Absinthe Dreams

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Oh, the delightful ecstasy of the connecting that had formed between us ... two strangers on this strange night. Was this a ghost of the past in my arms? Some lost prince from a kingdom of dreams? How his eyes glowed with unshed tears, I too was weeping. I clung so incredibly tightly to him, it broke his thrusting, He was at the deepest part of me and I needed him to stay there. To stay there forever and ever. I looked out the curtain of my hair and his, digging my fingers into the thick muscles of his back. I feel my body adrift, my whole world softening into cotton fluff around me. Only he was hard. Only he was real. He was ....

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With a startled snap my whole world crashed in upon me. I tumbled from the bed I was in, looking up from the floor at the naked body and red, panting face of Erica. She gave me a grin.

"I said just don't cum in me, not that you had to stop." She laughed, pulling the sheet up covering her breasts. "And certainly not that you had to do a summersault out the bed."

Getting to my feet, I pulled my pants back up and buttoned then, shifting my cock back inside and zipping up the fly. She was looking at me puzzled.

"Was it something I said?" she asked when I ran out the room. "Hey!"

Out in the living room, I plowed into a stoned till he thought he could float Randal. He fell backwards and crashed into Timothy, knocking heads with him. For a brief second I saw Tim awaken but then he was back out. I fled the apartment for the so very crowded streets of New Orleans. All around me were the expelled contents of ten thousand Halloween parties. Their costumes a mixture of all things dark; be it past or modern. They were alive with revelry at this the night of Hollow's eve. Drunk on life, the party goers were caught between that moment when going home seems like the best thing, but the need to party was still alive in them. The streets themselves had thus become the venue of their delight.

But not for me.

I was a lost soul walking streets like a wisp of fog, a veritable wrath of lost desires. A part of me was missing. Had been lost in that vision, those dream moments. Drifting to a streetlight, I clung to it, weeping at the loss. Not for the part of me missing but for the woman I had held in my arms. But then she was one and the same.

A hand came to rest on my own.

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How strange the air smelled. How odd were the clothes of these people. Their very words rang upon my ears with odd lilts and tones. But I paid none of it moment of my time after I saw him. He clung, like a lost waif, to a lamp. A lamp, which glowed with such fiery oil that I could not look upon it.

Through these bizarre people, I passed, caring not that I pushed them or they me. And then I reached his side. I touched his hand.

He looked up, this piece of me, this man from a dream. He looked up at me in wonder and then, with as masculine a rush as I could ever covet, he was upon me, enwrapping me in his arms. His kiss was brutal in its haste, but then mine-own was no less.

His sweet lips tasted of absinthe ....

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Her sweet lips tasted of absinthe.