When Katie asked if I would write something for the Romance
Festival, my first reaction was a regretful negative. I don't
write this way -- cannot. My writing doesn't flow from requests,
but from within. I shrugged, and continued on.

But then, it began to haunt me. Not so much because of Katie,
though I appreciate her loyalty, and her kind comments,
but because I needed to write something -- romantic. I don't
know if it was merely the suggestion, or merely because the
images began to haunt me. Either way, "When Angels Meet Angels"
is the result. It is, perhaps, long for the Equinox Festival,
but c'est la vie. Stories are as they are. I cannot direct
my Muse any more than I can ignore her. And she seems to
enjoy ignoring rules whenever possible.

"When Angels Meet Angels" makes some references to Inverness. 
I think the story does stand on its own, but if
you'd like to understand more about Inverness, and how it
fits into the story, read "Inverness" (surprise). It is
available on my website(s).

The following story is nominally erotica. It contains scenes
of nudity, sex outside of a standard bedroom setting, and
between members of the same gender. If this is offensive to
you (why are you here?), then kindly skip this story and check
out Disney, or something. If you are too young to read smut,
though I'm not sure this qualifies, still pass on by.

Having said that, please note that the following story isn't
overly explicit. Those of you who have read my stories before,
know that I don't write that way. We all know how slippery
hydraulics work, and we all have our own imaginations (oh,
do we!). Anyway, if you are expecting descriptions of huge
naked breasts, and equally supersized penises, you might want
to pass this story on by -- these things are not
described within. I won't be offended if you don't like
my writing.

Denny kindly, and generously, proof-read, though if there are
errors, I can only be held accountable. Theoretically, I should
know how to write by now. Thanks, Denny.

Please don't redistribute this story in any manner without
consulting with me first. I may give permission, I may not.
Depends on the use. 

If any of you are still with me, then please read on.
I can be contacted with comments, questions, or simple rants,
at dcrimson@yahoo.com. I appreciate feedback, and 
correspondence.

- Crimson

/~Crimson_Dragon
http://members.tripod.com/~Dragon_Of_Crimson


========================================================================
                                    
                   When Angels Meet Angels 

                       [FF, rom, beach]

========================================================================

                 (c) Copyright May-June 2002

              Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)
              
                     All Rights Reserved

========================================================================

"You really don't remember, do you?"

Alison glanced up from her drink and eyed the big man behind
the bar. He smiled at her, and as a force of habit, she smiled
back.

"Remember what?" she asked, raising her voice slightly above
the overall background noise. As if to emphasise her point,
she shrugged her shoulders, and sipped again at the glass of
wine. Its amber sweetness touched her senses, vague memories
beginning to resurface, as if at the big man's suggestion. She 
tried to grasp at the images, but they flittered away like 
elusive butterflies.

CL shrugged, and turned from Alison, gathering up glasses from
the wet surface of the bar as he moved away. Alison allowed a
shallow frown to crease her brow.

"Remember what?" she asked herself.

Fleeting images teased her. Castles. Blonde hair smelling of clover.
Bonfires and feasts. Singing upon a huge stage. Magic.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Too much mead, perhaps.
It had been ages since she'd drunk mead, but tonight had seemed
-- appropriate somehow.

She thought back. She rarely ventured from her apartment,
preferring the quiet introspection of a good story.
At night, she would sit in her comfortable chair under the
single halogen bulb, and read. She didn't remember why she
had come here, to the Portal, on this night. It seemed 
natural, though, and the big bartender seemed to remember
her, even if it had been months since she'd stepped into
the hazy club. He seemed familiar, like an old, lost, friend.

"Inverness," he said. She looked up from her fingers, startled.

"What?"

"Inverness. That's what you are trying to remember." He
gazed at her, as if his words should make more sense than
they did.

For a moment, the bartender appeared more familiar, seemingly
out of place behind the bar. Instead of a bottle of vodka, a
torch -- the torchbearer's torch -- flickered in his paw of
a hand. She blinked, and the image faded into the smoky
atmosphere of the Portal.

"Scotland?" she said, feeling dopey as soon as the word had
passed her lips. She knew he was going to shake his head with
an enigmatic smile, and as if on cue, he did. Damn it, why couldn't 
she remember? Why was Inverness so damn familiar to her?

She watched as the burly bartender moved off again, to deal
with other customers. She swivelled on her chair, hooking her
toes around the legs. Her eyes were drawn to the stage. The
normally tone-deaf karaoke singers had been replaced by two
women. Alison's breath caught for a moment. The two women seemed
so --- familiar, and yet not so. Inverness? Had she been to
a place called Inverness? Castles? Festivals? Sex?

Her breasts tingled for a moment, as if her body remembered
more than her mind.

She shook her head.

The music cranked up and the petite blonde girl began singing 
"Crazy 'bout a Mercury" frenetically on stage. Her voice merged 
well with the music, and it touched another faint chord within 
Alison. The taller redhead stood beside, smiling, and moving 
gently to the music. 

Below the stage, the crowd danced to the old sixties tune,
as if following in the footsteps of the blonde.

As the blonde finished her set, perspiration dotting her
brow, the music segued, and slowed, as the redhead put her 
lips to the microphone. Soft sound quieted the bar.
Alison glanced around. All eyes rested upon the redhead,
almost as if her voice commanded attention. Alison returned
her own eyes back to centre stage.

"You are the Angel of the morning, Angel ..."

The music twinged another memory, this one closer and more
real. A beach, and another girl in diaphanous white. Sands. And 
secrets.  For a moment, she could almost taste the salt in the 
air, the Academy hauntingly near.

A touch to Alison's shoulder tore her eyes from the tall
girl. The redhead seemed even more familiar than the blonde
girl, the words of her song flowing over Alison like a gentle
wave. She was so sure that she knew the singer, from somewhere.

(Inverness?)

"Care to dance?"

The man was tall, dark and handsome. Alison sipped at her
mead, surprised that the glass was empty. She glanced at
CL, who merely smiled and waved at her, as if to say:
"Don't be stupid, dance with him."

And so she did, her arms easily encircling his neck.
In return, his arms encircled her waist, comfortingly and
close. Together, they turned slowly amongst the
heated crowd below the stage. He moved gracefully to
the music, and she found it easy to follow.

The music had stopped before Alison realised that the
dance was over. She released her partner.

(I don't even know his name.)

(It's Denny, but it doesn't matter.)

"Thank-you," he said with a smile. He looked vaguely
familiar to Alison as well, but before she could respond,
he had disappeared into the living crowd. The tall redhead had
melted off the stage, almost as if she were so much smoke
dissipating into the night. The blonde had joined the crowd,
spinning, arms outstretched in the front of the stage. A
circle of dancers surrounded the girl. For a moment, Alison
was sure that the girl danced there without her clothing, but
as she blinked, the girl's blouse reappeared, billowing about
her lithe form. Alison glanced around, and with a sigh, snaked 
her way through the crowd now dancing to the techno-beat of 
TransX, returning to her seat at the bar. She signalled for another 
mead, and then sipped at it slowly.

(Mead is dangerous. Sip, my dear, sip.)

"Have you remembered, yet?"

Alison looked up, suddenly weary.

"Inverness?"

He smiled, but she shook her head slowly. He touched her hand,
and the touch seemed familiar and warm against her skin. Her
senses seemed heightened, as if in anticipation of something.

"You will, torchbearer, you will." He wandered off down the
bar.

She sighed again, and watched the crowd. Memory refused to
indulge her.

                      <---===***===--->

She thrust a few bills over the seat towards the driver.

"Change?" he asked.

Alison shook her head. "Keep it," she murmured. She had no idea
how much she had given him, but his smile in the rear view
mirror told her it may have been a little much. She didn't
care.

She glanced at her wrist watch. For a moment, it seemed
to hesitate, then it stumbled back into motion. She blinked,
but the world still seemed to tick along as it always did.

Normally, she wouldn't be awake at two o'clock, but there was
something about this night. Something.

Dimly, she heard the taxi door slam, and the car accelerate as
it left her standing lonely on the curb. Across the street,
the tall redhead from the Portal stood watching her. Alison
raised her hand, blinked, but the girl was gone -- again,
as if a puff of wind had blown away so much smoke.

Alison shook her head, and wearily climbed the stairs,
unlocked the door, and stumbled upstairs to her small
apartment.

                      <---===***===--->

A shower had been necessary. The stink of stale cigarette
smoke hung in her hair, and on her clothing, like static
cling. Her eyes wept with the sting of the cancer
sticks. Under the falling rain of warm water, her hair hung 
in damp strings from her scalp, caressing her shoulders. 

With a sigh, she stepped from the tiny enclosure.

She stood, naked and shivering, in front of the mirror. 
On the desk beside her, her pyjamas waited. After a moment,
she slipped the tops of her pyjamas over her bare skin, and drew
the pants over her legs. Normally, she wouldn't bother with 
sleeping attire, especially when her eyes refused to stay open 
any longer, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that there were 
eyes here. Somewhere. Watching her.

The drapes were drawn, and the room only illuminated by a
single bedside lamp. She sighed.

(Silly girl. Who'd be watching you?)

(The Dragon)

(Who?)

She shook her head slowly, and climbed between the sheets,
shivering until her body had warmed the bed. At the touch of her
fingers, the lamp clicked off, plunging the room into eerie 
semi-darkness, only lit by a single beam of light between the
curtains from the ever-present street lamp outside her window.

She was asleep even before her head touched the pillow,
her breathing soft and relaxed. The street light's
rays slashed across her cheek, kissing her goodnight.

Unnoticed, a small pile of sand upon her bedstand shifted
slightly, almost swirling like pixie dust, as her soft breathing 
ran tendrils of air over its surface.

                      <---===***===--->

"Alison?"

Alison murmured something incoherent in her sleep, turning
over.

"Alison?"

The girl moaned, and threw an extra pillow across her
ears, burying her head beneath.

"It's not a school day, Claire. Jeez," Alison murmured
sleepily. After a moment, her breathing returned to a gentle
but steady rhythm.

"Alison. It's time to go. You'll miss her, if you don't hurry."

The soft feminine voice finally penetrated into Alison's sleep
clouded mind, and she slowly sat up, the covers falling from
her chest to pool in her lap. She blinked, her eyes grainy and
aching.

(How much mead did I drink?)

The answer came swiftly, almost as if it hadn't originated from
her own mind.

(Not enough, Alison. Not enough.)

Alison swallowed, her throat raspy.

"Who's there?" she whispered. Her heart began to beat more
insistently in her chest. But it wasn't fear. The feminine
voice sounded familiar, and soothing -- nothing like the
more masculine tones that would have sparked panic.

A shadow shifted near the mirror, and Alison caught her
breath.

The tall redhead stepped into view, the gentle shaft of
street lamp touching her lower legs and thighs, illuminated
bare feet below a white hem. But it was her. There was no 
mistaking the voice, nor the girl.

And she was familiar. Perhaps it was her dreams, perhaps it
was her unconscious mind, but suddenly she knew.

"Crimson?" Alison whispered. She pushed herself further back
towards the headboard.

"You are starting to remember. It's difficult the first few
times. Most think it was a dream."

"Inverness?"

"Inverness."

Alison swung her legs from the bed, her feet bare and
cool upon the parquet. She stepped towards the tall
girl. As she approached, the girl shimmered, shifting from
female to male, and then to a creature with crimson scales.
Alison blinked, and the girl returned, standing easily,
her body draped in diaphanous white, her red hair
curled about her shoulders. Alison's heart ached in
her chest.

"We're going back," Alison said. "To Inverness? You came
for me?" The Dragon smiled gently, without answering.
"It's too early. Equinox is tomorrow."

"If you don't want to go, I cannot make you," the red-haired
girl said, her voice musical.

Alison stepped closer, the girl's features becoming more
clear, more distinct, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Images flittered through her mind. Castles. Stolen kisses.
Beaches. Portals. Fields of clover. She tried to grasp at
them, but they again skittered from her. Her body again 
remembered, and her breasts tingled. She cocked her head
to the side.

"You are remembering," Crimson said, her voice slow.

"That song. The one you sang on stage, that was for me,
wasn't it?" Crimson nodded slowly. "I cannot replace her,
but you need to let her go."

Alison nodded. Suddenly, more images flooded her. Another
night, a bad night. After her break-up, and Crimson, male
then, had sat with her, given her Inverness. Her heart
skipped another beat, and the truth of it sank into her.

"You know I might love you. I couldn't tell you last time."

"You do remember. But do you also remember that I am not for
you? I cannot."

Tears threatened, even if Alison didn't understand why,
but she nodded anyway.

Crimson's lips were soft, and yet burning, as they touched
Alison's cheek. The kiss was chaste, no more implied, nor taken, 
but her nerves jangled, driving unusual desire into her -- her 
breasts, between her legs. Her breath came in gasps.

"It's time to go. The Festival is tomorrow, but tonight it is
only for two."

"You and me?"

Slowly, Crimson shook her head, her hair glimmering in the
dim light. "Not I, but you. And one other."

"Who?"

"You will know her."

It didn't make sense to Alison, but she stepped backwards,
her feet whispering across the floor. When she turned,
heatless blue fire opened in a ring a few centimetres from
the floorboards.

She approached the portal, her fingers touching the blue
light, passing through it, and not emerging from the other
side.

"What's on the other side?" she whispered. "Inverness?"

Crimson laughed gently, her voice musical upon the air.
The air seemed to carry an electric charge, making Alison's
hair rise upon her arms and legs and at the nape of her neck.

"Not Inverness, not as you know it."

"What's beyond, then?"

"The Angel of the Morning."

Slowly, Alison turned. Crimson smiled at her, waving her
on. Without another word, Alison made up her mind, stepping
decisively into the blue flames. The portal engulfed her,
and then she was falling. Falling forever.

The blue flames intensified for a moment, in Alison's bedroom,
and then slowly collapsed. The sand upon her bedside sighed,
and swirled, almost as if the girl remained in her bed, softly
breathing, tendrils of breath caressing it like pixie dust.

                      <---===***===--->

Warm sand pressed into her cheek, the familiar sound of waves gently
breaking against beach kissing her ears. Her eyes fluttered open, 
as she gasped in salty air.

(Where the hell am I??)

A feminine voice rode the sea breeze, softly singing:

"... Angel of the Morning, Angel. Just touch my cheek before you
leave me, baby ..."

Alison wearily lifted her head from the sand, her eyes searching
across the tiny dunes of windswept ridges. Slowly, she sat up.
The air was warmer here, thankfully, her thin pyjamas more than
sufficient for the new climate. She took stock of her body.
Her arms and legs ached, as if she'd fallen into a bed of
soft sand -- which she supposed that she had. Nothing seemed 
broken, only aches permeated her limbs.

Slowly, she pushed herself to her bare feet. The sand sighed
under her toes. She stepped towards the surf.

The moon seemed large, larger by far than a harvest moon,
hung like a great disk hovering above the gentle waves.
Its light danced across a million waves.

"... then slowly turn away ..."

Alison turned slowly, her eyes finding the shadow of the Dragon,
sitting cross-legged under a palm. Red hair spilled over the
Dragon's shoulders, contrasting in the moonlight with the simple
white shift gracing the girl's body. Alison's feet left a trail
as she approached the softly singing Dragon. As she approached,
Crimson looked up, her eyes smiling, sparkling in the faint
light of the moon.

                      <---===***===--->

The sand was warm beneath her bottom as Alison sat across from
the singing Dragon, her feet crossed in front of her.

"... I see no need to take me home. I'm old enough to face the dawn ..."

After a moment, Crimson looked up. Tears shone in her eyes, but
didn't fall. Alison remained quiet, watching the girl until
she spoke.

"She's coming," Crimson said.

Alison didn't quite know what to make of that. Her fingers played
with the hem of her pyjamas, which fluttered in the breeze.

"You could have let me change," Alison said quietly.

Crimson shrugged, a smile forming about her lips.

"You won't need them much longer."

Alison shivered despite the humid heat of the night. That sounded
somewhat ominous, but she didn't press further for details. What
would be, would be. Her fingers dropped to play with the sand,
instead of her meagre clothing.

"Why am I here?"

"She comes," Crimson said again.

Straining her ears, Alison could hear another girl's voice
singing, the words floating along the beach, though she couldn't
quite make out the tune for the gentle patter of the surf. She glanced up
the expanse of sand, but no figure appeared. She turned back
towards Crimson.

"Why am I here?" Alison repeated.

"Because you need to be."

"It's not Equinox, not yet."

Crimson shook her head, her red tresses gathering then
parting at her white clad shoulders.

"No, it's not."

"What is this place? It's not Inverness, is it?"

Crimson sighed, leaning back on her hands. Her breasts pushed
gently at the white fabric of her tunic. Alison thought that
she could detect the gentle rise of Crimson's nipples beneath
the sheer material.

"It is all Inverness, Alison." 

Alison coughed, allowing a puzzled look to grace her features. 
Crimson continued, her voice low. "We escape here."

"Where is here? And don't say Inverness, or I'll hit you."

Crimson smiled. "Are you sure I wouldn't like that?"

Alison flushed, but instead of raising her hand, laughed.

"No. I'm not." She paused. "Where am I this time?"

"An island. Me and you and Mercury. Soon to be only you
and Mercury."

"Who ..."

"You'll remember her, methinks."

Alison strained her mind, a flash of blonde hair emerging from
the mists, only to disappear.

"Mercury."

"A beach. Moonlight. Surf. Salt. Sand. Mercury."

"You created this place," Alison said, more a statement than a
question.

Crimson nodded. "I did. When the sun rises, on the last day of
spring, it will dazzle. Until then, the beach is yours."

"Why do you write?"

"Writing is part of me," Crimson said easily. She pushed herself
to her bare feet, the tunic swirling about her body. "I can no
better stop writing than to stop breathing. And to stop writing
is probably to stop breathing. For me."

"Why bring me here?"

"Because you wanted to come. You stepped through the portal.
You fell through, and tumbled to the sand. I never forced
you to do that. You came because you wanted to."

Alison nodded slowly. She, too, rose, her feet light upon the
sand. The two girls descended to the water's edge, where
small waves lapped at their toes. Luminescent sea creatures
danced beneath the waves.

They fell quiet for a moment, watching the wind and the moon.
Without thought, Alison's hand entwined with Crimson's.

"I am not for you, you know ..." Crimson whispered. But she
didn't pull her hand from Alison's.

Another voice floated again across the currents of air along
the beach. This time, the words were more distinct, and
happy.

"... I'm crazy 'bout a Mercury ..."

Alison turned towards the sound, but the girl singing remained
out of sight behind the cover of darkness. She turned back towards
Crimson.

"I want to kiss you," Alison said suddenly.

For a moment, she thought that the Dragon would balk. She couldn't
remember, not fully, but everything in her being cried out that
the Dragon was not for her -- no matter how much she might want
her.

Instead, Crimson bent, and gently touched Alison's lips
with her own. Tingles raced through Alison's nerves, and her
breath fell between her lips in a quick rush.

"Thank you," Alison whispered. But there was no reply. Only the
haunting voice upon the wind.

"... cruise it up and down the road ..."

Smiling, Alison turned again. This time, a figure in white
was visible, slowly walking down the water's edge, bare feet
whispering through the waves. The girl was familiar, her
blonde hair billowing about her face, obscuring it from
Alison's view. The girl walked slowly, almost as if she were
dancing, her voice serene upon the wind. A flash of the girl
naked, reclining in hay in a loft far away, flitted through
Alison's memory. She smiled as the girl approached.

Her body was hidden, barely, by the sheer diaphanous material
swirling about her legs. Where the garment touched the sea,
it shimmered with moisture. The girl's bare feet nearly
floated above the wet sand.

When the girl looked up, Alison gasped, full recognition slamming
into her mind.

"Oh, my, God ... Mercury ... how could I forget?"

She ran, then, feeling her fingers slip easily from Crimson's.
Mercury's body was warm and soft under Alison's embrace.
Both girls were laughing as they hugged.

"You didn't forget, Alison. We just faded. It happens.
Happens to Janey, too."

(Janey. The reluctant Queen.)

Slowly, Alison disentangled herself from the girl. Moonlight
shone upon her features, bathing the blonde in phosphorescence.

"It's been so long."

"It's almost Equinox," Mercury said. "I'm crazy 'bout a Mercury."

Alison turned, then. Crimson raised one long fingered hand,
and the nails glimmered for a moment. The tall girl smiled
once, and waved. Alison waved back, and blinked back a tear.

In the space of that blink, the Dragon shimmered off the
island, replaced by sparkles of crimson light.

"She'll be back. Or we won't be able to leave," Mercury
murmured in Alison's ear. "But I'm glad you're still
around. You still believe."

Confused, Alison turned. Almost without thinking, she entwined
her fingers in Mercury's, and the two of them watched the
moon, and the waves for a long, long time.

                      <---===***===--->

Mercury knelt in the sand, behind the small stack of brush.
She grinned at Alison as Alison lowered herself to the sand,
crossing her legs demurely. The largest breaking wave wouldn't
reach them here -- they were dry and safe. Cricket song floated
across the beach from the forest of palm trees beyond.
Stars twinkled silently overhead.

Mercury passed her hands over the brush twice, blue radiance
sparkling between her fingers. With a sigh, the brush caught,
and normal orange flame began to lick at the dry wood.
Pops and crackles issued into the night, and the scent of
incense floated above the ever-present sting of salty air.

After a moment, Mercury rose and paced through the sand,
her bare feet leaving indents in the beach. She settled
beside Alison, her fingers reaching for Alison's.

"Do you remember Inverness? At all?"

Alison nodded her head; her straight brunette locks danced in
the moonlight. "A little," she said. She could feel the flush
rising to her cheeks. Mostly what she remembered was this girl,
naked, and beautiful. Making love -- really making love. Not
the facsimile that she'd drifted through in the world above.

Mercury raised her hand and gently touched Alison's cheek.
Alison turned to regard the blonde. Mercury's robes fluttered
gently in the salty wind.

"We come here to escape," she murmured. "The Dragon, she
brings us here, will bring us to the Keep, Inverness, at
the dawn of the Equinox for the festival."

"Why me?"

"She likes you -- you're important to her."

"Why you?"

"Because I am Mercury."

It made little sense to Alison, but she sensed that it didn't
need to.

"It's beautiful here."

Mercury nodded. "Wait until the sunrise."

Alison sighed, picked up a thin branch, and poked at the fire. 
Sparks showered upwards as if defying the laws of physics, mocking 
Isaac Newton and his hare-brained theories. Alison supposed that if 
the Dragon willed it, she could float as weightless and free as the
tiny winks of lights rising from the fire.

"Tomorrow, we'll be back there?"

Mercury looked up, her eyes shifting from the fire to Alison's
face.

"Back to the Keep? Depends on what the Dragon wants. But we'll
be somewhere, if you step through the portal. Red pill, blue
pill. Aren't you glad that you took the red pill?"

"I hope so."

Mercury leaned in, nestling her head against Alison's shoulder.
For a moment, Alison nearly withdrew, but the other girl didn't
seem to notice. Slowly, the ease of being with her seeped back
into Alison's being, and she relaxed.

"I hope so, too. I've missed you," Mercury murmured.

Mercury. The wild child. The girl who chose not to wear her
clothing. The one that everyone knew. And she was here,
sharing this beach -- with Alison. Tonight.

Without warning, Mercury lifted her head. Slowly, ever so
slowly, she moved forward. The flames flickered across her
soft skin, her eyes sparkling, almost laughing.

And then their lips connected with a spark of electricity.
Mercury's fingertips stole to toy with the buttons of
Alison's thin pyjamas. Mercury's tongue flit across Alison's
lips. A low moan, that she barely recognised as her own,
floated above the sounds of the crickets.

Overhead, the moon winked at the girls, its light seeming to
intensify for a moment as the kiss lengthened.

                      <---===***===--->

Sand clung to her bare skin, inundated her brunette tresses.
Her fingers trailed easily over bare skin, tickling thighs,
calves, toes, breasts, oh, nipples, and hips. The sea kissed
her toes, as the tide gently rose. Mercury's legs slid
effortlessly over her own, tingles racing through her.
Racing.

(Mmmmmmmmmmmm)

Mercury's tongue touched her, found her rhythm, and suddenly,
she was rocking, her toes splashing in the luminescence of
the waves. God, fingers light upon her nipples, sand caressing
her skin. 

The blue light rose up from within her, Mercury driving her
towards the chasm's edge relentlessly, hopelessly, inevitably.

She screamed, her voice swallowed by the moon, by the sand,
by the sea. Her back arched, and she screamed again; her fingers
dug furrows into the warmth of the beach.

And at last, she collapsed, her breathing ragged, her body
clenching, and aching. Wonderfully aching.

Mercury moved into view, kneeling, her skin shining with perspiration, 
and the moisture of the sea, sand kissing her ever so intimately.
The faint light of the flames flickered over bare skin bathed
in moonlight.

Alison weakly smiled up at the girl, stretching her hands
over her head. She wanted to taste Mercury.

"Cruise it up and down the road," Alison whispered.
Mercury smiled, and lowered herself to the beach with
a sigh.

                      <---===***===--->

Her hair seemed nearly black as Mercury's head broke the surface
with a laugh of abandoned pleasure. The girl twisted herself,
then seeing Alison's silhouette, breast-stroked easily through
the calm water. A trail of luminescence rose in her wake.

When Mercury came close, she dropped, treading water easily,
effortlessly.

"Sand. It gets everywhere."

Alison grinned and tilted her head back to shake out her
hair in the dark water. Dots of light seemed to chase the
fine grains that drifted from her tresses. With a sigh, she 
brought her head back up. Light fingers found her nipples 
under the surface of the sea. Alison groaned, but didn't
brush away Mercury's hands. Indeed, her own hands
rose to find Mercury's breast, soft, firm and yielding
beneath the uncaring waves.

Mercury smiled, and kissed her again, her lips warm and
wet, and inviting.

Overhead, the moon watched the girls swim, lighting their
passage through the calm waves.

                      <---===***===--->

The moon breathed a sigh as the first rays of dawn peeked over
the eastern horizon.

Alison sat easily, her bare toes lapped by the warmth of the
sea. Her pyjama bottoms, the cuffs, soaked up salty moisture, but
it wasn't uncomfortable. The tops of her pyjamas fluttered
in the light breeze beside the fire, entangled with Mercury's
robe. Her fingers entwined with Mercury's, the blonde nude,
and unselfconscious beside her in the sand.

They watched the sun rise together, easily and without
speaking. Alison felt Mercury squeeze her hand once,
perhaps in response to a large sea bird or a dragon winging
across the surface of the moon as it bid them farewell.

                      <---===***===--->

"... I see them Angels of the morning, Angels. Just touch my
cheek before you leave me, baby ..."

The feminine voice carried almost like smoke upon the breeze.
Mercury squeezed her fingers once more, as if in a silent
farewell. Unexplained tears welled up in Alison's eyes.

(I don't want to cry. I don't. I don't. I don't.)

But she would cry. Eventually.

Crimson was behind them, somewhere, sitting quietly singing
against a palm tree. Somewhere. Waiting patiently.

Without thought, without speaking, Alison turned towards
Mercury. The naked blonde was crying, though she didn't
seem upset. Alison kissed her gently, one last time,
tasting the salt of her skin. Her own tears traced down
her cheeks as she had known they would.

"Tomorrow night?" Mercury whispered.

Alison smiled. "If I'm invited."

"Don't be silly," Mercury said. "I'll shoot the old lizard if
she didn't come to get you."

Alison grinned, and then leaned down again to kiss the girl.

Then she pushed herself to her bare feet, and walked up the beach.
She bent at the remains of the fire, the surrounding stones still
warm to the touch. She slipped the pyjama top over her shoulders
but didn't bother buttoning it. The material fluttered a little
at her waist, but she merely touched it with her fingers, and it
obediently clung to her damp skin. Mercury's clothing remained
lonely in the sand.

Crimson had stopped singing, turning her grey eyes up to
capture Alison's.

"Thank you," Alison said simply. She reached down to help the
Dragon to her feet. The tall girl was surprisingly light, as
she rose.

The Dragon seemed to understand her words, and merely leaned
in to peck Alison on the cheek. Her lips burned across Alison's
skin.

Alison sensed, rather than saw, the portal open behind her.
When she turned, the ring of blue shimmered in the dawn light.
Through it, she could see Mercury, still facing the rising
sun, her bare skin glowing.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Is Equinox," Crimson whispered.

Alison nodded and stepped forward through the sand. She
paused outside of the blue portal. Mercury turned and smiled,
her eyes now dry. She waved, and Alison waved back.

Without further hesitation, Alison stepped through the portal,
and began to fall.

                      <---===***===--->

A familiar song woke her as the alarm clock dispassionately
and abruptly triggered. The song ended, and the announcer
blared through Alison's sleep deprived mind:

"Welcome to the first day of summer, my friends. June
twenty-first, and a beautiful day it will be in the
city that never stops. That was Merrilee Rush singing
the sixties anthem, Angel of the Morning. We all need
Angels of the Mornings, my friends. And we all need to
be Angels of the Morning. Rise and shine, sleepyheads.
A new day dawns ... and for those of us that have to
work, my friends, consider playing hooky. Today's the
day. And for those that can't escape the grind, rise
swiftly, like the Angel Mercury, fly to wherever
you need to be, but don't dally -- today's the first
day of summer, my friends ... don't dally ... all you
Angels out there, fly and meet the other Angels of this
glorious morning ..."

Alison fumbled over the covers, her fingers snapping off
the radio with a groan.

Sunlight streamed through the partially open blinds, kissing her. 
She ached, God, did she ache. She flexed her legs, and toes, wincing 
at the unaccustomed feelings of sexual abandonment. A glance under
the covers confirmed it -- she was still dressed in the thin
pyjamas that she'd retired last evening in, and nobody
was likely in her shower. Confused, she peered again at
her thin pyjamas, touching herself gently. Her breasts
ached, as if they had been squeezed.

(Sexual abandonment? Huh?)

With another groan, she swivelled her legs from under the covers.

The taste of mead, and something else, sweet and musky, touched
her tongue and the back of her throat. It wasn't unpleasant;
she was sure that she hadn't drunk too much at the Portal.
But strange dreams. So strange.

She rubbed gently at her eyes. It didn't help. Something
scratched, like sandpaper, at her bare left palm, under
the covers.

Curiously, she threw back the covers, and stared.

(It gets everywhere, doesn't it?)

Fine sand lay upon the cover sheets, and dusted the tops of
her bare feet. Almost absently, she brushed first at the sheets,
and then at her feet. Motes, like dust, floated lazily to
the floor, sparkling in the beam of sunlight from the gap
in the blinds.

The sunbeam had noticeably shifted from when the annoyingly
cheerful announcer had called her an Angel.

Equinox approached. 

She pushed herself to her feet, stripping off her pyjamas, and 
dropping the sandy garments to the floor at her feet.

When Angels meet Angels.

She smiled, almost laughing for the first time in a long time. 
For the first time in months, she had something to look forward
to. Perhaps, she would write a story, today. Anything seemed
possible.

And then the Dragon would come for her.

Equinox approached.