Guten Tag! As a writer, the more erotic side of literature is more like learning a foreign language to me. I typically write tragic epics or poetry. Therefore, this is a bit of a new area for me. This piece has probably taken more than two months to develop the characters and plot line and another month to write, as Flaubert stated "I spent the morning putting in a comma and the afternoon removing it." I actually did have an editor go over this piece; however, my lovelies were speakers of British English and therefore a few spellings may be "off" to Americans.
Another thing to note is often I may reference the works of Shakespeare, Flaubert, Alice Walker, and Jorge Luis Borges. Therefore, if you are confused please feel free to inquire in the comments which I will respond to when I get the opportunity. I will probably be rather strapped for time in the spring because of exams, but when comes summer there will definitely be more. If you have any suggestions for the story's grammar or plot then do feel free to comment them. Thank you for reading and I hope that my piece elicits Dopamine release.
Danke,
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The humid air of Georgia condensed on my window. I eyed the thin line of magic that lingered constantly a foot away from my property line. It was a very small and insignificant vigil. A simple thing, an alert, for when someone enters the property. My body tensed and shivered, my fears was pungent, intensified by the lack of the lack of any protection around the house.
The house was a beautiful whitewashed charming Victorian, a spectacular piece of history. I however, did not select it for its historic charm, but for more pragmatic reasons. Old houses tended to have older energies, while the aged wood already possessed a base of malleable magic. The only thing that prevented me from laying down proper protections was simply the due to the nature of my powers.
My move, had unfortunately left my few belongings isolated, allowing the barren walls to heighten my loneliness. This unfortunately, was brushed aside by the whims of my stomach. It rumbled, protesting, in the strain of hunger.
The car slid past the my decrepit wood mailbox as my search for food led me to a pleasant looking local restaurant. The soft pendant lights graced my eyes gently, I nodded to the server and raised a single finger. He nodded in reflection giving me a business like welcome, as he bade me to sit at a small table meant for two. My brown irises flickered instantly to the soup section, it was extensive! I found with growing excitement, though I noted the extensive list of "Meat Lover" dishes. At the time it did not quite conjure a Venn diagram in my mind.
About half an hour later I left the restaurant, wandering over next door to a small privately owned library. The brass bell at the entrance tinkled as I entered, several people glanced at me, but others remained bowed, attentive only to their literature. I browsed with slight interest, slowly wandering the expanse of the store. I reveled in the comfortable atmosphere, until an intense sensation of pins and needles heatedly bloomed upon my skin.
My body shivered a little in excitement, casually, my eyes glanced about. I usually had "hunches" about stuff. Normally they were just subtle warnings about small things, but this one couldn't have been insignificant. They focused upon a handsome man sitting at one of the bar stools along the cafe. His suit seemed almost out of place, a satin designer amidst a sea of jersey. His rugged features were highlighted by the sophisticated cut of suit in binary juxtaposition. A strong muscular fitness shone through as it hugged his body. His jawline as he talked to the Barista was hypnotically dabbled with a brown five o'clock shadow.
A brass cuff link winked at at me under the bright modern lighting. I felt heat flash across my face as he caught me staring at him, our eyes locked; I looked away. A futile attempt to convince him that I was focused on a book about Nasreddin. I turned, taking the tome with me. Venturing, accompanied by the gentle creaking of wood, I sat at a small table on the opposite side of the narrow store. Two bookshelves served as shields between us. Still, despite knowing the opaque protection of wooden shelves my eyes constantly searched hungrily for his presence. Denying them the pleasure, I attempted to dedicate my attention to the book.
They were rewarded when I glanced up again, to see his silent steps draw him closer to my table, as he bypassed the wooden barriers. His lope was graceful, notably soundless as it did not exact a creak of strain upon the ancient floorboards. Strangely I admired it, I enjoyed it, and I had the urge to walk with him.
"May I sit?" He asked his throat a rumbling rich baritone. I hesitantly nodded, unsure of his purpose, but my inherent curiosity was nibbling at my innards.
"You like Nasreddin?" He asked as if it was a fact.
My eyes remained locked on his, unwilling to allow any assumption, I hesitantly replied, "Sorta."
"What's your name? Are you new in town?" He gunned at an instant with surprising roughness.
A thousand impertinent answers fluttered behind my lips, but the gaze of several other patrons fell upon me. I remained silent.
"Ah, allow me to introduce myself, my name is Adalhard Richter." He said smoothly, even though a hit of German accent slipped at his last name, as he smiled despite my previous response.
"That's nice." I murmured, wary and still unwilling to divulge.
"It would be nice to know who I'm talking to." He stated kindly, somewhat saddened. If a large man could look somewhat akin to a puppy he was certainly capable of it.
My guilty feelings got the better of me, "I'm Hua Lan." I almost whispered, instantly regretting the seemingly innocent statement. I chastised myself, I should have given a fake name!
"Hua Lan, is that Chinese?" He questioned, though the corners of his eyes crinkled in delight. They multiplied as I nodded.
"Is it alright to assume you are from China?"
A mental sigh echoed throughout my head, "No, because I'm not."
"Care to enlighten me?" He questioned in a lightly saccharin voice that dazed me for a second as I begun to crave his touch.
Ironically when he did so I was floored. A spark of electricity or extremely strong static jolted as he placed his huge hand upon my forearm. I was floored as it rocked throughout my body. My breathing instantly became fervent pants, as heat and... Oh Stella, desire coursed through me! Much to his dismay I jerked my arm away from his. I wasn't about to stick around to figure out what that meant!
"Look, I'm not available for a relationship at the moment, so I'd appreciate it if you would back off. I hardly even know you, so please don't be overly familiar with me." I bluntly stated, internally reigning in my total bitch voice and attitude. My eyes finally broke from his as shock and hurt slowly spread through his face.
The other patrons gasped for some reason, as if they too were part of the conversation. I didn't care though. My eyes remained downcast. I dared not to take a second glance as I grabbed my purse and fled the shop.
My silver Hyundai Sonata was my sanctuary granting cathedral. The engine purred to life as I drove quickly home. The only deterrent to my flight home was the sunset, cruelly blinding my vision with its penetrating rays, so I flipped down my visor. The mirror caught sight of a Black SUV several cars behind me. My face fell into a frown, I could've sworn it was behind me 2-3 stoplights ago. I briefly pondered the possibility they were following me. Lazily I turned my car off course, into a small residency area. Sure enough, the SUV continued to follow me. The probability of being followed was pretty much a certainty after I turned out of the second cul-de-sac.
Unfortunately, all my efforts to throw them off had been failures. They certainly knew that I was trying to throw them off. My mind wondered if the driver was the ruggedly sexy man from the Library. Damn, what kind of romance novel is this to meet a man at a library! Either way I'm pretty sure most of the time they don't follow you home, isn't it more prevalent when the environment of the encounter is shady?
Desperate times, call for desperate measures. I ran my fingers through my waist length black hair till I held a shorter piece. I whispered a spell as I continued to drive, begging it to make my car invisible. Glancing away from the road the hair quickly vanished as power hummed in the cabin of my car. I nearly floored the accelerator, keeping to desolate country roads till I reached my home. The gravel crushed merrily as I ran inside and locked the doors. Quickly I checked all the windows ensuring that the house was physically secure before checking the energies. Everything was fine. Just for the sake of security I checked every possible entrance twice.
I had to give the renovators credit, though they had neglected the mailbox, the house locks were works of industrial art. Each door was triple bolted in a new steel door frame with new wall reinforcement. Not too shabby for a 100+ year old house, they must have pretty much gutted the entire house to reinforce the walls. If the man was only a human, then my alert charm would beat any alarm system, while the locks could at least hold him off.
I relaxed glancing at a clock, 9:45 p.m. Damn, that car chase took up most of my night! I tripped up the stairs to my bedroom and shed my clothes leaving them to simply sit on the floor amongst moving debris and boxes set infinitely for tomorrow. I once again admired the work of the renovators even though I sure as hell paid a pretty penny for it.
The center of the master bath was a huge modern art deco take on a clawed bath tub. My fingers grasped the remote as I set it to fill, clamoring in. I sat in the water allowing its philic nature towards me to lap at my skin and let it work out the tension of my limbs.
The bath had proved to be extremely beneficial. It had melted years of stress right off my back. Perhaps with the sense of security from my locks, it had been too relaxing, carelessly I realized that I had left my only communication line, my cell phone, downstairs.
Too lazy to unpack my "PJs" box I opted to only venture down in a pair of grey sateen panties. I roamed over the antique floor boards of the house, retrieving my cell phone and giving into my fattening temptations for a pre-bed snack. For the oddest reasons I always craved breakfast food for bedtime snacks.
My body set about to making scrambled eggs. The quietness of the southern night unnerved me, so I turned on my small pocket radio to NPR and listened to Prokofiev's "Classical Symphony No. 1 Allegro". Whatever had given me the urge to cook naked only made me regret it when a bit of hot oil splattered upon my tummy, but was quickly forgotten as I heard a growl.
Quickly I turned off the radio, the growling noise outside of my glass french doors stopped mili-seconds afterwards. My alert system wasn't tuned to pick up animals, because it would have been buzzing like crazy every time a squirrel jumped from tree to tree.
I could hear faint panting sound outside. I swore, my first night in the house and two dogs are copulating on my back porch. I shoved my eggs into the fridge, the incident had ruined my appetite. I opted to quickly prepare for bed and was asleep before I was able to roll back my new comforter.
