Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for February, 2012

Hello Friends! I’m sorry for not writing sooner, grad school and teaching has me tied up these days. But the thought of completing my first novel also weighs heavily on my mind. So I decided to write another segment tonight. I was disappointed in myself to find that I am only just finishing chapter 4 when I thought I was going to begin chapter 5 tonight. Nonetheless, I am sure you will find this new segment intriguing. Please don’t judge me too harshly – it is for a mature audience. Hey, it’s what’s inside of me. For better or for worse, I am married to my thoughts. Without further ado, here is the sequel to my last post…

While Steven sat there lost in his thoughts, he had failed to notice that the room had darkened significantly. There was only a faint, distant flow of light from the moon passing through the window panes, a shaft of white light beamed strongly across a petite, feminine figure. He could scarcely make out that she was presently standing near the fireplace. The light illuminated her silhouette, slowly revealing her slim waist, illuminating the shadow of her breasts, and escalating upwards onto the contour of her pale white throat and feminine chin. The light crept onwards to expose her two seducing lips.

He could now see her amorous eyes and new at once that it was Mercedes. His initial fear was subdued whilst he found himself feeling excited by her presence. Steven felt an intense sense of pleasure stirring within his heart as he watched her materialize near him. He instinctively sensed that she felt his attraction towards her, and that she was telepathically sending him reciprocal sentiments. This perception instilled a sense of confidence which assured him, deep within his soul, that he was loved and would always be loved by her, which led to a sense of arousal and intense awareness of the assurance that he would soon receive the gratification that he yearned for, submerged in the instinctive transmission of an unspoken message which crossed through the light from the object of his affection into the depths of his consciousness. In her short story, Theodora: A Fragment, Victoria Cross wrote:

 “To love or at least to strive to love an object for the object’s sake, and not our own sake, to love it in its relation to its pleasure and not in its relation to our own pleasure, is to feel the only love which is worthy of offering to a fellow human being, the one which elevates – and the only one – both giver and receiver.”

 This was the very sentiment which flooded his mind, face to face with the object of his affection, holding her gaze through the threshold of time and space, an eternal love unfathomably transcending from that other place, be it Heaven or afterlife, and occupying the very space in front of him. Her lips appeared closer to his mouth as his heart raced with anticipation, his curiosity piqued with the question of whether or not he could touch her. Steven took the initiative to lean forward until his lips, flushed with excitement, softly pressed up to her and he began to kiss her tender mouth.

The pink and red hues from the fireplace blended with the white light until the room was submerged within a pink atmosphere. Slowly, he vacillated from kissing her lips to kissing her cheeks, and onto the contours of her neck, growing closer to her, feeling enflamed within his entire body, sensing her skin growing warmer to his touch. He pulled away from her momentarily to push away the coffee table to make space for the couple in front of the fireplace, and dragged a set of large pillows from the sofa onto the floor, creating a makeshift bed for them to rest over.

Gently, Steven pulled her down with him until she was laying on her back, glancing up at him. He tenderly removed the silky, white negligee she had been wearing. She slipped her fingers through his hair and guided his lips to her soft, perky breasts, allowing him to kiss her small, pink nipples which he felt harden at the touch of his tongue. His hand glided down her firm belly over her sultry hips and onto her thighs. The smooth, soft, skin between her inner thighs seemed to glow in a golden hue. Steven leaned over and kissed her warm flesh, sending chills up her spine.

She embraced his back and shoulders as he continued to excite her through his continual kissing and nibbling of her special place. He felt himself growing more aroused by her fingernails pressing into his strong shoulders. Her breathing became deeper and more intense. Her body was enflamed with passion, causing her to sweat underneath the warmth of his flesh. A sense of urgency came over her until she was panting and trying to hold back the imminent feeling of pain and pleasure which she yearned for. Steven continued to embrace her at the same rhythm until she was forced to let go. Her face flushed with a sense of pleasure.

His passion grew warm inside of him and he was ready to become one with her. He felt her fingers guide him into her warm, wet lips. The excitement grew within them as they moved to a rhythm, their flesh enflamed and consumed in the heat of the moment like that of a wildfire. Kissing her again, and then licking her salty neck, he lingered down to her nipples again. Steven caressed her and pulled her closer to him over and over again until she groaned a bittersweet symphony of release. Afterwards, she closed her eyes and calmly fell asleep in his arms.

Jacksonville – Earlier That Day

Kristen and her friends stepped out of her White BMW M3 with tinted black windows, the stereo had clamorously blared out the song “Pumped up Kicks” by the band called Foster the People. The girls were wearing matching uniforms which consisted of white tights, plaid skirts, white and navy Oxford shirts, and they wore a Navy Cardigan or Fleece wrapped around their slim waists. All of the girls wore matching brown designer loafers. Each girl had their own unique backpack or satchel, and each girl wore their hair in a pony tail with the exception of Ashley Shackelford who wore pigtails. 

As they passed through the halls, they paused outside of the Headmaster’s office where he was in the process of scolding a lower school boy of about 10 years of age. The girls paused outside of the doorway to eavesdrop on them. Dead silence fell on the hallway. The headmaster, touting a ruler in his hand, stood over Mr. Woodley. In one swift move, the headmaster brought down the ruler onto the desk that sent a loud smack echoing into the hall. The girls flinched at this and felt their hearts skip a beat. Each looked at one another in fear of what they anticipated was about to happen next. 

“I didn’t mean to forget my math book, sir. I promise it won’t happen again, sir. I swear it.” 

“What is your name, son?” 

“Woodley, sir.” 

“Why should I spare you from a flogging, Mr. Woodley? What message would that send to your peers? Do you consider me to be negligent in my duties, sir? What do you have to say for yourself? Woodley began to weep. 

“Do you have nothing more to say for yourself? It is just as well. It is better not to add more fuel to the proverbial fire. You are a natural loafer, Mr. Woodley. I can see that immediately from the look in your eyes. Such a thing is incorrigible, you understand.” 

The headmaster banged the ruler down once again on the desk and ordered the command, “stand up, Woodley! On your feet!”

The young boy stood slowly, anticipating his imminent punishment was upon him. 

“Hold out your hand, Mr. Woodley,” uttered the headmaster. 

The ruler came down on the boy’s palm with a loud slapping sound. 

“Now give me your other hand, boy!” 

Once again, the ruler came down on his other hand with a loud slap. 

“Sit down, Mr. Woodley,” ordered the headmaster. 

The young boy sat immediately, squeezing his hands in clinched fists, partly to hide his anger, but mostly to sojourn the pain he felt pulsing through the sensory glands in his soft, sweaty palms. The girls knew how deep the pain was from having experienced the same punishment first hand in their early years at the Academy. Noticing the girls in the hallway, the headmaster addressed them in a stern voice, “Back to class, all of you! We do not fancy schemers at Providence High, Miss Sparks! You’d best be remembering that!” The girls hurried off to class, giggling as they departed from the office. Further down the hall, one homely looking female student asked Kristen if she was interested in joining the computer club. 

“I don’t think so,” she replied, snickering underneath her menacing smile. The girl persisted, “We’re having our first meeting after school today in case you change your mind.” “No, that’s all right. I don’t think so. But thanks for asking,” she replied, again snickering behind her lips. “Oh, okay then. Sorry to bother you. Hi there, Ashley. Hey, Nicole. Hey, Sarah,” the girl mumbled as she departed down the hallway. 

Jimmy and his entourage are seen coming out of the locker room at the other end of the corridor. The guys are dressed in their Providence Stallions basketball uniforms. Kristen and the girls made their way over towards the guys. Several other students exited their classes at the bell, creating movement in all directions. Many students acknowledged Jimmy, Kristen and the rest of the “in crowd.”  When Jimmy and Kristen came face to face, they embraced in a sensual kiss that would be considered by a mature audience very inappropriate for a private Christian school, let alone a public school. However, the teachers standing out in the hallway turned their eyes away for the moment. Everyone knew that Jimmy and Kristen had secret privileges because of the large donations their parents made to the academy every year, they practically owned Providence High. 

“Now that’s what I call a kiss,” exclaimed Parker, standing next to the couple. 

“Are you ready for the big game tonight, Jimmy?” asked Ashley. The guys knew that Jimmy and Ashley Shackelford had a thing going on secretly. But Kristen had no idea that she was being played by the senior point guard for the varsity men’s basketball team. “Heck yeah, we’re ready!” he yelled. “Man, them fools at Atlantic Coast don’t know what they’ve got comin’ to ‘em,” retorted Jimmy. “Oh, yeah baby! ACH is going down!” exclaimed Jordan Herrington.  

“We are the mighty Stallions! Stallions! The mighty, mighty Stallions of Providence High!” chanted Jordan, accompanied by Tyler Withersby, Parker Scott and subsequently Jimmy joining in.

The group had inadvertently caused a swarm of students waiting to enter the congested passageway to blockade the entrance to the Sports and Fitness corridor. One of the teachers standing in front of her class was America Satanas-Riley, who stepped over to the group and ordered them to get to class. Examining America up and down and commenting audible adjectives, the boys interjected an unsuitable demonstration of approval of the new teacher’s attractiveness. 

America responded by threatening to give the boys detention as a consequence should they not immediately disperse from her presence, and cease their adolescent antics. Jimmy signaled his cronies and on they went towards the basketball arena. Likewise, the girls headed to the female locker room to change into their cheerleading uniforms for a pre-game rehearsal.

Inside America’s classroom, her students took their seats and waited for her arrival. Like most co-ed classes, the students were out of their seats gossiping with one another about this or that person or what they had heard about their new English teacher, Mrs. Satanas. 

“Dude, she’s totally hot! And she’s from Miami, said Tyler. I totally bet you could get up on that man, she’s got a fly body!” 

“Yeah, right! That’s totally what I was thinking,” replied Jimmy. “I heard she came here from Miami. You know those people down there are into Santeria and Voodoo.”  

“Shhhh, she’s coming; quick, take your seats,” exclaimed Parker.  

The students hurried to their chairs as America approached the door, opened it, and walked into the classroom. America was wearing dress pants and a turtleneck sweater with a scarf. Upon entering the classroom, she greeted the students, “Good morning ladies and gentlemen.”

“Good morning, Ma’am,” responded the class. America spent the following hour going over classroom rules and procedures, penalties and consequences, and the syllabus for the school year. She distributed handouts to the students and created a seating chart. 

After school, America drove home directly. She was eager to work on her new home décor and enjoy a glass of red wine. Her husband, Alex, was at work in the new Satanas supermarket located in Ortega, a community of Latin-Americans. 

When Alex arrived at the new supermarket he was greeted by a sexy twenty-four year old Puerto-Rican named Paola who managed the customer service counter. “Hola, Alex! My name is Paola, I’m the front office manager, mucho gusto a conocerte!” she said. “Please, come take a walk with me and allow me to acquaint you with the store.” 

“Hi Paolita, I’ve heard so much about you and the great job you’re doing with our store. But I didn’t know you’d be so pretty!” he said, flirtatiously. “I’m glad to know my family’s store is in such capable hands.” Alex was attracted by Paola and it appeared by her glances at him that the feeling was mutual. Alex remembered his new wife, America, and composed himself immediately. However, he was checking out her figure as he followed her around the store. It was going to be difficult not to admire her physical beauty, he thought. It would be best, he considered, if he didn’t work the same shifts as her. But then again, that would be practically impossible given that he had planned on spending nearly every day there.  

The supermarket was a medium-sized facility that competed with other major supermarkets in the area. However, their main offering was ethnic foods of South America and Caribbean cuisine. The store carried Goya food products and a few other similar brands which catered to Mexican-Americans, such as canned refried beans, yellow rice, tacos and tortillas, salsas, and jarred peppers. For the other Hispanic cultures, they had black beans, platanos, Cuban bread, mojo criollo, and chicharrones, among other things. The market sent out weekly sales papers with coupons to the latin market in Ortega and advertised on the latin music radio station. 

Alex spent the day meeting all of the employees on schedule for the day and night shifts. He toured the store to ensure all of the products on display were dressed with the labels facing forward and ensured that the store was clean and tidy. When he felt it was time to eat, he went to the bakery and ordered a plate of picadillo made by the staff and dined in the employee lounge. The break room was split into two segments: the first room was for employee training and consisted of two tables with computers for applications and training, the latter was an employee lounge which housed a refrigerator, microwave, coffee maker, three tables with four chairs per table, and a sofa. There was a flat panel television mounted on the wall in the far right corner which played the news in Spanish. 

Shortly after Alex situated himself at the table closest to the tv, Paola entered and made her way over to the fridge where she kept a lunch bag she brought from home. After warming her Tupperware of food, she sat across from Alex. At one of the other tables sat two elder women who worked as cashiers, along with a baggage boy of about sixteen years of age. None of the three spoke English and so carried on a conversation in Spanish. Alex could see that Paola was a little uncomfortable because of the comments coming from the two women. They were commenting that Paola was already moving in on the young, handsome owner. Alex just pretended that he didn’t hear what they were saying, but he was thinking to himself how amazing this young lady across from him was. 

Miami – The Same Day 

Steven spent the day thinking about the events which transpired the night before. It had to be a dream, he thought. But how could it have felt so real? What was the meaning of it all? First, the psychic tells him the card stands in the middle of him and Susan. Then he had an incredible dream of making love to Mercedes, which he thought really happened. But it couldn’t happen. Mercedes was dead. That was the reality of his life. There was no way she could have been with him last night. Otherwise, why wasn’t she there now? Frustrated by his thoughts, Steven decided to drive over to the church to visit with Reverend O’Malley. 

When Steven arrived at The Church of the Little Flower, he saw the Reverend’s car in the parking lot. He parked the car and made his way to the sanctuary. Reverend O’Malley was near the front of the vestibule speaking to the alter boys. He was giving them instructions. Steven made eye contact with the Reverend and sat at a pew near the entrance where he waited. 

A short while later, Reverend O’Malley walked over to greet Steven with a hug, “Hello Steven. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?” 

Steven was nervous about the topic, but he mustered up the courage to speak his heart and mind about the events which transpired the night before. As Steven spoke, the Reverend listened intently to every word, gesturing his understanding occasionally. After Steven finished disclosing the details, he waited for a response. Hanging onto the edge of the pew, he knew there was going to be a logical explanation to the narrative he unveiled. The Reverend sat in silence for what seemed to Steven to be an eternity. 

“Steven, in my many years as a father, I have had to see many members of the congregation experience the loss of loved ones, which is never easy to endure. Many people have had a hard time of letting go of someone near and dear to them, such as yourself and Mercedes. And in all my years of experience, I have never seen a case where a loved one returned from the dead. There has been, however, accounts of visitations from a loved one, although none have been in the manifestation of what you have explained here tonight. My estimation is that what you observed, or experienced, last night, was a dream. Nothing more, nothing less. It was a beautiful dream created by your desire to love Mercedes the way in which you loved her when she was alive.”

“But Father O’Malley, it felt so real!” Steven expressed. “How could it be just a dream? I know it can’t be real. My logic tells me so. But something inside of me tells me that Mercedes was really there last night; and the time before. It was as though she was reaching out to me from the afterlife.” Reverend O’Malley continued, “Steven, I know how much your heart aches and how you want to believe that what you experienced was real. But answer me this, if it was real, then where is she now?” He paused. “Would she not still be with you now as she was last night?” 

“I suppose,” Steven replied. Steven thought about the conversation and the visions of Mercedes as he drove home. He couldn’t hold back the tears as he mourned her again.

That’s the end of Chapter 4. I hope you enjoyed it folks!

Cheers!

Jack Morgan

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: