Succubus

I dreamed about her again last night, my first love.

She was the most beautiful creature that I had ever seen. Eyes like gemstones, clear and sparkling as she laughed. Her smile could have lit the darkest of caves. A body such as hers could only have been created for the pleasure of the gods. She was perfect in every way. With her shimmering golden hair and creamy white skin, she drew the eyes of every person she passed.

She was a goddess among mortal beauties, coveted and desired by all and for one magical night, she was mine.

It ended as strangely as it had begun, without warning. We parted as we met. Strangers. I never knew her name, only her love.

She wore a long skirt with a shirt that pulled tight over her breasts. All conversations in the room stopped as she entered. Grinning, she stood in the doorway scanning the crowd. Then, deliberately, she turned toward me. I was shocked, but pleasantly surprised.

Her voice was soft, with something inherently erotic in every word. I never did figure out if that was intentional or not. She put her arm around me and began talking as though we had known each other for years.

Several people breathed sighs of disappointment, and turned their attention elsewhere.

The music must have continued to play after she arrived, but I never heard it. People must have resumed their conversations, but I heard nothing but her voice. I saw none of the people crowded about us, felt none as they brushed against me as they passed. My world closed to one small pinpoint of existence, focusing only on her.

Some time later she took my hand and guided me out into the garden. For a time we simply walked, not speaking, holding hands. We sat on a bench near a fountain, and she turned to me again.

"Have you ever loved before?" she asked me.

It took me a moment to understand her question.

Her nearness was intoxicating, her very existence arousing. Slowly, almost ashamed, I shook my head. "I have never loved a woman before, only men."

She seemed pleased with my answer, reaching for my hand again, our fingers entwined. She leaned toward me, brushing her breast across my arm as she whispered in my ear. "Its okay, I like it that way."

I think I meant to question her, to ask for reassurance. But when I turned my head, her lips were so close

The world moved as we kissed, or perhaps it was only my paradigm.

Everything I had known and believed in before this moment was changed. Her lips tasted of something sweet that I couldn't quite identify, her skin was smooth and soft as I hesitantly touched it.

Sensations overcame all thought, all reasoning. I still wonder if I would have done things the same had I stopped to think.

Somehow, I don't believe that I would.

The breeze cooled our flesh as we lay on the ground near the marble fountain, the moon shone down upon us, the trees and flowers watched indulgently. Somewhere far off, a horn honked, music played, dogs barked, but it meant nothing. For now, she was my world, and nothing else was important.

Her fingers trembled as she removed my clothes, I remember that clearly. Her lips traced fire across my skin. I suppressed a whimper as her lips closed around an eager nipple. Gently she showed me worlds of pleasure that I had never suspected even existed.

I, anxious to prolong the experience, reciprocated. Whatever she showed me, I did the same for her as best as I could. Nervously I would watch for her reaction, and she would give direction patiently.

The night melted around us, the rising sun bathed us with sensuous heat, and though we had ascended the heights of pleasure more than either of us could count, we couldn't bear to stop to part. We lay together, breathless, but still wanting more.

With a grin I rose and pulled her to her feet, climbing into the fountain. We bathed each other in the clear water, then lay on the edge of the fountain. I remember the taste of the moisture on her skin, the glow of her body against the dark marble, the hedonistic pleasure of the night.

Finally we rose reluctantly, dressing one another.

We walked to the garden gates slowly, dreading the moment of parting. The gate loomed closer and closer, there was no escaping.

I stopped suddenly, pleading with my eyes. "Perhaps..."

She shook her head gently, knowing. "If chance brings us together again."

With tears in my eyes, I nodded. "Let the fates make it so then."

She smiled, and brushed the tears from my cheeks. Softly she kissed me once more, and we walked through the gate. Pausing only once to look back, we turned in opposite directions and walked away.

Now it is nearly three years later. Sometimes I return to the garden and relive that night of passion; I scan the crowds for her face. Often I will find someone, and pass on the gift that she gave me.

An endless night of pleasure, an eager student such as I was, and sometimes I almost believe that she is near. I smell the scent of roses, or imagine the sweet taste of her lips.

Sometimes they, as I did, ask for more. But I, as she did, say no. This was our night, a place out of time and earth, and meant for no mortal soul to crave. Perhaps, if the fates deem it so, we will meet again. Perhaps, if the fates love me, I will see her again.

But I know somehow that it will never happen. Perhaps she was not even real, a creature of my unconscious fantasy. That, at least, is how she lives on. A mythical creature of fantasy.

Sometimes, on a moonlit night like last night, like that night, I dream of her. In my dreams she comes to me again, drawing me away from the crowd.

In my dreams, she is my lover, my love, and still my fantasy.