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Laura In Red


At a Christmas party held by well meaning friends, I met Laura again. She
walked in from outside, and the room brightened by her presence. This time I
hesitated before going to her, but it was only from the shock of seeing her. I
watched as she took off her coat, jealous of a woman who I only spent an
evening with. She was resplendent in red, dazzling from the bright crimson
color of her dress. Once again she outshines everyone in the room, and once
again I was helpless but to go to her.

I appeared beside her, a fresh drink ready for her to take. She accepted the
drink gracefully, her red satin gloves catching the firelight. Her eyes were
as gorgeous as I had remembered, a clear blue you only see on special summer
days. The blonde halo that was her hair was longer now, but retained it's
vibrancy. She warmed me with her smile, and all the witty, brave and eloquent
things I had planned to say to her these past six months, died on my lips. I
was too happy to see her to speak. Too happy to see that she was real, and not
a fevered summer dream.

"Well Sir," she began, her voice cracking slightly with uncertainty. "When
last we meet, you filled me with such words that I thought the poets of the
past had been reincarnated in one man. Now you are only silent, has time worn
away the glamour of your Muse?"

"No," I answered truthfully. "I just wanted to hear you speak first, if only
to prove that you are real. Christmas is a time for when people long for those
things they cannot have. You can forgive me if I thought perhaps you were a
Christmas dream or illusion, born from a desire to see a perfect gift?"

She laughed, the kind laugh that warmed me more than the roaring fireplace we
stood by. A crowd of people pushed by us, too engrossed in their own debates
to pay mind to the two of us. To my delight and surprise, Laura placed her
hand on my arm, just to stay near me. The feel of her fingers, even gloved was
a jolt that quickened my heart. I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around her
to protect her from the crowd, I was still uncertain of where I stood with
Laura in Red.

We were standing next to the stereo now, solemn songs of the savior protecting
our conversation from curious ears. She released her grip on my arm
reluctantly and sipped her drink to regain her poise. My eyes were drawn by the
simple silver cross she wore as a necklace. I was fascinated by this little
piece of jewelry, for it told me another small clue as to who my enchantress
really was.

"I looked for you after the Dance," I said suddenly.

She looked at me, her eyes enigmatic. "I thought you would," she said.

"Only having your first name made it a challenge," I continued, "and despite
my inquiries, no one knew who the Angel in Green was. Six months I kept my
eyes open for you, and six slow months taught me that the Grail would be easier
to find than an intelligent and sensual woman in this town."

Her smile returned at my joke. "Ah sir, perhaps your quest failed because I
doubted you possessed the purity of heart of a Galahad.

"But how will I ever know," I offered, "if I never enter castle Perilous."
Then I leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear, "How will you ever know for
that matter?"

I was pleased to see her sapphire eyes alight with intrigue. She considered
my argument briefly, and then casually waved it away with her hand. She
resorted to the Greeks for her rebuttal.

"You remind me too much of what happened to poor Epimetheus," she said, her
mouth smiling with innocence.

The reference was obscure, almost trivial, but Laura had an ability to evoke
the best from me. I gave my answer boldly.

"So you suspect that I am like Pandora, and will open your secret box," I
responded. "I have to wonder though, of what secrets I would discover. Would
they fly away upon discovery, or would they remain so that I could scrutinize
and study every facet of your hidden treasures? Would they be as captivating
as the White Witch's Turkish Delights?"

"If you suspect that you would feast on my charms forever, " she said with an
enticing slowness, "then ask yourself a question. Would it be so bad to hold my
charms in your hands forever?"

I was silent as my mind considered that 'curse'. I remember too painfully
what it was like to hold the soft mounds of her breasts. My dreams had been
filled with the squeeze of her feminine thighs. Even now, I distinctly
recalled the taste of her honeyspun covered sex. If I could ever forget her
vermilion lips, I might be able to look at other women favorably again.

"I must commend you on your knowledge of the Fantastic," she said. "not many
people have such a good memory of the tales of children."

"If my mind can summon the Fantastic tonight," I began, "then it is only
because the Queen of the Fantastic is beside me now. You remind me of the
optimism of those stories. There, a woman was to be quested for, to be obeyed
in her wishes and to be treated with the utmost courtesy. In return, the woman
was a companion, a friend and the only lover a man ever needed. If you think I
am familiar with the fantastic, then it is only because you make me believe in
the fantastic all over again."

She answered my compliment with a silent sip of her drink. Delicately,
slowly, she let the wine touch her lips. I found myself jealous of liquor as
it entered her mouth. If she was stalling for time, then I was happy to let
her. Watching Laura's throat pulse as it accepted the liquid was holding me in
fascination. Let her stall, I would accept any amount of time she choose just
to watch her.

"Tell me sir," she began, "if I hold such fascination with you, will you seek
me out again after tonight?"

"It would be much easier this time, "I answered. "All I need to do is inquire
of our host, and your name as well as address would be easy to find."

"But what if I asked you not to," she asked.

"Then I would acquiesce to your decision, however ill advised it would be," I
answered.

"Matters are not simple for me now," she said with measured words. "In time
they may simplify, or they may move me to another place altogether. For now, I
ask that you do not search for me."

My feelings were difficult to sort at that moment. On the one hand, my angel
in Red wished for further aquaintances. Considering that the extent of our
relationship so far had been a heated moment in a park, I was pleased that she
wished to know more of me. It is difficult when you long for a person to be
unsure of whether they desire the same.

On the other hand, I was devastated that I might have to wait. Six months
after our dance in the park and I still haven't recovered. How could I wait
again? How could I wait when it is not even certain that she will return to me
again? How could I go to place my life on hold in the hope that she might come
back?

It was an easy answer, I just thought of Laura. As I looked at her
tranquil blue eyes looking for my answer, I knew it was no difficult task. I
would just think of Laura, and the rest is easy.

"Then wait I shall," I answered.

Surprisingly, she wrapped her fingers in mine. Through the crowded room she
led me, ignoring the curious glances from the other guests. The thrill of
holding hands was one I hadn't felt since my puberty. The intensity of my
feelings frightened me, but it ensnared me deeper into Laura's spell. I didn't
notice the Christmas tree we stood in front of until Laura pointed to the
presents with a sweep of her lovely hand.

"Tell me sir," she asked, "how are you at guessing games?"

Smiling, I reached down and picked a wrapped box up. Making a pretense of
shaking it, I closed my eyes in mock concentration.

"Oh this is easy," I began. "This one is a gift from a husband to his wife.
It's a gold bracelet, adorned with small gems. The gem colors are unusual,
emerald and topazes, but he knows she will delight in them for they are her
favorite colors. She will wonder how he found such an unusual item containing
an odd combination. He'll calmly answer that he had it made for her, and that
it was worth every penny."

She nodded her head, approval beaming with such a small movement. She bent
down to pick up a box, and I contained my sigh at seeing much more of her
cleavage than was polite. Laura could inspire divinity and decadence in the
same gesture.

"This present is from the father to his daughter," she said. "It is a book of
poetry by Elizabeth Browning. The girl about to become a woman is disappointed
by the gift of a book, and tries to contain her unhappiness. Later, when the
day is done, she reads poem after poem of love, longing and desire, and her
face often flushes. She wonders why her father would give her such a wicked
gift, and the answer eludes her for years. Only until after she meets the man
who invokes the same feelings as the poems does she realize. Her father wanted
the best for her, and gave her a glimpse of what could be out there."

The next box was mine. I took a risk and went for a different kind of answer.

"This present is from a friend to another. It's Hickory Farms and will most
likely rot in some desolate closet."

Another laugh was my reward, and it was double satisfying to see her eyes
widen in shock. I enjoyed watching Laura's range of emotions, and felt a
certain pride in knowing that it was I who evoked them.

"This one however is different," I said. Picking up a different box, I told
it's story to Laura.

"The statue inside this box is that of a mermaid," I said. "A man is giving
this to his brother, after a year of searching for just the right one. The two
brothers share the same fetish for mermaids, which came from watching the movie
'Splash'. They had woken secretly in the middle of the night when they were
children, and in the quiet they watched this movie on cable. They lost a lot
of their innocence that night, but they lost it together. It is their fondest
memory as children, and as adults it remains the one thing they can only talk
about among themselves."

"I have my eye on that one," Laura said as she pointed to a tiny box, almost
buried in the back. "Look how someone took care that no scrutiny fall on it.
I suspect that it is a gift from a man to someone else's wife. This poor man
has been in love with this woman for years, but has never told her. Looking
for someway to show he loves her, yet still maintain his anonymity, he buys her
this. A simple locket, the kind that he has seen advertised for lovers is his
choice. He hopes she is impressed with the diamond earrings he places in lieu
of a picture. Because he doesn't leave a name or a card, he hopes she thinks
about who loves her enough to give her this. In his world, the answer will
obviously lead her to him. More likely, she will follow the trail back to her
husband."

"You have a talent for guessing gifts milady," I said. "But what gift would
you desire this holiday season?"

My hand became entwined in hers again, and I was silent as she pulled my head
down to whisper in my ear. In the crowded and loud party, I heard her with
perfect clarity and it gave me delightful shivers.

"I want another memory to treasure forever," she said.

With that request ringing in my ears, I was obliged to satisfy her. I had
visited the host before often, so I knew exactly where we had to go. Hand in
hand, we discreetly stepped through the patio doors and walked outside. The
December weather was mild, and the moon easily illuminated the back yard. She
trusted me completely as we walked across the dark yard. We headed to the
porch swing that was curiously not located on the porch. It swung securely
from under a large tree, safe from any eyes who sought us from the house.

"First a bench," she began, "and now a swing. We appear to be fated to
confine our love making to the outdoors. It's a good thing that I love the way
your eyes look in moonlight."

I took off my jacket and spread it against the swing, my own face flushed from
your compliment. I didn't have a chance to respond for Laura's hands were
already wrapping around me. My eyes closed as her wonderful hands undid the
buttons of my shirt. Feeling her pressed against my back was intensely erotic,
knowing she was so close to me was the greatest aphrodisiac.

When my buttons were released, Laura turned me around and pushed me down.
Surprised and delighted, I fell back into the swing. She placed her hands on
my shoulders and leaned close to kiss me. The tension was unbearable as her
lips of passion approached mine. Finally her lips touched mine all of my
concerns, all of my fears of her leaving and all of my burdens of stress died
in that kiss. As her tongue sought mine, as her breath flared into my mouth,
as her lips caressed mine, I felt myself reborn with a singular purpose. That
purpose was to be who I was for Laura, and never had I had a holier mission.

The kiss lasted for a sweet eternity, and I gasped for breath when she broke
away. As I sat there absorbing air, my wicked Laura was exploring my chest
with her lips. She sucked my nipples into her demanding mouth so tenderly. My
skin shivered with sweet anguish as she breathed on my chest hairs. Little
bites and tender kisses covered my chest where my shirt was exposed. Almost as
erotic as her kisses was watching Laura's golden hair bobbing so close to my
body.

With my chest still molten from her kisses, Laura stood back up before me.
Spreading my thighs with her legs, she came closer to me till her red satin
covered cleavage was so temptingly close to my mouth. Laura made small lustful
noises as my arms encircled her, and she beckoned me with her hips. Instead of
taking her dress off, I molded my hands to her body through the dress. My
fingers massaged her shapely legs through the material of her dress.
Passionate kisses of my own were like a friendly storm on her bodice. She
writhed under my hands as I sought to feel every part of her.

Laura's hand touched my head, and she held my cheek more tenderly than a
lover. I found myself leaning towards her hand, my own hands forgotten as I
felt her fingers. They felt so fragile next to my cheek, yet also strong with
purpose. I smiled as her fingers moved around to the back of my head. Softly,
but with insistence, she pulled my head up so I would stand beside her.

We stood for a moment, lost in the tempest of emotions in each other's eyes.
Then Laura unbuckled my belt, never once loosing eye contact with me. I stood
there, my own hands on the back of her neck. I massaged her scalp as she
unzipped my pants and let them fall to the ground. We were silent as she undid
the snaps on my briefs, but I thought I detected a contented sigh as her hand
touched my hard desire.

Conscious of the mild but sometime chilly night, I reserved myself when it
came to undressing my red lovely. I resisted the urge to unzip her dress,
which deprived me the sight of watching her full bosom spill from her dress
like a cornucopia. Instead, I placed my hands at her hips and slowly inched
her skirt up. I kissed her again while my hands performed their slow labor.
Our lips clashed again in a fever, in sharp contrast to the slowness of her
rising skirt.

When her skirt was finally around her hips, I shifted my grip to her sort
panties. Dropping to my knees like a knight errant before my lady, I pulled her
underwear down with me. She lifted one arched foot then another, so that I may
remove her underwear past her shoes. My goddess in red finally prepared, I
stood again. As she watched me with half open eyes of desire, I folded her
dainty red intimates and placed them on the arm of the swing.

My Laura took control of the evening by placing her hands firmly on my
shoulder. Gripping the muscles on my arms tightly, she pushed me to sit down
on the swing. The warmth of my jacket paled to the heat of her mounting me.
The dress covered our joining like a crimson pavilion. My face was smothered
by her presence, my legs were encompassed by hers and my rigid flesh was
engulfed by her soft sex. She looked down at me with her hands buried in my
thick hair.

"Enter gently, my Christmas knight," she commanded.

I pushed lightly with my feet, and the swing traveled maybe a few inches. My
Laura made sweet noises as we swung lightly. Back and forth we traveled,
rocking delightfully in the darkness. Her molten sex gripped me as my manhood
combusted inside her. I was drawn into her, through her sex, through her lips
and through her eyes. Gently we swung until the violence of our climaxes
threatened to shake the swing from it's bolts.

When the fever of motion was over, we laid there quietly. I held her in my
arms with her head on my shoulder. I didn't want to move, I didn't want to
speak, and I certainly didn't want to do anything to disturb this perfect
scene. For an eternity that was over too soon, she sat upon me. The swing
slowly came to a rest. I was trying to memorize the smell of her neck when my
desire throbbed inside her.

"So quickly you recover," she said with a smile.

"I would return gladly to your paradise a thousand more times tonight if time
was available," I answered.

"A proud boast," she said, "but one I would eagerly allow you to try."

She rose reluctantly away from me. I followed her, and dressed slowly trying
to delay our parting. I was flattered that she watched me dress as intensely
as she watched undress.

"I will honor your request that I not look for you," I said. "But I wonder
what shall I do if you change your mind?"

She placed her hand on my chest and kissed me. I drank her kiss, my heart
pounding with attraction and fear. When she stepped away, she gave me the
answer I desired.

"You forget sir," she said, "that as easy as it may be for you to find me, it
would be just as easy for me to find you. Rest assure, that if my situation
changes, my heart will lead me back to this Christmas night."

Then she left, her red gown leaving like a comet from my life.

End of Story