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From: Eli the Bearded <usenet-tag@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
Subject: {<500 words} Repost: "B----'s Lover" {Eli}
X-US-Congress: Moronic Fucks.

		B----'s Lover
			a 400 word story by Eli-the-Bearded

I combed her hair, that beautiful yellow mane, for her. Every woman
should have a lover or, if poor in love, a servant to help her keep up
appearances.  My beloved is, rightly so, proud of her long locks.
Exquisite color and long enough to obscure the small of her back. I
combed it carefully to keep it pretty. 

When I finished the combing I plaited her hair because I find that so
alluring. She was getting cold so I helped nearer the fire. In the
flickering light the unfortunate bruises became visible. I massaged
her neck to help and then applied some makeup to conceal her frailty.
It made her happy, which is all that matters, really.

And then sitting beside her, I put my are around her and pulled her
close, tilted her head to lean on my shoulder. As good as married we
sat before the crackling poplar listening to the eve's birds. I
whispered sweet nothings to my love. I told her of the joy I feel
whenever I chance to see her cheeks flushed. I described the simple
pleasure her coy glances could give. I confessed desires to ravish
her soft flesh. 

She sat silent smiling and I knew her thoughts. I kissed her then,
sucked her pale lips, and met her tongue with mine. She fell back upon
the cushion, her bosom bouncing softly with the impact. I put my hand
upon her breast and squeezed it fondly. I leaned over and kissed her
lips again, and then her chin, and then her neck, and then her collar
and then her cleavage still warmed from the fire.

I looked into her eyes and smiled back, then pushed up her skirt and
petticoats. I ran my hand up her leg, my touch briefly warming it. I
loosened my doublet and lowered my breeches and smiling once more at
the twinkle in her eyes proceeded to consummate my love for her. No
pain felt she, I am quite sure she felt no pain.

The fire crackles yet and lie beside my my fair love, holding her
close. This night will be long and cold and many more will follow.
But I have my love and she has me and that shall make it all
worthwhile. My lovely Porphyria, cold and helpless; she is lucky to
have me to love and cherish her for all my life.

Elijah
------
okay, it's not "My Last Dutchess" but it is a Robert Browning poem

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