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Laura In Red

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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.

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