. Must have been. "That's good... I just realised, all I've got is Château Cardboard."

Whoo, boy.

He slings the bag over his shoulder, and follows her, his mouth watering for more than just the food, now. "Make yourself at home, please." As she looks at the photos, he tears his eyes away from the curve of her shoulders and back as she leans over.

"Some of these are work, and some are personal." He laughs, shortly. "Though sometimes I wonder what the difference is, recently." Bryce moves next to her, and points a few of them out. "That's a photo I took of Ian Thorpe at the Commonwealth games... that one's Jonah Lomu, pre-game... I always thought he looked kind of thoughtful, there. And this one's Colin Meads, of course."

Bryce pauses, glancing at her. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to sound like I was name dropping," he grins.

 

[PearlNecklace]

I laugh softly at the make yourself at home comment. Turning my head to look over my shoulder at Bryce I wink "Ahhh, so I can walk around in my underwear and turn the music up loudly."

Biting my lip I carry on studying the photos, recognising faces in some cases but not knowing names. Except for the more well known ones that he names. "Wow. So what do you do for a living that you'd get to meet so many people Bryce? And do you think you can convince Jonah to come visit my kids?"

Turning to look up into his eyes, I can't help but measure the distance between us, the differences in our heights and consider how I'd have to stretch to kiss his lips. He answers but I don't hear him. Lost in the thoughts of kissing him I have to ask him to repeat. "Pardon?" Light colouring floods my cheeks as I look at his lips and wonder if he realised why I didn't hear him.

 

[Elbigirid]

He chuckles at your suggestion. "If you do that, I'd have to join you!"

Bryce glances down, and sees you staring at him with that peculiar (hungry?) intensity. For a moment, he wonders what she's pondering... but such meta-thoughts are forgotten as he considers the full curve of her lips. The way they part, ever so slightly as she breaths, glistening like two dew-covered petals... After a moment, he shakes himself. "I'm a sport's journalist, by trade. I find athletes, interview and photograph them, consider the state of the game and report on competitions. But, ahh..."

He pauses, then continue on a different track: "So, come in. Dinner's almost ready." He moves his arm, ushering his astonishingly lovely guest in.