new york city

I had this really good friend named Kendall who also had a friend named Rashan. Well, Rashan had this really fine ass girlfriend named Denisee. Kendall is a real bullshitter and I didn’t believe half of the wild stories he told, so I just ignored his comments about how wild Denisee got when she got drunk. He told me how Rashan was the type of guy that only wanted it about once or twice a week and Denisee wanted it once or twice an hour. Rashan was a soft brother that got picked on a lot. How he eneded up with this girl no one will ever know. Since she was a “good little girl” she couldn’t really cheat on Rashan, but if you got her drunk, she would do anything and not feel guilty about it.



One day Kendall told me he was going to prove to me how wild Denisee really was. He had arranged for us to meet her at the local Chinese restaurant for pizza and beer (which we would sneak in of course). When she met us I noticed that the dress she was wearing was really unusual in that it was made almost exactly like a raincoat, buttons down the front with a belt around the middle. I also noticed a lot of cleavage and her shapely calves.



We sat down in the back and ordered our food. When I took out the beer Denisee said that she didn’t want to drink any because she didn’t like the taste. Well, after our food arrived Denisee gave in and poured herself a glass of beer. When we were done with the food, we were also done with the beer and Denisee had only had one glass. Kendall pulled out three more Coronas from his knapsack and convinced Denisee that the only way for her to drink with us was to “chug” each glass so she wouldn’t taste it so much. After “chugging” about six or seven glasses of beer, Denisee was being as sweet as can be. She had unbuttoned two of the lower buttons on her dress so that she could move her legs enough to play footsie under the table with me. As we were leaving, Denisee called out to me. She was standing by the bathrooms, which were hidden from view of the customers, and when I turned she opened up her dress and showed me a braless cutout corset with garters and stockings. Her nipples were about the size of a quarter and looked like Hershey’s Kisses in the cool evening air. Her bush was a dark brown that looked like the hair was very thin or recently trimmed. About then I realized that we were in the middle of a city with about 100,000 people in it and it was still daylight at 8 P.M.



Nothing else happened that night, but Denisee and I became drinking buddies for several weeks. One evening about 4 months later Denisee called me and invited me and my bottle of rum over to her apartment for margaritas. She said her parents had gone to the Poconos for a wedding and wouldn’t be back for three days. I quickly showered, dressed, hit the liquor store and was at her apartment in about 30 minutes. When I got there I thought something was up because Rashan was working night shift and Denisee’s older sister was out for the rest of the night with her new beau. Denisee made the mistake of letting me make the margaritas and I loaded about a cup of rum into each one of the drinks. After our third round Denisee was feeling real loose.



Our casual conversation suddenly turned sexy when Denisee asked if I had liked her lingerie that night at Ting Juo’s. I said that I loved lingerie but had trouble finding women who were into it as much as I was. When Denisee heard that I loved lingerie she offered to give me a fashion show of her lingerie collection. I quickly agreed and she disappeared into the bedroom to change.



The first outfit she came out in really knocked my socks off. It was a basic white bra with frilly lace across the top edge of the cups. The lace was cut just low enough to expose the top half of each perky brown nipple. She was wearing white garters that rode perfectly across her slender, full hips with four long, lacy straps leading down to her white stockings. The stockings were the sheer white kind that sparkle in the light and she was moving around a lot to produce the best possible effect with the little light available. She was wearing white lace panties that were no more that two triangles of cloth held together by lace straps. The front panel was transparent enough that I could see her dark bush and a hint of pussy lips. She really knew what she was doing because she had put her panties on over the garters so she could take off her panties without removing the garters.



The fashion show didn’t get any further then because Denisee sat down next to me and started kissing me. Being fully clothed and in the arms of this brown-eyed beauty while she was only clad in her underwear was more than I could stand. I got up and started to undress when Denisee said “Let me do that for you.”



Denisee undresses me but made it a point not to touch me. She laid back on the couch and handed me a vibrator that had magically appeared in her hand.



“Do me with this,” she said. I took the vibrator from her and turned it on, adjusting the speed to a very slow, humming speed. I started out on her nipples and when they got good and hard I pushed the cups of her bra down to expose them to my tongue. With one nipple in my mouth and my left hand on the other, my right hand moved the vibrator around her crotch and upper legs.



After about five minutes of playing this way I started to move the vibrator into her cunt. I slowly tickled the outer lips of her pussy with the tip of the vibrator and watched as her pussy unfolded like a lovely flower. The vibrator was already slick with her pussy juices that were leaking out of her like a lake draining so I pushed it slowly up into her pussy. I kept pushing until all eight vibrating inches were buried in her cunt. We moved into a sixty-nine position so she could suck my cock and I could lick on her clit while I diddled her with the vibrator.



I finally removed the vibrator from her pussy and decided to get down to some serious cunt lapping. I shoved two fingers of my left hand up into her pussy and started to dig around until I found the magic spot. Once I had done this I sucked her clit into my mouth and pushed up on the spot. Denisee started squealing and bucking like she was being electrocuted and pussy juice coated my face and my arm down to the elbow. Suddenly Denisee stopped thrashing about and just lay there breathing rapidly and deeply. Without any warning at all Denisee pissed all over the couch but didn’t seem to notice or to wake up. After about five minutes Denisee woke up and was really embarrassed about peeing on the couch. Apparently she was totally knocked out by the series of multiple orgasms. When she got her composure back she said, “You can do anything you like.”



When I heard this I was ecstatic. I first shoved my hard dick (I still hadn’t come yet) up her juicy cunt and then shoved a finger up her asshole. After ten minutes of slow fucking and several orgasms by Denisee I lifted her legs over my shoulders. From this position I withdrew my cock in a long slow stroke that made a popping sound when it finally came out. Denisee whimpered for me to put it back in her when I pulled out but I had other ideas. I put my cunt juice-slickened dick right up to her anus and began to push. Denisee was obviously no stranger to anal sex because she relaxed and shoved right back until my balls hit her ass. Then she started bucking and I started pushing. This time the strokes were long, hard, and fast. Denisee grabbed the vibrator off the floor and pushed it into her cunt with such savage force that I thought that she might hurt herself. The vibrations were too much for Denisee and she came twice real close together then I was ready to come. Denisee stopped me and told me to come in her mouth so I withdrew my dick and, with her legs around my thighs, shoved it into her mouth. With Denisee sucking on the head of my dick, one hand playing with my balls and one finger of her other hand up my asshole I came what seemed like gallons. Denisee drank it all down like a pro and then complimented me on my lovemaking.



I saw Denisee regularly and more kinkily for several more months and then she finally made a commitment to be true to Rashan and as far as I know she hasn’t broken it. She always knows that if she wants anything in the way of sex she can call me.

Even at the age of fifty, Emilia had the looks of a Playboy playmate, and indeed she was, Miss May 1966 to be exact, but beneath the superficial façade of her California blond hair and Ocean Pacific blue eyes, was a woman who had the uncanny gift to remember the minutest details in her life and the lives of other.



Since childhood, she’s wanted to follow in the steps of her father, who was the great Editor in Chief and owner of the New York Tribune, Francis Edmonds. But before I relate all her exploits and stories she’s broken over the years, that will sure to inspire women around the world to follow dreams and desires, I felt compelled that first I should show how she became the woman she is.



Her personality was intoxicating. Her smile was genuine and could melt even the most cynical of New Yorkers. I had known her for almost five years before this, but our relationship never went past exchanging pleasantries in the elevator or passing in the halls of our workplace with a smile. Secretly, though, I had an almost school boy crush on her.



I remember the first time I saw Emilia. It was in elementary school, eighty something and a classmate brought in one his father’s old Playboy magazine, the playmate of the year edition, and you guessed it, Emilia was the playmate of the year. My heart, then as it does now, stopped when I saw her.



Shortly after that episode, I began to almost methodically collect information on Miss Edmonds. When I found out that she was an editor and reporter, I made it my goal to attend the best journalistic school in the country and to learn and master the craft of writing, so that one day I could, maybe, work for this woman. That day came five years ago.



Although I have had very little contact with her, it was a pleasure to share the same air. It always amazed me how she could reach such heights in the world of publishing and business with such a wonderful personality. I cannot recall a moment when she raised her voice or had a foul word issue forth from her lips. Now, that’s no to say she didn’t have a mean streak, but I just never saw it. We mortals who walked amongst the lower floors were never privy to activities of the gods and goddesses of the upper levels.



I knew Emilia had an unbelievable life story, and as a writer I wanted to hear it and write it, but I could never work up the nerve to ask her to share it with me. I felt unworthy.



Then one day while on a tour for my novel I was asked by a radio host what is it that I wanted to write next? I thought for a moment and replied, “I want to tell the story of Emilia Edmonds.”



“Well who is Emilia Edmonds?” He asked.



When I related what I knew about her, he became intrigued, as did everyone else listening.



In a sly way I was telling Miss Edmonds what my intentions were and it worked.



A few days after my twenty-city book tour I was summoned to the office of Miss Emilia Edmonds located on the thirtieth floor of the magazines world headquarters building. As I walked through the, oak, door with nervous apprehension, I glanced across the room at her sitting behind her large desk. She removed her glasses from her face, stood and she smiled a smile that was brighter than the brightest billboard in Times Square. She gestured to a seat in front of her desk and when I sat she sat, leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.



“You know, you could’ve just approached me. You didn’t have to go on national radio to get my attention.”



“I know.” I said as I blushed. “I was, I don’t know, a little bashful.”



“Why? I see you everyday. I talk to you everyday. Am I that much of a bitch that I intimidate the most talented writer on my staff?” She leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk and looked me in the eyes and asked, “You want to know my story?”



“Yes, I would.”



“Come to my place tonight. Bring your notebook and recorder.” She rocked back and forth in her seat and said, “I must warn you. I am not bashful when it comes to revealing my past. What you will learn may change your perception of me forever.”



“That sounds very ominous.”



Her smile broadened as she raised her soft looking hand up to her chin. “You know?” She said, “I’ve been considering writing something about my past for years.”



“Why haven’t you done it?”



She flagged me with her left hand and sighed, “I guess I’ve always thought that nothing could be learned from the things I did.”



She stood up and stretched. As I caught an eyeful of her smooth legs, a shiver shot through up my spine. “God.” I though to myself, “this woman is just amazing looking.”



Despite the age difference between us, I felt a magnetic, sexual attraction to her. I doubt she felt the same.



I stood and held out my hand.



She shook it and nodded and said, “Do you know where I live?”



“No, I’m afraid not.”



“The Dakota. I’ll tell the doorman that you’ll be coming tonight.”



I turned and as I walked toward the door with an almost a hop in my step, I stopped and turned, “Oh, what time shall I be there?”



“How about six. The earlier the better.”



“You call it a night pretty early?”



“No not at all. I just have so much to tell you.”



Little did I know that what I thought would be a couple of hours of talking, and asking her to reminisce, would turn out to be a ten year project of listening and documenting some of her most intimate details.



That night I couldn’t wait. Once the six o’clock hour hit I was right there reciting my name to the doorman. I expected to be greeted by butler and a hostess who dressed in an evening gown toting a wine glass in her left hand and a cigarette in her right. I was wrong.



Miss Edmonds greeted me herself at the door and she wore nothing to the liking of an evening dress.



She wore her hair out. It was waist length and looked like it was made of gold silk. She smiled when the door was fully opened and the sight of her half naked frame made my body tremble. Barely covering her toned body was an oversized knit sweater that hung off of her right shoulder and exposed her smooth skin in a seductive way that would make any man’s heart stop. She was bare foot. My eyes discretely scanned her from head to toe. The sweater she wore stopped just at her hips and revealed everything. She exuded the sexuality of a woman who had experience and she projected the confidence of a woman whose beauty was her only asset. It was a turn on. I didn’t know any fifty year olds who had as much of sexual confidence as she did.



“Come in.” She said as she waved me in.



Her place was what I had expected. Immaculate like a team of housekeepers dusted every ten minutes. Like a curator was on her payroll. Of course she was a connoisseur of fine art, which showed on the walls. Renoir, Picasso, Gauguin and those were just artists I recognized. And that was just in the foyer. It was as if I walked into a mini Met. Greco Roman busts sat on ionic pillars. Silver tables with fine China on them sat just to the left of the gourmet kitchen. The windows, that framed the perfect view of Central park, were dressed in thick blue fabric that looked exported from the most exotic places in the world.



“Am I early?” I asked.



“Not at all. You’re on time. Why do you ask?”



She asked as she walked past me. A few paces ahead, within view, she raised her hands and ran them through her silk looking hair. The sweater inched up and exposed everything I had imagined. My heart felt like it skipped a beat.



She turned and looked me and grinned. It was a playful seductive grin. I imagine she has used that many times on men like me.



In the background soft trumpets sang an unidentifiable song that was not loud not soft, but just right, and like her, erotic.



“Would you like something to drink?”



“No thank you.”



She sat on her plush couch and crossed her legs like an Indian chief. For a woman at fifty, she was toned and flexible. My eyes caught a glimpse of everything frontal. As she settled the sweater drooped. Her left breast was exposed for a brief moment before she fixed the piece of clothing. I pretended not to look. I tried to maintain direct eye contact with her, but I couldn’t help my eyes from drifting.



She patted her right hand on the cushion next to her and said, “Sit sit.”



I hesitated.



“I don’t bit. What the fuck are you afraid of?”



As I sat, I thought, that was the first time I heard her use profanity. I turned my head and grinned.



She looked at me.



“You’re shocked.”



“About what?”



“You thought I was a demure socialite widow who drank brandy, withering away in my apartment, reminiscing of days of old.”



“You’re not?”



“Fuck no. I travel. I love men.” She leaned over and whispered, “Men love me. As a matter of fact my little boy toy just left.”



My heart sank. She was in a relationship. “How long have you been seeing this guy?”



She leaned back and held her left hand over her chest as she laughed. “Seeing would denote that I am in some kind of relationship.” When she leaned over again, her light vanillaish perfume rushed up my nostrils and tickled my senses. She said, “I’m not in a relationship. I just like being fucked by a young hung studs.” She ran her hand over her face and moaned, “I just love sperm on my face. It keeps me young looking.”



I was taken aback. The image of my idol was tarnished. My heart was broken. It must have shown on my face because she tapped me on the shoulder and laughed, “I’m just fucking with you. It’s Thursday. My boy toys don’t come over until the weekend.”



“Do you like younger men?”



She looked at me and ran her soft hand across my face and moved within inches of my lips. I tasted her minty breath as she asked, “Do you like older women?”



“I like you.



She smiled and leaned back. “Mmm. I’m so glade I still have sex appeal. You just made me a happy woman.”



“Do you ever think about getting re-married?”



She tilted her head to the right and smirked. As she nodded her head slightly up and down, she said, “I doubt it, but you never know. I’m fifty. I ain’t dead.”



“What is that supposed to mean?”



“It means I still have feelings and desires. I still like being made love to and being in love.”



“That’s what you have the boy toys for.”



She shook her head and laughed lightly. “I was joking about that. If you’re going to be my biographer, you’re going to have to pick up on my sarcasm.”



She stood and walked over to the fireplace and picked up a picture of her husband. Her tone turned serious as she ran her hand over the image. She said, “I truly loved that man. Sometimes, I used to think that he was the only person who knew me.” She looked at me over her shoulder and asked, “What about you? Do you believe in true love?”



I stared at her and wanted to tell her that the reason why I started working at the magazine was because of true love, for her. I wanted to tell her that I’ve been in love with since I was a teen.



“Yes, I do believe in true love.”



“Are you married?”



“No.”



“Got a girlfriend?”



“No.”



She walked back over to the couch and propped both legs up on the cushion. She rested her head in her left hand and with her right she caressed my face. She asked, “Are you gay?”



“No.”



“Are you a priest?’



“No.”



A puzzled look came across her face, “Are you a virgin?”



“No.”



“Wow. I’d never thought I meet a man in the city who’s successful, handsome and somewhat normal.” She leaned back, smiled and asked, “You are normal?”



“Yes.”



God I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her as she stared me down with those unnatural blue eyes. My heart raced. My blood boiled.



“Well it’s gong to interesting getting to know you.” She took a deep breath and said, “Well, where do you want to start?”



I reached over for my notepad and took and sighed, “From the beginning.”



“The beginning?” She shook her head and said, “No that’s too far back.”



“Nothing interesting there?”



“No, it stuff there but it’s un-publishable.”



“What do you mean?”



“I was a bit wild in my youth.” She held her hand up to her chin and hummed. “I was wild as an adult too. I don’t know maybe this is a bad idea. You know-airing my dirt.”



“It can’t be that bad.”



Without hesitation she said, “Oh yes it is, but I think I can clean it up a bit though.”



“What makes it bad?”



“My past?”



I nodded my head.



She grinned. It was a grin that made me think that she conjured up some naughty memories.



She said, “A lot of sex. I’ve pretty much only had one vice.”



“And that is what?”



“Sex.” She lowered her head and cut her eyes at me and flashed a devilish smile, “Hot, nasty sex. That’s the reason I waited so long to get married. I enjoyed the company of a lot of men, and they enjoyed me.” She stood and walked over to the bar and poured two catavinos glasses half full of Sherry. With both glasses in hand she walked back over to the couch and handed me one.



“Here you go.”



“I’m not really a drinker.”



She took a sip and smiled at me, “You will be after hearing my story.” She sat closer to me and ran her hand up and down my leg and said, “Shoot away kid.”



“Okay.” I grabbed my pen and cracked open my first notebook and looked at her. “So how about we start with your first big story. The story that put you on the map.”



“That’s a good Idea.”



She nodded her head and closed her eyes for a brief moment and then said, “Well that was back in 1972. I had just graduated from Stanford.”



She paused and frowned.



“Is there something wrong?” I asked.



“No I was just thinking…” She raised her hands and did a flagging motion. “Oh what the fuck. So my last week at Stanford was very erotic. All the guys I knew I would never see again in my life I,” she sighed and shook her head, “I had sex with.”



“Well you don’t have to incorporate those details in the story.” I said.



“No, I feel that my weaknesses have made me a stronger woman. I believe that my story would not be complete without incorporating those details.”



I shrug my shoulders and said, “Okay.”



“How can I say this? I explored my sexuality to the fullest when I was younger. Sex empowered me. To do what? Who the fuck knows. Anyway the guy that I remember the most was Tommy. My god, he was toned, hung like a horse and had the stamina of thorough bred in the Triple Crown. The day that my parents arrived, he and I,”



She lowered her head and ran her hands through her hair.



“I haven’t conjured up these fucking thoughts in years.”



She laughed and then took a deep breath, “Well, I was supposed to just say bye to good ole Tommy from Savanna, but a short goodbye turned into four hours of hot sex.



“I remembered the windows in his small dorm were steamed up from our panting. The room wrecked of sweat and sex. I’ve made passionate love many times since then, but thinking back now this was by far the hottest love making session I had. It could’ve been that we were both young and horny. I really don’t know.



“I was bent over a folding chair, legs spread, while he fucked me in ass. I loved anal sex back then. Even after he exploded in me, he just kept going. When he pulled out of me, I could feel cum oozing down my inner thighs and as I turned, weak and drained, physically exhausted from the intense pleasure, he grabbed my hair and pulled me closer to him. Our lips locked and our tongues played together. He pushed me to the ground and ran his hands through my wet hair. I reached for his cock and shoved it in my mouth and began sucking. Apparently I wasn’t moving fast enough because he began rocking my head over his cock. I looked up at him and saw his face twisted in pleasure. I loved seeing a man in the midst of pleasure. I think it was an ego thing. Knowing that I was the one giving him pleasure.



“Well anyway, he moaned, “Emmy make me cum.”



I grabbed his ass cheeks and pushed myself deep into his thighs. A few moments later, my mouth was filled with his warm sperm. I stood and opened my mouth as he looked at me he wrapped his hand around my throat. He looked down at me and as his grip tightened around my neck, I reached up and grabbed his head and pulled him down to my face and kissed him with a mouth full of sperm. Warm sperm and saliva covered our faces each time I opened my mouth. When we stopped kissing, I swallowed and looked down at my tits. They glistened in sweat and cum.



“When I looked at the clock on he wall, I realized I had an hour before my parents flight landed, so I began rushing to get cleaned up. I walked into the bathroom feeling cum dripping out my ass and cunt with every step. I leaned over the sink to splash water on my face, and Tommy slid behind me and slipped his cock into my pussy and began fucking me. I tried to lean up, but he pushed my face into the sink while pumping his cock in and out of me. He leaned over and bit my neck and ran his hand down my chest and pinched my nipples. He stepped back and pulled out of my pussy only to quickly enter my other hole. He pulled on my hair while ramming his cock between my cheeks. I glanced into the mirror above my face and saw how intense he looked. His grip loosened on my mane and with his right hand he grabbed my left tit. His left hand moved between my thighs. With three fingers he entered me and twisted and turned inside, in sync with his thrusting. It was rough, but I enjoyed it. A few seconds later of finger fucking me, my knees buckled. Between the anal and rubbing on my clit an orgasm struck me.



I lowered my head and grabbed hold of both sides of the sink as I reached a climax. Tears rolled my face as I came.



“I…” I started to say, but every time I opened my mouth, grunts and moans spewed out. He wrapped one arm around my neck and the other around my chest and pulled me straight. As he came he leaned over and bit me on the neck. It was painful, but the pleasure of feeling him inside me was much stronger.



“I gotta go.” I said to him.



His bit me harder.



He turned me around and grabbed a handful of hair, pulled my head back and kissed me on the neck. He then pushed me onto the toilet and spread my legs. He kneeled between them and ate me. I sighed because as much as I knew that I had to pick up my parents, his eating me out was much more enjoyable.



“I gotta go.” I said.



He slurped and stood.



I was face to face with his dripping cock. I grabbed it and looked at it all the while thinking how much I enjoyed it for the last year. I wanted to suck it and enjoy being sprayed with hot cum, but I really needed to go.



I stood and walked into the other room, naked and wet. I reached over for my dress and blouse.



“Will I ever see you again?” he asked.



I looked at him as I stepped into the skirt and after I pulled the blouse over my body, I sighed, “I seriously doubt.” As I walked towards the door, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and looked back at him and said, “But I will never forget you.”"



She paused and flashed a grin as she looked at the floor. She then turned to me and asked, “So, do you want to hear more?”



I was turned on. What man wouldn’t be after hearing that story? I must admit though, I was confused and a little dismayed. This woman was a hero of mine and I was truly interested in writing her biography, that I thought would be inspiring, but here she is telling me erotic stories. This is not exactly the stuff people tend to buy in the bookstores. It didn’t make sense.



“Is there a point why you’re telling me this?” I said.



“This is how I became me. This is my evolution.” She leaned over and tapped me on the cheek and said, “I trust that you will use your editorial skills in the long run.”



She looked down at my not pad and noticed it was filled with writing and scribbled ideas. She said, “You write fast,” before she stood and walked over to the bar to pour another glass of sherry.



“So,” she said as she sipped on her drink, “When I picked up my parents at the airport, my mother, who I think I get my attention to details from, immediately sensed what my extracurricular activities were. After a hug and kiss she looked at me through those piercing eyes of hers and said, “You better not be pregnant.”

*********************



Dear Readers,



Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this adventure. I know there isnt a lot of sex but I am building up the plot, but of course there is a lot of love.



This chapter is still a work-in-progress but I want to make sure you get Chapter 6 before the end of the world! ;-) Archangel is still editing these two chapters.I have submitted Chapter 6, also a work-in-progress because its important to go up by Friday. I hoped it would have been posted on 12-21-12 but alas I did not post because I mentioned my blog – as a just in case.



Anyways here are the chapters pretend it’s 12-21-12.



Thanks for your votes and for reading. Thank you Kat for your comments. I so appreciate them.



Cheers and Happy Reading,



Talyis




***********************************************



Mercurial Ends



Chapter 5 – Trapped in Feuds




Tabor sat alone in a corner of the busy café in Greenwich Village. She appeared insignificant, just another young woman in a bistro biding time with an overpriced latte before having to rejoin the rush of New York City. But Tabor felt like she stuck out like a paranoia patient, she couldn’t help herself from constantly throwing glancing towards the door and over her shoulder at the wall behind her. The wall seemed to have eyes bearing down on her.



College students surrounded around at various tables enjoying their salads and flatbreads. Their computer screens glowed with word documents and their Facebook accounts. To eleaviate her nervousness, she eavesdropped on the table of NYU students, wearing matching knitted berets and sweaters. They argued over a mid-term Power Point presentation’s design colors because it didn’t match the stock picture of a penguin on the slide.



She smiled and sighed remember her days at Brown sitting with her girlfriends bantering over art and teasing each other’s latest bombardment of criticism from their favorite hate-to-love professor. Those days were simpler without vampires, werewolves and mad scientists; the days before she was nothing more than a student and a struggling artist. Now she was something she was not quite sure of — was she a monster as these other beings were and what was she really truly capable of.



Stress began to mount and she pinched the bridge of her nose tightly shutting her eyes before she popped them open. Again nervously she looked around the room and the door. She was just waiting for Shy to magically appear with a disapproving scowl matched with complete fear drowning his eyes.



She told him she was going to meet her mother in the city. She assured him by giving a location and time, he even overheard her mother agreed to meet her on the phone. However, she told her mother that she was running late as usual and wanted to make a stop at a store. Her mother would unconsciously lie for her, if and most certainly when Shy would call, providing the almost-perfect alibi.



Finally, she walked through the door. Julisa, the young looking vampire quickly came to the table, dressed in the latest designer fashions and bags. With trendy black boots and colorful delicate scarfs around her neck, Julisa seemed to blend into New York City better than Tabor. However, Julisa also darted looks over her shoulder nervously, probably expecting Menefer to track her down and drain her blood in front of all the college students. Would they even notice? They all looked so entrapped by their social networks and flirts over coffee.



“Thank you for meeting with me Tabor.” Julisa sounded nervous — even this was high stakes. She pulled her sunglasses off to reveal the most captivating eyes Tabor had ever seen.



“Your eyes?!”



“I’ve been romanced by wolves,” she beamed and her nerves melted away uncovering complete happiness. Julisa’s eyes continued to glitter like rainbows in a prism for irises. Tabor couldn’t comprehend; she gulped the saliva that had been building in her mouth as she anticipated Shy to interrupt at any moment. Her stomach turned, she knew it was her aura, punishing her because she was defying her master. At least Julisa was a vampire, she got vampires; it was werewolves she needed convincing of otherwise.



“What do you have to tell me? I am sure Shy has caught on to me by now and even though I do need my space, I don’t want to put him through what I had done before.”



“Yes, I understand, my father is the same. Tabor I need your help to stop Shy from waging war with the wolves.”



“What do you mean? Shy is not thinking about wolves. He is up to something in Finland.”



“He…” She swallowed her words and they both looked towards the windows, doors and walls as if they were bugged with wires sending every nuance of their actions to Menefer and Shy.



“What do you know?”



“Shy, Menefer, Ilsino and Genevieve have decided to wage war against the Lycans. I was there. Please Tabor, I love the wolves. Please stop him, they will kill them all.”



“Why do they want to kill the werewolves?”



“Tabor, lycans and vampires have been enemies forever.”



“Why?”



“A very old feud. I am not sure they even know what the original feud was themselves. They are just prejudice against each other. The one who knows — you need to speak to Da….” Julisa trailed off and shot a look at the door and sighed it was only a tall lanky college student, not her vampire-father.



“Would the werewolves wage battle against Shy?”



“No, they wouldn’t,” Julisa paused again, she was censoring herself but this time Tabor knew that it was for her own benefit.



“They would wouldn’t they?”



“Yes, yes they would. They would if they wanted to and had a thought to, but now it would be careless. They are busy trying to re-strengthen the clan. I caused a discourse.”



“Daemoric?”



“Yes, what about him?”



“Is it true he drained me? He could have saved me?”



“Yes. Well, yes and no.”



The frankness of ‘no’ in echoed in Tabor’s head but the more she let it stir in her mind, the more it burned hot anger in her belly.



“What do you know about power auras?” Tabor whispered spicily.



“Some. I am not an ancient. I was turned only 50 years ago. But my uncle, Ilsino, he has told me many things of vampire history.”



“Why does a werewolf drain me; while a vampire can give me power?”



“I am sorry, Tabor, I do not know. Can I count on you to help me to stop Shy.”



“What do you mean: Stop Shy?” Alarm came into her voice and her eyes narrowed on the young vampire.



“I mean, if you cannot help me to stop him; the werewolves will.”



“Do you mean to bring me here to threaten me?” The wooden chairs all around the room began to scratch the floor as they pulled away from the tables. The eerily slight and sound of grinding wood on the ceramic tile caused all the NYU students to look up from their computers like prairie dogs. For a moment the room was suspended in fear until the students determined it was nothing and continued to clip-clap on keyboards while laughter and quiet conversations continued.



Tabor hadn’t even noticed what was occurring around her; her anger was mounting hiding reason. She wanted to slap the vampire that had risked her relationship’s harmony with Shy. But the vampire’s eyes shifted around the room, her mouth dropped in fearful awe of what had happened.



Carefully and deliberately Julisa spoke, “Tabor, we have to stop both the werewolves and vampires from fighting. It is not the same day and age that they were able to engage in battle and still keep their lives from affecting the human world.”



“Why?”



“Why, what?” Julisa spat.



“Why should I care? I only care about Shy and if you mean to hurt him, I cannot help you and I will not let you.”



Julisa rubbed her forehead, “I am sorry if I seemed to threaten you. I didn’t mean to. I really need your help. And maybe you can learn more about yourself.” Again Julisa looked at the empty chairs that had mysteriously moved away from their tables. “The werewolves have been around for centuries as long as vampires have. Perhaps they can tell you something about yourself.”



“I am not too sure that the werewolves are friends of power auras. Daemoric drained my energy. He didn’t save me from the horror I was facing.” Tabor pulled her collar to the side revealing an angry red rash running from her shoulder across her collar bone. “They attacked me in my sleep.”



“You have to understand, Daemoric had to think of everyone, werewolves and vampires as a whole. Tabor the scientists were not going to discover what you were. You are the last Aura, your death-”



“I told them! They had me on a table, they were opening my chest!” Tabor sneered in a near yell. The bowls and plates began to shake violently against their tin placemats on the tables. The dim café lights flickered. “They tortured me, they inspected me, looked at my entire body!”



“Tabor,” Julisa tentatively reach out for Tabor to calm her. The students around them held their rattling dishes to the table, fearfully.



“I have nightmares every night and he could have saved me. A werewolf decided to let me suffer! Why?! For mere secrecy?! It was worse than any rape, worse then death. I begged to just die every moment. Daemoric could have ripped their throats out! Werewolves are my enemies.”



At that moment, Shy was walking through the door and with the expression she expected: anger and complete fear. Immediately her face blanched with deep regret. She shouldn’t have come, she hadn’t spoken about her ordeal ever and now she yelled it out in public.



Julisa was no longer nervous about Menefer who shortly followed Shy into the little café. She was afraid of Tabor. Whatever power the girl had was amazing, yet Tabor hadn’t even taken notice to the strange occurrences around her.



“Shy!” Tabor cried and hugged him tightly to her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”



“Tabor, its ok.” He exhaustively exhaled, his strong arms wrapped around her body.



“Julisa what are you doing here?” Menefer scolded.



“Nothing Father,” she stood and walked towards the door but her eyes never left Tabor. She regretted not listening to Galief’s advice to stay away from the aura. The girl whom seemed like a simple mortal toy of Shy was indeed extremely dangerous. She feared for her life for the first time since she became immortal and remember the anxious ticking clock of frailty.



“I knew you would try to sneak away sooner or later. It’s okay. Why are you crying?” Shy tilted her head up to him.



“I didn’t want you to worry,” she buried her face in embarrassment that the entire café heard her true confession.



The students started to pack their bags, computers and netbooks, not really paying attention to Tabor or her outburst. Many of them were busy texting their friends or asking each other if it were safe to take the subway after the “earthquake”.



“Come on, let’s go see your mom. I am kinda looking forward to hearing her latest.”



Tabor shuddered still recalling the welstrom of emotions that gripped her, finally expressing her pain about the Institute. “You are not mad.”



“No, not now that I have found you. I know you, Tabor. Let’s go.” He reached for her bag and held her supportively in his other arm. “I love you.”



Tabor only nodded and whipped her tears away on her sleeve, taking his hand tightly in her own; she walked with him out of the empty café.



***



As soon as Julisa was home, her father had sent her to her room like she was a insolent teenager not a fifty year old vampire. She peaked around the door and found Menefer sitting on a chair around the corner like a real parent.



She huffed at the room he had given her fifty years ago, it was a stark contrast to the grimy Lower East Side water plagued squat she lived in before Menefer changed her. The room was magnificent, much larger than her former single-room studio apartment with a communal bathroom down the hall with a toilet that never flushed. She shared her life with seven other runaway teens in that rundown building. It was a hard life that she was eager to leave and embrace the offer to play princess-daughter to a lonely man. It was indeed a decadent room fit for a modern Egyptian princess with heavy furniture wrapped in red velvets and everything she ever wanted. With a bat of an eye, Menefer gave her the world except she wanted what he refused.



She heard as small pebble hitting the window. Just in time. She smiled and quickly ran to the window, opening it to Galief. The tall lanky man with chocolate hair and an effervescent smile stood in her room and embarrassed her as he looked around at her youthful trappings. Yet, Galief also moved around like an awkward teen. His long arms moved this and that way, not really knowing what to do with his large body but it was unmatched by his beaming smile.



“Coast is clear,” She wrapped her arms around him and his seemed to growl with satisfaction.



“Were you able to persuade the girl?” When he spoke, his true age was revealed and his raspy tone dripped with perfected masculinity.



“I don’t know. She scares me to be honest, but I think we need her more than ever on our side –more than Shy. She is the key. We need to turn her against the vampires to make her join us.”



“Darling,” he smoothed a curly lock of her hair behind her ear. “You forget you are a vampire.”



“But I hate what I am.”



“How can you hate what you are? You are you — just with a small deformity.”



“Deformaity!? I cannot age, Galief.”



“Neither I.” He smirked with his eyes and bit the corner of his bottom lip.



“You do!”



“Yes, but very slowly.” She stood on her tippy-toes and kissed him deeply. A wolfy growl moved into her mouth as he swept her up in to his arms. The man’s gangly awareness vanished, he wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed her against the wall with a thud, not allowing her lips to escape his. “I love you.” His hands pushed her skirt higher, fingers tightly squeezed her flesh.



“I love you too.” She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck keeping them together while he quickly undid he jeans.



She grunted exquisitely as he trust into her, she didn’t care about Menefer down the hall at that moment. She dared him to hear and realize she was really lost to him.



Galief smiled his eyes matched hers glowing as if they peared through the darkness of night, speckled with rainbows. It was a sign of true love which spurred him to attack her neck with kisses, so like a vampire that sucked his victim’s blood from the choice vein.



They lay in a pool of afterglow relishing in the entanglement of their limps on the plush carpet. Julisa’s fingers traced the boarders of a wicked bruise on his chest.



“You are right. We need Tabor to turn against Shy.” He stopped Julisa’s tracing, his strong hands cover hers – he didn’t like the token bruise inflected by the aura on him in her sleep. She would have won hadn’t she been struck by the mysterious bolt of fire. “The aura is our key.”



***



Tabor slumped in her chair as she sat at Shy’s small two-person table looking out into space; her spoon absently stirred her strange brew of yellow and brown dinner. “What’s wrong Tabor,” Shy reached his hand out to touch hers bringing her to the present.



“Nothing’s wrong.” Her tempered eyes fell on him.



“Come on now. I know something is wrong.”



“Well then stop reading my mind.” She snapped her hands away from him.



He only shook his head. “My darling, I don’t have to read you mind to know that something is wrong.”



Tabor paused, she looked him and saw the same loving warm bright eyes she had longed for in desperation. She recalled being so alone, trapped without hope and in the dark of the cage with only her festering wounds. She wanted Shy so much, just to have his arms around her.



She smiled slightly and took a bite of her food.



“So how is it?” Shy asked as he sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was waiting for his “I told you so” moment. She insisted on cooking dinner herself tonight.



“Edible.” She bit the inside of her mouth and avoided his glance.



“Good.” He arched an eyebrow. Unbelievable he remarked on her obstinacy to himself.



“I never understand how you could enjoy cooking. You don’t really eat human food.”



“Human food, phhha. Not much different from what I eat.”



“Except you drain yours,” Tabor guffawed. Shy only smiled and dipped his spoon in her bowl. He tipped his head back and loudly slurped the stew for comedic emphasis — he won, Tabor doubled over with laughter. “And I guess you are a sort of vegan cannibal?”



Shy only smirked wickedly and crossed over to her. He towered over her, he was so sexy it made her shirk back in sheer awe of how lucky she was to have this handsome man-vampire-person in her life.



He pushed her hair away from her neck and dragged his finger down her throat making goosebumps travel down her arms. He loved tantalizing her just to get a rise out of her.



“Are you going to tell me why you met with Julisa today?” He only rubbed her neck with his soft lips.



“She wants me to talk to you about going to war with the wolves.”



Shy stopped his pursuit and arched an eyebrow,



“Did she now?”



“I told her to fuck off.”



Shy growled in laughter and devoured her in a kiss, “Are you fighting my battles for me, Salome?”



“I’ve decided I hate the wolves.”



Shy only hummed, his attention turned to the other side of her neck. His fingers traced the red burn mark the travelled down her neck below her collar bone. “Are you going to tell me how this happened?”



“No.” She responded simply.



She didn’t want to think about her dreams, the Institute or wolves. She was done being a victim. Tabor reached for Shy behind her, pulling him back to her. He kissed her lips from above that made her feel so content and strong.



“I’ll be right back. I trust you to stay out of trouble. I won’t be far. I am going to stop by the local private club of mobsters.”



“Be careful, Shy,” She warned.



“Of course my dear, I am only a mere vampire.” His eyes glittered with his sly smile with a brilliant row of white teeth.



Shy kissed her forehead and then locked the door tightly as he left. He ran quickly down the stairs of his building and then stopped to listen if Tabor was following him. He quickly pulled his cellphone on and made a call as he left the building.



* * * *



From the mountain top everything look barren on the other side of the range. Everything reflected oddly like oil under the sun. The world was hardened by a hard black marble like substance. The sky played a dissident chord hanging both the sun and moon on the horizon together as if to collide. It was the largo movement — the world after destruction.



Tabor’s eyes burned from the sulfuric air, she blinked hard trying to stop herself from feeling the pit in her stomach that wanted to become a wellspring of tears. Her dreamscape was no longer lush, beautiful or violent; it was just barren with emptiness and full of lost.



This was the world after the drums died to a silence.



She never expected him to betray her. He betrayed all of us by killing her. a voice whispered in her mind that strangely sounded like herself.



Emotions played through Tabor rapidly changing from anger, to betray and always landing on love.



“You’re feeling what mother was feeling,” a masculine voice said.



Tabor quickly turned on her heels towards the voice still flooded by the strange feelings that plagued her with grief. She tightened her jaw defensively as Daemoric approached her. He wore only black pants and his pepper salt hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He has muscular abs that many men long to achieve. He was a threat in so many ways, yet he approached Tabor with his hand in placation towards her. She wanted to attack him but every breath she took, create a rush of emotions from this mother. Tabor crumbled to her knees in tears. “She loved him. She love him so much. He betrayed her. He betrayed all of us killing her.”

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