Monday, November 14, 2005
For weeks now I'd had these strange but enticing visions. They'd appear before me, two nymphets, blocking me left and right. I saw in their faces that conspicuous grin of conspiracy. Some spell stalemated my motions. Soft features loomed before me closer and blurrier. Then a mouth was upon mine, and the tongue of a girl began its magic dance. My hands and feet felt numb, nonexistent. The visions took turns while I trembled like a bowl of pudding with tides of desire rippling through it. The harmonic sensation on my tongue and lips spun itself into some sort of cyclone that whipped through my mind. And then they were gone, swept away unseen. This time I heard a giggle in the distance. "We shall return," one of the visions promised between notes of that fading music. But I could not wait for their reoccurrence. I stumbled after them like a marionette, strings tensed in their imagined direction. It's what a fish feels, as the fisherman reels him in. Then I saw them in the distance, at the side of a house. I moved in upon them, wanting to call out to them, tell them I was there, but as they grasped that dummy and began their play that familiar vision furled its thick blanket of silk around me.