"the sun and the moon" by TheaMaiman
"She fought against her desire to fall at his feet. Ridiculous to be so happy." ~~D.H. Lawrence, The Lost Girl
Lorenzo sat on the horizontal trunk of a fallen tree watching the transformative beauty of Yoru in the little meadow from just a few feet away, not from across the commune sim as he had always voyeured her. It was close enough to virtually touch her. And for the first time in her Second Life, Yoru had removed her self-imposed blindfold to reveal her most ardent admirer. She gazed at his sculptured, Mediterranean face, and before she could stop herself she gasped: "At last I have you! I want to kiss you."
"Whatever you want..." he replied smoothly, "kissing you... yes, a very good idea, but still I have no idea about how do those pictures. I want first to see how you like to dress yourself. Strip and change, I love to see how girls see themselves. Let's play... how do you imagine I would like to see a girl like you?"
Yoru realized he was eluding her as he had done for months, and even though he was here in front of her, he made no move to undress. His power of elusion was unfailing. She told herself he is a man who finishes his work first and plays after. But Yoru was mistaken, for he was past all that. He was having it all.
She paused. "You are an Italian gentleman," she whispered carefully in his direction, "perhaps you like classical beauty?"
"Traditional ladies know how to be very sensual," he agreed.
Yoru chose a long, shimmering, light lime-green gown with dainty black heels for dancing. After it had entirely rezzed, the gown flowed elegantly down her body, accentuating and falling dramatically over the curves of her breasts.
"Special, very classy," he muttered in a voice that had dropped to a lower, huskier tone, "your breasts are strongly appealing."
"Are they, darling? Shall I take off the top?"
"No," he grinned, "I saw them flash by, softly rounded, tattooed black with a twisting dragon that increases the perception of curvature, as the upper portion of your evening gown cloaked your ivory shoulders." He missed nothing.
"This is my most comfortable outfit," Yoru cooed, slipping into a colorful teal latex bodysuit. She left her Japanese headband on.
"Ohh, yes, your Asian clothing is my favoured, very sensual."
"This is how I would lounge at home on the bed with my Italian boyfriend *sigh* if only I had one..."
"Ohh, in NY there are many to choose from," he teased her, his tone softening.
"I don't want them, I want you," she quipped, and thought to herself: "That surely makes it clear I want him now." But he said nothing, and so she continued stripping.
"And this I wear when I go dancing in blues clubs. I prefer platinum blond hair with this sheer, silver-gray gown and transparent panties..."
"Naaa, Japanese are dark ... not blonde! lol"
"Yes, darling," she said, "my RL hair is blue-black, sometimes I make it chocolate sunburnt brunette, too. But modern Asian girls are pushing stereotypes aside, sometimes deliciously, sometimes indelicately, but decidedly aside. Twenty Second Century girls with attitudes, like me."
"Oh?"
"Yes," she affirmed, "if being platinum blond makes me feel sexier than white-hot flowing Hawaiian lava, is it not to your advantage, chéri? When such bright heat spills into the ocean of your desire it will burst, hissing and wailing, and you will be like exploding rock, rending and groaning..."
Lorenzo gulped some of his coffee.
"This is very me, it is the strategy my life , like the RL me, sitting in my computer chair right now. When I dye my hair the shining blondness contrasts strongly with my naturally dark eyes, drawing your gaze to my face, and so I hold you steadily with my eyes while I penetrate your soul with furtive words, and when I tip my forehead down as though to look at my own body, your gaze tips automatically along with mine to glide falling along the swelling breasts, viewer touching closely the dusky, dimpled nipples, spilling down, down through my cleavage, traveling a clear passage along my flat tummy onwards to points south where all men want to go."
Her words tripped Lorenzo's mind into a fantasy:
"Yoru, I see your body pressed lusciously against me, and you kiss me as I lay panting from the exhaustion of life. To the disorientation of my aging mind you bring sweet, young love. I see myself sitting in a train, now alone on an endless night, the constant shaking and roaring of the steel wheels and squealing tracks putting me in a daze, and I drift into a fantasy that I am writing you a love letter as the rest of the world flashes by my dark window. In the letter I describe how your nude pussy trembles expectantly, dark pubic fluff offered for my hand to caress, hidden velveteen violet clitoris pressed forward for my tongue to lick, and I swallow juices dripping free from the entrance of the glistening channel to your aqueous, banshee sex."
Yoru squirmed in her chair.
"Your naked presence pushes me into the curious frame of mind of floating in unfiltered, fluid femininity, not just because your juices are on my lips and cheeks, but also your sexual essence is in the air I inhale, the oxygen blending with the sweet musky vapours of the vaginal dew that I have swallowed, passing through my nose and throat, the moisture of your swollen pussy, the heady scent of your sex mixing with the pheromones of your perfume, it all penetrates to the most recessed vessels of my lungs and from there is absorbed into my blood, the clear moistness of your pussy thus transforms into the red fluid of life that carries your spirit beyond all boundaries to everywhere in my body and being."
She moved over to him, knelt at his feet, and came with him, both still fully clothed.
(Writer's note: Still to come 5: Photoshoot of the beyond.)
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