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Stonehenge's blog: "Thursday Night"

created on 05/03/2009  |  http://fubar.com/thursday-night/b293716

London Nights

Only two days till London... 

Stars

It was only a moment before he could pull his mind back; yet it felt like ages.  He could feel the warm palm even through the linen.  Her touch caused sensations he had not felt for the living or dead in a very long time.  The sensation filled him with warmth and caused him to stand tall.  As he turned the first thing that grabbed him were the eyes.  They were green as emerald and yet wise.  This was not a woman to be battled.  These were the mirrors to a soul who knew what she wanted and when.  Standing transfixed like a greek statue she lazily turned him to face her.  She winked and without words she tossed her golden auburn locks toward the door. 

Being of old was a blessing when it came to the little signs he thought.  Pressing her firmly against himself like a conquering marauder he pushed with his mind to clear a path.  Like the red sea they parted.  It never stopped amazing him the power of the weak as he led her along.  Giving the sign to the bouncer for him to bring the Bentley around he continued up the worn stone stairs.  Each step brought him closer to understanding.  He wanted to turn here on the steps and drink.  But that wasn't what he really desired.  Something in those green eyes had finally brought him from a thousand year slumber.  Ever so gently he began to wish. 

He could smell the damp air of the devil's hour long before they left the cellar.  Cool and yet something?  Yes lilac.  Memories of childhoods desire flooded him again.  Control.  Take control.  As they passed the stone gate and exited into the grotto he turned to her under the stars. (cont.)

The stare...

He looked around. Was he imagining beauty at its finest or could this creature exist? Opening his bill fold he tossed several bills without looking. What was the need when he dared not lose this trophy. The music slowly faded as he gently slipped between the lithe bodies surrounding him. Without warning a very young woman with midnight locks and eyes turned and spilled her drink all over his blazer. She was likely too young he guessed to be drinking the whisky sour which he now wore. He could hear her appologies as she needlessly patted at the fine linen. The damage done, he pushed out with his mind causing the young woman to swoon.

Looking across the bar caused his heart to panic and a cold sweat formed on his entire body. She was gone! Looking wildly he surveyed the darkness. Bodies rose and fell with the beat and yet she was gone. With the threads of his mind he searche the dark smoky bar. Further he pressed; his mind floating the deserted warehouse district above. Derilicts and prostitues, vagrants and runaways but not her.

It was then that he felt the hand lying lazily upon his back. (cont.)

Thursday Night Dreams

'What time was it he thought', as he looked around the bar. Everywhere there was movement; so much movement by the mob. Leather and lace flowed with the hypnotic rythem of the beat. Women glistened, their hair slicked to their brows. Each heave causing their breasts to swell. This was such a mortal time; such heat and blood. He sipped lethargically at his martini; the bite of the gin causing a momentary lapse of thought. Had it been Berlin or London when he had first sampled this very concoction. No matter. The sights of the eternal night surrounded him and yet he saw not a soul. Spinning slowly and raising his hand to the barkeep he signaled for the bill. It was then that he noticed her. Not young but certainly not as old as he. She sat motionless, a ghost he believed at first but then she lifted what looked to be a Lambrusco. He stood transfixed, his eyes darted as her ruby lips closed and teased the liquid. How many times had he drunk ever so slightly from his own vintage. He smiled at the thought; which brought a slow meek smile to the womans face. Her eyes dipped only for a moment as his heart stirred for the first time in many years. 'What were these feelings?' he thought as he fidgeted with his gold cufflinks. (cont.)
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