tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32399775702512433352024-03-05T09:53:45.229-06:00Irresistible DestinyFanfic following Baudrillard it is an attempt to be more porno than porno.
Hyper-porno.
To stay within the Order of Seduction
To avoid the Order of Productionseymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-47757935622380982622011-12-14T22:10:00.004-06:002013-12-23T23:43:11.608-06:00Chapter 17:LIly Meets Lord Rothschild Again With Georges - Georges Du Roy of Bel Ami and Lily Bart of House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAhC-uMY7-m1Cej0HHI1cCU9MYQnafxcE8K2sAY9yaHpUC-X51O6U7gejKOk3hKvsGKQr2Dv69L825wxxbYyE-Lyxx3epOTrnlhAfrEv_NTvJQkfljpxLvBuKgWHwZFpttrYXJ5tJ2XU/s1600/reynolds143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAhC-uMY7-m1Cej0HHI1cCU9MYQnafxcE8K2sAY9yaHpUC-X51O6U7gejKOk3hKvsGKQr2Dv69L825wxxbYyE-Lyxx3epOTrnlhAfrEv_NTvJQkfljpxLvBuKgWHwZFpttrYXJ5tJ2XU/s640/reynolds143.jpg" width="376" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #cccccc;">A portrait of Mrs. Joanna Lloyd and her sister by Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792)<br />
exhibited in 1776 - only Mrs. Lloyd is shown above<br />
acquired by Lord Rothschild in the late 19th century</span></span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 21px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: red;">You can look, but you can't touch</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 15px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: red;"><br />
</span> </b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 21px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: red;">I don't think I like you much</span></span><br />
_________________________________________________________________________<br />
As we enter our name is announced: Lord and Lady Du Roy de Cantel! All eyes turn towards us and a hush announces Lily's presence, a compliment to her loveliness. And then we are swept up in the crowd bowing and acknowledging so many people. I see Clo and catch her eye as she shyly turns away smiling slightly but looking downcast.<br />
<br />
Lily is beside me as we greet some of my acquaintances and business connections. She is pale and lovely and neither the men nor the women can take their eyes off her. The women are wondering about her dress and the men about what's inside it.<br />
<br />
I watch an elegant man come towards us. He is moving directly to Lily. He stops in front of her and addresses her, "Lady Du Roy. The last time I saw you was in New York and you were Miss Lily Bart." He takes her offered hand and leans down to kiss it tenderly. I hate him already.<br />
<br />
"Lord Rothschild, what a surprise to see you again, and here in Paris. My husband Lord Du Roy," she says as she turns to introduce him to me. "Georges, an old acquaintance, Lord Rothschild."<br />
<br />
"I met your wife under unusual circumstances. She presented a series of <i>tableaux vivants </i>in collaboration with a Mr. Morpeth at a large elegant social evening in New York City, and she was in the final <i>tableaux </i>as Mrs. Joanna Lloyd in the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Of course she was - and is - so incredibly beautiful that no one there that evening could take their eyes off her. I see the same is happening tonight." He smiles at Lily and then at me. "She was unforgettable in that <i>tableaux </i> and unforgettable still I see," as he acknowledges Lily's beauty.<br />
<br />
"I was so taken with your performance that I desired to own the painting. Mr. Morpeth, seeing my admiration, told me the painting was being auctioned at Sotheby's the following week hoping the price would increase after seeing the <i>tableaux </i>tonight. He asked me if I were interested in it and I was. And that was how I acquired your inspiration of that painting, the one of the two sisters, and Mrs. Lloyd carving her husband's name on the bark of the tree imitating <i>As You Like It." </i>Lord Rothschild laughs and says, "You drove the price up very dear, my dear. I had to outbid Mr. Rosedale for it. Alas for him he was not going to bid his entire fortune for it, so I easily added it to the Rothschild collection. It hangs in my Berlin home in the sitting room just adjacent to my bedroom, where I can look at it every night I am in Berlin and be reminded of that marvelous night."<br />
<br />
I know who he wants to imagine before he sleeps each night he is in Berlin. I want to kill him, kill him viciously and torturously.<br />
<br />
"Had I not been already married Baroness............." and he subtly lets his sentence hang in the air. Yes, he is after her all right. Before she was protected by her unmarried proper status, but now he sees her as fair game.<br />
<br />
Lily is uncomfortable now and catches the eye of Clo who comes over to us trying hard to smile vivaciously. Lily reaches out to her and says, Madame Marelle, I should like you to meet Lord Rothschild, an old acquaintance of mine from New York."<br />
<br />
And my god, Lily has just done the same thing to him that she did to me in New York. She has artfully distracted him and freed herself to turn to Madame Walter and join her, leaving me with Lord Rothschild to talk business. I cannot accompany her and so I must stay here with Clo and Lord Rothschild.<br />
<br />
<i>My bewitching bitch </i>I think, as I am now cornered. Lord Rothschild murmurs over Clo's hand, charming her. She smiles bewitchingly at him, and then excuses herself. <b>Now the duel begins</b>.<br />
<br />
"I heard that your newspaper is wishing to expand into Berlin. Is this true?"<br />
<br />
"It is certainly something we have been thinking about." <i>I know just where he is going now</i>.<br />
<br />
"Please accept my invitation to be my personal guests when you come to Berlin. And please, have your beautiful wife accompany you and I shall personally show you both our lovely city. And I shall definitely show you the original painting that inspired your wife's exceptional performance."<br />
<br />
"The original is here in Paris," I say coldly.<br />
<br />
Lord Rothschild chuckles and says smoothly, "Of course. I was forgetting Mrs. Lloyd has left us long long ago and Sir Reynolds also, but a far more lovely original is with us now. I do wish you had known her then and seen her in that role. Incomparable. You will see when you view the painting."<br />
<br />
By now I am in a rage that this all happened before I met Lily, and he senses it and is amused.<br />
<br />
"Yes, come to Berlin and I think we will be great friends. Your newspaper should do very well in Berlin. We have many readers and speakers of French there."<br />
<br />
"I was hoping to also have a German edition, with the French viewpoint of course, on political affairs. Do you think that would be too disruptive?"<br />
<br />
"No, not at all. The German citizens need an alternative way of seeing the world. We are inclined to be too ............ well, perhaps too insular, too conforming. It will help us to see another side, the French side. Yes, I welcome differences. I think many Germans will also, even the ones we least expect it of." and again he laughs smoothly at his own joke.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Yes, I think he is charming. But Lily is mine. He will never have her; however, I will allow him to look.</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">End of Part One.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-8125210410073287712011-12-12T17:27:00.003-06:002013-12-23T23:47:31.303-06:00Chapter 16: Lily In Paris: Georges DuRoy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Luna Moth<br />
</span></span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"></span></span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"></span></span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"></span></span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"></span></span></b></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">________________________________________________________</span></span></b></span></div>
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I am waiting for LIly to finish dressing with Tav who can't contain his excitement waiting for her. At last we can hear her heels as she pauses at the top of the circular staircase. Then she walks down and both of us just gape at her as she descends the stairs.<br />
<br />
"Maman, Maman!" Tav cries. "Tu es belle, tres tres belle!" and he runs to the bottom of the stairs holding his hands out to touch her.<br />
<br />
"Tres belle," I whisper. Lily is dressed in a pale seafoam green silk chiffon gown with layers and layers of diagonal wisps crossing and floating like moth wings, fluttering as the air catches the filmy silks when she moves down the stairs, revealing a diagonally cut slim but flowing sheath holding her body. But even in this inmost layer, there are whispy cuts that reveal and conceal her silken flesh that only I know is there.<br />
<br />
<i>I want to forget about this social event, and carry her upstairs.</i><br />
<br />
"Tu aime?" She says to me, a little uncertain at this, our first social engagement of importance.<br />
<br />
I cannot say a word. I am just eating her with my eyes. Tav, however, is not so paralyzed, and he rushes towards her, grabbing her around the waist. She picks him up, holds him to her and kisses him full mouthed on his neck with her eyes closed, and I catch my breath. My god, how am I ever going to get through this evening without............. and, as she reads my face her eyes darken. I can imagine how wet she is now, how she smells of sex, and I am so ready for her. I blink my eyes and take her hand leaning over it to give her the first kiss of the evening. Every other pair of lips will lay over my first imprint. I open my mouth and the tip of my tongue caresses her, just as I did when I first met her.<br />
<br />
"I am not sure I can last the entire evening now." I frown at her for teasing me this way.<br />
<br />
Lily laughs her throaty husky laugh, happy at my response.<br />
<br />
"You are a pure sorcery Lily. I know what you are going to do to all the men there." I lean in to kiss her lightly, not wanting to disturb her hair, but my special lock has danced out of her arrangement, and I tuck it back in saying, "Now don't you provoke anyone else. No one else is to touch you. Understand?" and I touch my lips to her before I wind her back in.<br />
<br />
I hold her fur for her as she shrugs her shoulders to accept my hands around her. And I lead her to the door where our carriage awaits. She turns to lean and kiss Tav one more time telling him, "Please go to sleep and when I come home I will wake you and kiss you goodnight."<br />
<br />
Tav smiles and tells her, "I will be very good Mama." and he watches us with wide eyes as we go out the door.<br />
________________________________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
In the carriage Lily adjusts the layers of her gown turning to me and saying, "Tonight there will be so many other beautiful women. I will no longer be the most beautiful in the room as I was in New York." She bites her lower lip and holds it between her teeth. I gently remove it and I see there is a sheen on her lips I have never seen before.<br />
<br />
"Lily you will always be the most beautiful woman in the room to me. Forever."<br />
<br />
"That's not what I meant. I am afraid of all the beautiful Parisian women that will devour you with their eyes. I will watch you and not let you out of my sight." She licks her lips and touches me, feeling how hard I am for her. She plays with the buttons and says, "I have been wanting to try something that I heard the girls talking about at the dressmakers." And again she wets her lips.<br />
<br />
"Lily, stop this right now. You must, you must or we will never get there. You will not be able to go inside after what I will do to you."<br />
<br />
"Ahhhhh. I am looking forward to that. Do you suppose we can find a secluded place for awhile?"<br />
<br />
"Oh my god, Lily. I am your husband. You are not supposed to be seducing me like this." I reach out my hand and slide it between one of the diagonal wisps of her dress, then through another and another, my eyes growing wider each second as I realize how this dress has been designed. "Lily, did you design this dress?"<br />
<br />
"There are no wives here tonight," she says.<br />
<br />
"Oui. I have been thinking about a couturier shop. But would you approve? Or is that something a Baroness ought not to do?"<br />
<br />
"Anything that would please you, you can do."<br />
<br />
"Anything?" She asks as she moistens her lips.<br />
<br />
We are approaching our destination but I continue with my fingers and finally I gain her entrance through the silken door of her gown. She is wearing nothing between the dress and my fingers and I moan. I can feel her wetness and I can smell her sex mixed with her perfume.<br />
<br />
"Do you like my perfume," she says. "I collaborated with my perfumer and I added something to it that he said was perfect." She smiles and I know what she added.<br />
<br />
"Lily you are going to drive every man mad in there."<br />
<br />
"I only want to drive you mad."<br />
<br />
"You have. And now I am going to have to watch your every move tonight. Do not leave my sight."<br />
<br />
"Lord Rothschild will be here tonight. I want very much to have the paper extended to Berlin. It will depend on his approval."<br />
<br />
"Lord Rothschild?" says Lily and her voice rises an octave.<br />
<br />
"What! You know him! How? When? Where?"<br />
<br />
"In New York. He was at the soiree of Mrs. Brys when I directed all the <i>tableaux vivants</i>. I was introduced to him there. I doubt he will remember."<br />
<br />
"What <i>tableaux vivants</i>? I never saw one with you."<br />
<br />
"It was before we met. I was in the very last scene. It was the night Seldon told me he loved me and I kissed him lightly on the lips and told him never to mention it again."<br />
<br />
"Confessions?"<br />
<br />
"Not really. Nothing to say. Just fond memories of my friendship with Seldon."<br />
<br />
"He was a fool to leave you free for me. I am so blessed he did."<br />
<br />
And now we have arrived. I take her hand to help her alight from the carriage and she smiles shyly at me as we go into our first large social event together. I can smell sex in a light misty cloud surrounding her and I shiver, knowing what that smell will do to every man in the room. She will feel like the most beautiful woman in Paris tonight and I must watch her carefully as many of them will swirl around her, as moths do when they wish to mate. Perhaps I can find an empty room to lure her into.</div>
seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-53499325585380153182011-10-27T19:24:00.008-05:002011-12-15T16:31:29.941-06:00Chapter 15:Hands Free Orgasm:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">Cezanne</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
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I am awakened by the rising sun through the window. I turn over wanting Lily as usual, but she is not there. This is strange. She must have gotten up, and she probably went to the big house, the one of my parents. When I gave them the first 50,000 they built the house they had always wanted. My father built much of it with his own hands, using help from his neighbors and friends, and stone building materials available locally. It is typical of the area. Not really large, but comfortable. Their old cottage where I grew up is now where Lily and I have been staying.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I dress and walk up to the house, entering the kitchen quietly. Lily and my mother are preparing food. Lily is plucking a chicken and the feathers are in a pile on the table. She turns and sees me and says, “I seem to have an affinity for feathers,” and then laughs softly and huskily, looking into my eyes. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Lily,” and I gaze at her in this unexpected activity she is participating in. Her eyes widen, grow dark and her body trembles and convulses slightly and I immediately see what is happening. I close the distance between us, take her hand and say, “Come. I want to show you something.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Outside the door I push her up against the side of the house and hold her tight. My left hand is around her neck holding the side of her face into my neck and shoulder and my right hand cups her ass hard and I pull her to me. She feels my desire and shivers, shudders and convulses again. I hold her as tight as I can. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Lily, Lily, what have I done to you. I am sorry, so sorry. But really I am not. To see you express this level of desire for me is overwhelming. I feel so complete. To hold you like this is more than I had ever dreamed I could feel.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“When you came in and said my name I just dissolved. It was as if you were in me telling me ‘wait, wait, wait’ and I could not. I am still shuddering for you this minute. I cannot contain the feelings. I cannot hold them in and pretend I am not feeling them. They are too strong, too strong.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I pick her up and carry her to the rustic bench under the trees and hold her, murmuring and kissing her throat, her face, her arms, and I do not stop. She clings to me, holding me as if she will never let me go. If she does, I won’t let her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Did you know about this? Have you ever…..?” She stops, becomes quiet and just looks into my eyes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes and no,” I say.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“How?” Tell me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“It began when I was a child. Of course my friends and I were typical boys, we indulged in some bestial sex and soon got around to wondering about doing it with each other. We were too young for girls unless we could find an older girl who would show us how. So we wanted to be experienced and played at it with each other. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Of course it was very intense in feeling, but we dared not let on and show that we felt that much. So we laughed, joked around, and pretended it was not a momentous thing. I, of course, would never have admitted what I felt, but then I also realized then that our fathers had done the same with their friends, before they found girls and grew out of it. It was like a secret that no one could admit even to themselves, but that bound the boys and men together the rest of their lives. The fact that they had enjoyed each other.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“To escape all this rustic poverty and uneventful life, I went into the military and I saw it there, but with young men it had changed in significance. Some men indulged but were very secretive about it. I could see which ones just by observing them with each other in off duty times. I held myself aloof from it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Then when I went to Algeria, saw the Middle East, became acquainted with a different culture, it was clear to me how adolescent boys and even men had relationships with each other that were sexual. None of them seemed troubled by it or even tried to hide it. Naturally I was curious as I had remembered how I felt when an adolescent. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I became friends with a young Arab man and we smoked hashish together and then one time we drifted into sex with each other. It was pure pleasure, with no feelings of tying oneself to another, just an indulgent pleasure each could give the other. It was a different experience. No guilt when contemplating it and no need to have to have that person, to keep that person. Just simple pleasure. When we separated, it was without any sorrow or loss, just two friends having to say goodbye when I left the area. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“The women there were either unavailable or prostitutes. There was nothing in between. You could not be friends with a woman, spend any time with her. If you were with her, then you must be having sex.<br />
<br />
Of course the prostitutes were very experienced in ways western women are not. They have been cut genitally when they enter puberty to control their sexuality. To compensate, they develop their internal muscles in such a way as to enhance the man’s pleasure while intensifying their own. It is very subtle and very effective. Belly dancing and The Dance of the Seven Veils derive from this practice. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“When I returned to Paris I was intent on making something of myself and despairing that I would be able to do so. Such erotic things were far from my mind and what little contact I had with women was with typical prostitutes in Paris.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“When I entered the social scene I found women were available to me. I had a few mistresses and Clo, a delightful creature from Bohemia, light and fun, and adventurous began to try to initiate me into anal eroticism. And it was then I saw how intense it was for the woman. Clo became wildly enthusiastic, but not too long after I found my wife cheating on me, cuckholding me in fact, and I set her up with her lover, caught her with witnesses, and divorced her. Then I ruined her lover with journalistic articles and he had to resign from his government post.<br />
<br />
Right after that I kidnapped Suzanne, with her exuberant help, and married her. Clo was furious and we terminated our affair in a rather brutal way I am ashamed of. I don’t want secrets from you Lily, but neither do I want to tell you all the details. If you need to hear them I will. Do you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No, no, I don’t. This is almost too much. It’s that I want to hear, but I don’t want to listen to you say it.<br />
<br />
"How is it that you are a Baron? Your parents are simple, hard working, not nobility?"<br />
<br />
"Madeleine wanted a title. She planned how we were going to do it before we married, so she could have my title, our title, on the wedding announcements. My title is completely fabricated. It is a pretend title, but without it the Duchess of Beltshire would never have confided in me about you, and she would never have assisted me as she did. Any you, my darling, would not have been nearly so impressed."<br />
<br />
"It did not matter to me, but it mattered greatly to my so called friends in New York. they stamped on each other's toes to have outlandish events, so as to impress you with their invitations."<br />
<br />
"And the only thing that impressed me was you."<br />
<br />
"Tell me more."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“On my wedding day Clo was in the reception line greeting me and we both knew we would start up again. We did. Suzanne was pregnant almost immediately and her mother, Madame Walter, influenced her to be chaste while she was carrying a child. She acquiesced to her mother’s advice concerning pregnancy.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Were you ever……. I mean…..with Virginie?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Virginie! You call her Virginie!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes. She asked me to do so, when we are alone with each other. She said it was more fitting in front of Tav and when we discussed him. Do you mind?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No. Of course not. I am astonished. She has not spoken to me once since she found out I was marrying her daughter. I cannot believe she is any more forgiving of you for taking her place.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I don’t think she thinks of it like that. But you didn’t answer my question. But maybe I should not have asked it.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Lily, you can ask me anything you want to know. Yes. Yes, Madame Walter and I had an affair. She was obsessed with me. I could not find a way out of it. Her obsession was tiring, then almost frightening, she was so hysterical. I had no idea how I would ever break with her, and her husband was my employer. But when I married Suzanne it all became settled very abruptly.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes. I see that it would,” Lily said.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Do you hate me for this?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I can’t even imagine how or what hating you would be. How could I? I don’t think it would be possible. If you found someone else, then I still could not. How could I deny you what you wanted. You have given me everything because you have given me yourself.<br />
<br />
Besides,” and Lily smiles radiantly, “I still have your heart in a safe and secret place, so how could you possibly find it to give to another?” and she laughs lightly. “It is no longer in my hand where you might be able to pry it from me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“It is yours forever. My heart will never belong to anyone else.” And then I think of Tav and our coming child and I have to revise my thoughts.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“What are you thinking?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“That you will have to make some of it available for our children. Will you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh,” she says, “oh, yes, I will, I will,” and she holds me even tighter. "Please, please, promise me...."<br />
<br />
"What. Promise you what?"<br />
<br />
"Please," Lily says.<br />
<br />
"Anything. Just tell me. Anything."<br />
<br />
"I want to give birth to our baby here, here in the country, where your parents are. Here. I want you to deliver our baby. You."<br />
<br />
"NO," I scream, "no, you cannot here. This is not the safest place for you. I cannot do that. I am not a doctor. ! No, a thousand no's!"<br />
<br />
"You promised. Anything."<br />
<br />
"Yes, but I had no idea!"<br />
<br />
"You didn't add any conditions."<br />
<br />
<i>Oh my god, she has done it again, completely boxed me between Scylla and Charybdis. She always does this. I can never win with her. I know she will have her way and I cannot bear it.</i> <i>Now I must be careful.</i><br />
<br />
"Look Lily," I say, "it would be too dangerous. I have no experience. I cannot risk you. I could not survive it if anything happened to you. Please, don't ask this of me. I cannot. You need to be in Paris. With trained doctors and nurses, just in case."<br />
<br />
"But they won't let you be there for me. You will have to wait outside and I can't bear that."<br />
<br />
"But they are experts. You will be taken care of by the best."<br />
<br />
"Suzanne died, didn't she? Didn't she have the best?"<br />
<br />
<i>Oh god, she has me. I cannot refute her logic. I know now she will have her way.</i><br />
<br />
"I will find expert midwives here. They will deliver you."<br />
<br />
"You must be with me. Only you can help me. But you may have them there just to feel more comfortable yourself. But you have to be right by my side, right with me the whole time. Promise me you won't leave me for a minute. Promise! Promise me now while I have you!"<br />
<br />
"Yes. You have my word. I could not have it otherwise."<br />
<br />
"And you have delivered foals and lambs and calves, so you are not inexperienced."<br />
<br />
"My god, Lily,They are animals, they are different from our child."<br />
<br />
"No, no they are not. Really they are not."<br />
<br />
<b>"I promise. I will not leave your side</b>."<br />
<br />
<b><i>As if anything could tear me away.</i></b></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-34783681040589433852011-10-27T18:55:00.007-05:002011-12-15T16:30:14.867-06:00Chapter 14:Torture:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_XvHBLdUzk4OaHX3FihwDTvf51iY9ZsEvESui18ENvCCCejC_2KU7g7tHqVfrNmrQUt5CQV8ATUmULXH0Wsk9JanFDPVOlTDSr2_-tnRcT7xJUiYR5jqtjYAgBbexa6x-FxGPq5IENt4/s1600/brancusi+kiss.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_XvHBLdUzk4OaHX3FihwDTvf51iY9ZsEvESui18ENvCCCejC_2KU7g7tHqVfrNmrQUt5CQV8ATUmULXH0Wsk9JanFDPVOlTDSr2_-tnRcT7xJUiYR5jqtjYAgBbexa6x-FxGPq5IENt4/s1600/brancusi+kiss.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #6fa8dc;">Brancusi - Kiss</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndBtGTmHKwn5eYNjq53RHjXr8kZ1ytGwbvA7t6GhVb2FgXfVWut0sBJTefhnpzgB5c5L4NgkIEdDv9oQlcTrCS86kRkZyTikzf-FQbwADARdniOn_cFx8snSqz8eks6WYlw46v2l9fa8/s1600/mapple+white+gauze+1984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndBtGTmHKwn5eYNjq53RHjXr8kZ1ytGwbvA7t6GhVb2FgXfVWut0sBJTefhnpzgB5c5L4NgkIEdDv9oQlcTrCS86kRkZyTikzf-FQbwADARdniOn_cFx8snSqz8eks6WYlw46v2l9fa8/s400/mapple+white+gauze+1984.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #999999;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">Mapplethorpe</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">As I enter her I move my hands down her body, stopping at her breasts, her nipples, her cunt. I cup it with my palm and put my finger inside and she is wet and hot and ready for me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, Lily, I feel your desire. I want you so much, but I am going to take all afternoon with you. The first time we do this will be the most intense.You will tremble, pulse, throb, convulse, but I will have to constantly hold back, control myself to last for you. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I push in a little more, very slowly. As soon as I feel her resistance I stop and pull back until my head rests against her resistant membrane muscle and nerve bundle, gently pushing until I feel her ripple and flutter. I push one millimeter more and her intensity increases. I hold myself there, gently pull back and feel her tighten her muscles to stop me. I breathe slowly, carefully so I can keep in control. This is going to be far more difficult than I imagined.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I quiet myself and she decreases her fluttering and calms, then I push a little more against her and she is immediately throbbing again. Then she can’t stop. “Let go Lily, just let go, now.” And she eases and I am feeling her giving away and all her muscles convulse and her pelvis contracts and bucks and I hold her very very tightly. I moan as I feel her and she gasps for breath and almost screams. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“That is just the beginning, Lily. I will spend hours going deeper and deeper into you.” I put my lips on her neck and hum to her and her ragged breathing begins to calm. Then I push in a little more, just enough for her to expect me to go further, but I don’t. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Please, please, Georges, I can’t stand this, please.” She writhes and twists but I hold her fast. I pull out a little and her muscles grasp me, and she says, “No, no, no don’t, don’t do that, no please…..” But she can say no more because the intensity is building up again and she can’t breathe calmly enough to speak. So she moans and whimpers. I am approaching the edge, so I have to slow down to calm myself. I push in a little more and become very still and force myself to breathe slowly and deeply. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh god, oh god,” she says I never imagined…….” And she pushes against me but I pull back when she does this. Then I push against her ass to stop her. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Lily, Lily I say, “please don’t hurry this, please don’t hurry. Slow down.” I don’t know if I am asking her or myself to move slower. I can barely stand this intensity.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I move forward again until I press against her next band of resistance, just lightly pressing as I feel her flutter again. Only this time she knows what is coming and anticipates the feelings that she can hardly contain. Her throbbing and pulsing increases and she dissolves in more convulsions and contractions.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, oh oh oh…….” And then she cannot say anything more as she just gives way to feelings. “Lily I moan into her ear, my Lily. My perfect Lily.” And then I move towards her next clot of resistant muscles and nerves that form yet another sliver of a band in her anus. “I feel you I say, there is no rush, we have many more to go. I feel deep inside you drawing me, drawing me."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I can’t stand it. I will never be able to bear this,” she says. “Ohhhhhhhh….” And she begins to pulse as I push in slightly more then pull back and she gives way as I enter yet more deeply into her. And then the convulsions and contractions begin again and her entire body is trembling and shivering from deep inside her and I can feel it all and I don’t know how I can stop myself. But somehow I do, and then I just still and wait until she calms again. I am groaning softly and constantly. I want to just forget about this and take her wildly.<br />
<br />
But the throbbing and contractions of her anus her vaginal walls, her stomach, her entire body will bring every single muscle, tendon, fascia into her awareness. This will ensure that she will have a birth that will be natural, uncomplicated by fear of a body she doesn't understand fully.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We both quietly breathe at the edge of a precipice and we both want to let go and go over it. “We can you know. I don’t have to torture you all afternoon doing this. But I love doing it to you and to me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I love it too,” Lily says. Please, please, don’t stop now, just a little longer.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes,” I say, “yes, yes, yes.” And I move deeper into her and rest again at her next band of resistance. “Oh, Lily, I feel you holding against me, and now I feel you easing, knowing the release that is coming, the pleasure, the throbbing, let go, let go.” And she convulses once more deeper and more totally than before. I am beginning to lose it. If I don’t slow I will come undone. I gasp for breath, and breathe slower and slower until I get some control. But it is slipping, it is slipping. I am on the edge now and cannot retreat.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I love you,” I say. “I want to love you until the shadows lengthen. It seems like a time far away now. I want to last that long. I don’t know how I can ever do it. I love feeling you tremble deep inside your body, all around me and in my arms, your quivering and shaking and moaning. I want to last to keep feeling you do that." <i>Oh god, how can I?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now she falls apart again and pushes back just a little into me and starts all over again. I groan and tighten my hold on her to still myself while she shakes and trembles and quivers all over outside and deep within. Now she can’t stop anymore and her muscles begin to pull me in and I give in and enter more deeply. <i>Oh, god, I never expected this</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now I push another millimeter deeper. I feel her pull from deep inside luring me in. “You want me deeper, don’t you, Lily. I can feel you trying to entice me deeper, your pull that I can’t feel but only sense. How deep do you want me Lily?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“As deep as you can possibly be inside me. Yes, I feel tiny quivering sensations deep inside myself. Oh god, I need you there, there, please please and she begins to shudder again.” I breathe raggedly as I hold on. <i>She is still trying to hold me from deep inside her and I want to be there. <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>“</i><span style="font-style: normal;">How will I ever last to continue going so slowly….,” I whisper. I am trembling all over.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And finally later, much later I am fully inside her, feeling the last place of resistance inside her. Her deep membranes are trembling and pulling me. I cannot get deeper, but then I spread her cheeks and push that last little bit. I place my hand over her cunt, push my fingers into her while my thumb pushes hard on her clit. She gives and screams, and I completely let go inside her filling her, my semen hitting her passageway so hard she shudders and screams my name over and over and over, completely convulsing, tightening all her muscles until they feel like steel under my hands and then she lets go of everything. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Georges, Georges, Georges,” she whispers.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I tell her, “I want to take you back to the cottage, tie you to the bed so you can’t move, so my hands and mouth are free, and start all over again.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<b>I can’t wait</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">,” she whispers hoarsely. “Promise. Promise me, please, please, promise me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I promise. I give you my word on that.” And I kiss her hard and thoroughly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>And I have no idea how all this happened. I am way out in deep water. </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-51681262496874337092011-10-27T18:05:00.006-05:002011-12-15T16:29:09.748-06:00Chapter 13:Fishing:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhTpG85fBTVMY6_xqdamf5pg7i0deIxdOepQDRMnxjtsXivCCazZWosrzOrx4tB5HBHuLDm0oO0jM7Q8NmhE-A61QLAh6e2JC5fL9ouFvj55XSvfX7o6-sQswmWm-ITpUAJ3QGZK9ccU/s1600/cezanne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhTpG85fBTVMY6_xqdamf5pg7i0deIxdOepQDRMnxjtsXivCCazZWosrzOrx4tB5HBHuLDm0oO0jM7Q8NmhE-A61QLAh6e2JC5fL9ouFvj55XSvfX7o6-sQswmWm-ITpUAJ3QGZK9ccU/s640/cezanne.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #f6b26b;">Cezanne</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTcuP2f2CqCvG5hwm382FejHLNGV5qoFA3nFs0lY8C28cQf1DzKVmkQXOczk8Fz85T4DefPcwYyDMS4cpGQTcmaIaIz9AuMHcXjtS9K9OLQMpe6LriDP_8hhbnulKhWaB-sGVWQxJT9A/s1600/fish+large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a>Lily and I are walking through the meadow to the spring fed pond to catch some fish. The little ones that we can deep fry in olive oil and eat heads, bones and all. Tiny ones that are so delicious. She has never tasted them like this, fresh from the water. The sun is up and it is warm on our faces. I feel as I did when a child here. We are carrying a hamper with a picnic lunch in it, a blanket and I have a fishnet. It promises to be a lovely day. Lily is lighthearted as we listen to the insects in the field grasses and I hold her hand, happy to be with her like this, with no one else around to share her with.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We pass through the trees surrounding the water and it is cool and secluded here as we watch the movement of small creatures in the water. I spread the net over the surface and as the net becomes heavy with water, it sinks lower and lower until it is lying on the bottom. We sit on the bank and watch as little silvery fish swim up to it and nibble. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After awhile they are accustomed to it and swim over it looking for insects to catch. In an hour or so there is a school of fish on the surface and I begin to close my trap by pulling up the corners slowly so as not to frighten them away. As the edges fold up and I slowly lift the net higher, the fish swim around still unsuspecting.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, look,” says Lily. “Now they know they are caught!” They have begun swimming anxiously. Just barely suspecting, then knowing that they have been caught, when they cannot swim off the edges. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I pull it up and close it getting ready to heave it onto the grass. Still concentrating on the net I say, “When did you know you were caught, Lily?” And I turn and look at her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTcuP2f2CqCvG5hwm382FejHLNGV5qoFA3nFs0lY8C28cQf1DzKVmkQXOczk8Fz85T4DefPcwYyDMS4cpGQTcmaIaIz9AuMHcXjtS9K9OLQMpe6LriDP_8hhbnulKhWaB-sGVWQxJT9A/s1600/fish+large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTcuP2f2CqCvG5hwm382FejHLNGV5qoFA3nFs0lY8C28cQf1DzKVmkQXOczk8Fz85T4DefPcwYyDMS4cpGQTcmaIaIz9AuMHcXjtS9K9OLQMpe6LriDP_8hhbnulKhWaB-sGVWQxJT9A/s640/fish+large.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Her eyes widen and darken as she looks at me. “Are you asking if I am right now, or are you asking about the first time?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Surprised, I laughingly say, “Both.” I turn back to the silvery fishes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“When did you know you were caught?” She asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Still securing the fishes I say, “When you gave me your two endings to my story. You had accomplished the secret of journalism in a flash, which is to assert one thing while suggesting another, or to negate one thing but imply its opposite. In other words, never to be direct. I was dumbfounded, furious, and madly in love with you from that moment. I wanted to kill you. I had not intended to be caught by you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I heave the net onto the grass and turn back to her. I am dumbfounded all over again. She has taken off her skirt and has nothing on under it, and is unbuttoning the last button on her blouse, shifting it off her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare, standing there looking at me with her Wellington boots on. I groan aloud and close the distance between us, grabbing her and falling on the ground with her. She reaches for my pants and I slip them off, enter her quickly and feel her come as I enter, and then I completely let go in her like a seventeen year old boy with a rural girl and no experience.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“My god, Lily! What have I done to you? What have you done to me? I never intended this. How did this happen?” I kiss and lick her face all over, her mouth, her eyes, her neck and slide down to her breasts where I suck her nipples.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I take an American Cinderella dressed for the ball in exquisite clothes and I bring her to the country, put her in peasant clothes and violate her in the fields like a wench. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily laughs her new throaty laugh. “I love it,” she says. “I never had a childhood like this. I shall make up for it. You can be my playmate. I think Cathy and Heathcliff spent lots of time playing like this, don’t you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m not paying attention. “Hmmmmm. I am sure of it now.” I nuzzle her neck, biting it and waiting to get hard again so I can ravish her more slowly in the warm sun under the blue sky. I lift my face and hold her face between my hands and look deeply into her eyes. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“So tell me, when did you know you were caught the first time?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“When you said, 'Tell me now Lily. Yes or not. Now. Tell me now.' And I looked at the frozen faces and I knew I was ruined again. Somehow I would always do something, or be in a situation where I would be ruined. It would be inevitable. It was just like the time in Italy with Prince Verigliano, all the faces that became blank to me after he and his step-son began to fight over me. I knew none of it was my fault, but I would be blamed for it. I had no more resistance to you. I would have fallen in your arms right then, but I was still so unable to behave any other way than what was expected. And you, you were so spontaneous, so uninhibited, so fully yourself, not under anyone else’s control, that I just knew I could never want anyone else.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You are making me free now. I love it. I love you. Have I told you that yet today? I love you,” she murmurs darkly. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You haven’t told me enough today that you love me. I want more.”<br />
<br />
I bring her back into my arms before I get up and spread the blanket under us. Then I hold her tightly and begin to fondle her again. I put my lips all over her, kissing and tonguing her, tasting her until I think I can’t get enough. I move my fingers around her ass and I feel her tense, so I still my fingers. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I’ve been wanting you to touch me that way for so long now. I thought you never would again. I was getting ready to plead, to beg you to do that. Please, please, don’t stop.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And my god, I am so ready for her. I wet myself with my semen and her juices, smear myself with them, wet my fingers and begin to enter her. She moans with pleasure and I place my cock at her entrance and begin to push. She is still so tight, but so ready now. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Be still Lily. It will be very different this time, but just as wonderful. But very very slow, so you will feel so intensely, you will want to crawl out of your skin. You will feel so much more this time. I will take all afternoon torturing you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<b>Do you promise</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">?” she moans and whimpers. </span><b>And now she is in for it.</b><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-16867752334827681652011-10-11T01:12:00.011-05:002011-12-15T16:27:56.182-06:00Chapter 12:Train Ride To Rouen:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgud1ocb_r8YHa_ng0bfUp9IiUn-8FAJ-T_0kQddY9vxVPxqtkXTvaauRzSUk7UVm4EEkQwbdBrJvPYZBFEzYvXlBql2h3UQkGeYU8l0dnbHYmExP6pWnZpMDPlb3pgO6hn0Uz5RlIytJs/s1600/739px-Claude_Monet_-_The_Gare_Saint-Lazare%252C_Arrival_of_a_Train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgud1ocb_r8YHa_ng0bfUp9IiUn-8FAJ-T_0kQddY9vxVPxqtkXTvaauRzSUk7UVm4EEkQwbdBrJvPYZBFEzYvXlBql2h3UQkGeYU8l0dnbHYmExP6pWnZpMDPlb3pgO6hn0Uz5RlIytJs/s640/739px-Claude_Monet_-_The_Gare_Saint-Lazare%252C_Arrival_of_a_Train.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Monet - The Gare Saint Lazare</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.5pt; border: none; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext 1.5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="color: #9b3200; font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 13pt;">Diderot: “Bring your lips to mine / so that out of my mouth / my soul may pass into yours” (</span><span style="color: #9b3200; font-family: Times-Italic; font-size: 13pt;"><i>Chanson dans le goût de la romance</i></span><span style="color: #9b3200; font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 13pt;">). <a href="https://silverfysh.wordpress.com/2011/10/11/owning-roland-barthes/">From Sasha and the Silverfish</a> </span><br />
<span style="color: #9b3200; font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 13pt;">_________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="color: #9b3200; font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 13pt;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily and I are on the train now and it is beginning to move. The compartment takes half a car and is luxurious, quite different from the last time I took this journey. I put those thoughts from my mind and look at Lily.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily removes her coat and she is wearing a new dress, simple, made of a very fine, soft cotton with tiny flowers in an overall pattern. I admire her and say, “You look lovely in that dress. I haven’t seen it before on you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No, I just had my final fitting a few days ago and I wanted to have it for the country. Your Paris dressmakers are everything they are reputed to be. Really mine is a wonder. She understands just the simplicity and cut I want. Maybe I will open a couture house with her.” And she laughs softly in that new throaty, slightly hoarse laugh of hers. <br />
<br />
My favorite tendril of hair has come loose again and is teasing me. I reach out to touch her and fondle her through my fingers. Listen, you must go back with the others again. I will try to tuck you in and fasten you securely so you will stay. I tuck her back behind Lily's ear and wind her in the coil at Lily's neck. Then I pat her and and smooth her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily leans forward taking a cigarette from her case. I light it for her. She draws the smoke in lovingly and slowly before she exhales. This is the first time I have been with her when she is smoking in public although our own car is not really public. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is mid afternoon and as we slide out of Paris the countryside begins to open up and I watch Lily watching the beauty of the unfolding landscape. She is raptly looking and she sighs. Then she looks at me, smiling slowly. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After awhile she says, “Read some more of <i>Wuthering Heights</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> to me, please, would you? Or would you like me to read to you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We have been reading it together. Mostly I read to her so as to practice my pronunciation, but I prefer to listen to her. So I get the book out and begin and soon we are lost in the story of Heathcliff and Cathy. Cathy is dangerously ill in childbirth, and I know she will die, but Lily as yet does not know the end. I reach the part about the feathers and I look at her feeling desire for her, as I remember our wedding night, so very different from the one I spent with Madeleine on this same train journey.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Times-Italic; font-size: 16pt;"><i>Tossing about, she increased her feverish bewilderment to madness, and tore the pillow with her teeth; then raising herself up all burning, desired that I would open the window. We were in the middle of winter, the wind blew strong from the north-east, and I objected. Both the expressions flitting over her face, and the changes of her moods, began to alarm me terribly; and brought to my recollection her former illness, and the doctor's injunction that she should not be crossed. A minute previously she was violent; now, supported on one arm, and not noticing my refusal to obey her, she seemed to find childish diversion in pulling the feathers from the rents she had just made, and ranging them on the sheet according to their different species: her mind had strayed to other associations.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Times-Italic; font-size: 16pt;"><i>That’s a turkey’s, she murmured to herself; and this is a wild duck’s; and this is a pigeon’s. Ah, they put pigeons’ feathers in the pillows _ no wonder I couldn’t die! Let me take care to throw it on the floor when I lie down. And here is a moor-cock’s; and this _ I should know it among a thousand _ it’s a lapwing’s. Bonny bird; wheeling over our heads in the middle of the moor. It wanted to get to its nest, for the clouds had touched the swells, and it felt rain coming. This feather was picked up from the heath, the bird was not shot; we saw its nest in the winter, full of little skeletons. Heathcliff set a trap over it, and the old ones dare not come. I made him promise he’d never shoot a lapwing after that, and he didn’t. Yes, here are more! Did he shoot my lapwings, Nelly? Are they red, any of them? Let me look.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Times-Italic; font-size: 16pt;"><i>“Give over with that baby-work!” I interrupted, dragging the pillow away, and turning the holes towards the mattress, for she was removing the contents by handfuls. “Lie down and shut your eyes; you’re wandering. There’s a mess! The down is flying about like snow.”</i></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily interrupts. “Do you know Shakespeare?” she asks. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No, no I don’t. Not yet.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I think I remember Ophelia’s speech. We had to memorize it in classes. Ophelia has fallen in love with Prince Hamlet and he is playing with her affections. He begins to seduce her, and she is already in love with him. But her father wants her to play hard to get, to not be too available lest the Prince take advantage of her. Then he begins to be hostile to her, saying she should get herself to a nunnery and behaves very cold and ambiguous to her, as madness creeps up on him, or he pretends to be mad. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“What you were doing to me in New York.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes, a little, but he is very cruel.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You were very cruel.” She arches her eyebrow at me and smiles enigmatically, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“She begins to become unhinged, slightly mad, then more and more so.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Ah yes, I know how that feels.” Again she looks at me almost puzzled, then with oncoming desire, as her eyes darken in the fading light from the window.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So when Ophelia becomes completely mad, she enters with a bouquet of flowers and speaks. I am sure Emily Bronte knew this speech of Ophelia’s in <i>Hamlet</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> and is mirroring it with Cathy’s madness. I wonder how you will see it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And Lily begins to recite it to me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oph. <i>They bore him barefac’d on the bier;<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i> Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny: <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i> And in his grave rain’d many a tear;_<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Fare you well my dove!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You must sing, <i>Down a- down, an you call I a-down-a. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master’s daughter.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.” And Lily pretends to pick single flowers from an imaginary bouquet.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oph. There’s fennel for you, and columbines: _ there’s rue for you; and here’s some for me: we may call it, herb of grace o’Sundays: _you’may wear your rue with a difference _ There’s a daisy: I would give you some violets; but they withered all when my father died. _ They say, he made a good end, _</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>And will he not come again?<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>And will he not come again?<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>No, no, he is dead;<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Go to thy death-bed,<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>He never will come again.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And oh my god, I am undone. “Lily.” I say hoarsely, “Lily.” We are drowning in each other’s eyes, and she crosses over to me and sits in my lap, then twists around so she is straddling me. I am astonished that she would do such a thing and I grab her waist to hold her tight against me so she won’t change her mind as to its improperness. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My hands reach under her skirts and oh my god she is not wearing any bloomers, just sheer nakedness under her clothes. I catch my breath and look into her eyes, as she smiles at me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I thought maybe….maybe…. I wouldn’t want to be encumbered…..in case….in case….”, and then she moans as I feel her hotness and wetness and I am out of control, kissing her and feeling her and wanting her. Caution disappears out the window and flies away.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am breathing heavily as I undo my pants, sliding them down as I lift her up and place her on me in a perfect position for entering her. I feel I cannot wait, cannot stop, cannot prolong this, so I try to breathe slower, to time my breathing with hers. She has her mouth on my neck, saying, “Yes, yes, please, now, please, I need you so much now, right now….” And she begins to whimper.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I enter her and slide slowly in, deeper and deeper until I am buried inside her. The sound and movement of the wheels of the train increase momentum and drive me mad. I lift her up a little then push down on her shoulders hard. She screams softly against my neck then looks into my eyes. We are both breathing faster and faster now.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She moves forward, then back, then forward again, then begins to twist her body throwing her head back, closing her eyes. She returns to me looking me deeply in the eyes before she stops breathing, her eyes fluttering closed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I can’t wait, I…I…I…I can’t , I can’t, I can’t “ and she begins to pulse, then throb and she is so close I can’t stand it. I thrust up into her, then I lift her and slam her down on me hard, and I pour into her shaking and moaning as I feel her letting go and shuddering, shivering , trembling all over. I keep her right where she is as we return to the world together. Quietly breathing I kiss her softly, longingly, my mouth open against hers, breathing into her mouth, feeling my soul passing into her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<i>Ma belle parfaite Lily</i><span style="font-style: normal;">,” I say.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-25218064700446311042011-10-08T21:09:00.006-05:002011-12-15T16:26:39.512-06:00Chapter 11:Lily and Gustav:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth:<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-BTzigba1G1IqsvbWusEFEoXqzy9frpn9SOW881fpZ7gof0R9mQ1-coxw3sLKRJ28XK_snRnbsXOIlZ0vCEAbK_zRs0AvtGNNC1Y3VhQPMcqTklo2v-MkJNGtbtnaSu3pguMptPiMxw/s1600/coronation_of_sesostris6_2000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-BTzigba1G1IqsvbWusEFEoXqzy9frpn9SOW881fpZ7gof0R9mQ1-coxw3sLKRJ28XK_snRnbsXOIlZ0vCEAbK_zRs0AvtGNNC1Y3VhQPMcqTklo2v-MkJNGtbtnaSu3pguMptPiMxw/s640/coronation_of_sesostris6_2000.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #ead1dc;">Cy Twombly - Coronation</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Lily has just walked into the room. She comes over to me and touches my hair, then looks as if she is beginning to tell me something when Gustav runs into the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Maman Maman! Ma belle amie! Regarde!”He holds up his closed hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">He rushes at Lily throwing himself at her and she picks him up laughing at him. “Oh, mon fils, mon bel ami,” she says. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I gasp at the choice of their words. Then she leans into him and places her lips on his neck, closing her eyes and kissing him softly. I feel a lurch in my stomach and god in heaven, I am jealous of my own son!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Lily kisses his closed hand and then smiles, saying, “What a lovely story you wrote today. Your English is <i>parfait</i> and your French also of course. I wish mine were as good as yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Bientot ma belle amie, soon,” he says.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“All this mixing of French and English in the same sentence, I don’t know about that. I hope it doesn’t confuse the two of you,” I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">They turn to me with mischievous eyes, laughing at me. I scowl at them. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Oh, oh," Lily says, “we had better behave ourselves. Run now and eat your lunch that your grandmother has fixed for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She comes over to me again and says, “</span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Quel est le probleme</i>?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I am jealous of my own son,” I say. “When I saw you kissing him, your lips open on his neck, your eyes closed, a knife went through me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Lily laughs and laughs a low throaty laugh that I have not heard before. A new laugh. She raises one eyebrow at me. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“If you raise your eyebrow like that you will get a crease in your forehead that won’t rub out.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She laughs again. “Ah, but it doesn’t matter now. I have already captured my husband. That advice is only for those still hunting.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I am thinking myself about jealousy. I expect I am going to experience it soon.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I look at her in amazement. “Surely you don’t think…….” And she shushes me with her finger to my lips. Well, Tav has been asking for a little sister, no, begging for a little sister. And one has been coming to me night after night in my dreams, and I have just found out that she will come to us. I dreamed her into existence.” And she smiles joyously at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Lily, no no no! You can’t be serious. Please tell me it’s all a mistake, that you didn’t say that, that it isn’t true!” I am frantic with fear. She cannot be pregnant. She cannot, she cannot. “Lily, I cannot risk you. I wouldn’t survive it!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Lily continues to smile happily, saying, “Women throughout time have had babies. Would you deny me, deny us? I am overjoyed. I wished this child into being for us. Please be happy with me, please. Please don’t spoil this moment for me, for us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Lily, I am terrified.” I pull her into my lap and hold her so tight. “I cannot be without you. I cannot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I am not going to die, Georges. Yes, I know Suzanne did, but I am not Suzanne. I cannot leave you. I cannot. I will not. And that’s that. I have never known what it is to be so happy. You have changed my life completely. When I think of your scene and my utter horror at all those blank faces listening to your outburst, I can only laugh now in joy. What if you had not lost your temper, lost your control? Where would we or I be now? And your doing this has permitted me to lose all my control, although not in front of a crowd of people.” And she looks darkly at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Please be happy with me. If you are worried then so will I be. That will not be good. You must forget about fear. I have lived with it far too long. I know what it does. It stops you from living and you forget that it has stopped you and you begin to survive, forgetting that you have forgotten. To live fully is to risk. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">"I tremble when I think of how I love you, how I love our son, how very dangerous it is to love that much, and I choke up and feel I cannot move, that I cannot let either one of you out of my sight. But I must not allow my feelings to dampen my happiness, our happiness depends on my not allowing that. Now my happiness, our happiness, Tav’s happiness, our daughter’s happiness depend on your not allowing that fear to enter your heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Anyway it can’t enter your heart because I won’t let it. I am holding it, remember,” and she holds up her closed hand so I can see it, so I can know that I am safe. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I pull her to me, and my favorite little lock of her hair is loose again, so I scold her and tell her to stay with her sisters in the coil of hair, that I am busy now and cannot keep folding her back in. I kiss her hair, her face, her neck and her lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Shall we go upstairs to our apartment?” I ask. “Now I won’t have to think about tricking you so as to be careful anymore. No use now.” And I smile at her looking deep into her eyes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><b>I see them darken and I will not frighten her with my fear.</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><b>Tu es parfaite pour moi et pour Tav. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><b><span style="color: blue;">______________________________________________________________________</span></b></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I have a favor to ask,” says Lily.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“What,” I say cautiously, knowing I may get trapped again. “Tell me what you want. I will try to give it to you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Ah, you are being more careful about your promises, now, so I will be more careful. You see I want to visit your parents, that part of France where you grew up. Do you suppose I could meet them? They are going to have a new grandchild, and I think it might be a happy occasion for them to know.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“You are asking very diplomatically, aren’t you, Lily? Suzanne never met them. They have never met Tav, as you have gotten me calling him now. He was named Gustav after Flaubert, you know. But you are right, it is a heavy name for such a little boy.” I am trying to distract her now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Hmmmm. You <b>are</b></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> being very careful, my husband. Shall I ask again?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I don’t want to take you there. I gave in to Madeleine and took her there right after we were married. I told her it wasn’t a good idea, but she insisted, just like you are doing now, only much more firmly. And when we were there she was appalled at the rustic primitiveness of the place, of my parents, of the surrounding forest that frightened her, and wanted to return immediately. My mother hated her. My mother is a simple, very hard working woman, who is foreign to anything you have known. She will be polite to you, but she will not be welcoming.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Oh, now you are comparing me to Madeleine. Will I ever get these ex-wives out of your mind! I am not Madeleine. I want to meet her. I want to know her. She is your mother. She raised you, and I am grateful for the way she did.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“No, who I am now was a result of the women I have known in Paris. They took all the rough edges off me and then began to polish me. I was happy to put myself in their hands, to transfer my will over to them. They have made me who I am. Who I was when I first knew them would never have interested you at all.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“How do you know that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I know. And I do not want to explain or convince you. You cannot imagine how crass I was and I do not want to relive myself in that guise even in words.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“How did we get in this conversation? I just asked a simple question, a simple request. Please. Please let us go visit. Please keep an open mind about me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Ah, Lily, how can I say no when you ask like that. You always get your way with me. Yes, yes, we will go. We can take the train to Rouen. I will book a large private compartment for us, maybe even a full car as it will be an overnight journey. But if you are the least bit uncomfortable, then we will leave and come home. I will not have you feel anxious, especially not now. And my lock of hair has escaped again and wishes me to touch her." I reach out to touch Lily’s face, and tuck my curl into its coil again. “Do not worry little one, tonight you can be free again. Just wait. Be patient. I love you.” And I kiss her hair.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><b><span style="color: blue;"> </span> </b><o:p></o:p></span></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-49818976392828611842011-10-07T22:49:00.009-05:002011-10-28T01:38:42.259-05:00Chapter 10:Lily meets Gustav:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjYKeqBVgp4HDOoqIlYvoQDUdcUttGh8iZl3sDgVkbHEAT87fSBVpwohLv-e9nYJVEpoAGAPS9C3yCMRWW8efNBblyYsr0iXGfpfKmxg_iy-KTfHFmSbXvkjEkuugA2M5l1a6098v9qI/s1600/cold_stream_1966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjYKeqBVgp4HDOoqIlYvoQDUdcUttGh8iZl3sDgVkbHEAT87fSBVpwohLv-e9nYJVEpoAGAPS9C3yCMRWW8efNBblyYsr0iXGfpfKmxg_iy-KTfHFmSbXvkjEkuugA2M5l1a6098v9qI/s640/cold_stream_1966.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #ffe599;">Cy Twombly - Cold Stream</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">We are waiting in the reception area for my son Gustav to meet Lily. He enters and looks at her. Lily catches her breath. He is so like me. His eyes, his hair, the expression on his face, the way he regards her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You are my new Maman,” he asks?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am another Mother for you, “ says Lily. “You have one in heaven and one here below. That makes two, doesn’t it?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oui,” Gustav says as he flashes a small smile. “And you are American?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oui,” replies Lily. “Yes, I am an American. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px; white-space: nowrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Je suis une américaine</span> </span>. Did I pronounce the words correctly?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oui, parfait. I like your accent.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, I hope you will help me with my French. I am just learning it and I have so much to learn that I will need a lot of help. And your English is so good.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes, I do speak English very well. I have been practicing since Papa left for America to find and return with a Mother for me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Do you like stories? I am asking because I thought maybe we could write some in French and English. That way we could learn together. Would you like that?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh yes. I do like writing stories. I have already written some that I will show you. Shall I get them?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Later,” I say. “We have had a long journey. Tomorrow would be better.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily kneels down to be on a level with him and says, “Whenever you are ready to show them to me, I will be delighted to read them. I can’t wait!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Gustav smiles and says to her, “I think I am going to like you very much. I hope so. I do not want a wicked stepmother.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily laughs and says, “I would love to hug you and kiss you. Maybe when you know me better you will let me. I will wait until you are ready. But please hurry, as I think I love you already.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Gustav solemnly holds out his hand and Lily takes it in her own. She has tears in her eyes, and brushes them away. Her mouth trembles. Gustav watches her face carefully.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Please don’t cry. Please don’t be sad. Bientot, soon, just wait a little.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“All the time you need is yours,” she says to him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
I am choking and I lean to help Lily to her feet and lead her upstairs. She is sobbing as we climb the stairs, hiding her face from me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We enter our rooms and she turns to come into my arms, hiding her face in my chest.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“He is so beautiful. Just like you. He looks just like you. He is so beautiful I can’t believe it. Such perfect manners. Such a beautiful little boy. I love him so much I can’t stand it.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hush, hush,” I say to her. Please, it’s perfectly all right. I know he will love you. I know you will make him happy with you. You are as perfect for him as you are for me. Oh, Lily, I love you so. You are my perfect Lily. I knew that right away when I met you. I just didn’t know how to convince you. That took me some time to learn.” I tilt her face up, and I kiss away her tears until she smiles; then I know everything is all right.<br />
<br />
"Tu es parfaite pour moi." <br />
<br />
<b>I have fallen in love with her all over again.</b></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-91330689042679647462011-10-01T01:42:00.015-05:002011-10-28T01:55:42.270-05:00Chapter 9:Ecstasy:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJyfeT5ouYy0VRKpanxaXyWYrvrqlZIQIi6Cmd_OODts6JVKdIAB-CdsPoxef_HxOplch_8hOQGeD57D-7STFI3R91Tnb6fJUmKKnEpxO7xZ-7fX4eizt7i-epNucE8srm0uGeiS0v84/s1600/twombly_leda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJyfeT5ouYy0VRKpanxaXyWYrvrqlZIQIi6Cmd_OODts6JVKdIAB-CdsPoxef_HxOplch_8hOQGeD57D-7STFI3R91Tnb6fJUmKKnEpxO7xZ-7fX4eizt7i-epNucE8srm0uGeiS0v84/s640/twombly_leda.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #cccccc;">Cy Twombly - Leda</span></span></b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuztncehaz9TMTjE6HjKVF4iv-GsCp_COAUveXbmKqAfUPkWgS2yn24WQACkaT5DxfAwRgI1b37zQcfJn5hoT5Fuv6SlQBaOv4P1TA1AUWHEuXoDd1qke5C40m4kLlXcT_3hkvWrngUs/s1600/twombly_leda3_1980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuztncehaz9TMTjE6HjKVF4iv-GsCp_COAUveXbmKqAfUPkWgS2yn24WQACkaT5DxfAwRgI1b37zQcfJn5hoT5Fuv6SlQBaOv4P1TA1AUWHEuXoDd1qke5C40m4kLlXcT_3hkvWrngUs/s640/twombly_leda3_1980.jpg" width="506" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #fce5cd;">Cy Twombly - Leda 3</span></span></b></span></td></tr>
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<b>__________________________________________________________________________________</b><br />
<br />
Lily rolls over on top of me while I am now soft and still in her. She puts her face on my neck and begins to sob. Her body shakes and I know she still has unresolved tension even after all that. The stored tension of a lifetime is now leaking out in sobbing, but that will never be enough to dispel it. I hold her tightly to me. I don’t want to slip out now as I wait to get hard again. I know what I am going to do next and the thought is making me hard very fast.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know if I don’t fix this now, she will remain voracious and insatiable for the rest of our lives. She will never be completely sated. I realize the advantages of this, but I am too experienced now to not know the negative, as I remember Madame Walter. No, a sexually crazed Lily is not what I want. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I kiss her tenderly. I am not going to comfort her. She is an adult, not a child like Suzanne. “Ah, Lily, you want more. You have held all your feelings in much too long, much too long.” I begin to caress her, to arouse her again. She is in for it now.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I move inside her slowly, carefully, deeply and dirtily. I am beginning to give her what is known in Paris as a dirty fuck. My hand seeks her breasts, her nipples which I fondle then pinch, a little roughly. She winces. I move to her clit and rub it in circles until she begins to writhe again. I hold her ass tight to me, then I slip one finger of my hand around her anus, closer and closer to her opening. I feel her tense. Yes, she is wondering what I am doing. I hum in her ear and blow into it. She whimpers, then moans. Yes, she is not finished, my Lily. Well, she will be after this.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I lick my fingers and then I insert one in her anus. She startles, says, “No, no, don’t do that, Georges, please don’t do that.” She starts to move away but I hold her fast. She realizes now that I am not going to let her go, and she begins to pant in fear. What is this man she hardly knows, whom she has married, going to do to her. She is in his power, she thinks. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><b>If she only knew</b></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>.</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now I insert a second finger and move both of them around. “No! I don’t want you to do this!” she almost screams. I pay no attention to her and just hold her tighter as she pushes harder to escape. Then I still my fingers, and remove them, and hold her, then I take my other hand and put my finger inside her cunt. Slowly, carefully and she is so wet. She sighs, thinking I am obeying. I put two more fingers inside her and move them slowly and purposefully. I kiss her lips, her hair, her ear and taste her all down her neck and throat and breasts, and stomach until I reach her folds and continue. “No, no, please, no not that.” I pay no attention to her and I lick her from her clit down to her entrance and then my tongue enters her and she shivers and moans. “No, please, no,” but she doesn’t mean it. I suck her into my mouth and she trembles. I begin to take her to the edge but not too close. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I stop and she moans, but I put my cock inside her again and she moves closer to me. Then my fingers begin to move to her ass and she stiffens, wary now. I put one, then two in and circle inside, then I scissor them and she gasps. I feel her surprise. I increase the movement of my fingers and she tries to twist away. I pull out of her, flip her over and my cock is at the entrance to her ass in seconds and I go in an inch or so. She is completely surprised and screams, “<b>No no not that. I won’t have that!</b>”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I whisper in her ear, “<i>You still have all the power, Lily, only you just don’t know it right now</i>.” If she would go completely passive and just lie there, I would immediately stop. It is not too late for that. She twists and tries to get away, but I hold her very tight. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No, no, no, please not that, please, no, I am not that kind of woman, I am not, no, no, no, please don’t do this.” And she begins to cry. But I am not going to stop and comfort her. I push in a little more, <i>and I threaten, “Your tears are not going to stop me, Lily. Try something else.”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then she really tries to get away, twist, writhe, squirm, turns and thrashes but it doesn’t work. I am ready for her. When she calms I push in a little more. So she renews her fight with me. As long as she resists I do not enter her more. But as soon as she exhausts herself and slows, I renew my efforts to get inside her ever more deeply. She is still on her stomach, her face in the pillow. Her sobbing increases, and her head thrashes back and forth. I push a little deeper and I feel a slight relaxation of her spincter muscles. Now I know it is just barely beginning to feel pleasurable.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>I push in just a little more and I feel her give. But I don’t want this. I want her resistance. I provoke her.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“It’s beginning to feel good, isn’t it, Lily. You are beginning to like it, aren’t you. I know you are going to love it!” Now she really thrashes around. “<b><i>No, no, stop! I shall throw myself overboard the first chance I get! I won’t live with a man who does this to me!”</i></b> And she begins to bite and tear at the pillow in her rage.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<b><i>You still have all the power, Lily, why don’t you use it?</i></b>”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then she screams at me. Her rage is infantile rage, it goes so far back in time. <i><b>Now she is no longer fighting me, she is fighting herself. This is what I want. Yes, yes, yes, this is what I want</b></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>. </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She holds up her closed hand. <b><i>“See this. This is your heart!” she screams. “I am going to dash it on the rocks, throw it into the sea, grind it under my feet, spit on it. I am going to put it in my mouth and tear it to shreds with my teeth, then swallow it and defecate it out, then smear it into the dirt!”</i></b> And she begins sobbing again. She tears more at the pillow until the feathers start floating out, flying about the room. She is demented now.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<b>No, you are not. Because I won’t let you,</b>” I say. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I push in deeper but I am barely halfway into her so I go in even deeper, but slower. I have no wish to hurt her. She twists and twists, so I place my teeth at the nape of her neck and bite carefully. She senses the primal impulse of this, that I could snap her neck, kill her, and then fuck her still warm body. I could throw her overboard and it would be assumed she had jumped. This she knows intuitively. <b>And she knows I am going to get my way with her.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She tries to get up by rising on her knees and I allow this, just a little, as I sink deeper into her. She moans and tries to crawl away, but she doesn’t stand a chance. “<b><i>Try something else, Lily,” I taunt.</i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<b><i>Oh, you beast, you monster! I should have known! Why didn’t I know! Why did I say yes! I am in your power as I feared!</i>"</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<b>No you are not,” I say. “You are not.”</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now she is violent. She has renewed strength as she fights for her life, because that is exactly what she is fighting for. She thinks she cannot live with a filthy disgrace like this. She screams, she pounds the bed, she grabs the pillow bringing it up and tears at it again and now more feathers fly. She twists her neck to bite me and catches my arm. Her teeth sink in and she bites as hard as she can. Blood runs out of her mouth, down my arm, all over the sheets. <b>I laugh at her</b>. She grabs at the pillow with her upraised hands and tears at it more, shredding it with her hands. The feathers float all over the room now in clouds that fall on us, in our hair, our eyes, our mouths, all over our bodies. <i><b>My dear god in heaven, she has become Cathy to my Heathcliff. What have I done!</b> </i>She is my darling Lily, but she doesn’t know it yet. She will though.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I go deeper, and she is so hoarse from screaming, she can’t catch her breath. “I am strangling, I am strangling!” She hopes I will believe her and stop. <i><b>Not a chance</b></i>. Now I am fully in at last and she feels it. She knows it with all her being. She howls. I pull out a little then thrust in again, harder. “<b>You dirty bastard,” she cries. I will kill you for this. I will kill you. I will murder you. I will wait for my chance and kill you. I won’t kill myself, I will kill you. You will never touch me again. I will be on my guard all the time.!”</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I move inside her and she has given way. Now I put my fingers into her cunt. One, then two, then three and I twist them around and my thumb fingers her clit. I am still holding her tight with my other hand and bloody arm. “<b>Feel me inside you Lily</b>,” I say. I curl my fingers up towards her clit on the inside and I push hard with my thumb. She gasps and begins to pant. I stop and move her back from the edge. “Oh!” she screams. “<b>I hate you I hate you I hate you!</b>”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I speed my thrusting inside her ass, pulling her tight against me each time. “I love you ,” I say. “I love you.” She shrieks and screams blasphemies at me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I keep increasing the deepness and speed of my thrusting, the movement of my fingers, playing her and then finally, finally she gives up and meets my thrusts, pants like a dog, and howls like a cat in heat on the back fence, rising up on her knees and arching her back and throwing her head back. She is magnificent. Now she is fully animal, all her civilized nuances gone to dust. She has become my Cathy completely. She screams in passion and puts her hands on her breasts and squeezes her nipples. She reaches behind her head and putting her hands around my neck, she pulls me in as close as she can. She twists and turns but not to get away, to increase her pleasure. She cares nothing for me now. She is completely out of control with Dionysian ecstasy. She is gone. Absolutely gone. I completely let go in her, pumping my semen deep into her rectum, and take her over the edge.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She convulses and screams incoherently, her voice a mish-mash of jumbled words and sounds and animal noises. She convulses with a grand mal seizure. I put my hand in her mouth so she won't bloody her tongue. Her entire body shakes and trembles and I have to hold her tight. Her bladder lets go and then her bowels as she urinates and we are lying in a primal soupy stinking mess of filthy feathers and gruel.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And then finally she is complete and sinks down on the bed, turning up to look at me. Her face is washed clean, newborn, her eyes open wide and luminous like an infant’s eyes. She keeps staring at me. For the second time since I have met her, she is speechless.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I say,“I thought I loved you before, but I could not have. What I feel for you now is so much more than that, that I don’t have words for it. All I can say is I love you, I love you, all day and all night long. Come”, I say, and I pick her up to carry her into another room to wash her. I wash her the way you wash a bloody newborn calf or foal, wrapped in membrane, all bloody and covered with shit. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While I am cleaning her I tell her, “I had to do that. When you were torturing me in New York I had fantasies of doing that to you, humiliating you, dominating you, revenging myself on you. But that was before I loved you. I only wanted to marry you, to have you, to keep you, to make you mine. That’s not love. And then you began your siege of my heart.<b> I was furious</b>."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You upped the stakes at each turn. Every time I called your cards, you would up the stakes again. I couldn’t win. I could never win. And I began to understand that that was the reason you had never married. You always had an obstacle ready. Always. But what did you want? I had everything you wanted and needed. Why did you keep distracting me, pushing me away, putting beautiful young girls in my path to seduce me. Why? What did you want? I didn’t know. But tonight I found out. <b>Sex finds us out."</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You wanted ecstasy. And none of the men around you could even come close to giving you that. None of them were passionately experienced and brutal enough. And you didn’t even know that that was what you wanted. You just knew that any particular person couldn’t give you what you didn’t know you wanted. There’s a becoming famous doctor in Vienna who treats patients in a different way. He also asks, “What do women want?” He doesn’t know. But I do, because I have always studied women, listened to them. They know things.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Only one writer has really written about this with clear insight. She was a very young girl living in a parsonage. She never married, had no experience with friends, just living at home with her father, sisters and brother, walking on the moor with her dogs. She knew in her imagination, and she wrote it. I don’t think you have read <i><b>Wuthering Heights</b></i><span style="font-style: normal;">, but you will. I have it at home. It’s how I learned English.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“And you will know that I am your Heathcliff and you are my Cathy. And when you read this book, you will know me and yourself. I just had to do what I did to allow you to know. You see, few people want to experience ecstasy. Some want to get close and run. Others want nothing to do with it. Most who do go mad. It is dangerous, terribly dangerous, but I know I can protect you. I knew that you did and you didn’t, but that you would never be who you could be, if you kept yearning for what you didn’t know. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Now you are completely different, changed. Like St. Teresa in her passion. Everything you experience now will be the same and it will be different. You will still be my beautiful perfect Lily, and yet you will not be the same.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That’s what she is. She has just been born again, my Lily, my perfect Lily. And I clean her, wash her hair, dry her with towels and then I wash myself without letting go of her. I pick her up and we go to her room and her virginal clean bed and I place her on the sheets, cover her and climb in beside her and hold her in my arms, carefully, tenderly, for she is truly, newly born.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Sleep, my darling, sleep now. Go to sleep. I will watch over your dreams. You will be safe.” The ship gently rocks on the waves and she is warm and lulled, and she sinks down into slumber. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>And I love her beyond belief.</b></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-46785590732410942292011-10-01T01:18:00.005-05:002011-10-28T01:38:08.394-05:00Chapter 8:Wedding Night:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht9rmNSkLyf-cvVENSDYbVKe1K2WU1byQGBhc6RSxOTQ0ncmLlHEKH0daDtUhqvEwBpB-9g2UsaQ83F7sQ1FpCwXyeyZBDIAuQjIHFqVTqtbVg5O12uOOT1LqGkanB3sUKf197Ig6fogs/s1600/328_LakeMemphremagogweb0.jpg+larg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht9rmNSkLyf-cvVENSDYbVKe1K2WU1byQGBhc6RSxOTQ0ncmLlHEKH0daDtUhqvEwBpB-9g2UsaQ83F7sQ1FpCwXyeyZBDIAuQjIHFqVTqtbVg5O12uOOT1LqGkanB3sUKf197Ig6fogs/s640/328_LakeMemphremagogweb0.jpg+larg.jpg" width="638" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #f4cccc;">Mapplethorpe</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>We both stand in the stateroom which is huge. There is a sitting room and two bedrooms on each side. One for Lily and one for me.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiooIr9kj9x-RRlHnmBDKe9arbmTrRrjzH6wOP0nx_5bVIhqn4winuPzEWEwkXv7BIOASly-ND44jVLBn0NNRYQ195KIZ18zxoaSSrx_efXv0HQZoFjoOfI_rQVozGLxcCuOXoE2om-_mQ/s1600/LB+hamlet+ophelis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiooIr9kj9x-RRlHnmBDKe9arbmTrRrjzH6wOP0nx_5bVIhqn4winuPzEWEwkXv7BIOASly-ND44jVLBn0NNRYQ195KIZ18zxoaSSrx_efXv0HQZoFjoOfI_rQVozGLxcCuOXoE2om-_mQ/s640/LB+hamlet+ophelis.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Louise Bourgeois - Hamlet and Ophelia</span></b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I tell Lily, “I have taken the entire deck for this level. I do not want you to have to meet or consider anyone but yourself. And me, of course. I promise you I won’t touch you. I shall begin to lay siege to your heart. I have laid siege to your mind, your thoughts, your feelings to obtain your hand. Now I will do the same to win your heart. I will never, never touch you unless you desire me to do so. You still have all the power. I will not touch you without your desire.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“And I can promise you I will use all my charm, all my seductive ways to entice you to want me. I warn you, I will be relentless in possessing your heart. I know I can take you now by the contract we have agreed to, our marriage. But I want more than that. I want all of you. So I can wait for as long as possible for that to come about.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I move in close to her and I see she is trembling. I reach out to finally touch that lock of her hair which is always escaping from the coil on the nape of her neck. I gently finger it, drawing it over my lips, kissing it, and then tenderly tucking it back in.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“There, now you are back with your sisters. I know you will twist away again to taunt me, to tease me, and you are lovely and charming, but for now please stay quiet.” I laugh and tell her, “That lovely lock of your hair has been beckoning me all this time, telling me to come hither, to touch, to fondle but I did not dare. Now that you are mine, I dare.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I lightly touch her lips with my finger and outline them so softly she might almost not feel my touch, but I know it burns her and tingles long after I have stopped. I touch her face near her hairline and slowly draw my finger down her cheek and jaw line to her neck, and then I stop, catching my breath. She stares into my eyes, that never leave my face while I look at her. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Listen Lily, I will not touch you tonight. I may come in later to watch you dream, but do not be afraid. If you lock your door, I will not break it down, although I will want to do so. If you leave your door open I may come in to watch you sleep. I know you are fatigued, so please, just relax, go to bed and rest. You are safe and secure now. No one can hurt you. No one can cause you distress. No one will be on this deck but us. We will have it all to ourselves. Please, sleep well my darling. I will see you in the morning.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She looks at me in astonishment. She cannot believe I mean what I say. </div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.5pt; border: none; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext 1.5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I return to my room and undress for bed. Keeping the light on I get <i><b>Madame Bovary</b></i> from my suitcase to continue reading Flaubert. Perhaps the master will help me with this woman. Someone must. Slowly I enter the world of the book, until there is a soft knock on my door. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“May I come in?” she asks. I look at her standing there in a soft flowing diaphanous cream colored gown, her hair loose and wild, and I think, <i>Dear god, what is she doing to me now?<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Of course.” And I continue to look at her. She who looks like an angel standing there ready to be slaughtered. I lower the light to make her more comfortable. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I do not wish to sleep alone on my wedding night. I do not wish it.” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“What.” <i>What does she mean?. I will be tortured all night now by her nearness.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Please,” she says as she approaches the bed.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Come, sit down,” I say, and she does. I start to breathe again. I turn on my side to face her and draw the covers around me to hide my desire from her. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Do you remember the first time we met? How you took my hand and kissed it?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I remember,” I say.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“How you kissed it with your mouth open, and the tip of your tongue caressed my skin, soft as a shadow, so that I almost thought I was imagining it.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I do.” <i>Where is she going with this?</i><span style="font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“My skin burned from your touch.” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I look at her and say, “Immediately after I touched you I looked into your eyes and your pupils dilated. Your eyes were still open, friendly, polite. Your mouth warm, still smiling, polite, your face showing nothing but just the proper amount of friendliness, politeness.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I remember what you said,” she says. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes,” I say. “Mademoiselle Bart, you are beautiful and incomparable, graceful and perfect. There has been no exaggeration of your loveliness. You still are by the way.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“And I said, ‘Your exceeding charm has been greatly underestimated.’ I meant it too. I still do.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I lean over and touch her hand, the same one. Instead of bringing it to my lips, I bend my head down to where it lies beside her thigh, and I turn it over and begin to kiss her palm. My lips open and I press my mouth to her palm and kiss it. I graze it with my teeth, then lick it with my tongue and begin to suck it, kiss it passionately until I feel forced to stop. I curl her fingers closed tenderly. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am placing my heart inside as a gift for you to take care of. Please take care of it as I love you very much.” I look up into her eyes. They are brimming with tears that run down her face. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“That is the only thing I ever wanted from you,” she says. “You think you are going to lay siege to my heart, but I have been laying siege to your heart since first I saw you. It is all I want. I will never let it go. I will keep it now forever. It is mine now.” And she closes her hand tightly. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And she moves to kiss my lips and her body presses against mine. Her mouth opens to me and her tongue touches my lips and my tongue finds hers and explores her mouth carefully, slowly. But she won’t have it that way. She moves her mouth harder against mine until I give up and hold her tightly kissing her with all the abandon I feel. She whimpers and then moans and I cannot imagine stopping now. My hands seek her breasts, her nipples and then my mouth begins to move lower on her as my hands explore her stomach. Her breath gasps and I move still lower until I am at her center which is melting hot and very wet.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Please,” she says, “please.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Her hand is still in a fist, still holding my heart. I try to loosen her fingers but she won’t allow it. Her other hand moves to my hair and she seizes it, pulling my face towards her.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I put one finger in her and she writhes, twisting her body. She is slippery and wet with desire and so I remove all my covers, pull her close and begin to enter her. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am afraid I will hurt you,” I say. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No. No. You will not. I am not a doll. You will not break me. I promise, I promise. Just. Please. Do not stop. Please don’t stop.” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I enter deeper until I reach her membrane and then I say, “I am afraid this will hurt.” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“It doesn’t matter. Just please don’t stop.” And she thrusts her hips at me until I am undone and push suddenly and hard and I am through. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, god,” she says. “How wonderful. I can’t believe how you feel in me.” And she begins to pant, pasting herself to me then pulling away then rushing back into my arms so hard my breath hitches. I hold her so tight. Then I begin to move in her and she moans aloud and I think she will scream.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes,” she says, “yes yes yes!” And now she is trembling uncontrollably, all control gone, lost forever, as she kisses me wildly, rubbing herself all over me, and crying and moaning, “Yes yes yes more more more.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And then I realize what she wants. For me to take her like an animal. To be a beast and pound all the holding back of her life from her. To relieve her of all the pressure of conformity, of behaving perfectly, of denying herself all her feelings and spontaneity. She begins to scream and she becomes something wild and untamed and I am delirious with surprise and joy, not knowing who this woman is. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She reaches the edge and I touch her clit, rubbing it in circles and she convulses and goes over the edge screaming my name over and over and I just let go of all of me and fill her and fill her until I am dripping out of her, and I take my semen and rub it all over her body and then begin to lick it off her. She looks at me with black eyes, breathing like a foundering animal and I kiss her tenderly, hold her face in my hands and say, “I love you. I love you. I love only you.” And then I wrap my arms around her, pull the covers up and hold her so tight even her dreams will have no room to reach her. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You are mine,” I say. “No one else will ever touch you. I will kill anyone who tries. And I will never want anyone but you ever again.” </div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-68819832745238883982011-10-01T01:06:00.002-05:002011-10-28T01:37:51.213-05:00Chapter 7:Georges Proposes:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9VOcU_kRqz534ZQJ8v0BPJGhu0X7s9YZdpI-1AV5vLxzT0NGGn9Yi3mH2-yvR5bCNcVX5CzNk4FigayiVJi77H0aLwkSIFDu3LYz7KpAtIU-whqZUPUBFUGYqweTt3IbIiuRnFr9np8/s1600/yellow+diamond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9VOcU_kRqz534ZQJ8v0BPJGhu0X7s9YZdpI-1AV5vLxzT0NGGn9Yi3mH2-yvR5bCNcVX5CzNk4FigayiVJi77H0aLwkSIFDu3LYz7KpAtIU-whqZUPUBFUGYqweTt3IbIiuRnFr9np8/s1600/yellow+diamond.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: cyan;">Yellow Diamond</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">_</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
<br />
“<b>Lily, stop this! Stop right now! Please, please, stop! Now</b>! <b>I surrender!</b> <b>I surrender! You have all the power. All of it. You can make me the happiest man on earth or you can destroy me by saying no.</b> I can’t go on with this charade any longer. You stalemate me at every turn. Marry me, marry me, please, please, please marry me. I will give you anything you want. I will make you happy. I love you beyond belief. Please, please say yes.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She has put her hand to her throat. Her face is astonished and horrified. For the first time since I have met her she can say nothing, do nothing but stand there, struck dumb. She sits down in the chair. I fall to my knees in front of her and grasp her hand.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I notice how quiet it is, how all the murmuring has stopped. Lily’s eyes are darting left and right now. I see that everyone near us has stopped. They are not talking. They are just standing there looking at us. <b><i>And now I know. Lily is ruined</i></b>. I have made such a scene that she will be blamed for this scene for the rest of her life. She will be damned forever having let me get this far, this close to her to compromise her reputation. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t care. <b>This is good</b>. Now she will have to say yes. She cannot go back to her life with this ghastly occurrence that will be talked about for two hundred years! Yes, she is ruined. I am delirious with gratitude for these miniscule minds that would blame her for what I have created. I want to kiss their feet.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily holds out her palm to quiet me but it is too late. “No, Lily,” I say, “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what all of them think. The only person whose thinking or feelings I care about are yours. Yours, only yours. You are the only important person to me in this huge crowd of people. You are the only person here for me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily shudders. Her face is white and she is still speechless. For once, she is speechless. She cannot even move. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Lily, Lily, please listen to me. Please. Listen to me. None of these people matter. They cannot hurt you. They cannot even take up the tiniest space in my mind. My mind only has room for you. Please, please give me your answer. Now. I don’t want you to have time to think about it. Not any more. Tell me now,” I command her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I look up at her. In the corner of my eye I see Selden standing there with her wrap, wishing he could disappear, just drop her wrap on the floor and melt into the stones of the terrace. “<b>Lily,” I say. “Now. Tell me, yes or not. Now.”</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Her eyes look around and she sees nothing but incomprehension and absolute horror. She looks at me, full in the face, deep into my eyes and whispers, “Yes, yes, yes I will. And then louder, “Yes.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am radiant with joy. I grasp a small box from my pocket, pull out the ring, and I don’t even give her time to look at it as I put it on her finger. It is huge and ugly. An eight carat diamond, with ruby baguettes on each side from Tiffany’s. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes.” I say. “I know it is ostentatious. Worse than ostentatious. It is obscene. Over the border into the land of the vulgar. It is exactly what I wanted.” Lily is looking at it on her hand with dismay on her face. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“When we get to Paris we both will go get another one. A beautiful one that you will pick out. We can throw this one in the Seine. Drown it. These people wouldn’t know what a beautiful ring looks like if they saw one. I know these people because I used to be just like them. You have changed me utterly. I do not even recognize myself anymore. The only thing they know is how much it is worth by looking at its size. I wanted them to see just how much I worship you, how much you mean to me, because to them, that’s what an engagement ring signifies. <b>How much you are loved by how big the diamond is.</b> I want to silence their tongues permanently.<br />
<br />
I never want you to have to consider them again, all their foolish, simpering, stupid thoughts, perceptions and comments that you so carefully rephrase to sound intelligent, to make them feel important. They are not important. You are important. You are important and precious to me. You are all I care about in this pompous miserable copy of what they think is a Parisian court from Louis the XV or XVI at Versailles.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“And it is no better where we are going. Even worse. But I will have you and that will make all the difference. Let us go now. We can take a carriage ride around the park, and I can calm down, and you can begin to breathe again. We will sail as soon as I can book passage. The Captain of the ship can marry us as soon as we are in international waters. Unless you want to stay to plan a big wedding here for these fools. I will do what you want.” Lily shakes her head. “Come. Take my arm and flash your diamond in their eyes.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I pull her up, she takes my arm, and we walk from the terrace into the room. Bertha Dorset stands near the door and Lily walks up to her and says, “Dear Mrs. Dorset, we shall be leaving now. It has been an eventful and joyous evening for me that I will remember all my life. Thank you so much for inviting us. Goodnight and again thank you for the most unimaginable, wonderful evening of my life.” She gives her her hand, the one with the ring on it, and touches her goodbye. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And with immense grace she walks out the door, her head high on her slender neck, her eyes straight ahead into the dark, where I see a carriage and hail it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>She is my beautiful, my perfect Lily.</b></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-5046750538197631182011-10-01T00:48:00.002-05:002011-10-28T01:37:31.481-05:00Chapter 6:Du Roy Ready to Propose:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #cccccc;">Georges Du Roy</span></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>I’m watching her out there on the terrace with Selden. I look at the way they stand with each other facing the soon to be setting sun. I hope it sets on them very soon.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They do like each other, but he does not love her enough. He loves her the way Linton loved Cathy. However, she is not a Cathy, and I love her about the way he does. The way bookish Linton loved Cathy. Only I have assets, so my less than torrid romantic interest in her is acceptable and proper. Since he has nothing, he needs to have a passion for her, which he does not. She is talking earnestly to him. I wonder if she is talking about me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I see Rosedale starting out to greet her. She turns disinterestedly towards him, but he pretends not to notice. She nods to him about something and he comes back into the room.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I plan to go out on the terrace and propose to her. I intend to listen to her story ending choice first. If she ends it with a no, then I am prepared to soothe and reassure her; to convince her otherwise, which I am sure I can do. If she has chosen the yes ending, then the deal is closed. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s time, I say to myself, and I start out there. She sees me before I am too close to the terrace to surprise her. Her face is friendly as I walk up to her. “Mademoiselle Bart”, I say, picking up her hand to kiss it lightly but with my mouth open on her skin. She smells lovely. She smiles and greets me, “Baron Du Roy,” she nods. She turns to Selden and says, “I think it is getting chilly now that the sun is setting. May I please ask you for a favor?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Of course,” he says.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“My fluffy pink feather wrap is back in there. Would you find it for me and bring it to me, please?” Selden nods and leaves the terrace leaving Lily and me alone. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I received your letter this morning and I have read your story, both parts. It’s charming. Thank you for asking my advice on which ending. You’re under no obligation to use my choice, however,” she smiles.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Lily is unusually direct. This means she has given this some serious thought.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I bow to her, raising my one eyebrow and ask, “Which one did you liked the best?” This confuses her as she has expected my using the word choose. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hmmmm. It was difficult to choose. Actually I started writing my own.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<i>C’est vrai</i>?” I respond.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<i>Oui</i>,” she answers me in French. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Returning to English she puzzles her face a little and says, "I also had two endings in mind. Perhaps a little more complex than yours, I think. But that seems to be the way women are."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“In one she is thinking of saying no. Her reason is the interesting part. She is really very attracted to him, but she has observed things about him that puzzle her. He is handsome, rich, titled and very charming. He has perfect manners, but they seem to her to have an artificial veneer. They are almost, but not quite natural, as if he has studied manners and their perfect practice. His behavior is well, not quite orthodox, a little spontaneous. This makes her uneasy as she will be traveling to China with him if she agrees to marry him, and she has no friends there, no one to go to if her situation becomes uncomfortable. Simply put, she fears him enough to be wary about falling into his power. This would happen to her if she says yes. She wants to but she is equally afraid, so I have left the ending ambiguous, ending before she finally decides and chooses. She is saying no to herself at this point but really wants to say yes. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“The second one she is thinking of saying yes. She is aware that she will live with him in a foreign country, which is unsettling, but she has arranged her reply to acknowledge the honor he has paid her by asking her to be his wife. She replies by telling him this, saying that she understands he wishes a wife who will keep order in his house, have superb aesthetic taste in furnishing it, in arranging social affairs, ensuring his name and reputation will continue to be spotless. She also adds that she has come to this decision not only for the security it offers her, her ability to know what he wishes her to be for him, but primarily because she yearns for this little boy who has been without a mother all his life. In this way she intends to structure the relationship to be compatible for herself and for him. So she has stressed the contractual obligations, but has softened this with her concern for the child. She has also masked her attraction to him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She has watched my expression the entire time she has been talking.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>I am ready to kill her. I am also ready to throw her on the terrace stones and ravish her.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She has upped the stakes to Double or Quits. She has managed to say no while implying yes, and she has managed to say yes while implying that she will acquiesce to conjugal embraces without passion. I am completely out maneuvered. If she says no I will not be able to convince her, as the more attraction she feels, the more likely she will be to say no. Now I must propose without any advance knowing. How did she manage to do this. She has thrown another blasted obstacle into this strategy of mine. The situation is identical to my first meeting with Madeleine. My writing edited and made superior by this slip of a woman who has never written professionally, who is going to be a cool and careful wife – partner. All her affection and love and tenderness will go to my son. I do not want another Madeleine.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She will always do this. I will never get the best of her. She is just too intuitively intelligent. <b>This is why she has never married. She has done this to every last one of them. What in God’s name does she want?</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And at this moment while gazing at her, I realize I have fallen hopelessly in love with her, that I am completely in love with her, completely in her power, and I love her with the ferocity that Heathcliff loves Cathy. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What a beastly dilemma. This is not what I had planned at all. Now I must have her, and I must win her heart after we are married. Very well, I will do that. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>I still want to kill her</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">.</span></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-74166783170354943272011-10-01T00:40:00.004-05:002011-10-30T23:35:13.943-05:00Chapter 5:Baron Du Roy Is Outfoxed Again:Georges Du Roy and Lily BartBel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk3jhBd4X_Y2fxFgg3btkGGUTzpt2H6UdFv88mX9KFQ7P4HO-y5A4eQ4m5G9Gv_L3cSFZk2SeJ6PoQtVqBioAQOr-8VmYvjwzQkQBnfIBBWmxfcp0WhHpO721DJs-eXHx1-CeLgYppPM0/s1600/whistler+white.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk3jhBd4X_Y2fxFgg3btkGGUTzpt2H6UdFv88mX9KFQ7P4HO-y5A4eQ4m5G9Gv_L3cSFZk2SeJ6PoQtVqBioAQOr-8VmYvjwzQkQBnfIBBWmxfcp0WhHpO721DJs-eXHx1-CeLgYppPM0/s640/whistler+white.jpg" width="314" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4tDvrf36F0NCNNu-WwWRbPrQyHAyIxFHLnNQ92oP98R40jfv6BDj5oTFW8XUXFXxFCSVxf4sit-o4CLoj5s_lQnf-lETz1r7j9ce0PMid_heVqOWwVQm4aeOtQK1GGG7D79FgqWIBpg/s1600/whistler+head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4tDvrf36F0NCNNu-WwWRbPrQyHAyIxFHLnNQ92oP98R40jfv6BDj5oTFW8XUXFXxFCSVxf4sit-o4CLoj5s_lQnf-lETz1r7j9ce0PMid_heVqOWwVQm4aeOtQK1GGG7D79FgqWIBpg/s640/whistler+head.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #ea9999;">Whistler - Head - Symphony In White</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I see Bertha Dorset leave Lily and I approach her hoping to surprise her. She turns just as I am almost to her and smiles. Did she feel me coming with an eye in the back of her head? How does she always know when I am stalking her?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I take her hand to place my lips on her palm this time, and say, “At last the evening takes on new pleasure for me since you are here. I have been waiting to see you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“And I was just wondering where you were this evening, just a few moments ago. You must have read my mind,” and she laughs lightly and softly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I want to ask you if I may engage you for the first dance this evening?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She has turned to catch someone’s eye and then she turns back to me saying, “I am so flattered that you asked me, but I am not dancing this evening. I turned my ankle a bit today and I would like to rest it, but I see Miss Lucinda Wetherall coming this way. A lovely young girl who made her debut last year. I am sure she will more than perfectly take my place in the dance for you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Lucinda, please come over here and say hello to me. I have not seen you since your beautiful debut this past year. Please allow me to present the Baron Du Roy de Cantel from Paris. He has noticed you and is desirous of a dance partner, is not that true Baron Du Roy? Baron Du Roy, may I present Miss Lucinda Wetherall.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Curses. How did she do that! </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Now I cannot do otherwise than dance with this pretty doll without seeming totally ignorant and gauche. I bow over her hand and say, “Mademoiselle Wetherall, I am most pleased to meet you. May I please have the honor of this dance?” </span><i>I pray she will say no</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Why, I would be delighted Baron. It would be an honor for me also.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I lead her to the dance floor after I tuck her hand in my arm, <b>and I curse Lily to the bottom pits of hell for this. </b><o:p></o:p></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-60104329339350032782011-10-01T00:38:00.003-05:002011-10-28T01:36:59.824-05:00Chapter 4:Bertha Dorset's Dance:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCc3z9Y2dFUxm-VH5YQANHjJnmeoqCRwKz5KmekNT40xIOBDNXNquk9hxvRKJWD3JKQhU8hsDpERG49uFyMSNJr_nwnNyRPVTfZSsTXzFXpZC8wPvgBNYHhdPFVW0-KIo1RyUXT0tTHm0/s1600/LB+torment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCc3z9Y2dFUxm-VH5YQANHjJnmeoqCRwKz5KmekNT40xIOBDNXNquk9hxvRKJWD3JKQhU8hsDpERG49uFyMSNJr_nwnNyRPVTfZSsTXzFXpZC8wPvgBNYHhdPFVW0-KIo1RyUXT0tTHm0/s640/LB+torment.jpg" width="446" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #cccccc;">Louise Bourgeois - To Unravel a Torment</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Bertha Dorset was holding an informal supper and dance. She was forced to invite Lily Bart because she wanted the Duchess and Baron Du Roy to attend. She had been furious but was now over it and looking forward to her great success in getting these two people to come to her social event. She would take care of Lily in the near future when the Duchess and the Baron had returned to their travels.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The evening is festive, but not crowded, more an intimate gathering in honor of the two celebrities from Europe. There are a number of last year’s debutantes that have been invited to be presented to the Baron. Bertha hopes to be a matchmaker for one of them, to assure her a place in the society of Paris. A grateful girl will welcome her to her new place in the future. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Lily, I would like to ask you a favor,” she requests. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Of course, Bertha, what can I do for you?” says Lily. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Well I would like you to advance a few of the younger women to ensure that the Baron notices them.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lily laughs saying, “Of course. I already promised Amelia that I would do so.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>So she calls the Duchess Amelia</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, </span><i>does she, thought Bertha</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Then I can count on you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Absolutely,” replies Lily. “Consider it done. I have my eye on Lucinda Wetherall. What do you think?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, she would be perfect. She is lovely and such an accomplished pianist, I know she will charm him.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Good. We are in agreement then, but I shall introduce him to the others so it will not look too contrived.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, Lily, you are so good at all this. We have missed you lately. Don’t stay away so much,” Bertha says as she turns away to greet a new arrival.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> <i>I think if I can manage this, all will be well for me, thinks Lily</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-83648184871570178392011-09-28T21:39:00.007-05:002011-10-30T23:28:27.903-05:00Chapter 3 - Georges Du Roy Meets Lily Bart: Du Roy and Lily Bart: Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkxux4gRIFvGwMNAXngaOM6R7xdi4pI0xTT6w7aB78qRazj8fi00Kw5KKHxZZ5mdHL_tqLIOEb613x6OutAvzL_L379MywcTOkmk3rS8ZprqOuUwr3caeBcW9c0rrViCBtCGsxEBuDb4/s1600/GeorgiaOKeeffe-Two-Calla-Lilies-on-Pink-1928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkxux4gRIFvGwMNAXngaOM6R7xdi4pI0xTT6w7aB78qRazj8fi00Kw5KKHxZZ5mdHL_tqLIOEb613x6OutAvzL_L379MywcTOkmk3rS8ZprqOuUwr3caeBcW9c0rrViCBtCGsxEBuDb4/s640/GeorgiaOKeeffe-Two-Calla-Lilies-on-Pink-1928.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #f4cccc;">Lily - Georgia O'Keeffe</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
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<br />
The informal gathering at Mrs. Trenor’s that evening was a familiar social gathering for Lily. She arrived with Amelia and Lady Skiddaw and they entered together.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Why Lily,” said Mrs. Trenor. “Where have you been keeping yourself since you returned from Monaco? We have missed you, and she kissed each of her cheeks in welcome.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“My Aunt, Mrs. Peniston, has not been well, and I have been attending to her, that’s all. But here I am and so happy to see you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Soon people were conversing, mixing with each other, partaking of tidbits of food and listening to the music and Lily began to feel that maybe Amelia was right, that being here was all that was needed to dispel the ugly stories spread by Bertha Dorset.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Wearing a bias cut pale rose silk gown, with a deep scalloped neckline, Lily looked more wonderful than anyone else in the room, as usual. Her head high on her slender neck, her eyes bright with contentment at being there, she was ready to forgive all for their shunning of her. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I walk in the door and look around for the Duchess hoping to see Lily Bart with her. And then I see Lily, as she is the only one in the room. My god, she is beautiful, tall, slender, her hair piled high, lovely white face, arms, shoulders. Yes, Amelia was exactly right. I would not hesitate to ask her right this minute, book passage and take her away. Perfect.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Duchess sees me and glances at Lily. I nod to let her know I have already seen and to indicate that she was correct. I am grateful to her for enticing me here. She comes to my side, introduces me to her hostess, then says, “There is someone I want you to meet.” We both know who that is.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She arrives at Lily’s side after greeting a number of people on the way, and she touches Lily’s arm and says, “Lily, I have been wanting you to meet a friend of mine from Paris, the Baron Du Roy of Cantel”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I bow to Lily, take her hand, and kiss her skin with open lips. The barest touch of the tip of my tongue licks her. I immediately look into her eyes and I see that her pupils have dilated. <i>Excellent, I think, excellent. </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Her face gives nothing away, her eyes cool, polite, friendly, warm, her mouth and face the same, and I say to her, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;">“Mademoiselle Bart, you are beautiful and incomparable, graceful and perfect. There has been no exaggeration of your loveliness.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;">She replies, “Your exceeding charm has been greatly underestimated.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;">She has mirrored me. And precisely. I am surprised. Her voice is beautifully modulated. She is perceptive, intelligent, well the adjectives would flow but are not necessary.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><b>Already I am enchanted with her. </b></span><b><o:p></o:p></b></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-91921047984645833252011-09-27T17:21:00.006-05:002011-10-30T23:25:40.208-05:00Chapter 2: The Duchess Conspires-Lily Bart and Georges Du Roy - Bel Ami and House of Mirth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Louise Bourgeois - Red Flowers</span></b></span></td></tr>
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“Lily, I am so glad you could come. Lady Skiddaw and I would like to spend as much time with you as possible while we are here. Are you going to be free enough for that?”<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Since I got back from Monte Carlo I have all the free time in the world, Duchess. Or haven’t you heard the news?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Amelia, please. My title is only for those fogies to whom it is so important. Not for my friends. Yes, I did hear, but it will blow over and things will get back to normal for you. Actually I hope they don’t but that is for our next topic of conversation.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I think not. Bertha Dorset seems intent on ruining me. She imagines things until she believes they are true.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Well, no one believes her, certainly?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No, but she has all the money and power over the social network here, and I have none. They can’t afford to displease her.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“When I am here, if they want me, they will have to have you. By the time my visit is over, you will be integrated back in their set, and she will have to plan something else. I see you are laughing Lily.Does that mean you agree with me?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Not at all, but we will see, won’t we? Where shall we go tonight? I had some ideas, but what are yours?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Mrs. Trenor invited Lady Skiddaw and myself to a small intimate party she is having. I told her we were already engaged with you and that I would check with you to see if you could reschedule. She immediately asked me to bring you, by all means. See how it works! Voila! I also mentioned Baron Du Roy is here and wishes to meet some English women. But he is here to meet you and marry you, Lily.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, Amelia,” Lily laughs. “I’ve never met him. How could he want that. He knows nothing about me. What happened to all the beauties in Paris? Did they all disappear?” And Lily laughs softly again.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“My dear, he does not need to know anything about you. He knows me, and that is all that is needed. I told him about you and he decided to come to New York with me to meet you. Don’t look so astonished. He is looking for a wife. His young wife died in childbirth almost three years ago, and he has a young child, a boy, who has never had a mother. He, for some reason I don’t know, prefers to find an English speaking woman for himself and his son.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Really, Amelia, you can’t mean this.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“But I do. He is here now, staying at my hotel. He is titled, very, very rich, very handsome, is the editor of the largest most influential newspaper in all of Paris, <i>La Vie Francaise,</i> an accomplished political journalist, author of some short stories, is working on a novel, and his son is heir to the Walter fortune – Walter owns the newspaper and he was married to his daughter “</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“He certainly sounds very busy. Where can he find the time to find a wife and marry?’ laughs Lily.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You may laugh, Lily, but there are many people who take me far more seriously than you do.” Amelia puts on a pouting face and Lily laughs again.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I will certainly meet your Baron and help him find a more suitable choice than I.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, Lily, you foolish girl. He is perfect for you. Why wouldn’t you want to marry him?” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Well, that’s hard to say since I’ve never laid eyes on him.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You will tonight. I have told him he must come to meet you there. So that’s that. I want you to dress lovely, but then you always do anyway, so just prepare yourself to greet him without any prior judgments, will you please?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I will,” says Lily, “I will.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-31821257302721784952011-09-24T14:58:00.010-05:002018-07-30T15:16:01.916-05:00Chapter 1: Du Roy Wants a Wife:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of MIrth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Robert Pattinson As Georges DuRoy</span></b></span></td></tr>
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Suzanne has been gone almost three years now. My son is growing up and Madame Walter is not the best influence for him. I live in the Walter mansion and she still has not said a word to me unless it is about my son. I have employed nursemaids but they do not satisfy my aspirations for my son, so I have continued looking, until I finally understood that no one is going to be perfect for him. This presents me with a problem, because I do not wish to marry again. I am content with Clo and others with no one making demands on me.<br />
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Suzanne was so lovely and fun. We had barely gotten to really know each other when she became pregnant. Her mother insisted on her being much more confined than I wished and I was furious, as I knew the real reason. She had her convinced that sex would be harmful and Suzanne was fearful with me after that. We were just learning each other. I still saw Clo, of course, but I did not have the same desire for her as I had had before my marriage to Suzanne. It was a trying time for Suzanne and me, but I thought that after the child was born, things would improve.</div>
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Only she died in childbirth. I was left with an infant and, not exactly a broken heart, but a sense of real loss for what might have been. After two years I began to think about what I might do to find a mother for my son and a wife for myself. Young women were no longer acceptable to me as I could not see them as mothers. In bed I knew they would be ardent, for a while anyway, and that was agreeable to me. What I really wanted was someone who could preside over my life as I lived it with calm and tact, who would be good for my son and compatible with me. But she had to be beautiful. And she had to have integrity. I did not wish another highly polished <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><i>cocotte</i></span> like Madeleine. I no longer needed to marry wealth as I now had the millions from Suzanne’s death and my son was the legal heir to the Walter fortune. Strange how things twist and turn according to fate.</div>
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With my melancholy I read more to console myself and I began to see different possibilities beyond my journalistic career. My confidence in my writing had grown as my understanding grew. I began to write short stories, to publish them and I was trying to work on a novel with not much luck. I needed the atmosphere my own wife could provide. I was never the kind of man who can be content living alone indefinitely.</div>
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I decided I didn’t want a French woman. My tastes had changed. I wanted an English woman or an American one. I had a working knowledge of English, but after reading <i>Madame Bovary</i> I read some of the English women writers and then I read <i>Wuthering Heights</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> and I saw myself in Heathcliff. This had never happened to me before. I had not been a student at all when young. I had to make my way in the world as best I could. I knew Heathcliff so deeply and also the part of him that was wounded. But I had never loved like Heathcliff, and I was not looking for that, but as a character he intrigued me and I gained in self-knowledge knowing that we were so close. I had escaped his fate as Suzanne was more courageous than Cathy, but then she was so young and the young are often like that.</span></div>
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I think I wanted an English speaking woman because I was so infatuated with Emily Bronte. I decided that if I married an English speaking woman that the language would be a barrier between us. So I worked on fluency with Emily Bronte. She is a genius with language and her imagination is unrivaled. Was it wise of me to absorb her so completely? I didn’t know, but no other writer had captured me like this girl I would have loved to know. </div>
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But an American woman was more of a decided challenge to me. We French have such a love affair with the New World. And then at an event I met the Duchess of Beltshire and her companion Lady Skiddaw. As she was my dinner partner, she began to tell me of a most remarkable woman she had been recently reacquainted with at Monte Carlo.</div>
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“You know Georges, I may call you that may I not, well, I will anyway whether or no, it is time you remarried. I have heard your young wife died almost three years ago now and your young son must need a mother’s care and supervision. I have recently come back from the Riviera and I again met a most remarkable young woman there. I tried to get her to accompany myself and Lady Skiddaw back to the continent, but she felt it was imperative that she return to America. Why, I don’t know. She is astonishingly beautiful and has such amazing social graces she makes it such a pleasure to be with her. She is fun, gracious, considerate, has exquisite taste, really just perfect. </div>
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"But she is unmarried, and no one really understands exactly why. Ten years ago at Aix an Italian Prince, Prince Virigliano, rich and the real thing, was determined to marry her. As the marriage papers were being drawn up his good-looking stepson arrived and Lily, that’s her name, Lily Bart, apparently flirted with him and the two men argued openly. A scandal irrupted. Everyone began looking at her so queerly. Her horrible aunt, Mrs. Peniston, with whom she lives, felt a little ill, and thinking it was the food or climate or some such stupid thing, decided she would return home with her ward. Lily’s parents are dead and she has no money of her own, but is desired by the best people in New York City because of her beauty, her grace and her infallible tact. </div>
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"The Crown Princess of Macedonia was so taken with her when she stopped for a week at Monte Carlo she invited her to stay with her at Cimiez, wishing to bring Lily into her traveling entourage. Bertha Dorset had invited her to cruise the Mediterranean with a party of friends on her yacht the <i>Sabrina, </i>to<i> </i>occupy her husband while she dallied with a young poet<i>. </i>She was so jealous of Lily’s success everywhere she set sail for Monaco and the Casino at Monte Carlo, bringing Lily with her. It was there that I met her again. Bertha Dorset just did not understand that it is Lily's beauty that does it, that attracts everyone to her. And she cannot transfer it to the people who invite her to social gatherings and voyages, so they blame her. Her face is so beautiful that it opens endless doors for her, but it also creates terrible destruction for her. Men want her and women are livid with jealousy. <b>It's both a gift from the gods and a terrible curse.</b></div>
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"A Mrs. Fisher who knows her has discussed her with me. I have heard other stories too of course. A very suitable match becomes infatuated with her, and she seems ready to accept him, but then she oversleeps, goes on a picnic, etc. and the whole thing is ruined. My acquaintance Mrs. Fisher says she thinks it is because Lily despises the things she is trying for. She is twenty-nine now and more beautiful than she ever was. All of her friends’ husbands are infatuated with her, but she is lovely and polite and chaste, wanting nothing to do with them in the way they wish. She has a friend in Lawrence Selden, but he is an attorney with no assets, wealth, inherited or otherwise. He is not a possibility for Lily. She is poor, but as she often chides, she is a very expensive woman. </div>
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"I think you must meet her. She is perfect for you, and you, of course, are perfect for her. You are a Baron, exceptionally wealthy, an accomplished journalist, a writer, widowed and definitely looking for a wife and a mother for your very young son. You are not under the influence of anyone else, family or otherwise," and here the Duchess winks, "and I daresay you are experienced. You will know how to get her to say yes very quickly. I am going to New York City very soon, and I can arrange for you to meet her. The rest will be up to you naturally, but you will know how to proceed. </div>
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The Duchess winks again at me. She is known to be a liberal uninhibited person as she travels around the world of the privileged. They seek her company and pout when she tosses them off as bores. Obviously this Lily Bart does not bore her at all. In fact she is still quite taken with her. And I am intrigued to meet this American Cinderella, who does not sit by the fire in rags, but is always exquisitely dressed, sought by royalty and wealth, and looking for a husband. A husband who can offer her what I can offer. What could be more perfect.<br />
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"<b>My gracious thanks to you. I think I shall take your advice. When are you sailing? We shall go together?" I take her hand and kiss it lingeringly.</b></div>
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seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-88767237662299277852011-09-22T21:47:00.005-05:002011-12-18T01:46:00.990-06:00Introduction: Georges Duroy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of MIrth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Agnes Martin</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><b>Georges Duroy (Bel Ami)</b> has been widowed. His lovely young wife Suzanne has died in childbirth. His very young son is now the heir to the great Walter fortune. <b>Duroy</b> has come to New York City because he has heard of the beautiful and incomparable <b>Lily Bart (House of Mirth)</b>. He wishes to marry her, return with her to Paris, have her preside over his extravagant lifestyle and sensitively guide the raising and education of his son. He expects no hindrance in his plans. He is offering a fortune and a way out for her.<br />
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<b>Georges Duroy</b> in <b>Bel Ami</b> and <b>Lily Bart</b> in <b>House of Mirth</b> are both caught in the <b>Foucauldian</b> grid, web, at the end of the 19th century. They are caught in Foucault's power/knowledge/capital nexus, but one rarely knows they are in it until ...well until they study <b>Foucault</b>. People know they are trapped, but usually in a local way where the system keeps throwing obstacles at them, and they blame themselves for a long while until they fully know, if ever, that that's the way it is set up. Their existential, situationalist choice then is to give in or resist, and how best to resist when inside the Foucauldian paradigm. Baudrillard since 9-11 has suggested otherwise. Just leap out of it. Risk it all. DeLillo's solution is in narrative transcendence, but Baudrillard reading through Foucault does not believe in transcendence so it is not an option with either one of them.<br />
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<b>Duroy</b> is not a bastard, not a horrible person. He is just making choices inside his wiggle room and it is pretty confining. To dump judgement on him as a character doesn't make much sense. The PC feminist introduction in my edition of <b>House of Mirth</b> by an esteemed Harvard professor, blames Lily for being shallow and seeing herself only through the eyes of everyone around her. Of being an object of conspicuous consumption for some man she traps. This is simplistic psychological swampy interpretation. She is securely caught in the web. She has some wiggle room, just enough to know that she is caught in a place and time that is boring but comfortable, until it isn't anymore.<br />
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<b>Georges</b> can only improve his situation in life by marrying up. The same is true of <b>Lily</b>, only her situation is worse. A young woman cannot do anything if she isn't married. And she must not, must remain spotless, until she snags someone who can afford to keep her in the style to which she has become accustomed. <b>Lily</b> and <b>Georges</b> could never have had each other as they are in the books, when unmarried, if they had met and been attracted to each other. Both are caught in the awful hypocrisy of the social structure they are wedged in, and neither sees anyway out but up or sink and drown.<br />
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So to condemn them with ideas from our own times is just precession and only a silly game of speculation. If you see them in the time they are in and the grid of power/knowledge/capital of that time, you may have a chance to see your own place now in that same grid, as it plays out today.<br />
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This is the grid <b>DeLillo</b> has <b>Eric Packer</b> in on that last day of his life in <b>Cosmopolis</b>. It is start stop. Moving in quarter inches as Torval says. As <b>House of Mirth</b> unfolds <b>Lily Bart</b> begins to feel the tightening threads as <b>Georges Duroy</b> feels them in the beginning of <b>Bel Ami</b>. <b>Duroy</b> is on his way up and <b>Lily</b> is on her way down, which she can always so far, stop, but always only at great personal loss of her sensibilities and integrity. And in <b>House of Mirth</b>, she sees the dead end sign at the end of the road.<br />
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This fanfic is an imagined meeting of the widowed <b>Duroy</b>, after his marriage to Suzanne, and <b>Lily</b> who live in the same time warp, are close in age, move in a similar social class, and what might have been possible for them.</div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-64929179912434708422011-09-18T23:40:00.004-05:002011-09-30T22:33:57.770-05:00Irresistible Destiny:Chapter 18 - Mine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Author: seymourblogger</td><td align="RIGHT" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;" type="BUTTON" value=" « " /><select name="chapter" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #ccccff; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;"><option value="1">1. Chapter 1:Kairos</option><option value="2">2. Chapter 2: Kairos</option><option value="3">3. Chapter 3: Mine</option><option value="4">4. Chapter 4 : Mine</option><option value="5">5. Chapter 5 : Alterity</option><option value="6">6. Chapter 6: Alterity</option><option value="7">7. Chapter 7</option><option value="8">8. Chapter 8 B</option><option value="9">9. Chapter 9E</option><option value="10">10. Chapter 10B: Death</option><option value="11">11. Chapter 11: Death</option><option value="12">12. Chapter 12 : Dreaming</option><option value="13">13. Chapter 13E Dreaming</option><option value="14">14. Chapter 14 : Bella's Dreams</option><option value="15">15. Chapter 15 :Imagining Bella</option><option value="16">16. Chapter 16: Waiting</option><option value="17">17. Chapter 17: Waiting</option><option selected="" value="18">18. Chapter 18:Mine</option></select></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Rated: M - English - Fantasy/Romance - Published: 08-31-11 - Updated: 09-09-11</td><td align="right" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">id:7342016</td></tr>
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</tbody></table><div style="padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Twilight: Irresistible Destiny</span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div><hr noshade="" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock - T.S. Eliot</span></span></b></div><hr noshade="" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Let us go then, you and I,</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When the evening is spread against the sky...</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...In the room the women come and go</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Talking of Michelangelo...</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each,</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I do not think that they will sing to me.</span></span></b></div><hr noshade="" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now Suzanne takes your hand</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And she leads you to the river</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She is wearing rags and feathers</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From Salvation Army counters</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the sun pours down like honey</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On our lady of the harbour</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And she shows you where to look</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Among the garbage and the flowers</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There are heroes in the seaweed</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There are children in the morning</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They are leaning out for love</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And they will lean that way forever</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While Suzanne holds the mirror</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And you want to travel with her</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And you want to travel blind</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And you know that you can trust her</span></span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For she's touched your perfect body with her mind.</span></span></b></div></b></span></div><hr noshade="" size="1" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Chapter 18</b></div><b>BPOV</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I sit on his lap I feel him getting hard, desiring me and I kiss him a little harder, then harder until I begin to feel his breath changing. There is no one in this room so I slip my legs over him and straddle him, and then he really gets hard, so I can feel him through my little silk skirt. I have no panties on just in case. My mouth is on his neck and I nibble and then graze my teeth on his now pulsing artery. I catch my breath, he smells so delicious and tastes so good.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My hands find him below and I place him in front of my entrance over my skirt so I can feel him more as I lean in to kiss him. Edward catches his breath and begins to breathe raggedly.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> "I'm no where near finished with you yet, " I say darkly, meaning every word.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We are still alone in the room, but I hear voices coming nearer. "I have to have you in me right now, right away. I need to feel totally connected to you, no separations." I reach down and unzip his pants, and I feel how hard he is.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I rub up and down his cock and he moans, "Bella, Bella, here?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"That's not a question," I say. "Any objections? That's not a question either." I lift the filmy skirt over him and slightly push myself up to place him at my entrance with my free hand. I'm so wet he slides in slowly and deeply, and I whimper and moan. He is breathing much too fast now.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Please, please slow down, slower," I say. I sigh and just hold him in me as I feel him so deep. People are coming in now, so I don't move a muscle, keeping my head turned into his neck, my mouth open against his artery and licking and sucking quietly.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Oh, god Bella, I can't stand this," he says.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Yes, we can and we will, as long as we can. But I don't know how long I can hold out. Either." The tourists look at us and see two people in each other's arms, cuddling, and that's all.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They begin murmuring as they look at the paintings. I feel when they are looking at Edward's painting. They just become silent and stand there. There is nothing to say.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...In the room the women come and go</span></span></b></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Talking of Michelangelo...</span></span></b></div></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Our breathing quiets. I tighten my muscles around him and feel him twitch. I move just a millimeter down on him and it feels so much deeper that I sigh deeply. I quiver internally and my desire increases.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This man will be the death of me. I tell him, "You will be the death of me." He tightens his hold on me and I gasp in surprise.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> "Oh god, Edward I feel you inside me, all over. I could let go and come right this minute. But I won't. I'm not finished with you."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He groans imperceptibly, so only I can hear him. His voice is a sound that vibrates deep inside me and I tremble. He feels me respond and hums in my ear. I am coming undone.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Stop, slower," I say. "Slower, slower." And I still and calm my breathing and he joins me until we are at the edge, quietly holding ourselves there. No frenzy. Yet. "I love you so much I can scarcely believe it," I say.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I know," he says. "It is the same for me. I have never loved anyone before. This is completely new for me. I cannot believe it. I don't think I will ever believe it either. How did this happen? Who started it. Not a question."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I glue myself to his chest and raise myself a little and then sink down hard and fast. The air whooshes out of his lungs, and I begin trembling again. I love to make him lose control.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">More people are coming into the room, so I am very very still. I feel Edward tense, but I am relaxed. I know how they are seeing us. Indulgently. Young lovers. Remember when we were…., but oh they have no idea, none at all. I wrap my cunt around him now. Each muscle strokes him, circles him, my lower muscles squeeze him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"My throat is better," I say. "My muscles are more delineated, separate, more controlled." He trembles in me, longing for that sensation.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each,</span></span></b></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I do not think that they will sing to me.</span></span></b></div></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Do you know that there are Asian prostitutes who can smoke cigarettes with their cunt?" They tighten like this," and I show him and he breathes sharply in.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His hands move to my shoulders and he bears down. My breath catches, and I breathe deeper. I lose control and begin trembling. My insides are quivering spontaneously. I have lost all control and I just hold him and tremble. I tighten and loosen on him, feeling him all around me inside me. I want to keep him there forever. Yes, that's what I want . To have him inside me forever. How can I ever feel full again if he leaves me? That is a question? And I know the answer to it. I can't. Not ever.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Oh, please," I say. "Oh please."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Oh please, what?" he says. "Tell me and it's yours."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"You," I say.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"But you already have me."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"But not forever like this," I say. "I can't keep you inside me forever."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"But you can," he says. "Let me in your womb. I want all of me in your womb. Forever."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And then my body leaves me and decides for itself, quivering around him, hugging him, letting go, then tightening again so hard he couldn't get out. But he doesn't want to. I am gasping for breath. All my well trained internal muscles, ready for this for centuries, fall apart and throb.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Each time my walls caress you is like each of those brushstrokes inside one of those fragments. You are hard in me, but oh so soft too. There are thousands of those fragments in your painting, and I am going to love you for each one of them, holding you softly, firmly, sometimes sloppily, but hold you I will. Once for each fragment in time your body and mind anticipated me, desired me, as you endlessly painted that painting and waited for me. This is what you were waiting for."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I begin to fall apart yet again.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have a little "tooth" deep in my vagina, right by my cervix where it opens into my womb. I feel it opening now. I put that piece of flesh over his urethra and gently at first circle it. I begin to probe his opening harder then more and more until I feel him reach the edge.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I let go and pulse and say, "My birth control is 99.95 percent effective. We have a point 05 chance. Break down my barrier. Break it down! Stay in me forever."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He doesn't let go. He ejaculates, hard, far up into me, jetting me with his semen until all my insides are covered and soaked. I feel his hands bear down on my shoulders so hard I think I will push through his thighs into the bench. I love it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Then I feel my cervix open wide to embrace him and I shudder again and come all over him, making waves that push him further inside me all the way. Still he continues to ejaculate in me deeper and deeper. And then I know. I am conceiving. I relax and just breathe, holding him in my arms and cunt.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I have conceived," I say.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"How can you know that."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I just know."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"You could be mistaken."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">"The Sibyl is never mistaken."</span> I do not mention twins.</span></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></i></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And then he looks up at me with such radiant joy on his face I think I will die.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqGKbjNPnp4nScct1eyBl3Z_3wAi1xIzVsHOYBJEkAQtfP0fPnFwMTxrcNJHf8zj2DAiNgtnK0W0vH3DUKaGPZC9NHW61J_BsTCqUG-_0iyqJ5axQmtsyoq2cT1PAQOPqUorTzlx4FoY/s1600/nevelson+sky+cathedral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqGKbjNPnp4nScct1eyBl3Z_3wAi1xIzVsHOYBJEkAQtfP0fPnFwMTxrcNJHf8zj2DAiNgtnK0W0vH3DUKaGPZC9NHW61J_BsTCqUG-_0iyqJ5axQmtsyoq2cT1PAQOPqUorTzlx4FoY/s640/nevelson+sky+cathedral.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sky Cathedral - Nevelson</span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdQ41X8CTJtIvPm8Ae9fvRNSzDvbolhcekBB7sLPjX0cI5XGVlaHgzzXpAcJ3qkRWI7MGpQlskBGHqWU-UKD2gKiK4V0ekSA8uPYtVQ4gZnp9Qi2usqfCyWJdcGU7tmigce3AOR4zOQw/s1600/nevelson+sky+gate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdQ41X8CTJtIvPm8Ae9fvRNSzDvbolhcekBB7sLPjX0cI5XGVlaHgzzXpAcJ3qkRWI7MGpQlskBGHqWU-UKD2gKiK4V0ekSA8uPYtVQ4gZnp9Qi2usqfCyWJdcGU7tmigce3AOR4zOQw/s640/nevelson+sky+gate.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="324" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #999999;">Nevelson -Sky Gate</span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have started another one. A crossover between Georges in Bel Ami (Guy de Maupassant) and Lily Bart in House of Mirth (Edith Wharton)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">so start at the top here</span></span></b></div></td></tr>
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<hr noshade="" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">End of Part 1</span></div></div><noad></noad><br />
<div align="right" style="border-top-color: rgb(205, 205, 205); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; height: 10px;"><a href="https://login.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=7342016&chapter=18/#top" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(153, 153, 255); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #0033cc; text-decoration: none;">Return to Top</a></div></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-11581152584466032442011-09-18T23:32:00.002-05:002011-10-02T00:08:36.369-05:00Irresistible Destiny:Chapter 17 - Waiting and Longing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<div style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 5px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><table cellpadding="6" cellspacing="0" class="myborder" style="border-bottom-style: outset; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-style: outset; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-style: outset; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-style: outset; border-top-width: 1px;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="myborder_only_bottom" style="border-bottom-style: outset; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-style: outset; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: outset; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-style: outset; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Books » 310 series » <b>Twilight: Impossible Destiny</b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Author: seymourblogger</td><td align="RIGHT" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;" type="BUTTON" value=" « " /><select name="chapter" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #ccccff; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;"><option value="1">1. Chapter 1:Kairos</option><option value="2">2. Chapter 2: Kairos</option><option value="3">3. Chapter 3: Mine</option><option value="4">4. Chapter 4 : Mine</option><option value="5">5. Chapter 5 : Alterity</option><option value="6">6. Chapter 6: Alterity</option><option value="7">7. Chapter 7</option><option value="8">8. Chapter 8 B</option><option value="9">9. Chapter 9E</option><option value="10">10. Chapter 10B: Death</option><option value="11">11. Chapter 11: Death</option><option value="12">12. Chapter 12 : Dreaming</option><option value="13">13. Chapter 13E Dreaming</option><option value="14">14. Chapter 14 : Bella's Dreams</option><option value="15">15. Chapter 15 :Imagining Bella</option><option value="16">16. Chapter 16: Waiting</option><option selected="" value="17">17. Chapter 17: Waiting</option><option value="18">18. Chapter 18:Mine</option></select><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;" type="BUTTON" value=" » " /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Rated: M - English - Fantasy/Romance - Published: 08-31-11 - Updated: 09-09-11</td><td align="right" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">id:7342016</td></tr>
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</tbody></table><div style="padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Twilight: Irresistible Destiny</span></b><br />
<hr noshade="" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Other Criteria</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - Leo Steinberg</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #999999;">"Yet it depressed me and I wasn't sure why."</span></span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>In the works of Jasper Johns, Steinberg identifies a theme of great</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>consequence that is not clear to the naked eye, that of waiting.</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Steinberg points out the "sense of desolate waiting" in Johns's</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>works, which all contain objects (flags, faces, coat hangers, etc.)</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>designed to move and function in a particular way, yet they are held</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>absolutely rigid and still. This technique, according to Steinberg, is</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>how Jasper Johns manages to invert the viewer's expectations of</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>what makes for significant art.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><div style="font: normal normal normal 20px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>Jorge Luis Borges</b></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">“Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time.”</span></span></b></div></b></span></span></div><hr noshade="" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xiwsvEsv3gAhpjQCtedxGAQIPtji26zbvtcAo14OPc330e0AGhXzk62KbMNM8f4Vfhbw99ALrRlQmdWGAgiVjJDKtMM63rzitW5QdlSjwn97QbKu4cixMzFeODkuLatAx75ar9IAymo/s1600/JJ+johns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xiwsvEsv3gAhpjQCtedxGAQIPtji26zbvtcAo14OPc330e0AGhXzk62KbMNM8f4Vfhbw99ALrRlQmdWGAgiVjJDKtMM63rzitW5QdlSjwn97QbKu4cixMzFeODkuLatAx75ar9IAymo/s640/JJ+johns.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jasper Johns</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">EPOV</span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm watching her look at my painting. I wish I could read her mind. She is thoughtful, quiet, absorbed. I sit very still so as not to disturb her. It's a very large painting and most people look at it from a distance, but Bella gets up and moves in close.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now her perspective is the same as my own when I was painting it. So I know she is looking carefully at each brushstroke, noticing each slight variation in color. I hope I am being as still as the bench I am sitting on, but I am anxious to know what she sees, because I know she is seeing me as well, and is not just observing it as a painting.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She stands relaxed in front of it. I notice when her breathing pattern changes and I wonder what she sees and feels that lead to that change. Something is affecting her, but I have no idea what. When she finishes, she turns to me to walk over and looks at me with huge eyes.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I see what you meant when you said what you said the other day. I am not sure I would have been brave enough to meet you after seeing this.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She sits down beside me then and tells me all that was going through her head while I was wondering. And I am completely surprised.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She says, "Leo Steinberg wrote about Jasper Johns first show, and how everything screamed waiting, solitary waiting, endless waiting. Hangers waiting. Partial plaster faces waiting.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"But I see your waiting very differently.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Your very action in painting is inscribing your feelings, your touch with the brush, your nuances of the same color over and over, as just a focused time while you wait.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You paint a painting that will take forever to finish so you will be interested while you wait. And it is clear that you are going to wait forever, for your entire life if necessary, so no wonder you memorized Duras statement on loving, longing and waiting.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"It's so beautiful Edward. I am changed forever knowing that you were waiting for me and would wait your entire life for me. You told me in words, but now I see it, feel it, and am changed by that knowing. I tremble over that and chance and Destiny. What if…."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I hush her with my fingers and pull her to me as her eyes fill up with tears that spill over at an imagined loss and desolation.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKUR4-pHSvzqmkbn1co1-1qVVtJPrgtCF8SjrqrRAyfM4Roxhi9RgePIXUQLuRdsSRQPB283ri5e8WvAQ28-S0x5aCwAudKmGqmMbcZJpZw6a7fnlyvUyEooG0MClBN3b6BKrm1DPqlI/s1600/brancusi+kiss+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKUR4-pHSvzqmkbn1co1-1qVVtJPrgtCF8SjrqrRAyfM4Roxhi9RgePIXUQLuRdsSRQPB283ri5e8WvAQ28-S0x5aCwAudKmGqmMbcZJpZw6a7fnlyvUyEooG0MClBN3b6BKrm1DPqlI/s400/brancusi+kiss+2.jpeg" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Brancusi - Kiss</span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I can't even think about not having you now. And I've just had you for a few days. I've been without you my whole life up to now. How did I live? The truth is, I wasn't. I was just surviving."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And she turns in my arms on the bench and puts her arms around me and just holds on for dear life. She is weeping silently and trembling against me. "Don't ever leave me. I will die if you do."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I laugh at her and say, "After waiting that long do you even think it is possible for me to consider it?" And I hold her tighter.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We breathe together and sit very still here in front of my painting, sit still on the hard bench holding each other.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I think I would like to wait another time for us to see the other one. Will you go along with that. That's not a question."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She laughs but doesn't move away from my arms. I caress her face, drawing my fingers over her cheekbones, down her neck to her throat, and on down over her breasts, her waist, her stomach, her thighs, her legs to her feet. I bring my face close to hers and softly kiss her face, neck, throat and then I turn her face so I can cover her lips with mine. I hold us like that as we breathe together.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh," she says, and kisses me harder as if she will never let me go. If she does, I won't let her.</span></b></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><noad></noad></span><br />
<div align="right" style="border-top-color: rgb(205, 205, 205); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; height: 10px;"><a href="https://login.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=7342016&chapter=17/#top" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(153, 153, 255); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #0033cc; text-decoration: none;">Return to Top</a></div></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-16562875973089163822011-09-18T23:14:00.005-05:002011-12-31T18:30:51.674-06:00Irresistible Destiny:Chapter 16 - Waiting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Author: seymourblogger</td><td align="RIGHT" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;" type="BUTTON" value=" « " /></span><select name="chapter" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #ccccff; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><option value="1">1. Chapter 1:Kairos</option><option value="2">2. Chapter 2: Kairos</option><option value="3">3. Chapter 3: Mine</option><option value="4">4. Chapter 4 : Mine</option><option value="5">5. Chapter 5 : Alterity</option><option value="6">6. Chapter 6: Alterity</option><option value="7">7. Chapter 7</option><option value="8">8. Chapter 8 B</option><option value="9">9. Chapter 9E</option><option value="10">10. Chapter 10B: Death</option><option value="11">11. Chapter 11: Death</option><option value="12">12. Chapter 12 : Dreaming</option><option value="13">13. Chapter 13E Dreaming</option><option value="14">14. Chapter 14 : Bella's Dreams</option><option value="15">15. Chapter 15 :Imagining Bella</option><option selected="" value="16">16. Chapter 16: Waiting</option><option value="17">17. Chapter 17: Waiting</option><option value="18">18. Chapter 18:Mine</option></select><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;" type="BUTTON" value=" » " /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rated: M - English - Fantasy/Romance - Published: 08-31-11 - Updated: 09-09-11</td><td align="right" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">id:7342016</td></tr>
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</tbody></table><div style="padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Twilight: Irresistible Destiny</span></b><br />
<hr noshade="" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Don't you see yourself in every picture you love? You feel a radiance wash through you. It's something you can't analyze or speak about clearly. What are you doing at that moment? You're looking at a picture on a wall. That's all. But it makes you feel alive in the world. It tells you yes, you're here. And yes, you have a range of being that's deeper and sweeter than you knew."</span></b></span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He watched her. He didn't think he wan</span></b></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ted to be surprised, even by a woman, this woman, who'd taught him how to look, how to feel enchantment damp on his face, the melt of pleasure inside a brushstroke or band of color.</span></b></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> (Cosmopolis 30)</span></b></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwI8G9Cd9NOXi0G6NWXic9JK_DA_B4nSVdlIvYhqgUJ5lyNz18-C6faUx2Ds4G1OXcI-wTxtxxxEFbcRf-T_HTztt8Jfz5b8zBpUu56dySdSm9aTxjK9XuzRblygrNMEZFlaQD8OcYAt8/s1600/resnick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwI8G9Cd9NOXi0G6NWXic9JK_DA_B4nSVdlIvYhqgUJ5lyNz18-C6faUx2Ds4G1OXcI-wTxtxxxEFbcRf-T_HTztt8Jfz5b8zBpUu56dySdSm9aTxjK9XuzRblygrNMEZFlaQD8OcYAt8/s640/resnick.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #741b47;">Resnick</span></span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal;"></span></b></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><a href="http://www.haberarts.com/57sp01.htm">Resnick</a> in those years as "The Elephant in the Room," with its only geometry a thick hide of dark oils. And the closer one looks, the murkier and more colorful it becomes. </b></span></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>Resnick makes the determination of </b></span></span><a href="http://www.haberarts.com/soutine.htm" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>Piet Mondrian</b></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b> or </b></span></span><a href="http://www.haberarts.com/reinhard.htm" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>Ad Reinhardt</b></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b> and their asceticism look like child's play. He has worked each canvas hard, until it has no sense left of color or form, much as </b></span></span><a href="http://www.haberarts.com/baselitz.htm" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>Josef Albers</b></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b> worked over spatial relationships until they stopped moving or </b></span></span><a href="http://www.haberarts.com/twombly.htm" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>Cy Twombly</b></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b> worked the trace of his hand until trace itself becomes something out of a myth. Resnick keeps everything about a generation except a world beyond ideas.</b></span></span></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=3239977570251243335&postID=1656287597308916382" id="truitt" name="truitt"></a></b></span></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>I found this by surprise</b></span></span></div></div></b></span></td></tr>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">BPOV</span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We are in the Biennale and walking to see Edward's paintings. I only see one. "Where is the other one you said was here?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Around the corner. It's very different but also the same."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I look at it from far away as I walk towards it. I stop to look at it from a distance, before I sit down on the bench in front of it to look.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Edward waits on the bench farther back and is very quiet and still.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It is ten feet across and 6 feet down; really huge, not for just anyone to buy and put in a room in their house. It would require an extraordinary house to frame it properly. Or a corporate lobby.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It is very dark and mysterious. Blacks, deep blues, greens, browns, each stroke of color just slightly different in shade. I wonder if each deep blue has been slightly changed to make it qualitatively different from every other area of deep blue.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCis6uaE2C_h22J_4ibzGmx-628H6-V7CxBieXGNcXDmkleJaaElfUH729v4xs4zI8lIXkcDoHNF_GYNO9-aHTtpjJFj2BsqSCTf9xCBL8tqNi6OClplDsZtLjpRcKetWw8IpcmQRQfYM/s1600/nevelson+blk+.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCis6uaE2C_h22J_4ibzGmx-628H6-V7CxBieXGNcXDmkleJaaElfUH729v4xs4zI8lIXkcDoHNF_GYNO9-aHTtpjJFj2BsqSCTf9xCBL8tqNi6OClplDsZtLjpRcKetWw8IpcmQRQfYM/s640/nevelson+blk+.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Louise Nevelson - Night Image</span></b></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I would bet money on it.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Diagonally from the left is an infinitesimal slash of subtly curving light, a razor thin sliver, cutting across, off center, to the far right corner, which it doesn't reach. It might have been lightening striking if it were a landscape, but it is not.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Perhaps it could be seen as an abstract landscape. On either side of the bright illuminating, but so thin slice of bright cut of light, I can see more detail. It is as if the cut allowed more of something hidden to be observed for an instant. But it is unclear whether this is a sudden flash, partly or wholly permanent. And it arouses disturbing feelings in me. I feel very apart from Edward right now, maybe separated is the word.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The title plate says: </span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Foucault's Transgression</span></strong><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I feel solitary and alone looking at it. Apprehensive, and a little afraid. I get up and walk closer, then closer still. It is not meant to be seen up this close. But that's the way I want to see it. It is composed of thousands of tiny fragments, like tiny mirrors of darkness, slivers, with each one containing a world in it and I shiver. Pieces that look as if they compose a whole, but do not. The edges of each are sharp, and I feel I could slice my finger on them. But the brush strokes inside are sometimes soft, liquid, runny, curving, gloppy, and razor sharp. I shiver again.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Softness and vulnerability contained by edges, but the fragments are so small that they are not noticeable unless you are observing very carefully. Along the light slash there is a low illumination and there the fragments have softer edges. The paradox of hard edges in darkness and softer edges in low light is also disturbing. Now why would that be?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I continue to sit and breathe, feeling strangely isolated. I imagine Edward painting it. The almost finicky detail of the fragments, and the endless concentration and focus to do each one so perfectly. The very thin cut of light crossing the canvas, pulling the eye across and curving down on the diagonal, forcing the viewer to see it the way he wants you to see it, moving your eye the way he has decided you will move it.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Controlling your vision.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He is slicing the world, killing it, and loving it at the same moment. The brightness offers a respite, an abandonment of pure brushstrokes, sensuous and unashamed. Brushstrokes of an almost illumination reflecting from the bright line of light across this world.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So if I were seeing this, and I didn't know him, I would be afraid of knowing him, I think. Complex and paradoxical, a slicing killer inside and the softness and vulnerability of a child. But which layer is predominant? Will he kill you first and then feel remorse? Or will he seduce you with his sensuality and then knife you, slice you, kill you.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I think of his painting it, the incredible detail, the focus and concentration eating and devouring time. Then I know he is simply waiting. Waiting alone, for what he does not know.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And then I know the bright light is me. And around me it is a little clearer, a little lighter, although not a great deal. The fragments, however, have soft edges and inside they are quivering and vulnerable, sensitively touched with the barest pressure of fingertips. I have felt his violence. I have felt his complete vulnerability in me. And he has felt all this in me. We are each other's match.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I catch my breath and turn to him. He is looking at me and waiting.</span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His eyes are not cold, not impersonal, but not lustful either. He is just waiting</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I decide to go with the truth.</span></b><br />
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</b></span></span></div></div></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-48460616048656722202011-09-17T14:01:00.004-05:002011-09-30T22:29:21.299-05:00Irresistible Destiny:Chapter 15 - Imagining Bella<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Author: seymourblogger</td><td align="RIGHT" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;" type="BUTTON" value=" « " /></span><select name="chapter" style="background-color: #ccccff; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><option value="1">1. Chapter 1:Kairos</option><option value="2">2. Chapter 2: Kairos</option><option value="3">3. Chapter 3: Mine</option><option value="4">4. Chapter 4 : Mine</option><option value="5">5. Chapter 5 : Alterity</option><option value="6">6. Chapter 6: Alterity</option><option value="7">7. Chapter 7</option><option value="8">8. Chapter 8 B</option><option value="9">9. Chapter 9E</option><option value="10">10. Chapter 10B: Death</option><option value="11">11. Chapter 11: Death</option><option value="12">12. Chapter 12 : Dreaming</option><option value="13">13. Chapter 13E Dreaming</option><option value="14">14. Chapter 14 : Bella's Dreams</option><option selected="selected" value="15">15. Chapter 15 :Imagining Bella</option><option value="16">16. Chapter 16: Waiting</option><option value="17">17. Chapter 17: Waiting</option><option value="18">18. Chapter 18:Mine</option></select><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;" type="BUTTON" value=" » " /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rated: M - English - Fantasy/Romance - Published: 08-31-11 - Updated: 09-09-11</td><td align="right" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">id:7342016</td></tr>
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</tbody></table><div style="padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Twilight: Irresistible Destiny</span></b><br />
<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Hollow Men V- T.S. Eliot</span></span></b></div><hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Between the conception</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the creation</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Between the emotion</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the response</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Falls the Shadow</span></span></b></div><hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Between the desire</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the spasm</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Between the potency</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the existence</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Between the essence</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the descent</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Falls the Shadow</span></span></b></div><hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; height: 1px;" /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Chapter 15 E</span></b><br />
<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">EPOV</span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOhXCHZ3K0oXjFbyL75eWk-SRuFJOyETEnA4OcZpwAxzcem34hOpFmz-eXCJ061q8XWx4hwCNnUhCp2MucLiM527eAf5MxHlWY1iquzaXDFK8BOZ2CQcziXW9Y4mZvjNFtqVZrGeR0DE/s1600/Turner+sesta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="419" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOhXCHZ3K0oXjFbyL75eWk-SRuFJOyETEnA4OcZpwAxzcem34hOpFmz-eXCJ061q8XWx4hwCNnUhCp2MucLiM527eAf5MxHlWY1iquzaXDFK8BOZ2CQcziXW9Y4mZvjNFtqVZrGeR0DE/s640/Turner+sesta.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Turner</b></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dawn was starting to break and I knew of a little trattoria near our hotel.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Let's go get something to eat? Are you hungry?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I am", she said. And she got up to get dressed.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Outside on the piazza we are washing our fruit in the bowl of water, and sipping some dry white wine for breakfast. Such a simple way to eat. I order a plate of roasted calamari and two lattes.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNYhuOlUtaLlMDshKrb1VA-LxWYWyfGURdOmyTc9ClPBK9rWqsG25knunKZvjWt-SJyQwAq9h2oeXEcnJB62Ev1SIoVoIkjs2w12VIXrKny_3xZlfch8WzyLrgLvWj5Gu8GwRzcsOEwg/s1600/renoir-piazza-san-marco-venice+large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNYhuOlUtaLlMDshKrb1VA-LxWYWyfGURdOmyTc9ClPBK9rWqsG25knunKZvjWt-SJyQwAq9h2oeXEcnJB62Ev1SIoVoIkjs2w12VIXrKny_3xZlfch8WzyLrgLvWj5Gu8GwRzcsOEwg/s320/renoir-piazza-san-marco-venice+large.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Renoir</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Looking out at the water the sky still has a tinge of the palest pink that is turning to that azure blue that Venice is known for. The incredible light you find nowhere else. And looking at the landscape that has been painted by almost everyone of note, it is difficult for me to see it fresh. I see Turner especially and I can't remember if he painted this or I am just imagining it as if he had.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And then I turn to look at Bella and the seascape disappears. Her face is washed in this special light and I really see how beautiful she is.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"You are so beautiful Bella. You look like the morning of the world."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She looks at me until her eyes grow darker and I catch my breath.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I want to tell you about my dreams, Edward. But not just yet. Later. We will go to see your paintings? That's not a question."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"We will. That's not an answer either," and I smile at her not taking my eyes from hers.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Everything is delicious and we linger without talking. I feel myself becoming aroused and look at the water instead which is lapping at the steps making tiny foam waves. When I look back at her she is staring at me, licking her lips, and she doesn't look away as I lock in on her eyes. They darken again and she breathes more heavily.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"This has to stop," I say, "or I won't be able to concentrate when we look at art."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I don't want to stop," she says simply, in a hushed voice.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My breath catches and I cannot stop gazing at her.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"We can go back to the hotel first. It's too early anyway to go to the exhibit." I'm smiling lazily at her. Her eyes widen and she turns in her chair.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ2_sdSEYu6BAgfrxCtAe8akD3ppAEdaP5bNWgKH6XM_59UYv_I6sBt_ZglkE6F5QxVJCAoJ3OE8E2siDgMGqeYFWLiOMmYOWfZZL9wwRaBaljBc0ByJkmyyTzKdl6e_-DV-CWp-pEH2w/s1600/San-Marco%252C-Venice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ2_sdSEYu6BAgfrxCtAe8akD3ppAEdaP5bNWgKH6XM_59UYv_I6sBt_ZglkE6F5QxVJCAoJ3OE8E2siDgMGqeYFWLiOMmYOWfZZL9wwRaBaljBc0ByJkmyyTzKdl6e_-DV-CWp-pEH2w/s320/San-Marco%252C-Venice.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">sorry</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She giggles, then laughs, "First one back gets to be on top," and she sprints for the hotel. She has a head start but I am a fast runner. I catch up to her and leap in front of her and grab her saying, "You lose. for a little while at least." And then I lean in to kiss her and she opens up to me completely, arching, and breathing heavily. From running or desire? Or both?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Good god Bella, now how are we going to get back there?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She laughs a tinkling laugh and pulls me closer. Now I am so hard and I want her so badly. I grab her hair and tighten my hold on her head as I kiss her more demandingly. We are both gone now and neither of us want to stop as we stand here in the middle of crossing the piazza with fluttering and cooing pigeons all around us.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX_HwT5fvGec3EB7CR5bCOtZ_CkUQwESw8Dnslv-MSBykSpslQGdEPfgBbc48-cQVqA1_t8fh0BJymxxMwZgKVx-9zABpFmYgwGcS8SP5nglZ2bUW4X6kp0pmUPUtFjUv9nPcU28YVzQg/s1600/Pigeons-300x225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX_HwT5fvGec3EB7CR5bCOtZ_CkUQwESw8Dnslv-MSBykSpslQGdEPfgBbc48-cQVqA1_t8fh0BJymxxMwZgKVx-9zABpFmYgwGcS8SP5nglZ2bUW4X6kp0pmUPUtFjUv9nPcU28YVzQg/s640/Pigeons-300x225.jpg" width="640" /></a></span> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I'll make you come right here without touching you."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDLV7ZJOuwyDOdkCnn9eM5UCBzob8JKC8Kp971fdHns0Yi3tsF4m_lqgFJeZlaHyktTX6eQwxwAs4-yXWPmduaJ3CTY3dYuk4A89nt9_ZF2cnVgJ2Oq74J57Qwv3bqyXgLssSD-SKBlE/s1600/venice_canaletto_piazza_san_marco_pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDLV7ZJOuwyDOdkCnn9eM5UCBzob8JKC8Kp971fdHns0Yi3tsF4m_lqgFJeZlaHyktTX6eQwxwAs4-yXWPmduaJ3CTY3dYuk4A89nt9_ZF2cnVgJ2Oq74J57Qwv3bqyXgLssSD-SKBlE/s320/venice_canaletto_piazza_san_marco_pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Renaissance perspective ???</span></b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her eyes widen and she kisses me harder.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Yes, yes, now."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Right now I'm going under that little silk skirt of yours and you have no panties on. I am feeling your thighs. I am sliding up because I smell you." Can you feel me, Bella?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Yes, oh yes, Edward. More."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I am touching you now where you are hot and oh so wet. I am slowly, slowly touching you gently as I slide my index finger from your clit down sliding past your open cunt, just open for me, and all wet, so wet."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Feel me my Bella, feel me."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Oh Edward," and she pulls me closer as we stand here crushing our bodies against each other.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now I am putting my finger in you, and you are so hot inside and so wet. I slowly draw it out and push it in again. I want to stop and taste you."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"No Edward, don't stop, please don't stop. More, more."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I am rubbing your ass with my other hand. Do you think anyone will notice? Now I am taking my other hand and my first two fingers and wetting them in you. I am going under your skirt in the back and rimming your ass opening. Do you like it?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Oh god, Edward, yes, yes, I love it, I love it."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Are you feeling my fingers in your cunt? My thumb rubbing your clit?" I can stop, you know. It isn't too late yet."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"No," she moans, "don't stop, don't stop. I'll collapse on the stones here if you stop. Hold me tighter. I'm trembling so. I feel like screaming."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"No no no, you must be quiet and hold it in. You can't come yet. I'm not done with you."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Edward," she whispers softly and raggedly. "Please, please stop teasing me."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"But I love to," I say. "I love to bring you to the edge, and then stop and look at your face."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bella is gasping now. "I am putting three fingers in your cunt and I am circling your clit with my thumb. Now I press hard on your clit! And my fingers curl up inside you, hard! And my cock is urging me to move into you. My other fingers have entered your ass now and I am gently rubbing, around and around inside you, while I move my other hand in your cunt. So soft. So wet, just for me."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Oh Edward, yes, just for you. Only you. Please I can't… please please please."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Now I am moving hard and fast in you. I feel your trembling. Can you feel my hands and fingers? Can you, can you?" I say softly. "You can't hold it back much longer, can you? But I don't want you to come yet."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Please Edward, please. Enough enough, please let me come now."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I lean in to kiss her throat and I whisper commandingly, "Now, Bella, now. Come all over me!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I bite her neck hard enough to leave a bruise and she shudders all down her body as I hold her tightly, so tightly, that she cannot move or fall. I pull her mouth close to my skin to keep her from screaming, and she continues to convulse and shake while I hold her imprisoned.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When she begins to breathe normally she looks up at me with tears running down her face. "Oh Edward, oh Edward, I can't believe you did that to me. I can't believe it. It was so wonderful, so wonderful. I never dreamed,"… and she kisses me with abandon.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And me. I can't believe it either. I imagine loving her in this way and it comes true</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><noad></noad></span><br />
<div align="right" style="border-top: 1px solid rgb(205, 205, 205); height: 10px;"><a href="https://login.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=7342016&chapter=15/#top" style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(153, 153, 255); color: #0033cc; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Return to Top</span></a></div></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-18414312496172719532011-09-16T20:28:00.015-05:002011-09-30T22:28:13.145-05:00Irresistible Destiny:Chapter 14 - Bella's Dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Author: seymourblogger</td><td align="RIGHT" style="font-family: verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><input style="font-family: verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;" type="BUTTON" value=" « " /><select name="chapter" style="background-color: #ccccff; font-family: verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;"><option value="1">1. Chapter 1:Kairos</option><option value="2">2. Chapter 2: Kairos</option><option value="3">3. Chapter 3: Mine</option><option value="4">4. Chapter 4 : Mine</option><option value="5">5. Chapter 5 : Alterity</option><option value="6">6. Chapter 6: Alterity</option><option value="7">7. Chapter 7</option><option value="8">8. Chapter 8 B</option><option value="9">9. Chapter 9E</option><option value="10">10. Chapter 10B: Death</option><option value="11">11. Chapter 11: Death</option><option value="12">12. Chapter 12 : Dreaming</option><option value="13">13. Chapter 13E Dreaming</option><option selected="selected" value="14">14. Chapter 14 : Bella's Dreams</option><option value="15">15. Chapter 15 :Imagining Bella</option><option value="16">16. Chapter 16: Waiting</option><option value="17">17. Chapter 17: Waiting</option><option value="18">18. Chapter 18:Mine</option></select><input style="font-family: verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;" type="BUTTON" value=" » " /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Rated: M - English - Fantasy/Romance - Published: 08-31-11 - Updated: 09-09-11</td><td align="right" style="font-family: verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">id:7342016</td></tr>
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</tbody></table><div style="padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px;"><b>Twilight: Irresistible Destiny</b><br />
<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Hollow Men V - T.S. Eliot</span></span></b></div><hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; height: 1px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Between the Idea</span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the reality</span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Between the motion</span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the Act</span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Falls the Shadow</span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">_________________________________________________________</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></span></b></div><b><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></b><br />
<b><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></b><br />
<b><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></b><br />
<b><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></b><br />
<b><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></b><br />
<b><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></b><br />
<b><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></b><br />
<b><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></b><br />
<b><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><i><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><b><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; font-style: normal;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><u>For Savage's Hide and Drink Edward</u></span></i></b></span></b></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; font-style: normal;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><u>___________________________________________</u></span></i></b></span></b></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></b></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">The blood blossom blooms</span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">At the fragile girl's throat</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">The vampire forces down</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Holding her imprisoned supine form</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">His mouth open</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">His lips caressing</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Smooth silken skin</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Suckling and sucking</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Thick wet fragrant blood</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">In perfect precise mouthfuls</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Throbbing into him</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Drinking and calming his frenzy</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Then with venom seals her wound</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Saving her for yet</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Another day</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Another night</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Another time</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Until...</span></span></span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></i></b></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">_________________________________________________________</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Chapter 14: Bella's Dreams</span></b><br />
<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He has established a camp with his men outside the mouth of my cave.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpXvrhnVi8cIqEiJgqKFwWdAVaQ8vZVlcKn90zzQyzAhyphenhyphenJXkQ54Zm4-LBCX_nrMMPvNJ0Sa8c_-eYi3rZlB2qbH3yx_r0sWELcl6ewv4cz7Z_ltBNHWmMDPAdEzLe_NHWAexuJ_FLAAw/s1600/robpat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpXvrhnVi8cIqEiJgqKFwWdAVaQ8vZVlcKn90zzQyzAhyphenhyphenJXkQ54Zm4-LBCX_nrMMPvNJ0Sa8c_-eYi3rZlB2qbH3yx_r0sWELcl6ewv4cz7Z_ltBNHWmMDPAdEzLe_NHWAexuJ_FLAAw/s200/robpat.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">spends the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">major part of every day and evening playing his instruments and singing to me. This has </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">gone on a few months, but the summer is ending and soon the autumn winds will become </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">chilly, and he will be gone.</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile I listen to his music, his beautiful voice and the lyrics of his songs. They are truly lovely and induce a languor in me that melts my bones.</span><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I begin to feel that I never want silence again.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is a warning to me that I am not </span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">heeding.</span></b><br />
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<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73VK8_F60cfZIpLSR8LydMGjLakYnu83AmGNH1kJgHMds35hz2NpL-YVUzMpr2QgWu56xtjgSpL6CLvob1qBRvVV_pioAJb2fGDwkg612iTa4g5UkF60oz3e4RcPqH-xp6A0qU421oNg/s1600/rob+mag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73VK8_F60cfZIpLSR8LydMGjLakYnu83AmGNH1kJgHMds35hz2NpL-YVUzMpr2QgWu56xtjgSpL6CLvob1qBRvVV_pioAJb2fGDwkg612iTa4g5UkF60oz3e4RcPqH-xp6A0qU421oNg/s1600/rob+mag.jpg" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The chill of autumn is upon us. The rains drench the hills below and the water runs down from the mountains above. It is damp and uncomfortable all the time now.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But still he shows no signs of leaving. No matter. It is very pleasant to listen to him as I sit before the warm fire smelling the aroma from the herbs tossed on the fire. I meditate all night sometimes, my mind and fancy traveling to places I wonder about.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tonight there is a storm that blows winds and torrents of rain and soaks all in its path. I wonder about the beautiful young man outside. How miserable is he. His songs sound lonely and melancholy now. And I am wondering about how sad he really is.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Or is he just pretending in order to weaken me?</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He does not know the Sibyl very well.</span></b><br />
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<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It is an unusually cold winter. The snows are deep here in the mountains. The winds are cruel.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3b9y5XXhOYcy5zgu9bqqeh7a6jyBcbOWPRsymZuTXpGje4hXsKvZf-iUrsxrmQgMHMljw0f-b2pSkv0l4Y-Xj8ptOb3kl-lcP06bY-wuGZ1dbwspZ69dBST7W1qkPGpwNvr1F0lJ6ea0/s1600/edward+choose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3b9y5XXhOYcy5zgu9bqqeh7a6jyBcbOWPRsymZuTXpGje4hXsKvZf-iUrsxrmQgMHMljw0f-b2pSkv0l4Y-Xj8ptOb3kl-lcP06bY-wuGZ1dbwspZ69dBST7W1qkPGpwNvr1F0lJ6ea0/s320/edward+choose.jpg" width="240" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He sings of a cruel mistress who tortures him by denying him her presence. The depth of his sorrow penetrates my heart. How can his lady persist in ignoring him this way? I of course know I am this lady of his, but this does not seem to affect my logic at all.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She is indeed exceptionally cruel to this talented, beautiful and charming musician, who must love her to distraction to suffer like this. My thoughts and feelings are dangerous.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Sibyl should not relent like this, even secretly in her mind and body.</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know I am beginning to weaken.</span></b><br />
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<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On a particularly cruel and vicious night I relent.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RMUjzg47f1auIfVOicDV3jCovt1m9UcG-L1ec_PkqEiaxW33h0BsfqjEp_K4rU-EFd5VEMbauf0ozUONvoNezZEnpxo_LIC_yC3sRmo4pUolLSZup9kmq0-RaW02saaIxabzrjrw0Dg/s1600/RobertPattinsonIPhoneWallpaper4byKate-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RMUjzg47f1auIfVOicDV3jCovt1m9UcG-L1ec_PkqEiaxW33h0BsfqjEp_K4rU-EFd5VEMbauf0ozUONvoNezZEnpxo_LIC_yC3sRmo4pUolLSZup9kmq0-RaW02saaIxabzrjrw0Dg/s320/RobertPattinsonIPhoneWallpaper4byKate-1.jpg" width="213" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I invite him to my hearth to warm himself in order to bear the night outside with more strength.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He bows to me and goes to the fire.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His clothes are damp and ragged now. I sit on pillows and watch him carefully.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His gestures are tender and graceful. His mouth full and without bitterness towards me.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He does not look at me directly. For this I am grateful. When he feels he has accepted my hospitality long enough he bows and departs.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wish he had not gone so quickly.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now I know I am in dangerous waters.</span></b><br />
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<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The winter winds continue as the month goes by and I invite him in more and more.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vaArfbOZTVAyn0iDX14ODOcdmAJVv1jNCb8uhKswZHjV7e-doCTekcPl8esnoDKYR1jOZWAmx0Rx04cYPmAGGM1KBnJzh4ZiFKf3aogfR_4taAJfJyi8kEL7bKk4TKas9lH6KHYI-Ik/s1600/rob+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vaArfbOZTVAyn0iDX14ODOcdmAJVv1jNCb8uhKswZHjV7e-doCTekcPl8esnoDKYR1jOZWAmx0Rx04cYPmAGGM1KBnJzh4ZiFKf3aogfR_4taAJfJyi8kEL7bKk4TKas9lH6KHYI-Ik/s200/rob+1.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He lingers longer each time. We do not speak, but one night I ask him to play and sing for me, which he does.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I find him enchanting and I smile at him, looking him full in the eyes. He does not flinch. My gaze is frightening to most, and few wish to meet my eyes.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I moisten my lips as he looks at me for a long long time, longer than is proper and respectful. My breathing changes and my color heightens; he does not miss this and his mouth lifts slightly at one corner in what might be a smile. I flush.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Sibyl is no longer in control it seems.</span></b><br />
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<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq5y_Ux7fjUTxBm7rb_w8IW1XukcTDs7C3WmtWZ0jZaKi1cjkemTQ7N9pnu338Poz-J8BWwWTia2-tmTkY2sUnajw6CRq5x1r9uFTbXl8dCkcuxf_J0Ng1P8sby9K5YaCPD8YShi-xfU/s1600/robertpattinsonsuitup31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq5y_Ux7fjUTxBm7rb_w8IW1XukcTDs7C3WmtWZ0jZaKi1cjkemTQ7N9pnu338Poz-J8BWwWTia2-tmTkY2sUnajw6CRq5x1r9uFTbXl8dCkcuxf_J0Ng1P8sby9K5YaCPD8YShi-xfU/s320/robertpattinsonsuitup31.jpg" width="166" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He comes in often now out of the cold, but only when I invite him and insist. And then it is inevitable that one evening we will brush by one another as we reach for the hot tea served to us.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His touch shocks me and I know I have given up. I turn to him and ask him to spend the night with me.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We sleep beside each other, not touching, just feeling the thick air around us. My breathing is erratic following my thoughts. And before dawn I turn my face to him. His eyes are wide open.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It seems he has not slept all night as neither have I.</span></b><br />
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<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have decided. I will be yours</span></b></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I say.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He turns to touch me, my face, my neck, my lips, before he claims them as his. And oh, they are so sweet on me, so soft and tender, and I know I am such a cruel mistress, but he holds nothing against me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhb1nyLNfrGIzrVjElW6Je4yLTqStxVjpGv1uVfQVcHnQ14pDZKcQ9Y2185jt3znF9aNGJZrSaAmqDN0hwYlsTeSpxNmdQeiU65xaRM4zChHqH2pnlZjqqsR_E3sZcQ73W0ZJeRBN7zY/s1600/robertpattinsonsuitup28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhb1nyLNfrGIzrVjElW6Je4yLTqStxVjpGv1uVfQVcHnQ14pDZKcQ9Y2185jt3znF9aNGJZrSaAmqDN0hwYlsTeSpxNmdQeiU65xaRM4zChHqH2pnlZjqqsR_E3sZcQ73W0ZJeRBN7zY/s320/robertpattinsonsuitup28.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I feel more pressure on my mouth as he enters his tongue inside me and I know I want all of him inside me. He places his hand on my breast and my breathing becomes heavy. I turn to him and embrace him in my arms, and try to glue myself to his body.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I unfasten his tunic as his hands slide into my loose gown, and I long for more and more of him. I have decided, and I will not stop now.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There will be consequences and I will pay them.</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">These consequences will be severe. </span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For both of us.</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I stop him for a minute and tell him, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">t</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">his means that we will be together for all eternity.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheyKfZEIpDL6qF1-Ehq5wKIZ8P4kRDnjLTY5iIdx2Wvf6968JwresayxdHCui7FwukME9pNJDZ1HX_I9HL8iD7aIMN16AuhRErkcuIOuBcllvLCqA0Hcpku2Fqe9CCzhNA9f4IVYmKXpE/s1600/avatar92-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheyKfZEIpDL6qF1-Ehq5wKIZ8P4kRDnjLTY5iIdx2Wvf6968JwresayxdHCui7FwukME9pNJDZ1HX_I9HL8iD7aIMN16AuhRErkcuIOuBcllvLCqA0Hcpku2Fqe9CCzhNA9f4IVYmKXpE/s1600/avatar92-1.jpg" /></a><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Never will we be able to separate. We will die and be reborn again and again and again.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We will never be complete until we find each other in all the lifetimes to come.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; font-style: normal;"></span> </span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We will always have to be aware that the Other is looking for us even when we forget, our bodies will remember and search and search and search throughout all future and now past time.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There will never be a time when we are not together or waiting and searching.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This will be forever.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There will be no going back.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am yours forever and you are mine forever.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Are you sure?</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Is this what you want?</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I do want it, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">he says.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And he smiles brilliantly and grabs me, holding me tightly as if he will never let me go, and truly he never will</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkuv7qnKPSeWuJ0UJbPRu7tu5YpbAEHc6Dfl3I0zEtLB_M2FSc2zX2w4zFsl_9H3_Y_uFiHiB3iIWxR3L1IO56KgJAoMj3T-hfyXg4ylPVjAqaDQCLmkebORyUBXNtkaPWFzPZ2L-Zd8/s1600/rp+b+and+w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkuv7qnKPSeWuJ0UJbPRu7tu5YpbAEHc6Dfl3I0zEtLB_M2FSc2zX2w4zFsl_9H3_Y_uFiHiB3iIWxR3L1IO56KgJAoMj3T-hfyXg4ylPVjAqaDQCLmkebORyUBXNtkaPWFzPZ2L-Zd8/s200/rp+b+and+w.jpg" width="173" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He slowly enters me and I twist my body to get away, to bring him closer and I can't stop breathing raggedly.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I clutch him to me and he takes me completely, all the way deep inside me where I did not know I was.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He groans and moans and is so tender and careful but I don't want that. I want him to take all of me to own me completely.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So I meet his thrusts and his surprise is revealed on his face.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I look directly into his eyes and say, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">yes, yes, yes, I want you, all of you, do not stop ever, never never stop.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Li8MI1r09lLu9IZWL-ORc0R2Js1KzY9egpVrTuxA6XbXiJqoLvYyPZ3NyjokiM_XIQJlnUkLwsmz9wq0Io7z4uxYtRlmevo8GI99d22w-0gYukw0NM-ux6HhfUnszFEvy_Ck38QVIhQ/s1600/rp21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Li8MI1r09lLu9IZWL-ORc0R2Js1KzY9egpVrTuxA6XbXiJqoLvYyPZ3NyjokiM_XIQJlnUkLwsmz9wq0Io7z4uxYtRlmevo8GI99d22w-0gYukw0NM-ux6HhfUnszFEvy_Ck38QVIhQ/s200/rp21.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And then he opens up to me and hums to me and smiles at me and begins to increase his plunging into me until I am turning, screaming, moaning, trembling, incoherent, completely mad with desire for him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I shudder and then every separate part of my body detaches and shines with vibrations I could never find words for. He lets himself go inside me and throbs and throbs and throbs until I am full of him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His juices inject onto the opening of my womb and I melt all over again as</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I feel his seed enter me and I know I am conceiving with him. And I want it!</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I know nothing but tragedy will come of it!</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuEtq-HUsU0RiMfFtxq9Julp6uh2AnsgFxxU82Eu1pRoQ5_npucEVpuw6xDcs_AR-92RXLR2GXdGo8RcFX0u4JdRrHDCmdMPcAex19nVGWfWPJZTd4-GipeKyJuC-FtvK_qfTbCdr8qo/s1600/rob+ID.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuEtq-HUsU0RiMfFtxq9Julp6uh2AnsgFxxU82Eu1pRoQ5_npucEVpuw6xDcs_AR-92RXLR2GXdGo8RcFX0u4JdRrHDCmdMPcAex19nVGWfWPJZTd4-GipeKyJuC-FtvK_qfTbCdr8qo/s320/rob+ID.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When he returns later the following day I tell him I am with child.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He looks at me astonished.</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How can you know?</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I only shrug my shoulders and say, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am the Sibyl.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But you could be mistaken</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, he says.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Sibyl is never mistaken, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I say.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Then joy lights up his face and he crushes me to him. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You will come with me, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">he exalts.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Where? </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I say.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-dtDJXqO4GLtxfRYHbuAU_89gNyucQOvZ6Y1GTDj4wJDVBhJkrUaCJ480bYaAD8oI-Y0q47Vd0qbgRe77jMf-4fMlxh_VAkOmpdbUUkzl-uMDGwoN3HtV5IChto_B0l_23d5si1YqJig/s1600/RobertPattinsonOuttakes6-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-dtDJXqO4GLtxfRYHbuAU_89gNyucQOvZ6Y1GTDj4wJDVBhJkrUaCJ480bYaAD8oI-Y0q47Vd0qbgRe77jMf-4fMlxh_VAkOmpdbUUkzl-uMDGwoN3HtV5IChto_B0l_23d5si1YqJig/s640/RobertPattinsonOuttakes6-2.jpg" width="480" /></a><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With me. We will journey all over the world. You will not have to stay in a cave anymore. The world will love you.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I look at him and see that he has no idea who the Sibyl is. He has no idea what this means. I will try to tell him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They will come after us and kill us.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i></b><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We will hide from them. We will go so far they cannot even imagine where we will be. There is so much of the world I want to show you.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No, you are wrong. They will hunt us down forever. We will make a mistake and they will find us and we will be </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">doomed. We are doomed already.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; font-style: normal;"></span> </span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I tell him I would never change a thing. That I love him and I will love him forever. And that I will keep him forever.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </i></b><br />
<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Sibyl must not bear a child.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I cannot tell him this. He will never understand. The forces of Destiny have brought him to me to conceive in me and the Sibyl will bear either a pure spirit or a monster.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If twins, one will be completely evil, and the other as pure, clear and good as a mountain stream. The evil one will kill his brother., either in the womb or later, but he will murder his brother.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The prophecies have foretold this. I already know I am with twins. This monster must not be unleashed on the world.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpXvrhnVi8cIqEiJgqKFwWdAVaQ8vZVlcKn90zzQyzAhyphenhyphenJXkQ54Zm4-LBCX_nrMMPvNJ0Sa8c_-eYi3rZlB2qbH3yx_r0sWELcl6ewv4cz7Z_ltBNHWmMDPAdEzLe_NHWAexuJ_FLAAw/s1600/robpat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He and I must never have a child. Never, all through eternity.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwE48csxwobnfJfCVJZ6GY8eXO7Yk45C5pQtlyAPPgen7G4opJUs1KC1xr3d4l2habxoouSj3wtCkWOvaGR8LHGRW-T1RNN-dh0_S9to2OopHkIwsrB2kLiFEpxt3pmS6TBbQpuxW6H4/s1600/LB+spider.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwE48csxwobnfJfCVJZ6GY8eXO7Yk45C5pQtlyAPPgen7G4opJUs1KC1xr3d4l2habxoouSj3wtCkWOvaGR8LHGRW-T1RNN-dh0_S9to2OopHkIwsrB2kLiFEpxt3pmS6TBbQpuxW6H4/s320/LB+spider.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: red;">Spider - Louise Bourgeois</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So one night I begin to do what I know I must do.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I take him in my mouth and he moans in surprise and pleasure. I suckle him, suck him, take him in my throat and moan over him until he cannot stand it any longer and comes in my mouth and I drink him down and lick it off him and wipe my fingers on my face and lick them greedily.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When he recovers he takes me then without restraint, without withholding anything of himself from me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I am beside myself with delirium. Afterward I lie in his arms content for all eternity, </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">knowing I have chosen well</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsR-zz7oMMUnFnS5Tz8Nb85TP2WczdeVUaO7KSZ224zIRd1lZq5V2opwvd9urp18NL24XxPFlFTeiGOdHzEOSR9sYtrI6grdolcwP47EZorGZ70rMfPU_cixRsxhSAIonK_JgEQgzdQs/s1600/LB+red+flowers+larg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsR-zz7oMMUnFnS5Tz8Nb85TP2WczdeVUaO7KSZ224zIRd1lZq5V2opwvd9urp18NL24XxPFlFTeiGOdHzEOSR9sYtrI6grdolcwP47EZorGZ70rMfPU_cixRsxhSAIonK_JgEQgzdQs/s320/LB+red+flowers+larg.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Louise Bourgeois</span></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Each night I pleasure him in this way until one night I slide him down my throat and my throat muscles hug him, restrain him and demand him until he comes down my throat.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Then I begin to milk him and he screams with the ecstasy of it. I keep on and on as he writhes and moans until I taste a drop of blood.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And then I slowly free him.</span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know that soon he will be mine forever.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As the weeks go by he begins to prefer my mouth and throat. Since I am with child it does not trouble him.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGNSH_kq4CKIbwx3c-ReTvxH2VcrlmQULkCxrJrbFYy3C_CVHsGaA2tmjTcEt0OEZ6kq8qnpSPlnJDDYfG7D4zIUFp6G-JjDPEGhlxNxJ5UAIL-is9Cp-6Nu9XFXi_JMdn8CjTTDYAqC4/s1600/LB+torment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGNSH_kq4CKIbwx3c-ReTvxH2VcrlmQULkCxrJrbFYy3C_CVHsGaA2tmjTcEt0OEZ6kq8qnpSPlnJDDYfG7D4zIUFp6G-JjDPEGhlxNxJ5UAIL-is9Cp-6Nu9XFXi_JMdn8CjTTDYAqC4/s320/LB+torment.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Louise Bourgeois</b></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As more blood fills my mouth with his juices, his ecstasy is more and more intense. He begins to weaken.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I ask him if I should stop and I know he will refuse. He cannot stop now and neither can I. I am consumed by his blood and he is consumed by ecstasy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And day after day and night after night we continue. By now he is very ill, and I have become terrified even though I knew this would happen from the beginning.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He begs me and begs me even though I have become fearful and am reluctant, he will not let me stop.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfINEJAYeuFnmrENe3dj-2Lf0C8-Neb7GYYClyFO6mU2mzMnTJdVsPrYsuVXJW6Z9NUdpzdW5Ptz9BfUs1Q2cxW-xF2mw6T17v_GM7uO1YpjWR6erEgo4jEgB5YlfU6ZJCP369jnGx7Pc/s1600/th_vog-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfINEJAYeuFnmrENe3dj-2Lf0C8-Neb7GYYClyFO6mU2mzMnTJdVsPrYsuVXJW6Z9NUdpzdW5Ptz9BfUs1Q2cxW-xF2mw6T17v_GM7uO1YpjWR6erEgo4jEgB5YlfU6ZJCP369jnGx7Pc/s640/th_vog-1.jpg" width="480" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Soon he is dying and still he begs me to continue. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Please, please, just once more. I'll never ask you again, I promise I promise, but just this once more. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He is lying and we both know it.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And one night I will succumb once more, bleed and drink him, and he will die in my arms with a smile on his face.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My tears will never stop. I cannot live without him. My body cannot live without his blood. My unborn child has been nourished by his blood and cannot accept anything else. So I begin to be bled.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I weaken quickly and know I will soon die.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The unborn child is too young to survive. The world is safe.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I trust my secrets to my successor. I write all this in one of the volumes of secrets, so my dangerous and lethal practices will be recorded, as well as my warnings when Destiny contrives a meeting between two lovers like us.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I weep for him as I die, but I am also joyful, as I know I will be with him again.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Li8MI1r09lLu9IZWL-ORc0R2Js1KzY9egpVrTuxA6XbXiJqoLvYyPZ3NyjokiM_XIQJlnUkLwsmz9wq0Io7z4uxYtRlmevo8GI99d22w-0gYukw0NM-ux6HhfUnszFEvy_Ck38QVIhQ/s1600/rp21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</a><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And my hunger for him will ensure we will never breed.</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We will love, but the world will be safe from the consequences of our love.</span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9iiV8Zuas26FoOdIeWPWctf0Sa8TgI8ddskRcEkXlsD15O2JsXjlL40mbmnv9lx1vp3vZ-Vng-uXGd3xgMTH9_i0i4l1n1Ct5WHS059Zu53F8V4pDgP4QQwNFaGpqr45-Ap-hv4j5Vs/s1600/sistine+chapel+sibyl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9iiV8Zuas26FoOdIeWPWctf0Sa8TgI8ddskRcEkXlsD15O2JsXjlL40mbmnv9lx1vp3vZ-Vng-uXGd3xgMTH9_i0i4l1n1Ct5WHS059Zu53F8V4pDgP4QQwNFaGpqr45-Ap-hv4j5Vs/s640/sistine+chapel+sibyl.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cumaean Sibyl on Sistine Chapel - Michelangelo</span></span></td></tr>
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<div align="right" style="border-top: 1px solid rgb(205, 205, 205); height: 10px;"><a href="https://login.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=7342016&chapter=14/#top" style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(153, 153, 255); color: #0033cc; text-decoration: none;">Return to Top</a></div></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-21541446687619632222011-09-16T11:17:00.004-05:002011-09-30T22:27:14.468-05:00Irresistible Destiny:Chapter 13 - Tantric Sex<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<div style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 5px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><table cellpadding="6" cellspacing="0" class="myborder" style="border-bottom-style: outset; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-style: outset; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-style: outset; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-style: outset; border-top-width: 1px;"><tbody>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Author: seymourblogger</td><td align="RIGHT" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;" type="BUTTON" value=" « " /><select name="chapter" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #ccccff; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;"><option value="1">1. Chapter 1:Kairos</option><option value="2">2. Chapter 2: Kairos</option><option value="3">3. Chapter 3: Mine</option><option value="4">4. Chapter 4 : Mine</option><option value="5">5. Chapter 5 : Alterity</option><option value="6">6. Chapter 6: Alterity</option><option value="7">7. Chapter 7</option><option value="8">8. Chapter 8 B</option><option value="9">9. Chapter 9E</option><option value="10">10. Chapter 10B: Death</option><option value="11">11. Chapter 11: Death</option><option value="12">12. Chapter 12 : Dreaming</option><option selected="" value="13">13. Chapter 13E Dreaming</option><option value="14">14. Chapter 14 : Bella's Dreams</option><option value="15">15. Chapter 15 :Imagining Bella</option><option value="16">16. Chapter 16: Waiting</option><option value="17">17. Chapter 17: Waiting</option><option value="18">18. Chapter 18:Mine</option></select><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;" type="BUTTON" value=" » " /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Rated: M - English - Fantasy/Romance - Published: 08-31-11 - Updated: 09-09-11</td><td align="right" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">id:7342016</td></tr>
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</tbody></table><div style="padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Twilight: Irresistible Destiny</span></b><br />
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<b><b><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What a pleasure to caress a woman without waking her! Simply to be for her a paradoxical dream in which her body alone would find pleasure. What obscure desire in her to be violated without knowing it?</span></span></b></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With every woman, one would love to possess her without her being aware of it, leaving her free to take her pleasure without our knowing it.</span></span></b></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He was probably still capable of awakening her with his roughness. So he thought; but his heart did not rise to the challenge. (Baudrillard - Cool Memories III - 21)</span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">________________________________________________________</span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 21px; font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Only the play of destiny is interesting, but it isn’t a religious fate we’re talking about. It means simply that, as against cause-and-effect logic, the event is there first..(Paroxysm 47)</span></b></span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 21px; font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">___________________________________________________</span></b></span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">EPOV</span></b></span></span></b></div></div></b></b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvckLLJBSL5CevNga5inCKFA0Q_GmpwpEVYuR52L9ajISbxexAk7gS1HyZostqhe1TkMEwTAQnf0kHCvxjNIaHL0brqF5odB4paffoMJET_5d2hXDuO_8x_ePp8vyzaBbh7MUOQwDND4I/s1600/293.newmoon.poster.stewart.kristen.lc.080309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvckLLJBSL5CevNga5inCKFA0Q_GmpwpEVYuR52L9ajISbxexAk7gS1HyZostqhe1TkMEwTAQnf0kHCvxjNIaHL0brqF5odB4paffoMJET_5d2hXDuO_8x_ePp8vyzaBbh7MUOQwDND4I/s320/293.newmoon.poster.stewart.kristen.lc.080309.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As she sank into sleep I kept holding her, gradually turning her around to face me, slowly touching her ever so lightly. I was feeling her tolerance, her limits to her awareness of me while she was asleep and I learned how to touch her all over without waking her. I heard only murmurs that excited me. I felt myself get hard as I listened to her, her changes in breathing pattern, her mumbled words, and sometimes her fluttering eyes under her eyelids to tell me she was dreaming.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I felt such love for her, such desire for her that I wanted to shake her awake and make love to her all over again.</span></b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So I quieted down, closed my eyes, and very slowly began to enter her. With every movement she whimpered and threatened to wake up so I stopped until she quieted. When I was sure she was deep in sleep again I went deeper, and when she moved I stopped until she breathed deeply again. This went on until I was all the way inside her, hard and almost unable to contain myself. I held still until I could stand it, relax and breathe with her.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I focused my entire mind on the feeling of her and our breathing, as I synchronized mine with hers. And then my mind began to float. I wasn't asleep and I wasn't awake, I was somewhere else, somewhere familiar and strange. I held her as securely as I could without waking her. I touched her face and breasts and thighs and stomach and oh god I wanted to feel us joined like this.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So I did.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju83z0uyokwm1_b7kSwknfdXcZ2fiHluyFu1ELY8kmS3PicwVb3-XJDesmgau_qIX6uGUFfYWH5nnkmuX_RQoTYlas5WyOGvYuSheN30ZAjQBqybj_SDr2-yLtf0lhWG4_b4CT7Tlap-0/s1600/anna-akhmatova-1911.jpg%2521xlSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju83z0uyokwm1_b7kSwknfdXcZ2fiHluyFu1ELY8kmS3PicwVb3-XJDesmgau_qIX6uGUFfYWH5nnkmuX_RQoTYlas5WyOGvYuSheN30ZAjQBqybj_SDr2-yLtf0lhWG4_b4CT7Tlap-0/s1600/anna-akhmatova-1911.jpg%2521xlSmall.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Akhmatova - Modigliani</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sometime during the night I started to sleep and began to slide out of her, but I awakened myself and moved to feel her again, feel the way she affected me, and all thoughts of deep sleep were gone. As soon as I could quiet myself again I began to travel again. Through the dark, through time, somewhere I had been and yet had never been. And it was then I felt her quiver deep inside. All her organs were slightly quivering and she caught her breath.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What was she dreaming now? Her eyes were moving her eyelids now. She was dreaming, but of who and what was she dreaming? I felt intensely jealous.</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b></i><br />
<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b></i><br />
<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Then I felt her grow quieter, more controlled, less susceptible to my movements. This I did not like at all, but I waited to see and hear what would happen next. Her foot kicked. She chuckled ironically, insultingly. And tried to turn over in her sleep, but I held her fast.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVNbGijMIpZIZ6VKXy6R5UUSjXCALcBuWu7uiaUMnDohQXmpoNcXFLcu496GU4oMdIRICngWKYZCbYOxv33vKAwpV-EUtOcKlcDWc6s3i0Uo9-LOrFzHPJCWqer_sy23MZvcvv2SrsLk/s1600/LB+hamlet+ophelis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVNbGijMIpZIZ6VKXy6R5UUSjXCALcBuWu7uiaUMnDohQXmpoNcXFLcu496GU4oMdIRICngWKYZCbYOxv33vKAwpV-EUtOcKlcDWc6s3i0Uo9-LOrFzHPJCWqer_sy23MZvcvv2SrsLk/s400/LB+hamlet+ophelis.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hamlet and Ophelia - Louise Bourgeois</span></b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Gradually she breathed in synch with me again and moved in response to me. It was getting towards dawn now and I wanted her bad. I had played with my desire all night long and I had been ready all night long. But oh, the journey had been so beautiful.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now I have more of a feeling and knowing where we are and what has been planned for us and what we will do about that.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b><br />
</b></div><noad></noad><br />
<div align="right" style="border-top-color: rgb(205, 205, 205); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; height: 10px;"><a href="https://login.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=7342016&chapter=13/#top" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(153, 153, 255); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #0033cc; text-decoration: none;">Return to Top</a></div></div></div>seymourbloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843717286012748265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239977570251243335.post-89509996164138053482011-09-16T08:01:00.004-05:002011-09-30T22:22:18.884-05:00Irresistible Destiny:Chapter 12 - Dreaming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<div style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 5px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><table cellpadding="6" cellspacing="0" class="myborder" style="border-bottom-style: outset; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-style: outset; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-style: outset; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-style: outset; border-top-width: 1px;"><tbody>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Author: seymourblogger</td><td align="RIGHT" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;" type="BUTTON" value=" « " /><select name="chapter" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #ccccff; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;"><option value="1">1. Chapter 1:Kairos</option><option value="2">2. Chapter 2: Kairos</option><option value="3">3. Chapter 3: Mine</option><option value="4">4. Chapter 4 : Mine</option><option value="5">5. Chapter 5 : Alterity</option><option value="6">6. Chapter 6: Alterity</option><option value="7">7. Chapter 7</option><option value="8">8. Chapter 8 B</option><option value="9">9. Chapter 9E</option><option value="10">10. Chapter 10B: Death</option><option value="11">11. Chapter 11: Death</option><option selected="" value="12">12. Chapter 12 : Dreaming</option><option value="13">13. Chapter 13E Dreaming</option><option value="14">14. Chapter 14 : Bella's Dreams</option><option value="15">15. Chapter 15 :Imagining Bella</option><option value="16">16. Chapter 16: Waiting</option><option value="17">17. Chapter 17: Waiting</option><option value="18">18. Chapter 18:Mine</option></select><input style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;" type="BUTTON" value=" » " /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Rated: M - English - Fantasy/Romance - Published: 08-31-11 - Updated: 09-09-11</td><td align="right" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">id:7342016</td></tr>
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</tbody></table><div style="padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px;"><b>Twilight: Irresistible Destiny</b><br />
<b>___________________________________________________________________</b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"></span></b><br />
<b></b><br />
<b></b><br />
<b></b><br />
<b><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What a pleasure to caress a woman without waking her! Simply to be for her a paradoxical dream in which her body alone would find pleasure. What obscure desire in her to be violated without knowing it?</span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With every woman, one would love to possess her without her being aware of it, leaving her free to take her pleasure without our knowing it.</span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He was probably still capable of awakening her with his roughness. So he thought; but his heart did not rise to the challenge. (Baudrillard - Cool Memories III - 21)</span></span></b></div></b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">BPOV</span></b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZVK_JNaIC9FlnhPuqr3-AqpJbccRQsiFDIdnBjYX_JP0eKH5bLEPGRL2TXT9UEbFZTNsCBBm_inOTyb_uxp1yVoZwDzkVglwpxUwdZCoHMYMwzLBia5SFXn58Qeap9v96RwCtN2ID74/s1600/ks7+face+lovely.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZVK_JNaIC9FlnhPuqr3-AqpJbccRQsiFDIdnBjYX_JP0eKH5bLEPGRL2TXT9UEbFZTNsCBBm_inOTyb_uxp1yVoZwDzkVglwpxUwdZCoHMYMwzLBia5SFXn58Qeap9v96RwCtN2ID74/s640/ks7+face+lovely.jpg" width="435" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can't think about this now. None of it makes sense and all of it is perfectly sensible. Yes we can certainly kill each other by entering the dark world of de Sade, going deeper and deeper into perversion just to feel more and more intensely. I know this. Edward knows this. There is no end to it once you start. We could just play games on weekends, have a playroom, but that isn't me and it isn't Edward.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We are not playing a game. We are in a dangerous strategy, which is greater than what we know. And it has been going on for centuries. Maybe</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">thousands of years</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We are in the dark.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We are being played.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How long have we been played with?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What is wanted from us?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How can we know?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am lost.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Without Edward holding me, touching me I would disappear.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He is out of his league as he says.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well I am way far out of mine.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I guess we will just have to go day by day to see what happens. What the world is willing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There is no possibility of deciding or choosing anything. There can be no making of plans, no willing on our part, or decisions. Destiny has us now.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By the throat.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We will just have to wait. Both of us are good at waiting.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And with that I tumble into sleep.</span><br />
<hr noshade="" size="1" style="background-color: darkgrey; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; color: darkgrey; height: 1px;" /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFS5NLY5BwzIlxlANPA5lWZ7DIRW_qp4fvuyIfKCO4AJI1rzm7RJnKKO8uXC-gr0upxbFcDROVX7Q42zKVA9SmJHHy18IEcs1750RYzGdyMdu8NMHlq3dR28MgmIGeJ5fzO2pL5VBB7rU/s1600/sibyl+cave+black.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFS5NLY5BwzIlxlANPA5lWZ7DIRW_qp4fvuyIfKCO4AJI1rzm7RJnKKO8uXC-gr0upxbFcDROVX7Q42zKVA9SmJHHy18IEcs1750RYzGdyMdu8NMHlq3dR28MgmIGeJ5fzO2pL5VBB7rU/s320/sibyl+cave+black.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Cave of the Sibyl</span></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am in a dark cave, way in the back before an altar.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> But I am faced away from it, although I can smell its incense, a delicious fragrance.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am wearing a loose white silken robe and my hair is long and wild. My feet are in silk sandals with kidskin</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">soles. I am scented with myrrh from foreign lands. I am the </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sibyl</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, beautiful and powerful with deep secret</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">knowledge, which is all kept in volumes of books within this temple of mine</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am waiting for an appointment from a foreign adventurer who has been waiting to see me. My young virgins bring him to the entrance of my private area and I see his face for the first time.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My insides quiver as he looks at me. His eyes immediately look down, and he sinks to his knees offering a small silver fur holding large jewels: diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires.</span><br />
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<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"My most humble offering to you, my lady."</span></b></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is no humble offering I say to myself. I am wondering just what he wants. To go into the Underworld like Aeneas? Perhaps. But I don't feel so</span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"And what land do you come from? It is clear you are not from around here</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His hair is wild, coppery with glints in it, his eyes green, his face pale and beautiful. He is tall and lithe with sensitive hands and fingers.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4pT3GzBzv4h3rGNtkzxdhc45bVAmKRTzIou7ocIAzn_U0rlkLlYglHa5Vo-iTVASxG9cNY7Oq0fFjZgfvCTQVvhi2AA_AEF5oHTeAvsolqqwQ7LY63iu1qwLgO45iU7QXpdhwjEsswao/s1600/rob+old.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4pT3GzBzv4h3rGNtkzxdhc45bVAmKRTzIou7ocIAzn_U0rlkLlYglHa5Vo-iTVASxG9cNY7Oq0fFjZgfvCTQVvhi2AA_AEF5oHTeAvsolqqwQ7LY63iu1qwLgO45iU7QXpdhwjEsswao/s400/rob+old.jpg" width="318" /></a><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I am a Celt, my lady, and I do not come from any land</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Occupying property is not to our liking. We are troubadours, poets, artists and search in hearts, not for land. I have heard of you. Your beauty and your exquisite knowledge of the arts. I have journeyed long to find you, to be seen by you."</span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I see that this one is dangerous, very dangerous.</span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"And what is it you want from me? Or do you want me to tell you. Cryptically of course." and I smile an enigmatic smile."</span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His eyes widen for a moment but then he recovers his control. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I want to break that control</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. <b>I will</b>.</span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>"The arts of love"</b>, h</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">e states this simply, directly.</span><br />
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<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"And you bring me these baubles!</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">" </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I laugh and kick them all over the stone floor.</span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Go away and pick up your trinkets as you leave."</span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I turn away and wave him away with my hand</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My young virgins usher him out</span><br />
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<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. </span></b></i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now we will see what he does next</span></b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">________________________________________________________________</span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am asleep but my body is partly awake. I feel a quivering all inside as I tremble so very slightly, but constantly.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I open my eyes I face Edward and look into his green eyes and I know him. My eyes close involuntarily before I open them again. He is inside me moving so very slightly, playing with my desire and his desire. My breath catches, as I realize what he is doing to me.</span><br />
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<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"How long have you been inside me?"</span></b></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlmmjE986X-jxJsy1QZ_DfidnyENaFbUDkq2fl1EyFlU0Wo_JaM9pBhs_f5dxP2TR5kEbCZHxywaAeVo6hcLQ0YZUlX3P9XnqLk0nRsNyfJidK_kywLdKJNxEKa76roeGEmAfJrrc1FI/s1600/sleeping+beauties+4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlmmjE986X-jxJsy1QZ_DfidnyENaFbUDkq2fl1EyFlU0Wo_JaM9pBhs_f5dxP2TR5kEbCZHxywaAeVo6hcLQ0YZUlX3P9XnqLk0nRsNyfJidK_kywLdKJNxEKa76roeGEmAfJrrc1FI/s1600/sleeping+beauties+4.jpeg" /></a><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"All night. It's been very difficult</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I've wanted to wake you a million times already. A few times I almost slept, but I felt I needed to watch over you while you slept. I don't know why. I held you to keep you safe. I don't know why I did that either. But I didn't second guess myself.</span></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_6HR2Yelo-ilwC9LmE1Zbmu8eY2Z1__AdaLMzxSqUP6jxNdIGSZJreosJjoybCnC_awHc8mKzZYB_cnzsL9vnVus7istxBb4HHi45OD9SPV3gybd48iElGEO8gSg1scuE2Q4gndTsjU/s1600/planet+2+suns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_6HR2Yelo-ilwC9LmE1Zbmu8eY2Z1__AdaLMzxSqUP6jxNdIGSZJreosJjoybCnC_awHc8mKzZYB_cnzsL9vnVus7istxBb4HHi45OD9SPV3gybd48iElGEO8gSg1scuE2Q4gndTsjU/s320/planet+2+suns.jpg" width="320" /></a><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"But oh, Bella, sometimes I floated on waves and sometimes I was in black black space with only faraway stars to see shining. It was wonderful, but everytime you moaned or moved I immediately stopped being there to be with you. Here, now.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I increase my play with our desire, moving just a little more, holding him just a little tighter, until his breathing increases and I can feel his pulse beginning to pound faster. And then I move on top of him slowly and begin to move my pelvis down into him and then away, then into him again, so slow, so deep, and he groans and trembles.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I move just a little faster, just a little deeper, holding him tighter, leaning down and breathing into his ear, biting his ear, kissing and biting the side of his face, down his jaw his neck his throat his chest, down, down, down, until I feel his hands stop me.</span><br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No, not yet</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, he says. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not yet.</span></i></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And he holds my ass against him, grinding me into him, grinding himself into me until I am coming undone. He won't stop, he won't let me catch my breath, I am trembling all over now inside and out, he has control over me and I am gladly offering it to him.</span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Take me take me"</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I say,</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">thinking I don't want to be in charge here or anywhere. Take control of me, make my decisions for me, decide for us both. Please please please.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And he flips me on my back and then does exactly that. Relentlessly.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I try to hold myself back until he comes and I succeed for only one minute and then he says, "</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">S</span></b><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">top holding back Bella, come now, let me feel you!"</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> He</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> places his lips on my throat and begins to bite me. I am completely undone and I moan gibberish as I hold onto him for dear life, shaking and quivering and dissolving. Then I feel him let go in me, feel his semen hitting hard against the mouth of my cervix, to flood me inside.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am gone all over again.</span></b><br />
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