Love and Lust, Passion's Invocation

Naked Beauty 2

Naked Beauty

Part 2




Part 1:  Naked Beauty 

Gizelle looked Jermaine straight in the eye, feeling as though she could read his emotions and really tried to. Jermaine tried to speak but could not form words.


She was looking into his eyes and straight down into his soul. He felt as though she was seeing every one of his most intimate secrets while he was drinking in her beautiful face and loving nature. He was overcome with the intoxication of it, and realized that her incredible beauty was so much more than skin deep.


That thought registered and hit him like a sack of hammers to the head. He tried to look away, but Gizelle cupped his face in her hands and drew him in to hold him tightly.


With both of them on their knees, holding onto each other, Jermaine could see that she was at least five or ten years younger than he was, yet she didn’t feel young to him.


She is frighteningly wise beyond her years, he mused. Most women her age are terribly silly and self-absorbed, he recalled, but there is something about this woman, something deep and profound that I must know and understand.


He struggled for the right words, though the language barrier was hard enough, but with her naked warmth pressed to him desire was driving him to distraction and he could neither think nor focus, so he held onto her like she was his last vestige of hope.


This is not a choice, he realized, It’s a calling. Suddenly he thought of Vera and swallowed hard not knowing if, or how he was going to explain what had transpired here. He held Gizelle more tightly and offered up a silent prayer.


Gizelle felt his discomfort, but she would not let him go until she felt his anguish ease. She had never seen such desolation in a man before, though it brought hard memories to the fore. She pushed them back into the past. There would be far too much time to deal with memories later.


She ran soft fingers up and down his back and then locked him into her embrace again, meaning to offer Jermaine succor, though she was not entirely sure why his suffering had stricken her so profoundly. She only knew that this was right, that it felt very right in ways she had not intended, though he did not push her away.


Finally, a soft sigh escaped him and again she placed her hands at his cheeks, as her deep-set eyes searched his own. He appeared relieved and happier now. She read contentment on his face and gave him a grateful smile.


Gizelle kissed his cheek, got to her feet, scooped up her blanket, and tossed a farewell over her shoulder, “Adiós mi amigo Tal vez te vea de nuevo algún día. Goodbye, my friend. Perhaps I will see you again someday.”


Jermaine hesitated to move, still feeling the warmth of her naked, silken curves pressed to him. His skin tingled with expectant anticipation yet he hadn’t made a move. He hadn’t dared.


Shaking his head, he sorted his racing thoughts. It’s too new, too deep, real and special, and I was frightened she would scamper away — as she just did! He scrambled to get to his feet but stopped, still kneeling.


Jermaine smiled softly and sifted through the sand to find her ring beneath his knee. He made a mental note of a small diamond set in yellow gold and then studied the direction in which she had departed.


Gizelle had just rounded a corner and he lost sight of her. She must have managed a quick change in a dark corner, he noted.


He stood with renewed purpose and pocketed the ring. Darkness fell with a light mist hanging in the air, which did not not deter him. He started after her, following at a safe distance.


Keeping to the safety of shadows, he felt like a stalker, but secure in the knowledge that if she exited his life again, he would know where to find her. I will never lose her again, he strengthened his resolve.


Gizelle ducked into a small cafe, obviously familiar with the place. He watched her conversing with a waiter who lead her to an outdoor table.


Jermaine paused, fondling the ring and watching her smile, searching for anything which would denote that the waiter was more than a friend. He studied her features and wondered who had given it to her.


It could be an engagement ring or possibly a promise ring, he decided, feeling the first stirrings of unfamiliar jealousy, but then realized that he hadn’t thought of Vera for longer than a fleeting moment. Jealousy vacated in lieu of reality as he was newly filled with volition and compelled to continue.


Gizelle reappeared and continued to a modest house not far from the cafe. He wondered how she afforded it and whether she was living with the man who gave her the ring. He scribbled the address on a receipt from his wallet.


Jermaine pushed it back into his jeans and turned to go, whispering a wish torn straight from his soul, “We will see each other again and ‘someday’ cannot arrive soon enough for me.”


He continued on his stroll back to the hotel and caught himself smiling and feeling happier than he had been in a very long time.


He lay awake late into the night, turning her ring over between his fingers, thinking of what a delicate flower she seemed, yet how much strength and sensitivity it had taken to recognize pain in a stranger’s eyes and drop her own immediacy to hold and comfort him.


You are beautiful inside and out and I already long to possess you, he thought, as he tucked the jewelry into his pocket and fell into fitful sleep only a few hours before sunrise.



Naked Beauty, Part 3


by Wildfire8470



©️December 15, 2018 at 7:48 AM
All Rights Reserved    

Tags:  #love, #lust, #fiction, #betrayal #cheating #infidelity #models #photography #erotic #romance #mystery #WiP #Spain #stalking #exhibition #voyeurism #amwriting
Reproduction or republication of this content is prohibited without permission.

Love and Lust, Passion's Invocation



Amanda sat on a stool, in a hotel bar that reminded her of her youth. She had gone to places like this voluntarily when she was in her late teens and early twenties. She was scarcely twenty nine now, but that seemed like an eternity ago. She was not necessarily in this meat market voluntarily tonight.

This evening, she had run from her home after finding Joel with her best friend, in the bed they had shared for twelve years. She was unbearably wounded and unbelievably angry. The sight of her naked boyfriend fucking Angie with a driving need he had never shown her, made her stomach pitch.

She had stood there transfixed at the sight of Angie moaning with Joel’s every powerful thrust. Angie’s breasts heaved in rhythm with her moans and gasps. She was obviously in the throes of an ecstasy that Amanda envied. They were so lost in each other that they hadn’t even heard her enter.

Amanda closed her eyes against the images and finished her third Long Island Iced Tea. She had no idea how she drove here. It was such a frenzied blur that she scarcely remembered bolting from the house.

She checked her watch to find that she had been in this small bar for nearly two hours. The night crowd was beginning to pour in and with it; the band started to play.

Angie yelled her order over the too-loud, pulsing, music as ‘a suit’ sat down beside her. She still recognized the men who arrived directly from work looking to get laid.

“’Suits,’” she thought, “still the same, but he looks good… for ‘a suit,’” Amanda surmised as she eyed him cautiously.

Another half hour passed before she noted that he matched her drink for drink, and was getting an eyeful himself.

Amanda was still in her work clothes. She wore slacks that fitted to her form and a new, red, blouse that was cut all the way down to there, with stilettoes that completed the sexy ensemble. She had wanted to surprise Joel tonight and visibly grimaced as the images returned.

Suddenly, ‘the suit’ turned to her and opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he turned away just as suddenly. She swallowed the last of her fourth drink filled with curiosity.

Surely, there wasn’t a pick up line she hadn’t heard and turned down before, but she wondered why he seemed to be working up his nerve so intently, and consuming liquid courage like the bar was sure to run out.

Amanda realized she was inebriated but where was she going to go? “Home,” she asked herself, “Not bloody likely!”

She sniffed angrily, shook her head unconsciously, and slammed the rest of her drink. Still, she was intrigued. She couldn’t shake her curiosity about ‘the suit.’

Amanda nursed her drink until the next time he turned in her direction. She whirled her stool to face him, held ‘the suit’ with a glare and said,

“What? What could you possibly say that would make me consider you,” she spat with more venom than she’d meant to unleash. Amanda turned back to her drink sure that she had shut him down in record time.

Then she felt her stool being forced back to him. ‘The suit” firmly held her shoulder with one hand while the other raised her chin until their eyes met.

His voice was deep and excitedly nervous, but he calmly spoke the words he had been wanting to since he arrived,

“This is not you. Someone did this to you.”

Amanda tried to say something, anything, but he pressed his thumb hard against her lips and continued,

“There is so much you don’t know yet. This is going to sound a little nuts so please just let me say it.”

Amanda quit struggling and finally paused to hear him out.

“You don’t know it yet, but you are the piece of my soul that I’ve been waiting for. You’re beautiful, stunning,” he corrected without pausing, “You’re going to be my world, my everything. I want to hold your hand, give you refuge, safety, and love. You and I… we were destined to be.”

Amanda’s eyes brimmed with tears and she swallowed hard, unable to speak. ‘The suit” went on,

“This isn’t you. You’re not this woman who’s filled with pain.”

She shook her head but he immediately called her bluff,

“A man,” he started, “No. A real man doesn’t claim to love you and then destroy you. You are a loving, kind, and pardon me for saying it bluntly, but the most desirable, profoundly extraordinary, utterly fuckable

woman I’ve ever met. I want you, and I want you in my life right now. Take my hand and come home with me tonight. We’ll pick a chapel first thing tomorrow. We’ll exchange names when you feel safer. Take my hand.”

With tears trickling down her cheeks, Amanda took his hand, knowing that he was everything she had ever prayed for. He wrapped her slight frame into his arms and steered her through the crowd and out the door.

They arrived at his gorgeous home in less than twenty minutes. He put her in front of the warm glow of the fireplace, not letting her go for a second.  She relaxed into his arms, hugging her knees to hide her face while she wept. It was the strangest, most overwhelming, mix of emotions she had ever experienced.

At last, Amanda knew with certainty that she would love this man forever, and she would never have to be fearful again.
By Wildfire8470


©June 14, 2015 – 03:11 AM – All Rights Reserved Registered & Protected  KXLF-BOFI-FOBJ-JTPK

Flash Fiction, Thursday Thrills



Click The Image For Tallulahrose’s page

2-7-2013Kimberly lay across the edge of the tub, half-drowned, and too exhausted with his abuse to care anymore. She lay as though dead, amazed she was able to think at all. He had nearly killed her this time.

“One hour late from girls’ night out is not call for this,” she raged with no ability to move. She wondered how or why she had survived for this long as she stared into the mirror across the room, her makeup running down her ashen face, almost wishing he had succeeded tonight.

Everything inside her was screaming,

I’m done with this fucking shit!” Done! DONE,” but she had no energy to utter a sound.

She couldn’t even summon the strength to strip from her sodden dress and dry herself, but the voice in her head wouldn’t stop. Not this time… 


On nights like this, she used to wonder why she had married the bastard. Now, she only contemplated ending it. 

She closed her eyes and really thought hard this time. She hit extremes without fortitude to put plans into action, so she lay there drenched, gasping for air… and plotting.
Finally, a quiet strength encompassed her as an actual plan took shape.
Kimberly knew she couldn’t divorce the asshole. She had inherited millions when she lost her parents,

“…and I’m not going to lose it to him,” she fumed angrily, “I’d end up supporting the lazy bastard too!” 

Thoughts of losing house and home to him were nearly unbearable, but the money she inherited from her parents was non-negotiable.  

“No! That is NOT going to happen,” she railed at him mentally, while realizing she would likely get stuck with paying alimony too.

Then her weakness began to subside. Kimberly knew now that she had options.

“Okay, no attractive options,” she surmised while rummaging through her thoughts, examining each of them one-by-one, “but do-able,” she stated to herself determinedly.
She pushed herself upright and every bone in her body ached. Her lungs hurt from fighting him for tiny amounts of oxygen. Kimberly wondered how many hours she had fought him tonight. With arms weak and limp at her sides, she succumbed once more, 

“Why didn’t you just do it this time, you fucktard? You could have spared both of us this,” she yelled without sound at the blue light of the television flickering through the doorway, knowing he was passed out, drunk, in front of it.

Kimberly slipped from her precarious perch on the edge of the bath tub to the cold, tile floor.

“What the hell am I thinking, she questioned herself as she sat in a heap of wet clothing with limbs akimbo, Am I really thinking about…” but she couldn’t finish that thought.

She crawled to the cupboard beneath the sink and opened the small door. She reached inside, fumbling in the unlit interior, until she felt the items she sought.

With trembling hands, she extracted his straight razor and his old, rolled up, belt. A small smile claimed her lips and she found a renewed vigor. Kimberly placed the items in the sink and pulled herself up by the surrounding vanity. 

Suddenly she realized that she was still in her stiletto heels. As she kicked them off, she thought of how far away the night of fun and gayety with her friends seemed to be.  

“That was maybe, eight… or twelve hours ago,” she thought, staring at her haggard appearance in the mirror more closely, “Seems like it’s been years.” 

At twenty eight years old, Kimberly looked forty years older than that, and her rage was renewed.

“I – will – not – let – him – do – this – to – me,” she whispered haltingly at her reflection.  

Grabbing up the razor and belt, she tucked them into her elbow, holding them close to her side, and raced quietly past the bedroom where he sat exactly as she knew he would. 

He was sprawled, with his head dangling to the side of the easy chair, with beer cans and a whiskey bottle strewn about the floor around it.
She stared at him for a second thinking, “So unlike you… You’re gonna make this easy for me, aren’t ya, you dickwad?”
Knowing she would lose her nerve in a moment of pause, Kimberly raced out to the garage and collected a large coil of rope and cut off a length of duct tape.

She stuck the tape to her upper arm and got into the truck she had so carefully parked only hours before. Then she backed it into the driveway, making sure to leave the keys in the ignition.
In a moment, she was standing in the soft glow of the porch light with her heart racing. She leaned down to grip her knees, trying to focus on slowing her breathing. When she realized that her dress was still damp, she was enraged anew.
In a shot, she was back at the bedroom, padding in quietly, even knowing that dynamite wouldn’t wake the drunken shit. 

She laid the utensils on the ground, nearly tripping over an unseen bottle, of half-empty Tequila, and set about the task at hand.
Quickly, she wrapped the rope around him, effectively binding him to the La-Z-Boy recliner and bound his legs with the leather belt. She almost snickered, thinking, 
“Boy, you really missed your calling, you lazy fuck! You should have made commercials for La-Z-Boy!”
She stifled a hateful smile and gingerly peeled the duct tape from her arm, then pressed it to his mouth and firmly anchored it behind his head. 
He stirred from his alcohol-laden sleep to find himself immobilized. He struggled and tried to yell, just as he had when he was trying to drown her.
Kimberly bent down resolutely, picked up the straight razor, and used every ounce of pressure her tired arms would exert. 

With a final, wounded-animal cry, she dragged the razor across his throat, unleashing all her years of pent-up rage, screaming,
By Wildfire8470

(c) copyright 2014-01-04 21:40:05 UTC – All Rights Reserved

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