In her aspect...

We met on a beautiful, sunny day sometime in March. I was at the park, in an argyle sweater, slacks, and a long red scarf sitting on a bench busily jotting down this and that into my notepad absorbed in my thoughts, plugged into my i-pod, in the company of ducks and selfish squirrels, whom hoard twigs and nuts. I spied her quickly approaching me, leading… or I should say led... by her Black lab. I smiled and asked her about her dog. The usual fair: his name, age, if he’s a mutt or not. She smiled back, the eye contact was strong, the conversation flowed and I think I made her laugh at some stupid joke or glib remark, a seemingly insignificant chat, small banter that invariably led to me asking her for her number, and proposing to buy her dinner. Of course she agreed. Funny how you don't ever see these things... what I mean is... how small and inconsequential the truly profound seems at first.

“It was a glorious campaign and a brilliantly decisive victory. I personally drove back the Egyptian pestilence. I personally reclaimed Syria and Phoenicia. And I, Nebuchadnezzar, crown prince of Assyria, did this all in the name of power, and glory… and Babylon. It was a day that shall always be remembered and revered in our annals. The mighty Pharaoh Necho was crushed beneath my foot as I would crush an insignificant insect… his vaunted commanders eviscerated and laid out under the dry sun to feed the vultures. The spoils of war were numerous: the indispensable reclamation of our city-states, the utter destruction of Necho’s army, and most of all, the division and redistribution of their coffers… Egyptian gold, cloth, and the material possession of highest value, women.”

I flew out to Chicago to see her after 2 years of noncommunication. It was a rainy day, opressively wet and moody. The weather invariably matched my troubled mind. I was in horrible spirits as a friend had recently died and I was absolutely in no mood to reminisce about the “good old days.” All I could do was sit on the plane, trying not to weep, blankly staring out the window at the passing ground suicidally far below. I couldn’t help but wonder if I could somehow jump out, would I tumble and roll for twenty feet upon impact or would my horizontal velocity have sufficiently slowed that I would land flat with a sickening smack, and perhaps even make a hole in the ground as you sometimes see in the cartoons? Such troubled thoughts - such a fucked up mind. It was definitely a hard time.

" And then there was you... "

She picked me up at the airport with the brightest, whitest, most infectious smile I’ve ever seen. Her blue eyes sparkled with the kind of natural enthusiasm you'd find in children around Christmas. Upon seeing her my mood melted away like snow on a sunny day, in fact I couldn't help but laugh with relief and glee as she jumped up and hugged me, wrapping her legs around my waist. We kissed and embraced. She held me oh so tight… the slow, lingering embrace you'll usually find in airports or shipyards when soldiers are sent away to fight... or upon their return home. She was up to date on recent events and sincerely apologized about my friend. We drove back to her place and she pointed out landmarks and places we mutually knew, as though she owned the entire town and seeked my approval. I listened and laughed at this and that, the whole time counting down the minutes until when I would lay in her warm bed and she’d hold me while I slept.

“ You were an Egyptian beauty: a unique flower. Blessed by the gods with blonde hair and blue eyes, you stood out among the captured “slaves” as a single cloud stands out in the never-ending blue sky. My commanders quickly singled you out and brought you to my tent before the soldiers could defile you. You were presented to me in dancers attire adorned in shiny beads and shells, barely covering your ivory skin, with a veil concealing your mouth and chin, only your hypnotic, haunting eyes could be seen. I cued my musicians to play a song my mother used to sing to me when I was young that always filled my soul with mystery and sadness… and passion. You began the ritualistic dance of your homeland. Your perfect hips swayed to the tribal beat as your hands and smooth arms interlocked like serpents, the whole time your icy eyes never once leaving mine. You cast your spell on me in that trapped moment in time, conquering the conqueror. Allaying the warrior-king with your haunting beauty. That night, by candlelight, I took you as my wife… as my concubine. I swore I would keep you encased and defended as the single greatest treasure of my kingdom. I would build monuments, gardens, and towers in a feeble attempt to replicate what I saw, that savage beauty of yours that continued to haunt my waking dreams. Ever as it would seem… forever.”

She rides me, bucking her hips with eyes closed, teeth clenched, and nails raking down my chest. The orgasm hits her hard, square in the face, as she leans back, round breasts raised in the air, golden hair brushing against my thighs with her hands rested on my calves. She screams aloud, all of her inhibitions gone, and quickly reaches around and rubs her clit as she finishes coming in racking sobs and shaking fits. I watch this beautiful… thing… this act… before me. The guttural sounds she makes combined with the sensation of her body on mine and then the drugs that insistently tug… push me over the edge, no turning back. I begin to madly thrust. I quickly sit up and grab her waist and hold her close as I pound her hard. My balls explode. I lick her neck between groans, rubbing my starving hands all over her back, tasting the salt as she massages my cheek, runs her fingers through my hair, and finishes riding me, milking me dry. I stay inside her as we both sit and gaze into each other’s eyes - basking in the fulfilled satisfaction a hard orgasm brings. Like gems, they shine in the twinkling approaching dawn that peeks at us through the drawn blinds. Her gaze for the briefest of instants appears distant, as though she's recalling a memory stored away, old and ancient. Then she leans in and whispers into my ear the sweet words I’d been dying to hear since that day we met way back in March, alone in the park. Muffled words I can barely hear beneath the swirling of the sands and the wind and the beat of faraway drums.

“ Thank you..."

"Thank you for finding me after all of these years.”