Subject: SUBMIT jea08-when-the-others-have-gone.txt
To: david huberman <dhuberma@louvre.fa.indiana.edu>

Copyright 1994, all rights reserved.  Feel free to distribute unchanged.

WARNING: the following contains very straight-forward consensual sex 
between an adult man and an adult woman.  If this sort of thing offends 
you, read no further.  You have been warned.





			When the Others Have Gone ....
			by Jea, in memory of M.


When the others have gone and the fire begins to burn low, I am alone and 
I think of you.

Music hangs like incense in the air.  The candle flames are steady; no 
currents remain from quick-witted conversations and hearty laughter.  
Only echos linger.

The wine touches my lips, sweet and cold.  Around me, the room exists for 
itself, and I am only a distant spectator, the sole witness to the 
flickering flames.

I can feel you here.  Your presence is strong, as if you never were gone 
from my side.  I can almost see you sitting there.  The firelight fills 
your glass and you carry it to your lips.

You look at me, and your faint smile embraces me.  I can feel the barest 
hint of your fingertip just above my ankle.  My sensations are out of 
proportion to the stimulus.

We are embracing.  I feel my head tucked beneath your chin and your arms 
about my shoulders.  My lips are at the base of your neck and I am 
speaking to you softly, feeling your skin under my mouth.  Your hand is 
at my cheek; you cradle my head in your palm.

I do not say another word but my lips are not silent.  They chatter gaily 
just below your jaw.  I taste your skin.

I feel your hand at my breast.  Your touch is soft as you caress its tip, 
so gentle that I feel it not there, but elsewhere.  My body tingles with 
the connections you have made.

We are kissing.  I taste the wine at your lips and in your mouth.  Your 
hands are exploring and I feel my clothes being pulled from me.  My hands 
seek the same purpose so that I might see you clothed only in firelight.

We are naked.  How is it that the serenity of the space could have been 
so shattered?  How is it that the cool autumn air has become heated?  You 
are touching me.

Our hands and mouths are curious.  They question, they tease, they 
discover, they devour.  I have lost my way somewhere.  I am floating.  
You are inside me.

We move against each other.  The candles flicker as our voices stir the
air.  I am full of you, and together we grow until we fill the room.  I am
at once removed from myself and aware of every sensation.  I feel the
blood in my veins.  Your rhythm is driving my heartbeat.  If you were to
stop, I would die. 

We explode together, our cries splashing the walls to mingle with the 
firelight.  Who is to say that we are not glowing in that moment?  Who is 
to say that we are not casting light against the walls?

We rest against each other.  The room has asserted itself again.

It is as if you were just there.

But you have gone, and my glass sits alone, reflecting and deflecting the 
dying firelight.  You have left my fire, never to return again.


==========================================================================
Comments always appreciated.		- Jea 10/94 an41381@anon.penet.fi