DARK LUST
She lays still, peaceful, unaware of her fate.
Every breath she breathes feeding the innocent dreams,
molding her sleeping conscious. The room rests,
serene, all dressed in white, a last attempt to induce
a southern sense of virgin purity. To the left
stretch glassed French doors, wide open as if inviting
in the mysterious black of the night. The moonlight
pours in, tainting the white room with temptation, and
eerie longing. The white curtains dance to the
inexpressible silence, with the flirtatious fall air.
She drifts in this beauty nightly; unaware of its
perfection, only her hidden dreams dare to yield to
the same air. This night, however, will be different.
Already she paints a new destiny, turning toward the
silhouette that stains the moonlit canvas. With her
long dark lashes resting on her blushed cheeks, and
dark hair fanning from her pale untouched skin, she
dreams on. The same silhouette dominated the doorway,
drinking the sight in its unspoiled and tempting
likeness. He observes, undetected, unmoving. With his
back to the moonlight, the lust in his gray eyes is
hidden within the mysterious shadows that dutifully
hide his face. This face is chiseled not only in
physique, but also in time, an unchanging, cursed
being, the only indication of weariness rests in his
eyes, which in themselves sport the same lifeless,
penetrating stupor as the first day he felt the
thirst. But to him the past played no part at this
stalled moment, with his limitless existence time was
no measure. Around his pale face hung dark, windswept
hair, it blew in the softening breeze. His build was
evidence of countless nights of hunting and feeding,
each muscle sculpted to artistic perfection; but much
like a sculpture, this being was chiseled in stone,
never to be altered. Chilled, as the night of which
we speak, was the heart that ceased to beat so long
ago.
His curiosity, lust, and driving thirst prodded him
closer to the sleeping girl. His long black coat
caught the wind as he stepped inside, but the blissful
beauty didn’t stir. The girl’s pale velvet skin could
be seen despite the towering shadow, he now cast over
her.
He approached the radiant beauty, who breathed a
thousand lonely nights on her rosy lips. He traced
her elegant outline with his lustful eyes, envying the
sheet that enveloped her tempting curves as it warmed
her, as the man’s chilling presence ran an unknowing
shiver through her.
Unable to distinguish between her dreams, and the man
that stood before her, she awoke peacefully at the
cooling touch of this thirsty being, running a finger
down her satin skin. In a daze, beginning to realize
the erotic reality of this dark silhouette that
guarded her, she gazed up. Unfazed at her awakening,
as if knowing that the white room and the innocent
white gown, she gracefully wore, failed to cleanse the
mind of this beauty; the subject of her dreams was as
clear as the moonlight that bled past the mysterious
man.
She arched her back nonchalantly, as if posing, as
her sheet was removed exposing her fair skin. His
thirst surpassed him, he lowered himself over the
girl, her expression showed her begging to be taken,
her skin begging to be touched, and life begging to be
tasted.
The stranger glided his hands across the lady’s soft
satin skin, running exited shivers down her virgin
back. He found himself overtaken by lust, setting his
thirst aside; he made love to the girl. He sensed her
desperate innocence, read the hungry desire in her
dark solemn eyes. It was a blind, senseless matter;
the peace of the night rarely disturbed. But as far
as lovemaking goes this, unlike most details of the
story, was no exception. The girl’s soft heating skin
writhed under the immense power of the stranger. He
cont
Unknown "Mushu" Sad
- 16 years, 11 months, 1 day ago
