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I was walking through the park Sunday evening.



Leaves rustled and snapped under the weight of



my boots. My long trench coat blew in the autumn



breeze.



I often took these long walks on the day of



rest. The wind was unusually calming in the season



of death. Most humans were to busy with their



own drama to appreciate the serenity that a



night’s walk could bring.



After looking at my watch, I realized I should



be coming into contact with the only other life that



comes through the park. I didn’t know her name or



much about her. Just that she was the most



conservative twenty-two year old female I had



encountered in recent years. Since movements like



the sexual and feminist revolutions, women have



been daring the envelope of decency. It’s quite a



shame really. I was personally more intrigued by



the fairer sex when they weren’t so vocal.



Like clockwork, she came rushing down the



cemented path. Cement is one of the human



inventions I never quite understood. I disliked their



constant push away from the earth.



She rushed by in her usual attire, a long skirt



and a sweater, clutching a canvas in her hands,



paint brushes stuck haphazardly into her tight bun.



There was a refreshing quality to her disarrayed



state.



Occasionally, I entertain myself with the idea



of seducing her. Opening up her cardigan one



button at a time, freeing her ivory skin from the



confines, letting her hair cascade downwards,



enveloping her into my arms as I pierce her savory



flesh with my teeth. Sweet, echoed moans fill the



air with a melody only us and the night knows. But,



it’s only a thought.



She tripped on a piece of broken sidewalk in



her hurry to vacate. The canvas and paints spilt



covered the ground. I debated whether or not to



break our long tradition of silence when a familiar



voice pierced the dark.



“Do you need help young one?”



Marcus. The voice of my former lover was



haunting to my ears.



“No, I can manage, thank you.” There was a



definite stutter to her voice that if I had taught



Marcus anything he would use to his advantage.



“Come now.” He slid the toe of his boot under



a tube of paint and kicked it upwards. He caught it



in his hand. “I’ll help you and you can help me with



something.”



“You’re so impetuous Marcus.” I thought I had



muttered this under my breath, but he still heard



me.



“Dominique.” He forced a laugh. “It’s been a



long time traitor."



“It was never I that betrayed you Marcus.”



“Don’t feed me that bullshit. It isn’t nearly as



satisfying as she is.”



He emerged from the shadows of my view.



Marcus was as stunning as I remembered. Golden



locks fell loosely onto shoulders wrapped in velvet.



His eyes were still a piercing green. To look into



them was to unlock all of my sexual desire. I



yearned to grab his hair and force his head back,



exposing his delicious neck once more.

---------------------------------



Check back Part Two

I don't hold anything back with my writing. My writing has been known to be:





*Graphic-in both language and sexual acts*

*Engaging*

*NC-17*

*Confusing*

*Contain a few weak plot devices*





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