tagRomanceAbsinthe Dreams

Absinthe Dreams


"To me it's not really a green. When I think green, I think of grass. That's more like lemonade color." Erica's nose was far too close to the glasses for my taste.

Pouring the nearly clear absinthe over the rough-cut, cane-sugar cubes I favor, I tapped my spoon for a second to get her to back up. I wished I had my full setup here like I have at home, my Absinthe fountains water drippers are missed when I began to try and slowly pour water over the sugar cube.

"Don't you light it on fire?" she asked.


"But I've seen that done?"

My hand steady as I could keep it, I glanced up at her eyes. "That is Bohemian style, I don't do that. That's to caramelize the sugar and add that flavor; I use raw, cane sugar cubes to get the same thing."

"Flavor? HA! Suck on a Ricola cough drop and you'll taste the same thing." Timothy's laughter came from the kitchen with the sound of the refrigerator slamming shut. I heard him pop open his beer from across the room.

I saw Erica give her husband an annoyed look that make me ponder their marriage's possible duration. Together not six months and she was already giving him that kind of look? Alrighty then.

"Why was it called the Green Fairy?"

"Because some of the bottles had a green fairy on them," answered her husband, incorrectly, as he walked in taking slugs of his beer. "Duh."

I didn't bother to enlighten him ... or her either for that matter. He was, and always had been, the type of person that had to prove he was right. If I tried to argue a point he would argue for two days to show me I as wrong, especially when I wasn't. And she had married ... him. Besides I was too enthralled, as always, by the smoky fog of the louche clouds in these two glasses. I was carefully watching the dripping water falling through the holes in my century old slotted spoon.

"Seems a lot of work for one drink," she said when I--with a small flourish--handed the milky glass to her.

"The Devil is always in the details," I told her with a grin. She gave me a smile back. She was cute in a slightly odd way. A never could quite place just wasn't perfect about her face but there was something there that did not blend, I just couldn't find it. And that little detail kept her from being called beautiful, but made her all the more interesting at the same time.

She was out of Tim's league by miles. Normally mine too for that matter, but that flaw ... whatever the hell it was ... made her seem more accessible. Hell, before they married, I might have even asked her out, if I thought she had two brain cells to rub together. Call me a weirdo but I like a woman to be able to hold an intelligent conversation once the sex is over. Don't get me wrong I like a woman with her curves and valleys. But, a few brain cells helps to pass the night when the fucking is done.

And, at times, a few seemed to be all that Erica had. I looked over at Timothy--sitting on the couch scratching his crotch, looking at his wife's ass, taking shot-sips of Miller Highlife--and knew that he didn't feel the same as I did. He didn't marry her for a conversation. He would often brag, in her presence or not, that she was spectacular in bed or he would have never have "put a ring in her nose" as he put it.

And she put up with that shit? To each their own.

Watching her take tentative sips, I lifted my glass and let a long, slow sip wash my tongue with the anise flavor. I closed my eyes breathing deeply the black liquorish scent that was under my nose. Enjoying the "Ricola" like herbal smell that had first driven me to drink this once forbidden drink.

The artists drink.

Behind me Tim finished his fourth beer, and belched. Not an Absinthe fan, old Tim. He had tried it once spit the sip back into the glass and said it was nasty. I saw that his wife didn't seem to agree with his tastes either. She was making odd faces but seemed to like it.

Tim went for his next beer, pausing to take a pass by the bathroom for a piss. I looked at the color of the beer in his bottle when he came back and mentally chuckled at the fact it was probably the same color coming back out as it was going in. Piss yellow.

Even when I drink beer, something that is not often, I am more a fan of Stouts and Porters. Shoe leather black Guinness and Avery Mephistopheles stout topping my list. As I watched him guzzle this beer down as well I mentally sighed. Apparently volume, not taste, seemed to be more his style anyway. I looked at Erica realizing she was similar to his taste in beers.

I smiled as the inward mental clarity of my favorite drink began to appear and I felt the buzz forming. So different for all other alcohols I had tried.

"I like it ... I think."

Looking over to Erica, I saw her give her head a nod and take a longer sip. I smiled and raised my glass in salute.

"À votre santé."

She grinned and gave me a wink. "À la vôtre."

Well ... well, could I have been wrong about her brain cell count? Humph.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

The night had been as insane as the eve to All Hallows in New Orleans could hope to ever be. We went to a play house and drank the cheap wine they sell there. Then we stopped by Fredric's and spent hours sipping his Cognac, talking of the show, and smoked his cigars. His old ex-slave maid brought us sweetmeats tidbits and candied fruits. Then, giggling the whole way, we drifted to The Absinthe Room to let Cayetano Ferrer mix us far too many Absinthe frappes.

And now we were here, where ever that is, and my worlds was all softness and anise spiced. I had decided to simply let myself drift into total decadence tonight. I had long ago freed my breasts from confinement and now my skirts were gone as well, though I know not when or how. I cared not either. The cool air on my cunny felt delicious. That air was sick with the sweet stench of Chinese pipes, perfumed bodies and sex. Oh, and the smell of sex.

That delicious musk.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Randal had shown up with enough weed to get all of Orleans Parish stoned. A few others had drifted in and out never staying long. There were too many wilder parties than this little gathering to haunt this Halloween night.

Timothy was tore-out-the-ass drunk. He had been his normal life of the party for hours, laughter grating enough to make paint peel. Joining him in that state was a half-dozen others draped in various poses of lubricity. And nudity. The constant chatter was on everything but nothing of interest.

Randal had almost everyone that walked in the door stoned and happy.

Me? I was a mixture of drunk and stoned but neither to a level that I wasn't functional.

Looking around, I noted that Timothy's wife, Erica, had vanished at some point. Drifting off into the back of their apartment maybe seeking some alone time. I had noticed that the ever changing guest had seemed to get to her nerves. She was possibly not used to her husband's type of party yet, but how that could since she had met him at one I couldn't fathom.

She had liked the Absinthe.

Picking up Erica's empty glass, I began to make her another and myself one more at the same time. As she had said, it was a bit of work for a drink. Especially when you stop in mid-mix and just stand there looking at the spoon. A hundred plus year old relic, I had picked it up in an estate sale. The seller had no idea what it was and had placed it in a box with common silverware. Gazing at my own reflection in the metal, I popped a sugar cube in my mouth and crunched it into sweet sandy grit wondering how many drinks this one spoon had made. Thousands surely.

I set it down on the glass and let the water poor over the sugar, quicker than I normally would have.

A glance at the couch showed me that Tim was out. Dribble down his chin out. Sitting next to him Randal kept talking, but I'm not sure he was any more awake than Tim. In fact I'm pretty sure he was just too slammed to know to stop talking while asleep.

The other guests were either in a similar state or gone.

Finishing my glass I went to find Erica, I wanted a conversation, I wanted to talk to a woman, I wanted ... who the hell am I trying to kid, I knew what I was wanting. Her. The alcohol fumes had taken away any normal level of decorum in me.

Leaving Sleepy and Dopey, I followed the sound of soft music to its source.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

There was the sound of someone playing on a harpsichord. Leaning back on the velvet covered divan, I absently toyed with my button, enjoying the slickness of my cunny as well. I was wanting a man inside me, but the boars! They were all too drunk, or sleeping off the smoke of the Chinese pipe, to be bothered with the wishes of a woman.

Then he appeared.

I smiled seeing the drink he was bringing me.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Leaning against the doorframe I stood and watched her. A smile that was half-grin on my face. Gone were the too tight jeans from earlier. Now she was in just a long t-shirt and panties. A pink lace thong, which her right hand was under, her fingers moving slowly in circles.

"Want some help?" Her eyes popped open suddenly and her hand shot out of her underwear as if scorched. I held up her glass. "I've always said this was the perfect lubricant to help get the juices flowing."

Walking over to her, I held out the glass so she had to take it with her left hand. Then, sitting down on the mattress next to her, I watched her take a sip. When she was occupied with her drink I moved my hand to her right wrist. She gasped.

"What are you?"

"Shush. Timothy is sleeping. Wouldn't want to wake him." I dipped two of her shiny wet fingers into my glass and then brought them to my mouth, sucking the anise taste and her juiced off them.

Erica was watching the enjoyment of that taste on my face with a slow building smile on her face. "Tim's asleep?"

With a nod I turned her hand loose and looked at that pink covered valley. Her panties were wet spotted. "Please continue. I was enjoying watching you."

She took a big sip of her drink, looked at the door, smiled a randy smile, and leaned back into her pillows again. Erica was grinning at me when she slid her hand past her bellybutton, down her bare belly and her fingers went back under that lacy edge. Her mouth parted as her fingers made contact.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

"Enjoying the show?" I asked the stranger bringing me libation. He was a handsome man, styled in the new ways, the new fashions.

"Very much so." He grinned a white smile under his mustaches. "Don't let me interrupt."

I pulled at my slick folds, slid two fingers between them to caress the opening to my cunny. I loved the lewd look in his eyes when I pressed those fingers inside me, my body swallowing them. Scooping up the wetness, I brought them back out all covered.

"You brought me something delicious, can I offer you a taste?"

He grinned, nodded and then opened his mouth to let me put the two wet fingers in. His tongue, fine and pebbly, licked and hunted at the webbing once he had sucked the fingertips clean. I loved how wonderful that felt and envision what it would feel like on my cunny.

His lips needed to be on my button.

"Please, Mademoiselle. Don't let me interrupt."

Feeling delightfully sinful, I went back to toying and fingering myself. His watching me made me all the wetter.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Sipping my drink I watched her. The air around her was sweet with a perfumed musk that I knew was coming from her pussy. My mouth was watering at that scent. The one taste had not been enough.

I wanted more.

I took one last sip for courage. This could end very badly, I had to acknowledge that even as I set down the empty glass, knowing what I was about to do. I leaned in and placed a kiss atop her moving fingers, letting my lips stay there against the warm, damp, pink silk fabric. The smell of her was overpowering that close and I nuzzled my nose against the cloth.

Then her hand was gone and her fingers were in my hair, pushing my face down into that hot fabric. Mashing my lips against the puffy skin hidden underneath. I kissed her pussy through the panties, even licking the wet cloth, but then could not stand them being in the way anymore. I pulled the lacy, pink thong to the side and buried my nose into her warmth.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

He needed no prompting to do what I wished. That one taste from my fingers and now my open thighs were all the invitation he needed. That, or maybe the sight of my wet cunny was too much for him to bear. Leaning back into the lacy pillows, I sipped at my drink as he sipped at me. Enjoying the rekindling of my dreamlike state that wonderful taste brought to me. How rich was sex when coupled with Absinthe. That, drifty world of soft fluffy clouds.

Holding his head, I opened my legs wider adrift. How soft was his tongue, how soft was everything. Only his nibbling teeth were hard.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

After that first heavy lick I couldn't have cared if her husband walked in or not. Timothy might have been one of my best friends, but she was delicious. Her pussy was cool water to a man in the desert. Sweeter than ice-cream, and more flavorful than any steak. Over and over I plunged my tongue into her, trying to flood my mouth with that taste. Oh, she was divine, and her fingers were digging into my scalp to hold me in place as I licked. Needless, I had no intentions of leaving. At least not till she pulled on my hair.

"He's asleep? You're sure?"

Looking up at her, my mouth shiny I had to doubt my eyes for a second. The woman I was with was not Erica. Blinking, I felt Déjà vu wash past me and then it was simply Erica, with a hungry look in her eyes but a slightly worried expression as well.

"He passed out on the couch."

She smiled then, squirmed her hip on the sheets. "Then come here. I don't feel like being licked anymore. I was already wet enough, I was fantasizing about being fucked. Make my fantasy come true."

Wiping my face on my hand, I considered that for all of a half-second before standing up and undoing my pants. My cock was terribly hard and my underwear smeared with precum. In fact though, I did give Timothy a full second's thought as I crawled between the thighs of his wife. Erica smiled up at me and I remembered his bragging about her in bed.

Well, let's find out shall we.

With my pants down around my knees I felt it when she hooked her foot behind my ass, and then she was pulling me into her before I could ever give a thrust.

"Fuck me good," she said with a throaty purr as I pushed into her. "Please."

Well, never let it be said I'm one to disappoint a lady begging to be fucked.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

He was of a good size for a man. Not the biggest I've had but by no means the smallest. But then, given the randy languidity he had found me in, he could have been as endowed as a Dutch plow horse and I would have given him a go. I kept him pulled tight too me as he thrust, enjoying the feeling of his weight and the heat of him on top of me.

His face was right before mine and when I looked up at him my befuddled eyes betrayed me. Swimming in drink, as they were, they could never have mistaken this man for the other, he was shaven. I looked at this new face trying to understand if time had passed and I was in the arms of a second man, was I that inebriated?

I touched his face and he paused looking down at me with startled eyes.

"I know you not stranger."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

The woman my cock was in was not Erica. Who, or how, or exactly what was going on here, I could not fathom. But of that I was very certain. This was not Erica.

She was caressing my face, her eyes taking in my every angle. She seemed to like what she saw there. She smiled and, after a moment, lifted herself up to touch her lips to mine.

I tasted absinthe on her lips.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

I tasted absinthe on his lips.

Faint, dreamlike, a lingering flavor to his kiss that made me wish for many more like it. Who was this man, or was this simply a dream? A ghost of too many sips and the lingering effects of far too many nights like this one. I looked into his eyes, those beautifully sexy eyes. I ran my hand along his side. He seemed real enough. Certainly his cock in me seemed and felt real enough. Was this all happening in my head or was I being fucked by this stranger who tasted of heaven?

"If this is a dream let me never wake." I begged him as he pushed himself into me again and I felt so incredibly full.

He smiled and placed a small kiss on my lips and then whispered by my ear. "And if I am awake let me never sleep."

I clung to him suddenly, wanting to not let go of this dream. Here was in my arms a man that was a part of me, I sensed it in him even as I felt him in me.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Her hands on my back, her nails in my skin, the pleasure pain of her holding me so very tight. I couldn't make my mind comprehend just how this was, how we had come to be here, but at that moment I could also not care in the least. This woman, who ever she was, when I looked into her eyes, when she looked back I felt like a string was being tied to me. Delicate fingers making a ribbon bow around my heart. I wanted it and feared it at the same time. Who was she? This dream girl. I had never had a dream this vivid. This lucid.

I kissed her harder. I pushed into her deeper. I felt myself rising towards levels of pleasure I had felt only a few times in my life. It was as if she moved in rhythmic motions with me designed to give me the most enjoyment, while at the same time, if I could judge by her face, she was in blissful ecstasy.

I wanted this to never end, no matter how it had begun, I wanted her. I wanted her with a fierceness that told of desire for long nights coupled together. Passions shared, explored. Sins earned with gleeful laughter. Whoever she was ... I wanted this woman.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Oh, what a lover. Oh, how fiercely he uses me, and how tenderly he see to my own lustful needs. No quick exchange, no matter how hard we are both driving towards an end neither wants, but his endurance is what I dream of when I dream of sex. A man, a true man. Born of fire and given to me as a gift. That is what he is a gift. His lips taste mine with a raw energy that makes me whimper. Again my tongue brings me the taste of heaven.

Is that what this is? An Absinthe dream. I have heard the rumors that such is possible, but did I at last consume enough of the Libation of Life to have one. Oh, how I would drown myself in anise if that were true. If this man was forever at my beck and call just for a few sips.

Behind me, the grand tall clock in the hall struck the midnight hour. I smiled when I felt his thrusts drop into the rhythm of the bells as they chimed.

"Love me," I begged him.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Feeling a growing need to finish building in me, I hated it. I wanted this moment, this lingering phantom of a dream, to never end and I could sense that it was tied to the bridge of my flesh that joined us. We were caught in a moment together, this Halloween night when the veils were at their thinnest, we had--with spirit alchemy and passion--broken through to a door of time that man was not meant to cross. I held her to me, tears in my eyes. She was part of me. I could feel it. This woman and I had a connection that had been there long before this bridge of time.

Who was she?

Then, to hear her sweet voice pleading with me to love her. I did. It was suddenly as fierce in me as any love had ever been. More. I wanted her!


I needed her. I didn't even know her name and I knew of nothing about her, but all that was beyond the smallest of facts. This woman was a ....

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