This is a work of fantasy. It is not about real people, and if
it is, its not what they would do. (not that you are likely to know
them anyway). If you are under 18, go away, since I don’t like to get
in trouble. If you are turned off by perversion, what are you doing at
asstr? In other words, go away. If none of this applies to you, great!
Read on! Have fun! Let me know
what you like!
Oh, and I work hard on my writing…so guess what? It's mine.
That’s right boys and girls…i'ts copyrighted…so if you want it? Just
ask- we’ll talk.
Note:
This was done for Mat Twassel's "In Thoughts of You" Challenge.
You can find the picture here:
http://www.vettriano-art.com/inthoughtsofyou2.html
Thanks for getting me off my butt, Mat.
Dryad
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In Thoughts of You
By Dryad
She did it. She ran away. She left behind all the platitudes
and well-meaning friends. Who was she? Did she know anymore? Part of
her was gone. So she ran away. Ran away from the recent memories,
back to those happier ones in the past.
This was their hideaway, where they went to escape the world.
The sunshine always seemed gold here, flooding the rooms, filling them with
light. She sat opened the shutters to gain some of that light back,
before sitting in the nearest chair. She ignored the dust covers--they
didn’t matter. It was in this room he proposed, kneeling at her feet,
the pinnacle of their European tour. For their tenth anniversary, he
gave her the apartment as a present. “Now, we’ll always have our own little
piece of heaven.” He’d said. And she thanked him, her love for him
overflowing, until in a rush of passion that couldn’t wait for the bedroom,
and they’d made love on the window seat, bathed in golden light. The
apartment indeed became their piece of heaven, where they always went to
reconnect. She softly shook her head, and sipped the tea she had pour
unconsciously. She could feel his presence here, feel his hand come
down to her shoulder, and squeeze it lightly, as he often had done when he
came up behind her. Her eyes closed softly at the sensation, could
almost feel his breath against her ear, wafting her hair slightly. The teacup
and saucer in her hand quivered, the rattling bringing her back to the present.
She decided. She would sell the house. There was no
real reason to stay there after all. The socializing had always been
business, his mistress. And the house was far too large for her alone.
She would come here, stay here, stay with him. With that decided, she grew
pensive, her tea grown cold, as she looked at the window, basking in the
golden light.
Copyright Dryad ([email protected]) 2003