*wallflower*

[Guest]

Deep into the hazy, mist scented night, her china doll face flickering in the glow of a dozen chinese lanterns.
Ocea clings to a glass of champagne and presses into a damp couch, a mouldy residue left from sticky alcohol. The air is warm, shifting through a copse of prickly grape vines that bower the corner she's unconsciously drawn herself into. The night star breaks through the pattern of green and gold leaves, drawing her clear gaze upward, parting lashes thick and dark, dilating pupils and making her smile in a picture of innocence. The baby of the party, the youngest, the only girl with virginity still intact and romantic notions still passionately held onto, written about, record and registered in pages and pages of an old musty journal.
The pages fall apart in her mind as she once again turns her lithe body toward the crowd of students, smells the smoke of their bongs, the ash of the big fire, the putrid stench of beer and cheap alcohol seeping off their clothes and out of their dread locked hair.
She wonders how she got here, how she'll get home. She wonders how warm the night will stay, if this cool wind drifting over the tarracotta bricks will continue to creep up beneath the hem of her frayed denim jeans, chaff her nipples into hardness.
She sinks even further into the sticky couch, her long red hair whips about her face and sticks onto champagne stained lips. She licks a strand off, rubs her cheek on her bare shoulder, watches the students move back and forth towards each other, and sinks into her corner waiting to be noticed.

 

[ariosto]

He is leaving, unable to take the senseless noise that has become babble or look into rose hued eyes and see mouths flapping up and down with words he doesn't want to hear.

Thanks, he tells them, great party man, no I gotta go, two paintings due tomorrow, yeah I know (laughs), good stuff Jaimie, thanks for turning me on...

He was high, it WAS good stuff, it seemed to take forever to move away, part company, leave the group...drifting to the door.

Red hair...burnt sienna, touch of crimson, shining, who's she...

"Who are you?" He asks.
She looks up.

Pretty girl

"Milky Way up there." he points, she follows his finger into the sky.

"'Hundred billion suns...Hera's milk."

You're stoned, fried....rambling. Christ.

He sits down heavily, the couch sags in. He's concious of his leg against hers...dueling denim.

"My name is Jules. I'm a painter but they still think I'm a student...how 'bout you?"




OOC...bad day to start a thread but I saw your post this morning and I do like your way with words. I'd like to join in for awhile.

 

[Guest]

Ocea turns to look at him, her sea green eyes searching his, not sure whether she welcomes his company or wants to hide from it. Theres a part of her, some small fragment thats been worn deep inside like a splinter, which has always ached to feel someone looking at her the way he looks at her. A part of her that feels ready to blossom, but hesitant to do so, afraid of the repercussions, of knowing what her body can do, what it feels like, how it fits against another.
"I'm ocea," she murmurs, and even to her own ears her voice sounds strangled, young and girlish with too much husk on the 'c'. Her lips dry, she licks them quickly and his gaze drops to her tight cupid bow.
"Why are you sitting here all by yourself?" He asks her.
She shrugs, bringing her arm up against his and sensing warm, muscle, the curves and ridges of a masculine body so different to her softness, her slim build and fragile bone structure.
"I'm tired..." she replies quietly, but when his gaze returns to her heavily lashed eyes they are bright, clear and deeply coloured. Drawn to her, the messy long red hair, the gleam of saliva on her pouting bottom lip, he reaches out and grazes the pad of his thumb on her smooth, peach coloured cheek. Immediately she flinches away from his touch, goose pimples fleck across her bare arms at the slight contact of his rough skin.
"You had something..." his words trail off, caught in his throat from the intensity of her gaze. "Hasn't anyone ever touched you before?" He asks quietly.
She doesn't reply. The night breeze stirs her hair, the champagne bubbles fizz and pop smelling sweeter than her barely perceptible perfume, but she is perfectly still. Her breathing so slight that the movement of her breasts with each inhalation hardly stirs the thin fabric of her shirt.
Trailing his gaze downward, over the snow colour curve of feminine nape, he sees that her nipples are hard, straining against white cotton, ridged from the patterns of a small lace bra, and he realises that though her silence suggests virginity, the reactions of her body to his nearness bely an unhappiness with the situation, a need that has never been sated.

 

[ariosto]

"Look." He says and takes out the sketch book he's been carrying.

He lays it down on both their laps and she feels his touch linger on her thigh.
"Look" he says again and starts turning the pages.

On the first page she sees, roughed in with sepia conté, a girl sitting nude, her legs drawn up, arms crossed over to hide her breasts. The girls hair is long, she is young. Behind her a quickly gestured shadow, a man standing behind her...over her.

"You," he says.
"She looks like you."

Jules hand shakes...he wishes he were not stoned. The girl looks at him with cat eyes...
He flips the page.

The drawn girl is standing in deep shadows, they move across her slight breasts, dip into her navel, plunge down into a valley then play out as unfinished lies and tones at the bottom of the paper.
"Didn't finish this one." he says.

Ocea runs her finger over the smudge, feeling the pebbled tooth of the paper, then she holds it up and looks at the rose brown hue she's picked up.

He reaches out and takes her hand. He kisses the finger, takes it into his warm mouth and sucks it, holds it there, meeting her eyes. She withdraws it. There is no longer a stain.

godjules...what have you done...

 

[ocea]

Ocea can feel something inside her changing. Her fingertip tingles, the blood rushing to the surface of her skin dyes it red and makes it prickle feverishly. She looks up from the glistening surface to face this man, and when she does a part of her seems to click into place. The pages in her journal flicker forth in the half-moonlight and there's nothing but a blank page. Years of seclusion, years of hermitude spent wishing and hoping for love, romance, a first kiss, a white wedding, evaporate in one single hiss and crackle of the bonfire, burnt up by the smell of his skin and the breathtaking beauty of his eyes.
She raises that fingertip, she lifts it to the rosebud perfection of her slightly swollen lips and slips the gleaming surface inside. With her tongue she gently rubs and suckles the pad of her finger and experiences it, the sweet male taste of his mouth.
He watches her eyes flutter shut, takes a deep breath as her head tilts back and the finger is dragged slowly back out of her mouth, leaving the lips glossy.
When her body turns to him, when her damp hand comes to rest upon his cheek, he can feel his heart choking. The music of the party reaches them in stilted strains matching each and every irregular heartbeat that her caress, that her rhythmic thumb stroke from temple to jaw, educes with such innocent eagerness. Her green eyes flash with gold flames, growing drugged and hazy like his own as she stroks further down his jaw and rests her thumb on his bottom lip.
"I've never seen such a pretty mouth," she murmurs, her face so close to his that he can smell the peach flavour of her champagne on her breath. "Would you..."
She doesn't finish, her eyes drop to his bottom lip and a blush of colour creeps up her cheeks. As she shrugs selfconsciously the strap on her top slips from her shoulder, exposing slender bone and pale skin, the gradual slope of a smooth, untouched breast.
Jules doesn't need her to finish, his mouth is already dropping towards hers, his breath already mingling with her own, and the first dip of his tongue between her parted lips takes his breath away.

 

[ariosto]

Exotic bird...delicate creature of warm flesh and porcelain bone...his tongue is harbored in the warmth of her mouth, gently, pressing, exploring, slow dancing with her own. The world around, shrinks to an indigo haze, unfocused and drifting. A strand of red hair moves in the corner of his vision...deep oceans surge in the long lashed eyes, that rise and fall like ravens wings. He sees the tracery of fine veins in her eyelids, he kisses out to her coral mouth and peach smooth cheeks, then up, up to the sweet arch of brow, the soft touch of her lashes on his lips.
They part...

The sketch book has fallen to the tiled floor, it's pages flutter in the night wind. The girl is there still and now the tall man is with her, touching her...charcoal hands on charcoal flesh.

Julian's fingers tracing fine articulations of pearly skinned shoulders, they move light as starshine down and over her breasts. She sighs and arches up and he feels her fill his hands. Her stiffened buds lie beneath his palms.
He leans forward and kisses the warm shadowed hollow of her throat

 

[ocea]

This is so new, this is so different, this is a world Ocea has thought herself so very far apart from. His hands on her breasts, kneading the soft flesh she thought no one would ever feel the contour of, pulling on her soft pink nipples making her feel things she never understood the importance of.
Ocea has been lonely all her life. She's been hiding behind words, hiding behind books and stories and make believe worlds, even though she's always known there's another way of living. The people around her have been a blur of colour, spinning so fast she can't catch up, can't be like them, slip inside their folds and be noticed by them... she's never admitted, never been honest enough to recognise how much she has wanted it.
She's never acknowledged how much she has been dying inside, killing all the very best parts of her by slipping into any available shadow. Life, she thinks as his warm lips touch her throat, as Jules sucks on her skin, draws it into his mouth and lightly nips on it, life glitters in the very passion two people can create. No matter who she is, where she comes from, how much she doesn't feel she belongs, the sensations stirring in her heart, the thoughts racing through her mind, tell her she is alive, show her that she has nothing if she continues to hide.
"I want to feel you..." she whispers into his ear, her breath is moist and his skin prickles. Her slim hands move low on his waist, the delicate fingers pressing harder than he had imagined they would on the firm flesh of his abdomen. "Please let me feel you." She whispers again.
Jules has never seen so much hunger in someone so young. Obligingly he undoes the buttons on his shirt, parting it slightly his nipples harden from the breeze and her searching fingers reach out to them. She rubs the sensitive tips, drags her fingers through the coarse hair which makes a v upon his chest and lower she moves her left hand to the growing hardness in his jeans. She strokes what she can feel of him, his erection swells into the cup of her palm, she looks up from the motions of her hand to meet his gaze, just as he feels two fingertips rub over the head of his penis, and she shares this knowledge with him. She shows him that life is about real passion, the caress of your skin upon someone elses, it is about reaching out no matter how scared you may be, and letting yourself be touched, letting your body be adored, and letting ever inch of you be loved.

 

[ariosto]

The patio is secluded. No one has left the house and the noises from inside suggest that everyone is pairing up and mellowing out. Even the music has gone soft like a dying breeze.
Her fingers are the keys that open the doors of new intimacy and fresh discovery. He holds her hand against his straining erection and bends down to take her nipples in his mouth. Young firm swells of flesh that offer twin buds of awakening desire for him to kindle. In his mouth he savors each in turn. Testing them with his tongue, pushing against their stiffening, twirling around the sensitive coral disks that surround them.
He sucks, seeking to draw out something lost and primal, sweet and sustaining.
He guides her fingers to the shining button of his jeans, he wears no belt, and helps her unclasp it. His zipper makes a sound like fine silk tearing and he raises off the settee to slide his jeans and shorts down to mid thigh.
Her fingers, back now at the head of his penis are wet and slick with precum. She looks down at them and him with a quiet smile on her lips.
He breathes in her ear, the night wind stirs the bare flesh of her breasts, he whispers warm words...
"Taste me," He says. "taste me..."

The sketch book lies forgotten at their feet, pages ruffling in the same wind that caresses the new Lovers.

 

[ocea]

Ocea's gaze is riveted, drawn to the length of thick, hard cock in front of her. She's never seen a naked man before, never been able to perfectly imagine the swollen head, the glisten of precum on the tip, the lines that rib it in an intricate circuitry. There's a part of her which feels like the whole scene is incredibly wrong, a sense rises in her stomach of guilt. But its swallowed, the faint stirrings of it flutter in her abdomen, helpless against her own desire.
She moves forward, nudging her legs against his, her hand circles around the base and slowly rising, squeezing hard enough to feel how firm he is beneath the soft skin. She shifts the grip of her hand allowing two fingers to follow a line from beneath the head, over it, dragging down on it and cirling it as she lowers her face, as her hot breath shudders on his testicles, her other hand comes around to grip him at his base, brushing the throbbing length of his erection on her cheek, closing her eyes and feeling the ribbon of his smooth flesh nudge her neck and her fingers in her mouth tasting him.
Jules hears a soft mewl escape her, sees her head tip slightly to the side shifting waves of scarlet red hair over his parted thighs and catches a glimpse of her hand in her mouth, of her pretty lips sucking his cum to the back of her throat.
And she wants more, she wants to know this taste so well she might never forget it. She wants desire to burn all the hollowness out of her, fill it with the ashes of his memory. She wants that ache of knowing she shouldn't be here, knowing how much she is changing the usual pattern of her life, to be swallowed with the taste of him.
Her mouth is wet, warm, her lips naked as they circle the head of his penis and suck on it, drawing more from him onto her tongue and inside of her. Licking the tip as she moves her head down his shaft, twisting her hand up to meet the tight circle of her lips. And all the while waves of scarlet red hair tip over his pale parted thighs, encouraging him to swell into her, knowing if he does so that she will blossom under his touch and welcome every inch.

 

[ariosto]

He wishes that he could see her face, watch her lips siding along his shaft, leaving it wet and aching with their passage.
He stops her long enough to help raise her arms and slip the light fabric of her shirt away. She has the slender supple body of a maiden. Suddenly he wants to know all of her. The feel of her eyelashes on his tongue, the taste of her cum in his mouth. When he looks at her lips and her hands, it excites him to know that they have touched him so intimately allready.

Moonstruck shadows sail across the quiet patio, turning her body to blue ivory and indigo.

She leans over and he feels her nipples brush his thigh. His cock is drawn into the warmth of her mouth and her palm surrounds it's thickness, riding up and down his tight strung length.
He now can see the fine movement of bone and muscle under the pale skin as she moves him into a rhythym that can only be broken by his release of the thing that is awakening in him.

He would like to fuck her.Lay her on the moondappled deck, spread her wide with his hands, plunge himself into her and ride, ride...ride.

But her attentions here shake him back. Her hand now cups his sac, her fingers gently roll his balls against each other snding aching lances of delicious pain through his body.

 

[ocea]

Her lips gently slide off the end of his penis, slipping ever so quietly off the tense head to press a sweet, gentle kiss on his abdomen. Her fingers move away from his balls, stroking lightly down his thighs and moving to her own.
Her eyes drift lazily over his body, angled as it is against the back of the setee, heavy lidded and ocean green she notices every fine detail, the pulse in his throat, the pout to his lips, the subconscious movement of his hand on his own shaft as his gaze turns her pink and copper body into a watercolour painting. He blurs the edges of her into the foliage of crinkled grape vines, blends her red hair into the purple black colour of the night, rubs away everything but the outline of her areoles, the pucker at the tip, the gentle curve of her belly and the cautious, youthfully hesitant drag of the zipper on her jeans. She starts to push them down, but the denim catches on the fringe of her white lace panties. She can't shift her position to get them all the way off without pushing her body right up against his. So, after a moments pause to steady herself, she does. She goes on her knees, kneeling between his legs with her breasts near his mouth and her stomach against his chest feeling every drugged heartbeat. The denim is pushed away, the rim of fine lace tugged at by his finger, and as he finally slips his hand behind the skimpy material a wicked smile curves over her mouth. Her tongue tip fleetingly licks her lower lip, she dips her head and kisses the top of his ear, letting things get clammy, letting the air get thick, letting the guilt ease away and their flesh caress.

 

[ariosto]

Everything seems to have stopped, the very air has stilled and the only color now is the soft roses, pearl whites and blued shadows of her skin. Her nipples are before his eyes, firm stiff tips surrounded by coral pebbled discs, that he imagines in his mouth once again, fitting into his mouth once again, tongue lathing them, sucking them...

His right hand slides down, ignoring the pale fabric that lies in the way and cups the firm roundness of her ass. The left hand moves and takes the other cheek, they squeeze and kneed, sampling and learning the texture and the shape the curve and the heat of the sweet curved form they caress. He feels the deep valley, and moves his hands to slip into it, to press gently and work down, down and in towards the hidden cleft.
She leans forward and his tongue, flicks her nipples. She pulls back, leaving him in air. she smiles...

"You...: "
He says, but now her breast presses against his lips and he opens to take her in, drawing deep, wanting all of her in the heat of his mouth.

Her panties are a slender ivory band far down her smooth thighs, his hands and fingers,beneath her cheeks, squeezing and caressing, so close, so very close to her moistening sex.

He cannot see, for she is close against him, allowing him the pleasure of her high firm breasts. But he can imagine...
the sudden dipping 'V' beneath the smooth skin of her belly, a shadowy accent of soft hair on the swell of her mons.
He knows what he wants to do, he knows where he wants to go.
Julian turns his head away and pushes upward with his hands. As her body straightens, he slides down between her straddling thighs, kissing her belly and the soft hair beneath. His tongue reaches out and touches the small slick pinkness of her hooded pearl..

 

[ocea]

Ocea feels a heavy warmth seep through her stomach, reaching up into her abdomen and closing around her heart. Her very being seems to center between the folds of her sex, throbbing with the need to be touched and caressed, rubbed into a state of arousal too thick to mouth the words of.
As Julian slips his tongue past the copper gold curls, parting the damp lips of her vagina to lick at her with the soft, tender strokes, her hands silently roam over his broad shoulders. With the pads of her fingers she presses into the warm, taut muscle, rubbing upwards to rake her nails on the back of his neck, into his hair. Her thighs part further as his slim, agile tongue moves down from their circling ministrations on her clitoris and begins to dip inside her. The muffled moan he can hear in response is dim and husky, as intimate to his ears as the taste inside her is to his mouth.
He pulls away momentarily, her fingertips graze over the top of his ears and rest on his temples as he kisses her inner thigh, pulling with his naked, red lips on the white flesh. He deftly pulls her panties all the way off her legs, does the same with his jeans, and eases her onto her back, casting her in the dim, gold glamour of the bonfire. There is a gleam of saliva on her nipples, down her belly, matching the wet shine to her pubic hair, the same secretions he can taste on his tongue.
He spends so long looking at her that she becomes a little uneasy, her virgin gaze turns to the blushed, straining length of his erection where it presses close against her left thigh.
"What do you want me to do?" She asks in a whisper. His mind reels with all the possibilities, all the ways she could tease him, heighten his state of arousal before he finally eases all the way inside her...

 

[ariosto]

Fire and heat, lathe him from the bonfire beyond the hedges and also from the girl beneath him, whose voice stirs through the moment and speaks to all the supressed desires he's ever known.

"You will do anything?", he says.
The wide glans is pushing through her gate, slipping by the soft petals, through the narrow mouth, pink and waiting...

She nods.

Warm tight pressure around him, moving into the sheath, delicious frictions, shuddering tingling sensations...

Anything...

Ocea wraps her arms around her lover and lifts herself onto him. She is stretching, splitting, opening herself, surrendering herself...the hot thing, grows and presses , fills her beyond the center of herself. The pain was there and now becomes the thing of it..pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain...pressing...pressing...

Julian is buried within the girl, she is a second skin, a flesh around his groaning cock.
He stays himself against a frail barrier. Holds himself pulsing and throbbing up against the virginal tissue.
Small girl, precious girl...

I'll do anything...anything.

He thrusts himself into Ocea...hard.

Stars burst, sharp breaking hard crytal burnings...

She cries out!
He stops...afraid.

Tears on her face...he kisses her and she pushes her body onto him again.
Tentatively she squeezes, trying to define the shape and heft of him within herself.
Small stars still burst with each contraction.
He feels her quiver and he moves himself deeper in her passage. Small movements...in and out. small movements...

Her nails score into his shoulders, he feels her slender ankles locking behind his back, digging into his back.

He whispers...
"I want you..."

"Anything."
She replies.

 

[ocea]

Ocea is aware of a cool breeze which brushes past her temples and sweeps strands of sticky hair from her forehead. It forces her eyelids to flutter open, exposing dilated pupils drunk on a hot rush of hormones pooling in her bloodstream.
Between her legs she can feel Julian's thick penis penetrating and withdrawing and though the pain was sharp, harsh, the seep of pleasure afterwards is inexplicable. She holds onto his buttocks and as he pushes inside of her she guides him deeper, her feet slipping off his back and spreading wide, one sole grazing the uneven bricks on the ground, she parts her thighs wide and urges him to enter her as fully as possible.
The scent of their mixed secretions, his sweat as she nuzzles his armpit, the sound of his rigid erection sliding into her tight passage, worlds away from anything she's ever experienced, but at the same time seemingly innate.
She pushes her chest up, she rubs her breasts against the crinkly patch of light chest hair sprinkled down his sternum and tries to chafe her tight nipples even harder against his, rubbing their tips forcefully, spreading her legs further and further, holding him tight up to her wet vulva with his balls just below her vagina and caught in her fingers to squeeze as she feels his body throb.
"Tell me, " she whispers hotly in his ear. "Tell me what this feels like to you...."

 

[ariosto]

"You surround me tightly like a warm glove." I say, stopping and looking right in her eyes. "I feel a moist pressure all around as I wedge myself snug into your body. I tense myself, I throb and pulse and you contract on me in counterpoint, engendering cold tingling waves that shudder their way through my body.
Your fingers move my balls within their sac, they squeeze them lightly and roll them againt each other, a sharp scissored ache pierces upward and dissolves until you squeeze again."

Julian, strokes into her, out and in, in very deep.

" Beyond the physical though, there is the mental response, it is the yeast that makes it all rise. It's the knowledge that I am within you, within the frail young woman whose eyes I am looking into. The unbeleivable fact that I am now a part of your body, lying in the very center of you is profoundly arousing and causes me to tighten my buttocks, and press even deeper, looking for a response in your eyes..."

Her hands play with his testicles, sending soft waves of delicious agony coursing through him. He can feel the pink slick petals of her sex first yielding inwards and then seeking to grasp him as he slides the length of his penis out and then back in again. Out...then in again.
Her ankles lock behind his back.
A long slow kiss, his tongue in rhythym with his cock.

 

[ocea]

"How does it feel to you?" He asks her once his lips have pulled away, her eyes are half closed and her cheeks deeply flushed, suffused in a pink glow that is slowly creeping up her body. She doesn't answer, she makes a slight moan as he pushes into her and bucks his hips upwards. Her head tips to the side and her long red hair brushes the ground.
The narrow lids, the glossed lips, they are embossed over into a picture of perfection, of unimaginable reality. Body, lust, desire sweep over her complexion and resonate in the soft moan, the two fingertips she bites on as her orgasm prickles between her legs and seeps hotly around her belly.
"Oh...." she manages to sigh. "Like everything inside me is starting to spin... and here," she breathes deeply, she moans again, this time bucking her hips as she does and frowning from the stab of pleasure twisting through her clitoris. Her spare hand, the one not being innocently sucked on by her wanton mouth, presses on her abdomen, hard down on the snow-white flesh. "I can feel you inside me, filling me up..." her hand moves down, strokes him at the base of his penis, pushing her short nails into the prickly dark hair. "I just want to hold you inside me...."
She clenches her muscles, he tries to pump through the feirce grip, but can do nothing, she holds him tight, moaning against his ear. He tries not to faint from the need to climax, the need to thrust once more down deep inside her slick folds and let his thick, sweet cum fill her where no man has ever filled her before.
Ocea is lost within it, taking greedily with no thought of anyone's needs but her own. As an orgasm shatters the last frail fragments of her virginity her eyes drift open and she sees him... standing by the backdoor with narrowed eyes and a rolled up cone in his right hand.
Her boyfriend...

 

[ariosto]

"I just want to hold you inside me." she whispers and he cannot move, locked within her and marveling at the pressure she can summon in her small body. Contractions and release, contraction and release, each pulse answered by his own. He yearns to sweep into her with long arcing thrusts but cannot. He can push in a little and pull out a little, excrutiating inches but she allows no more. Ocea's face is taught, intense and flushed, Her lips parting, silent words escaping. She's pulling it all up and out of him, her throbbing body is the moon that raises tides, a wave forming in darkness and rolling on and on, unstopable, surging and foaming as it nears the crescent shore.
She is vibrating with the resonance of the onrushing water. Her fingers cut into his skin, she squeezes herself all up inside and doing so she crushes him in a honey tight embrace. A sudden warm flush flows outward as the breaker crests and with her shuddering moan he joins her, swirling into the dark waters and foaming upwards in the sweet aching release of cum, of spend of semen, pumping into her virgin's passage.

He leans to kiss her but he follows instead the glance of her eyes to the shadowed doorway where a man is watching them intently...



OOC...Ocea I'm assuming that your last post indicated an ending. If so let me tell you on this public board that your writing is phenominal and I'll be eager to post with you again!

 

[ocea]

Love, Ocea thinks, is not just a feeling, not just a kind word or a smile every once in a while, love isn't about going to sleep at night and knowing there's someone who you can openly call your own. Love is none of these things. Love is a touch, love is a caress, love is the intimate memory of someone elses body, knowing their curves and lines as well as you know your own.
As she looks at her boyfriend standing in the doorway, watches the smoke slowly exhale from his pale lips, the guilt she imagined she might feel slips away like the last licks of flame in the glowing bonfire. What's the value of love if he never shows it?
What's the value of his words if he never turns them into motion?
Her sea green gaze returns to Julian, burying itself beneath his skin and the warmth she has come to know there. He watches the emotion dash and waver in her dilated pupils, watches the slight tip of her head and small, perfect smile which shows her gratitude.
"Thank you for showing me this..." she whispers, tracing a lazy line down his back and stopping at the slope of his buttocks before brushing lightly back up over each bump of his spine. "I never really existed until tonight. I never even knew I was alive."
"You're welcome," he says quietly, he grazes his lips over hers just once for the final brief touch which will last the longest in his memory.
He angles on his side, she stands, she turns her body towards the man in the doorway and lets him look at her as he always should have looked at her. She walks toward him, taking the cone from his lips she drops it on the ground and knits the fingers of her right hand with his. She leans forward, casting one last look at her first lover before whispering in the ear of her new...
"Come with me..." the invitation drifts teasingly to his ears. "I have so much I need to show you."
The words from her lips match the post-loving beat of Julian's heart and the soft drop of the wallflower's last shed petal.