~ IDYLLIC: ORATIO OBLIQUA~
Yesterday
morning, or perhaps last night, Celeste will wake up dead.
It will take quite some time
before she will take note of this.
Celeste will have just ventured
out, the evening before, with her BestFriendForever, Ashlynn Jameson,
to seek out a new restaurant and bar, Le Colisee.
Dave will not appear too excited about this, and Celeste will worry that he may be upset by the time upon which she returns---especially if she should so happen to have spent far too much time catching up with
her long-time friend, with whom she will have not seen in a little over an
academic year.
Ashlynn
has been on a study abroad exchange of some sort---premised upon
Classical Literature and Ancient Mythology or something like this.
Ashlynn's long-winded,
bubbly digests are quite familiar to all.
In fact, they register quite regularly as a “cc:all” expose to her steady circulation of friends, as well as the many more recent admirers she will have gathered along the way.
In fact, they register quite regularly as a “cc:all” expose to her steady circulation of friends, as well as the many more recent admirers she will have gathered along the way.
Mykonos....Athens....Barcelona...CATalonia...(as
Ashlynn has never fail to educate her fellow, feathered ilk).....
All
this...and even more, still, ...and, yet, always all the best parts....divulged solely for Celeste's
pervy perusal and private consumption...
And so now, Celeste will be able to unearth even more....always
more..about her darling girlfriend's heady endeavours and their lusty conclusion.
Ah, for example,......Tomas,
the hunky, highly adroit Catalonian, with whom Ashley has only just memorialized a Great Escape to
Venezia ....
A sweet, but sordid, escapade, culminating with tentative, then turbulent, finger-filled dalliances to the tune of that silent symphony on the muddy waters of a midnight gondola ride...
A sweet, but sordid, escapade, culminating with tentative, then turbulent, finger-filled dalliances to the tune of that silent symphony on the muddy waters of a midnight gondola ride...
A
tasty bon appetit, indeed, for el senor, fanned beneath her popularly peasant
skirt....and how Ashlynn would squirm re-living how she would try her best to ignore the rocking and
swaying of that small, floating apparatus so many millions of light-years away from the crunchy granola of her more usual endives...
Like Hendry's Beach off the Pacific Coast......or a stolen moment of picnicking a la va va voom on checkered, gingham blankets..or were they Freddy's Burgers napkins...?
Like Hendry's Beach off the Pacific Coast......or a stolen moment of picnicking a la va va voom on checkered, gingham blankets..or were they Freddy's Burgers napkins...?
Ashley will have developed a learned disdain for those comparatively milder throws
of passion----long-gone and tossed out to sea--- amid the persistent flow of tides along the edges of
humanity....
Celeste is more than willing to subsume this all the while...... emptying recollections of fuzzy, fading remnants of her own times passed......
Like losing her Bon Genre Jeans to the Pacific Coast in a newly naked embrace,
Her soaked front pockets bearing down, impeding resistance, reuniting with Donnie's t-shirt, their having become saddled with quarters readied for a midnight sack of colorless bra-and-panty-laundry and Donnie's short sleeves.
All this in salute to the elements, yet little more than a mere pittance to Mother Nature, herself.
Celeste is more than willing to subsume this all the while...... emptying recollections of fuzzy, fading remnants of her own times passed......
Like losing her Bon Genre Jeans to the Pacific Coast in a newly naked embrace,
Her soaked front pockets bearing down, impeding resistance, reuniting with Donnie's t-shirt, their having become saddled with quarters readied for a midnight sack of colorless bra-and-panty-laundry and Donnie's short sleeves.
All this in salute to the elements, yet little more than a mere pittance to Mother Nature, herself.
But, no, no.
Celeste will quickly return to the seedy seat of novelty, smack dab in front row, where things were a LOT less pedestrian.
Celeste will quickly return to the seedy seat of novelty, smack dab in front row, where things were a LOT less pedestrian.
You see, Ashlynn was a LADY in Europe.
That being so, it was only polite, then, to allow her beau, Tomas, to have
a gander at her prized and pretty pink possession, and unthinkable to lie concealed indelicately beneath some nondescript fabric of
commodity.
Ah,
yes, Celeste will be most eager to relish all of these naughty delicts
abroad, in real time, after all that she has devoured at length before her computer screen.
Things were going to get real.
Celeste will reach out, compelled by her quest to fully expose those secret treasures of abandon, in concert she hopes, with her long-time beau .
Things were going to get real.
Celeste will reach out, compelled by her quest to fully expose those secret treasures of abandon, in concert she hopes, with her long-time beau .
She has lived for the date of this reunion, it seems, and a lustful re-mixing of the familiar: the widening
of Ashlynn's complicit, dazzling hazel-green eyes, her full breasts thrusting forward out of habit, as she embarks anew, weaving her delicious narrative to life.
David will not know what hit him.
Certainly, yes, Celeste has been yearning for this sort of gathering for much more than a fortnight.
And now she wants to collect .
David will not know what hit him.
Certainly, yes, Celeste has been yearning for this sort of gathering for much more than a fortnight.
And now she wants to collect .
Her attention will divert, at moments, upon........
The thought of Ashlynn's cheeks, which usually tend towards rosy when she is just about to spill the raciest of spoils.
The impish dive of Ashlynn's heart-shaped head, as she lowers her gaze mid-sentence;
The corners of her girlfriend's lips, when they curl conspiratorially;
Their interchange will commingle, as they often do, laced with sheepish smirks of self-censorship and bouts of sheer, bemused embarrassment;
False modesty will peel away as Ashlynn's hushed giggles tell all.
The thought of Ashlynn's cheeks, which usually tend towards rosy when she is just about to spill the raciest of spoils.
The impish dive of Ashlynn's heart-shaped head, as she lowers her gaze mid-sentence;
The corners of her girlfriend's lips, when they curl conspiratorially;
Their interchange will commingle, as they often do, laced with sheepish smirks of self-censorship and bouts of sheer, bemused embarrassment;
False modesty will peel away as Ashlynn's hushed giggles tell all.
Together, they will find it increasingly troublesome to fight back the tears of merriment.
Time and again, they may attempt to stifle and compress Ashlynn's naughty narrative at irregular intervals, shielding themselves from spectators' wandering eyes and wondering ears.
Time and again, they may attempt to stifle and compress Ashlynn's naughty narrative at irregular intervals, shielding themselves from spectators' wandering eyes and wondering ears.
And, of course, the waiter will come near making his proverbial rounds-----mostly mid-bite.
Just like clockwork.
Just to see if “everything's alright.”
Just like clockwork.
Just to see if “everything's alright.”
And it will be.
And so very much more than 'alright.'”
Celeste
will encroach progressively as the night waxes on, building upon each succulent recantation of her muse.
Celeste will catalog all manner of happenstance this evening, hoping to unleash her very own brand of sex magic, just this once, but precisely where and when she should.
She will attempt to widen the circle .
Just for one.
She will attempt to widen the circle .
Just for one.
Or, well, her party of one.
Ah, the sweet, unassuming, ever-so-devoted David.
Now, ordinarily, Celeste would have had no difficulty casting forth a reasonable reproduction of her notorious pal's far-flung charisma.
But her rehearsals were largely confined to solitary pursuit.
Mostly.
Yet, here, Celeste will assume certain studied positions, on this once upon a night.
It is a given that she will start out well enough.
She will advance with all the more purpose between the unforeseen hours of this endless night.
She will advance with all the more purpose between the unforeseen hours of this endless night.
Celeste's impending desire will mount bit by bit, eager to rejoice, relive, and suddenly give rise to a fait accompli.
She races full speed ahead without regard for what could have otherwise resulted from certain derisive acts of jamais-vu.
Celeste will have hastened the destiny which stirs so immutably within, in spite of herself.
She races full speed ahead without regard for what could have otherwise resulted from certain derisive acts of jamais-vu.
Celeste will have hastened the destiny which stirs so immutably within, in spite of herself.
By definition, Celeste has had plenty of ...well, practice... gleaned from that steady stream of salacious digest------- awash with the magnetic agony, ecstasy, and octane-laden discourse which spawns over-easy from randy wild-child, Ashlynn.
Celeste has been au courant for such a very long time.
Celeste has been au courant for such a very long time.
More
often than not, perhaps, this feverish intoxication could have topped off, occasioning itself to die a warm, slow, heady little death.
Until this one night, her fantasies would have remained burrowed within the exclusive domain of private life:
Slipping through solely during hidden, unspecified stretches of time;
Shrouded within and beneath her stark-white bedroom linen;
Finding their welcome respite, peacefully atop Celeste's personal pleasure chamber.
Normally, she would have flicked about, pressing persistently with her tiny, finely tuned digits---- until she stopped.
Until this one night, her fantasies would have remained burrowed within the exclusive domain of private life:
Slipping through solely during hidden, unspecified stretches of time;
Shrouded within and beneath her stark-white bedroom linen;
Finding their welcome respite, peacefully atop Celeste's personal pleasure chamber.
Normally, she would have flicked about, pressing persistently with her tiny, finely tuned digits---- until she stopped.
However, this time around, not so much.
On this other day or night, something else will have come to pass instead....and rather remarkably so.
On this other day or night, something else will have come to pass instead....and rather remarkably so.
And
all because, and perhaps only because, at the culmination of this very grand soiree and pleasure-filled reconnaissance...things really won't seem all that different.
Not at first .
Not at first .
And, yet, after all this, somehow it all must cease to be.
Because Celeste will wake up dead.
Because Celeste will wake up dead.
******END******
(Rough Edit)
WRITTEN by Sandra LONDON on MARCH 19th, 2013.
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