"A'Frayed" by RJWing and Skydax (continued)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Doug ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       Doug realized he must have been really hammered last night. At
some point, Nikki had come into the bar, and had come to join Scott 
and him. But he awoke, and there was no one beside him. His other
"woman friend" had not been feeling well, lately. He tried for a 
second to raise his aching head, then dropped back. 

       His six cats had joined him (as they always did when he slept
in the trailer), and were either purring and rubbing against various
parts of his body he would much rather have found some young...hmmm...
what had happened to Nikki? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scott ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Scott returned from what he considered “a typical evening” 
with Doug. They (Doug mostly) flirted with waitresses...ogled young 
girls (even though Scott’s perception of them as “babies” didn’t 
really stop him from looking), even spent an hour watching Doug and
his..."girl-friend"?? He remembered being slightly shocked, not only 
when Mick kissed her as she joined them...but that she had kissed him
back, with what appeared to be genuine passion. For a split second his
old jealousy...one that really had stopped long since high school,
flared again.

       This young woman was attractive. She was, like the first girl
Doug had pointed out to him that night, younger (or at least no older)
than his own youngest daughter. She had a sweet face (a little on the 
paleside, but it added a quality of mystery to that face that it was 
surrounded by jet black hair, tied back, but wind-blown).

       She was definitely a biker. Her cut-off t-shirt/halter ended 
just below her breasts. Several times he could not help but notice 
when she raised an empty beer bottle to order another, that she 
also had small, but perfectly shaped breasts. And there was a tiny 
tattoo of Harley wings on the right, as well as a small gold ring 
through the nipple of that same breast.

        She talked with Scott for a few minutes, and then she and
Doug proceeded to get well beyond happy hour.

        Scott was driving anyway, as the non-drinker of the bunch. He
left the bar, thinking he was taking Nikki to Doug's place (she was
far too drunk to ride her Harley, though at first she resisted when
Doug told her that). Somehow, he used what little bit of charm he had
left that evening to convince her that "she needed someone to watch 
out for her interests..." It came out "Jus lookin' ou fer ya, hon..."
But she bought it. Doug directed her to a "friend's place" somewhere 
else in RedRock that evening. Then, they went to Doug's trailer home.

	Scott didn’t look down his nose (as did some of his “friends” 
(including his ex) at Doug because he lived in a mobile home. In point 
of fact,Scott had considered purchasing a home in the same park as 
Doug.  When he viewed the “true space available” however, that was the 
end of the consideration -- he had too much “stuff” (as George Carlin 
liked to say). He simply couldn’t live in that small a space. 

	They lit up a jay -- though Scott hadn’t had a drink, or any 
other “recreational” drug for years, he still enjoyed a good piece of 
Mexican agriculture. Under the influence of a good buzz...they both 
went outside to view the sky. It was one big benefit of living in this 
particular trailer-court -- the night sky view was incredible. Even 
the day-time view wasn’t bad -- Doug lived across from the Red-Irons, 
a section of the “foothills” that was made up of of upthrust shale, 
bright red (especially at sunrise and sunset --hence the name). At 
night, they were far enough away from the RedRock lights that millions 
of stars were visible, even to the naked eye, than were visible from 
Scott’s apartment. He considered Doug lucky in that respect,
among others (Doug’s ability with a paint-brush...his feverish, though 
seemingly un-focused direction), and he didn’t be-grudge him these 
amenities in the least -- he was happy Doug had these things (at least) 
upon which to focus his immense cosmic curiosity. 

	During the time, he and Doug brought out a couple of Doug's 
guitars, and played, very softly...a few blues songs from their 
collective past. Doug had once been part of a popular group in Denver 
-- “The New Carpet Alley Jug Band.” Scott had once played rhythm 
guitar and back-up vocals on a “demo-tape” for another friend who’d 
made it big time in recording. There was something bucolic and heroic 
about the music, all things considered...and Scott enjoyed it. This 
was his favorite part of a “typical evening with Doug.” 

        When he finally returned to his apartment, he felt "overly
warm" (as he thought of it -- his body tended to operated in a meta-
bolic state that seemed a few degrees higher than most peoples'. He 
hated feeling the least bit sweaty...and although he wasn't, really...
he immediately undressed when he closed and locked the door of his
apartment. He went to his dresser, where Rae had left (among other 
things...like her own French-cut silk underwear, and little reminders
of their "explorations") a pair of silk under-shorts for Scott.

        He smiled at his memory, when she had given them...how he had
worn them...what she had done to him when he had them on...and how she
had so expertly utilized them, before taking them off, slipping them, 
with her impish smile, over his ankles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ the other lover ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         His wings were big. Heavy. Dark green. If it weren't for the 
wings, she might have been able to fight him. But she could do nothing 
but lay pressed against the earth with his hot breath at her neck. He 
had her arms pinned above her head, both of her small wrists held 
tightly in his....what was it? Hand? Claw? The green palm was large, 
with tough skin that rubbed harshly agains the thin layerd flesh of 
her own  small hands. Long scaled fingers,three of them, with curved 
small points of sharp ivory colored claws, circled her fingers into 
fists. He held her firmly, while his other fingers, slow moving 
snakes, slithered across her body in different directions, as if 
searching for the opening that would bring them all home...to some 
deep, dark cavern where they would be pleasurably safe and she knew 
what he was hoping to find...

     His mouth opened for the first time and from the demon came a 
tongue. Long, unfolding, silver and moist, this was the Serpent King, 
and she felt with great shudders through her body, the tongue tip 
expertly slip between the buttons of her silk blouse. His tongue 
searched, touching skin and cloth. It moved wettly across the tops of 
her breasts, then disappearing into the folds of her bra. It writhed 
between her mounds. Even beneath her blouse and bra, she could feel 
the tongue taking in her texture, her shape leaving in its path, warm, 
heated saliva...  It found her nipple. And despite all the horror, 
the fear, the revulsion and disgust, the expert tongue with tiny 
circling movements... sent an electric shiver through her body that 
brought forth from her mouth, an unwanted, uncontrolled, sensual moan. 
The demon ripped open her blouse and with one clawed finger, cut the 
bra in half. He tore her skirt, tore her panty hose, tore the panties. 
And now the tongue, determined to elicit such sounds again, grew and 
glowed and descended upon Rae's  body, hot and wet to search 
all crevices... plunging between her legs.

              "NO!!!"Startled by her own voice. Rae woke.  
 
              "Mom?" Jory sleepily rolled over. "Mom? You o.k.?  Hey 
you o.k?"   
 
 . . Images fading fast...the pressure gone. No longer held to the
earth, his face against hers. No wings, no claws, no...thank God, 
tongue...but she was still swimming in saliva. 

          "Jesus, mom. You're soaking wet."

          "What?" Rae's head cleared.
 
          " You’re soaking wet. You look like you've been in a 
steambath with your clothes on."

          Jory was right. Rae was drenched from head to toe.. Her 
hair, her night shirt. The pillow underhead had a damp circle.

         "Is this one of those night sweat things you've talked 
about?"  Jory asked, hoping her mom would say yes...Night sweats? 
Was the demon a night sweat? Is this what happens in menopause? Rae 
started to laugh....she thought of all the women in the world having 
night sweats. Waking up drenched from perhaps secret dreams of demon 
pleasure.  She loved all women at the moment. Loved them for their 
fears of losing their sexuality as they aged. Sensitive, loving women
...who never wanted to give up that part of themselves and feared it 
was going to be taken away.

      "Mom? Are you o.k.? Why are you laughing?" And Jory began to 
laugh because her mom could do that to her....just my laughing make 
her laugh. It was a game they played with each other since she was 
very young.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jory ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       Jory loved her mother. Her mother was a last refuge in a 
world gone more than slightly mad. She had school-mates who’d been 
killed in drive-by’s...who’d killed themselves while driving drunk...
who were killing themselves on a weird kind of installment plan by 
pissing their lives away. Her mother was a high school English teacher 
-- there were some problems about that, of course -- beginning with 
the fact that, since she attended the same school in which her mother 
taught, she’d already taken two classes in English with her mom. 
That, in itself, was not so bad....it was just....well, how could you 
be yourself when you were surrounded by friends, and your mother was 
standing at the front of the room, handing out the “assignment du 
jour”?  And yet...being able to see her mother daily, when it seemed 
her father had all but disappeared into his own life...that had its 
considerable (though unspoken to her mother) advantages. She felt 
safe with her mother.


           But...how could she tell her mother what was truly on her 
mind that day? The answer was... she couldn’t. Any more than her 
mother could tell her what was happening with her and Scott, the man 
her mother had met on-line a year ago, and with whom she was sure her 
mother was...”involved.” Scott was okay...he was a teacher as well. 
He had retired...but he was working on some project that involved 
“teaching on-line.” She was never quite sure what that meant, as far 
as details. She had corresponded a time or two with him, but it was 
mostly in the area of  “role-playing games.” 

           At one time, her mother, Scott, and she herself had 
developed characters based on graphics from fantasy sites on the 
net...and their own imagination. But, with so many school assignments 
and extra-curricular activities (which included doing portrait 
photography of her friends), she’d had to quit that correspondence 
early.  After that...their correspondence dropped to a trickle...and 
then stopped. 

            She saw him, perhaps once or twice a year, when he visited 
her mother -- he lived out west, in Colorado... she and her mother 
were living in a small town in Ohio -- it was convenient for her...
but she suspected her mother wasn’t satisfied with this arrangement. 
It was hard to ignore the fact that her mother wanted to spend as much 
time as possible with Scott. That was okay. It wasn’t quite like her 
father’s relationship with...well, who the hell was it this week? Her 
father was making up for what seemd (to him, she thought) for some 
imagined “lost time.” 

         Why was she thinking about him, anyway? She supposed it was 
because, in her own imagination, her mother was doing Jory could 
only imagine.  Was that how it worked? Was that how one learned about 
sex? It had never occurred to her before...but that was before she’d 
met Michael. She’d kept her emotional life simple up to this point. 
Now, it seemed a bit more complicated than she could imagine...or 
reveal...even to her mother.
                               
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ west again ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~           

         Scott woke in an early morning twilight. The phone was ring-
ing. He knew who it was, immediately, and he grabbed the cord-less
phone lying next to him on the couch. "'Lo?" he mumbled.

         "Well...hi!" the voice was Rae's. She was both surprised and
pleased to hear him, he thought...and his pulse quickened, as it 
always did, when she responded to him. She seemed to to know where,
when, and how to touch him...with an eerily magic sense. He loved it. 
He loved her for it. 

          "I didn't expect to hear your 'live voice,'" she whispered.

          "I needed to hear yours," he replied. There was a moment of
silence. He could see her face so clearly. Somehow, he knew she was 
smiling, as he himself was...as if they were lying together, as they 
always did when they slept together...naked (or, if it were truly cold
outside...maybe wearing a top of some sort...but nothing on below). 

          She gave a slight giggle, one he loved. It was what he 
called her "deliciously naughty" giggle. He felt himself responding.
He couldn't believe the effect her voice had on him, but it did, and 
he thought he would respond in kind.

          "Rae..." his voice was still thick with sleep, but just as 
her voice sounded sensuously overpowering when she was just awakening, 
he suspected his voice affected her, likewise. "You know you caught
me in bed..."

          This time there was the sound of a little gasp...a little
exclamation point of indrawn breath. Even that simple sound aroused 
him further. "And I'm guessing..." she began.

           "Yes?" he asked, knowing he was being coy...but also with
the sense that she enjoyed it.

           "That you're..."

           "Naked as the proverbial day I was born..." he murmured, 
enjoying the feel of the words in his mouth, because she was hearing
them. It was an electric sensation that occurred between them. He'd 
wondered often about so-called "phone sex..." the 900 numbers and 
other avenues of "release" (for lack of a better word). He himself 
might even have tried it...if he were 10 years younger and in the
same marital situation. But until he had talked "naughty" with Renee
on-line, then on phone...he had never given it much thought ("what's 
to experience?" he wondered).

            That was before he'd met Renee. He had no idea when they
had started this game, or who started it (he was, in fact, fairly sure
it had been one of their "mutually initiated" fantasies. But after the
first experience with her (after their first truly explosively 
successful experience face to face, body to body) on the phone left
him in a dazed state. Yes, indeed...there had been many changes in his
life, he was discovering, with Rae.           

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ there will be more, oh yes! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Nikki ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



	Her brain throbbed. Light struck terror into her eyeballs.  Those
seductive green pupils of hers that in combination with her long black
lashes had the power to stir all that hid behind any man's tightly
teethed pants zipper.  Doug was going to be easy if she wanted him.  And
there were many times through the evening, she wasn't sure if she did. 


              He had come on so strong. But puppy dog strong. Wagging 
his tail, literally, she thought...until she had a sense that he was 
scared of her.  That knowledge gave her power but also endeared him to 
her.  There was another time that his friend seemed more interesting.  
Tall, lanky, long haired...eyes almost like hers and a face that had 
aged handsome...deep lines that did not reflect the years but instead 
experience, exploration. She could sense he had been around  and was 
capable of taking a woman to unimaginable places. But   he had drifted 
in thought away from her.  She could swear when first introduced that 
he was tempted...could feel his eyes on her lips, her young breasts...
she was the forbidden fruit, the dream of an older man, to caress the 
inner thighs of a younger women. But his eyes became dreamy and she 
knew instinctively that he was some place else...with someone else. 

        Liz struggled to sit up.  A pain shot through her head. 
"Jesus, I feel like shit," she whispered.

        "Baby," a groggy voice from somewhere below her. " You're 
making  too much noise."

         Moving her painful head she sought to see whose naked body 
she was next to this time.  It wasn't Doug. That was a given. She 
couldn't remember when they parted last night. He almost didn't let 
her "part" as a matter of fact because she was definately getting too 
drunk. And she knew again instinctively, to let him be her 
protector... for now . He wasn't ready for the likes of her.  No 
matter what fantasy might be rattling in his brain. In a strange 
way...she was the protector. 

        So she had returned to the "boys" with sex on her mind and 
wondered which one of the lucky ones, Jason, Grahm or Frankie had  got 
to screw her this time?


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jory ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       Jory was nervous.

       Well...how else could one put it? She was a virgin. And Michael 
was...well, becoming a little more demanding. She had, one night, 
while they were parked in a particular wooded area infamous for such 
trysts...allowed him to touch her breasts...although when had 
mangaged to "un-hook" her bra (why did she wear one? she thought)...
the sensation, finally, as he gently touched the very edge of one of
her nipples was so electric, she jumped.

       There was a moment of awkward silence. She managed to glance at
Michael, who seemed suddenly like a pup that has "done bad" and she 
laughed. "Oh, terrific!" she thought. Now, he thinks I'm laughing at
him! 

       "No...no..." she whispered, and surprised herself as she 
reached to touch his face. He had (sometime ago?) withdrawn his hand.
At the moment, he seemed a bit frozen. He was not looking at her. That
bothered her. He had told her that she was pretty -- that memory was
powerful with her. She put her hand down toward the lower part of the
left side of his face (he had sustained an injury there...some time 
ago, he'd told her...his face had been fractured there, thought it 
had healed).

       She turned his face to look at her. With gratitude she noticed
that looking at her, he seemd a bit more relaxed...and he made no move
to avoid her eyes.

       "Michael...I'm not laughing at you. But...I've never done 
this before. I told you that, before."

       Several seconds passed, feeling like hours. "No...Jory, I 
apologize," he murmured. He was still looking her in the eye. "It's 
just...well...it's just that..." he trailed off.

       Jory couldn't wait for another pause. She wanted to keep his 
eyes on hers. "Okay...maybe it's just...well, you know...I mean, 
guys...hmm...wanna have fun???"

       This time they both laughed. Jory loved the moment. They began
to hold each other once again. She put her hand on his chest. It felt
strong and good to her. They kissed in a manner that shocked Jory 
(though she didn't...thank God...jump when it happened).

       As their passion gre, she even slip his hand down below the 
waist band of her panties. She had stopped him, just short of touching 
her...there...

       While one part of her wanted to say, “No...Michael...it’s not 
right...” Another part of her...a part she hadn’t even known existed 
until that evening (not that boys hadn’t “hit on her” before) was 
awakening. Michael was...she couldn’t think of a word beyond 
“different.” 

       That wouldn't cut it with her. It wasn't right. But...how the 
hell did you know when it was??

       For whatever reason, her mother’s discussions with her over the 
difference between love and lust came to the fore at these critical 
moments, or she was fairly sure she would have given in, long ago, to 
Michael’s persistence. Still, the fact remained that Michael was 
different. He seemed...like...how her mother had described Scott once. 
Granted...her mother was a grown woman, with experience and apparently 
her own share of scars from relationships with men to know the hazards 
of the field. 

       “But,” she thought, “...if Michael is like Scott...if he cares 
for me...” (she was convinced he was)...”then, what was the problem?”
    
        Of course, there were two major problems up front -- one was 
pregancy, and the other was “the big A,” or, at minimum...some STD 
(the old “sexually transmitted disease” of which the biology and 
family planning classes taught). 



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ to be continued ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          Nicki shoved the faded brown sheet covers away, swung her 
thin legs  over the side of the bed. She could see the dried semen 
droplets on the inside of her thighs.  It was a habit of hers to 
shove the boys out of her as quickly as possible no matter the depth 
of her drunken or drugged stupor. It was as if  an automotic jettison 
lever  went off in her brain to get whomever, the hell out of her 
body. Oh, she admitted, she knew it was one of a repetoire of 
ignorant, mythological birth controls methods, but what she didn’t 
admit, yet knew, was she didn’t want to linger.  Leaving Tom, Dick or 
Harry’s “dick”...meant thinking about what meaningless and even 
possibly nameless person was deep inside of her.  She would not allow 
that to happen.

	  For a moment, she saw Doug. Warm smile, bright eyes. Caring. 
No. She wouldn’t go there.   

	“Shove em’ out”, she whispered and stepped away from the bed 
in a wobbley motion, catching her balance against the four drawer 
bureau. She opened the third drawer, leaning her head against the 
closed first drawer. “Shit”. She looked back at  the black, stringy 
hair, jutting out of the sheet. 

RENEEE2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Demon ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DEMON1

	The demon in Rae’s dream watched them all. It had a detached, 
curious interest in their affairs, as casual as some human’s interest, 
in say... birds, or insects. 

        There were some humans who captured these creatures in fact, 
and kept them in cages, or bottled them in preservative and pinned 
them to bright posters...with Latin names for their human designation. 
The demon had become interested in this group of humans in much the 
same way as the collector, and the breeder. In point of fact, it was 
the latter process (not the offspring of, although that would be an 
interesting concept to persue...the demon thought), that attracted 
its attention to this group of humans -- they were so....sexually 
inter-active...a process, that, despite the demon’s absolute lack of 
any physical analogues, intrigued and excited the demon. 

       And it had, at one point, “engaged” with one of the females
...though she thought it a dream, and the demon’s last thought 
(though there was no emotional analogue, either) “I love you....” 
it had whispered in the female’s ear, just before she had woken and 
cried out.

       It had become, in its own way, addicted to observation of, and 
what little influence the demon could manage, at first...these 
fascinatingly physio-emotional-astral acrobatics of theirs. They were 
the most wonderful things it had seen in tousands of human years. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ to be continued ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         Scott had a drinking problem. His ex had known it...but had 
never learned to deal with him, drunk or sober, AA meetings, or no AA 
meetings. He supposed, in some vague way, it was why the woman who 
was supposed to be “the love of this life” and he didn’t get along 
very well. 

         Rae was considerably different, in that respect...among 
others. He could push aside the realization that he was making 
comparisons and backed up. Whoa....hoss....not there. He thought, as 
clearly as he could, at the moment -- “God, grant me the serenity...
to accept things I cannot change... courage to change  things I can...
and wisdom to know the difference.”

        And he added a quick request to stay away from alcohol and 
chemicals that day. He still enjoyed his “wacky tabacky” (as Doug 
referred to it)...and since his ex had begun using it again after 
under-going chemo-therapy for breast cancer, he had that to share with 
her. Well...she had a “new attitude...” of recovery, and that was 
cool, as well. In many ways, it allowed him to share more deeply with 
Rae.	

        But today was turning into a tough one.  His “second oldest 
daughter” as he had to think of her (couldn’t bring himself to think 
of her as the “middle child” and knew she would hate that term, 
herself) had been distant from him for some time. He was sure it was 
residue from the ugly fall-out from the divorce. Even though he and 
Sara had begun to “heal”...he and Ashrawi, his delightfully 
intellectual, diminutive spit-fire of a daughter hadn’t quite reached 
that point. 

        And he was assuming (he at least admitted that much to himself
...that he didn’t know how she felt) that she was flying in, out of 
this “half-unexpected” rain-storm, was going to be difficult over the issue of his relationship with Rae. 
It was an issue complicated by the simple fact that Ashrawi was 
defiantly lesbian, and for all her attitude, she still knew how to 
mess with men’s minds -- she was tall, blond, and drop-dead gorgeous
...with an innocent face, and a well-aerobicized body...tan and lithe 
-- he had “had words” with Doug over her, in fact, on more than one 
occasion. “You do understand, Doug.... you’re my twin brother and all
...but if you even think it...I’ll shoot you in the head!!” They had 
both laughted...uncomfortably.

        The fact remained...as determinedly lesbian (“Not bi!!” she 
made clear...and monogamous -- Jasmine, her lover...was her only 
lover) as she was...she had to make a living. She was good at “erotic 
dance.” She danced and showed her body to men for money. 


        The thing that truly bothered him was that he had once 
frequented those places with Doug -- “Back then...” as he referred to 
his drinking and drugging days.  He could hardly be judgemental, and 
wasn’t. But, he suspected strongly that Doug had been to the “Wolf 
and Rose” (what a clever name, he thought sourly) bar where Ashrawi 
danced.  His friend had looked, but not touched. It still bothered 
him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ the demon in Scott's dream ~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The demon decided, finally, that it could not understand the
actions of the humans unless it took part in the female's dreams
(nightmares...but, they were so...fascinating...his tongue where her
"birthing place..."? was, and she so electrically charged, the demon 
had to avert its eyes).  

     It also realized it could only understand that in a complete 
sense if it experienced through the male, as well.

     In the dreams, he ran...naked...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scott ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     She was so beautiful as to be frightening. Scott felt himself 
laugh...but where did the laughter originate? He was laughing because
the line itself was pure Bram Stoker a la Belladonna Bela. 

     But her body was perfect. That is...her arms were beautifully 
proportioned. Her breasts were noticeable, firm, and the nipples were
erect...small buds of pink ice. Her torso was smooth, and supple, and
it arched toward him...hungrily...

     Her legs stretched back, athletically supporting the forward 
thrust of her smooth belly. He was on the verge of a euphoric delirium
and was ready to be consumed by this creature, so enticing was her 
face, her smile...

     The sense of all of his limbs being caressed by...her...wings.
Something about it made him start. The feeling of euphoria was 
replaced by a taut wariness. His sense of abandonment to the ecstasy 
this female figure offered was tempered slightly with a sense of 
survival...a need to withdraw. Distantly he felt himself grow smaller, 
knowing in the same distant way that he'd had an incredible erection, 
but it was retreating...if only slightly.

     There was no question in the continuing image. The woman had 
wings. Still...they were ephemeral, multi-colored, and supple. They 
were not the wings of a predator. They were the wings of a magnificent
butterfly...of the faerie folk...of a being somehow deeply rooted in
his deepest consciousness as both woman and...goddess...

     And then, his terror struck. For...if she were the goddess, some
other part of his mind said -- to love is to court madness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Nikki ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dress was a light pink muslin, that danced easily around her
ankles,  barely covering the top laces of the brown high top shoes. Thin
leather and dainty, with silver eyelet holes, they added a sense of old
fashioned purity to her birthday  dress. Her hair, tied back in a pink
ribbon, framed her green jewled eyes and soft rose lips. She didn't move when
she felt the carress of the wing along her bare arm. It was a faint but
firm touch...like one finger trailing, seductively along the flesh of a
waiting virgin, knowing the youth wanted to be taken.  

The 'Frayed Pages