Absinthe 2: Doorways of Perception

The rag doll stood on the table, its small tattered feet sliding silently back and forth along the thick, shiny enamel paint. Its scratched button eyes stared out of the faded fabric of its face, as the small head rocked side to side.

'Marlene,' the doll began speaking, in a soft, childish voice.

'Not Marlene,' was the reply. The woman who spoke sat on an old couch, toying with her black skirt. She held another rag doll, one that looked just like the one standing on the coffee table in front of her, the one that spoke.

'I told you, it is Absinthe now.'

The row of painted dots on the face of the moving doll twisted into a smile. 'I know, Marlene. I know what you told me. I also know who...who and what you really are, and I can only address you in that manner.' The doll shook its head, then continued in a sing-song voice.

'You unlocked your true potential last night, Marlene. You have begun to experience the real world, and you must learn your place in it.'

The woman in black looked up at the moving doll, squeezing the doll still in her hand even more. Flickering candles on the coffee table lit up the anger in her face.

'I have already seen the real world,' she said. 'I have seen the monsters that live there, draining the life out of normal people, crushing us in their petty wars and rivalries.'

She looked back down suddenly. 'I'm not one of them, dammit,' she spoke quietly.

****

Smoke curled from the dark cigarette in her hand as Absinthe paused in her story. Quiet music came from dark corners of the gloomy café as she sipped on her coffee. The man across from her blinked.

'So, your doll speaks to you,' the man began, slowly.

'No, I already told you, Desmond,' she said, putting down her cup. 'I was holding my doll. Whatever it was that spoke, it was something that looked like my doll. I used to just dream about it, but now I see it when I'm awake...'

She took a drag from the cigarette. 'I need to know what I am, why I see this talking doll, and why...'

Desmond took a sip from his own coffee. 'Why you think you conjured up a fictional character...'

The woman slammed a lace-gloved hand down on the table, hard. 'No, dammit, I do not think I conjured it up! I know I did!!'

The other patrons, mostly reading or sketching, looked at the angry young woman in a black lace dress. Ignoring them, she lowered her voice again.

'Look, you know about shit like this, don't you? I mean, you hang out with those other freaks...'

Desmond looked hurt. 'May I remind you, dear, that I am also one of those, as you say, 'freaks'. And let's not consider your recent acquaintances as being terribly stable, either.'

Absinthe took another drag on her cigarette. 'Point taken. I'm sorry.'

'So, as you say, you conjured up a fictional character. This...this Apostolis.' He smiled. 'You know, I had forgotten "The Stone Knight". I never had much use for nursery rhymes and such.'

Absinthe became lost in thought, remembering the night of passion she had with Apostolis. The thought of his slightly-rough skin against hers, his enormous strength yet extreme gentleness, filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the cigarettes and coffee. A slight moistening began in her vagina, and unconsciously her hand began to stray to her breast. Only a gently tapping sound roused her from her reverie.

Desmond tapped the silver ring he wore on his right hand on the table. 'When I was studying with my sensei, he did tell me stories of creatures created from imagination, of dark spirits of creation. I always thought he was misinterpreting the ghosts,' he waved his hand, 'the ghosts that surround us, those who won't pass on. But now...'

Desmond ran the fingers of his right hand through his closely-cropped black hair. 'He also talked about people that move outside reality, those that can move it and shape it to their own designs. Hell, I think that I and those other 'freaks', as you put it, were working for some of them.' Absinthe looked down at that.

'Well, they are supposed to be different than the ones you fought before. Whatever these 'Wizards' are, they aren't the creatures that killed your old friends, the ones that caused you to see into their world for just a second. These Wizards are still human...well, more or less, I suppose.'

Absinthe picked up her cup again, but put it down when she realized she was shaking. 'I'm just worried about turning into one of those monsters that killed Jenny and Terence and the rest of them. They looked human at first, but I could see, for just a moment, mind you, what those creatures really were. And I'm worried...

'I'm worried about what I look like to someone who looks. To someone who really looks, like I did at those creatures...'

Desmond smiled, and touched her face softly. 'You look like a beautiful young woman.'

****

Long stony fingers ran through Absinthes' hair as she gasped. 'Apostolis,' she murmured softly.

The tall stony man continued brushing her hair as he stood behind her. Together, they stood beside the crypt where they first met, on the cool grass of the cemetery. The night air, still warm even in these waning days of summer, blew over both of them in the dark.

'Conjured isn't the right word, my lady,' the man spoke, his voice deep and soothing, seemingly out of place from what looked like a statue that moved. And yet, it also seemed to be the perfect voice for one such as he.

'I think it would be more appropriate to say that you called me. I have been here, in this world, for quite some time. I suppose since the writing of "The Stone Knight", but I'm not certain.'

Absinthe, feeling herself warm as he played with her hair, closed her eyes. 'So, the author conjured you? He was someone like me?' She laughed quietly. 'I wonder if little dolls talked to him as well...'

The statues' brow furrowed. 'No, I don't think he did. I think it was more from those who have read the story. I'm not quite sure where I was, or indeed what I was before I came here, but I am fairly certain it had more to do with the longing and desire of those who have been affected by the story. That nursery rhyme was read by quite a lot of people.'

Absinthes' eyes opened suddenly. 'Wait, hold up, does that mean that there are lots of literary characters running around out there? Does Hamlet still wander around Denmark somewhere?'

His quiet laughter caused her to warm even further, and she touched her breasts through the fabric of her black dress. 'Possibly,' he said. 'I believe that a lot of people have to really believe in the...the idea of the person, though. In the same way that they had, in earlier times, caused cottage fairies to appear. If someone left saucers of honey out for imaginary beings long enough, eventually these fairies began to show up to consume the treats.'

She began to chuckle. 'I guess that means that if enough kids put milk and cookies out for Santa, that Santa will also start putting toys in their stockings...'

'That's what he tells me,' Apostolis said.

Absinthe froze. Turning slowly, she looked up at the living statue. Seeing him smirking, she began laughing, punching him in his massive chest.

'For a centuries-old children's story, you sure are a smart-ass,' she said, jumping up to kiss him.

The living stone kissed back, passionately. As she gripped his neck, keeping herself off the ground, Apostolis began gently kneading her back and legs with his fingers through her lace and cloth dress. Soon, he pulled off her boots, tossing them casually aside as reached up under the lace to pull down the black stockings she wore.

Absinthe slid down the stone giant, her bare feet nestling into the soft grass. Continuing down to her knees, she hooked her fingers into the top of his trousers, and began to pull them. Kissing the warm, textured skin of his abdomen, she pulled the pants down below his stiff penis. Tracing the length of his member with the tips of her fingers, she smiled up at his face, then quickly licked the tip. Just like the rest of him, the tip of his penis was also warm and with a slightly gritty texture, but certainly not stone-like. Running her tongue along the length of his shaft, she began flicking her tongue along the underside while gently caressing his testicles.

Making her way back to the tip again, she slowly took the head of his member into her mouth. As she did this, her left hand reached under her skirt and inside her already-moist panties, as she began to slowly massage the length of her vulva.

Pulling her head back, she again thrust it forward and took in more of his penis. Matching the bobbing motion of her head, the fingers of her left hand manipulated her clitoris, occasionally dipping slightly into her vagina.

After a couple of minutes of this, Apostolis gently pulled her head back and got down on his knees on the ground. Kissing her, he then reached his own right hand to pull down her panties, exposing her left hand, still working on herself. As he entered his index finger into her vagina while she still manipulated her own clit, she again took his erection into her mouth and began sucking and bobbing again.

Using two fingers inside her vagina, Apostolis replaced her hand on her clitoris with his thumb, and a small orgasm shook her body. Adjusting them both slightly, he then began using his tongue on her clit while moving his fingers inside of her. This sixty-nine position continued for a few more minutes, slight shrieks escaping from Absinthes' mouth around Apostolis' member. As he thrust his tongue deep inside her vagina, another orgasm took hold of Absinthe, and she began to suck and bob even harder.

Both the action of Absinthes' mouth and tongue and her reactions to his own ministrations began to build up Apostolis' own climax. Sucking on her clitoris, he orgasmed, filling Absinthes' mouth with his salty fluid.

****

They both sat naked in the cool grass against the crypt, Absinthe cradled in Apostolis' strong arms. The full moon cast a blue glow over the tombstones and statues that surrounded them, and the sound of a slight breeze could be heard in the trees, their leaves preparing to turn for autumn.

'I wish I knew how to help you, my lady,' Apostolis began, in his quiet voice. 'I have only seen others of my kind and a few of the wolf-people. I know nothing about the Wizards your friend spoke of, nor about the life-draining monsters you encountered.'

Absinthe moved her hand up and down Apostolis' arm. 'There are many unusual and fantastic sights in this world,' he continued. 'Many of them are horrible and terrifying, I'm afraid. You should be wary of others like myself, as well.'

'I was thinking about that,' Absinthe said. 'I mean, it sounds like it might be possible to meet Dracula...except that he wouldn't be an actual vampire, but one of your kind...'

Apostolis paused. 'It might be possible,' he began. 'These creatures might have been others like myself, like those cottage fairies, like mermaids, and others born from imagination.'

Absinthe shuddered slightly, curling up closer to Apostolis. 'I guess it is all about how you look at things,' she said, almost to quietly to hear.

fin.