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WritingThot
I write adult/erotic short stories and ebooks, often in the fantasy & horror genre. Expect dark, sexual, and violent themes.

Molly Meadows @WritingThot

Smut

its cold here

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WritingThot's News

Posted by WritingThot - June 2nd, 2015


I stare at this screen every afternoon,
And pray for life to grip my fingers soon.

Cobwebs slowly settle into my brain,
The stillness driving away what was sane.
All I want is a cool breath
To wash away the death

That has taken my inspiration.
Just a gentle hint of sensation

Is all I crave.
But now I rave,
Numb to the skill
That use to fill

These words with great breadth.
Now I dig just to reach a depth

That resembles days of long ago.
And though I refuse to fully let go,
I’m caught in the snare of
A mind that can no longer love

The dreams I so greatly desire.
So instead of fanning that fire,

I always just slink off to bed
With thoughts still buzzing in my head.
I’ll lay awake for an eternity’s pass,
Slowly shrinking in mind and mass.

Sometime during the next day,
I’ll trudge back into the fray.

I guess it’s just easy to wash, rinse, and repeat
When one is caught within the stupor of defeat.


Posted by WritingThot - December 18th, 2013


Basically I am improv writing for fun. Completely Random, no edits (except for grammer), and uploaded right away. This will be wierd and not my best work. But it's for fun!  Here we go:


Seven to make me come

And seven to make me dumb.

These are my curses

Locked silently in my verses.

Lust was a major bust,

Because she always left me in the dust.

Greed just wanted to take

Every ounce of earnings I would make.

Glutton made it rather hard to hear,

Especially once she took a bit at my ear.

Wrath wanted me to submit,

Even though she will not admit

That I was the first to grab the whip!

With her well moistened hand on her hip,

Envy would yell about every girl from before.

Sloth, as you know, was just a bore

And pride would never let me have a win,

Instead she burrowed underneath my skin.

However, despite the pain they give,

I will always find room to forgive.

For as they represent sin in singularity,

I will always embody the vices in unity.


It's rough, it's wierd, but it was fun.

Check out my better work: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/857803


Posted by WritingThot - November 23rd, 2013


Well, Im laying in bed and am half recovered from a certain operation I had today. Really was not that bad. Worst part must have been the prep. That and the i.v. they stuck me with. Thing hurt like a bitch. Even know, I still feel a twinge of pain where the nurse put it.

I have been knocked out by drugs before, but this was the strongest that has been used on me yet. So being me, I made sure to make mental notes of what I felt as I went under.

I remember the sound of static, almost like what you from a radio that lost its signal. I was staring at this chatty nurse, who was talking away with this orderly, when I finally heard that sound. I thought was just my imaginenation or maybe one of the machines, which I prayed to God it was'nt. But the sound grew from a whisper to a low drone. As unsettling as it was, I was not going to move or say anything about it.

The next, and last, thing I felt was a small tugging sensation on my face. Not like it was getting pulled, but being streched back lightly across my skull. If that makes any sense.

Next thing I know, everything is black. It's strange because in that dark limbo, time feels so hard to judge. Even though it feels like it last for only a few seconds, I awake and feel as if hours upon hours have passed.

Strange...

Well, have a safe weekend everypony and think of me the next time you take a pain killer.

Stay beautiful, people.

P.s.
I did this whole mother fucking post on my stupid ass phone and it still came out alright... Props to me. Good night.


Posted by WritingThot - November 14th, 2013


I never blog much, because I feel when I do blog about my work, I fuck it up completely. (My work, not the blog.) Anyway, work on Lonely Ramets will be slowed down temporarily till after Christmas. I have been working on it more so lately than I ever thought I would, so there are completed parts that I might upload in the next month are so. (Just to keep the story alive). I'm fighting many things right now, from extreme schoolwork to keeping myself and my mother from going homeless.

So I want to thank anyone who follows me or reads my work. My work gets very little attention, but it warms my deeply when someone comments on my work. Even if it is to say the story is shit. I will do my best to be more active and to post entertaining content. Here in the next year are so, I am planning on revamping my Newgrounds account to something more than just writing. But that is just wishful thinking and secret plans for now.

Also, possible poem upload soon. Been a while since I've done that.

Stay beautiful, people.

My uploads: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/857803


Posted by WritingThot - November 3rd, 2013


Catch the previous episode: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/866942

Also, my other works: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/857803

“What are you up to?” Kris asked warily.

Dave answered with a voice as sweet as sugar, as smooth as silk, and as alluring as a siren’s mating call. Tori had just barely been able to restrain herself from cooing again.

“Well, you know how it seems we have been in a bit of a rut lately?” Kris and Rj nodded in unison. “Alright, and you know how it seems that all the good gigs recently have all been given to those jerks, Dodging Bullets?”

This time Kris and Rj gave each other a quick glance of annoyance at the thought of their long time rivals before responding to the rhetorical question with a harsh, “yes!"

Dave smiled at the energy of their response, but just as he was about to make his point, he realized something was missing. His mind mulled it over for only a moment before he realized it. Torina! Dave looked back around and quickly discovered Torina seated in her usually area, staring blankly at the boys as they talked.

“Get over here, Tori,” He said with enthusiasm. “You need to hear this too!”

Grinning broadly she hastily stood to make her way to his side. Standing next to Torina, Dave’s chin came comfortable up to Torina’s shoulder. As tall as she was, this was something she had grown rather accustomed to.

“Okay,” he continued dramatically. “What would you guys think if I said that I got us a gig that paid two-fifty!”

To Dave’s dismay, he did not get the reaction he was expecting. In his mind he saw wide eyes and shouts of joyous disbelief. Instead he was greeted with silence and blank stares. Torina had wanted to show her excitement at the proposal, but thought it was the wrong time since no else seemed to feel the same way she did. She carefully glanced at Dave and bit her lip once she noticed the disappointment on his face. Torina wanted him to see she was happy about his newfound job offer, but the thought of being the middle of a socially awkward joke terrified her.

“Well,” Kris began. “Are you saying that you got us a gig that paid two-twenty?”

Dave’s smile returned as he nodded slowly. Kris was on his feet within a matter of seconds as he jumped from the sofa with Rj right behind him. Kris leaned in and spoke in the most serious tone he could muster.

“You got us a ‘for sure’ gig for two hundred and fifty dollars?”

“Yes!” Dave was nearly frantic now. “Yes it is ‘for sure’! …..Well-” His sentence had quickly trailed off.

“What was that?” Kris asked inquisitively.

“What was what?” Dave answered innocently. Kris suddenly saw what was going on. Dave was avoiding something.

“What did you say!”

“Well,” Dave shrugged as he gave a short forced laughed. “Maybe the gig isn’t entirely ‘for sure’ yet.”

“Dave, that makes no fucking sense.”

“Yeah it does! You see, I found a wanted article in today’s newspaper for a band and it required that the band call to make an appointment for an interview to get the gig.”

“Alright,” Kris’s patience was beginning to become strained and bent. “I have a few questions, Dave. I assuming you have already made the appointment?”

“Of course!”

“Of course. Well, given our successfully fucked history, what makes you think that we can even get this gig over the other shit ton of bands in this city?”

“Well that’s the awesome thing about it, no other band has tried to get this gig!”

Kris’s eyes widened with dread as Rj burst into fits of laughter.

“Okay, maybe I should have lead with this question. Where the hell is this gig!”

Two minutes later….

Kris lowered the newspaper as Rj and Torina read it in glances of his shoulders. Dave leaned against the dining room table with a triumphant smug expression planted upon his face.

“Well,” Dave started. “What do you think?”

Kris slowly looked up from the tiny gut smeared article with an expression of disbelief.

“You have to be fucking joking!”

“I fear this change of direction could really damage the image our group,” Rj added. Kris shook his head before he continued.

“Right… I don’t see how the hell you would think a gig at a sweating rate hole dump, that only attracts all of Paradises’ inbred, cousin-molesting drunks, would be a nice scene for us.”

As each of Kris’s words of disbelief crawled into Dave’s mind, a strange and frightening transformation came upon the band’s cheery and optimistic front-man. Dave’s smugness turned into a stony coldness that seemed to mask a harsh contemplation that absorbed everything Kris was saying.

“See? Tell me something, Kris.” Dave’s voice had become somewhat deeper and almost threatening. “Look into your back pocket and pull out that fancy leather wallet of yours, then tell me what you see, or to better express my point, what you don’t see.”

Kris shrugged as Dave’s statement stung him, but sadly, it was too true. The youths were as broke as a blind hobo who had tumbled off a twelve story building and had landed right on his face.

“Point expressed,” Kris muttered. With that admittance, Dave’s satisfaction returned tenfold.

“Look guys, I know things have been really cruddy lately but we finally have our chance to make some noise and to shake up the pool of all those wannabe bands out there. Not to mention we need to start pulling in more revenue so we can put bread on the table.”

As if in response, Dave’s stomach produced an obnoxiously loud animalistic growl. His friends, in unison, raised an eyebrow to Dave.

“Dude, when was the last time you ate?” Kris asked.

“Well-” Dave looked over his shoulder to see that his beautiful waffle shrine had turned cold, hard, and icky. Not to mention that there was a damned fly creeping about it in absolute bliss. “It is Tuesday today, so I think about a day or so ago. I don’t honestly know.”

“Dave….. You know it’s Saturday, right?”

Dave swirled back around.

“Really? Wow, that’s a little weird.”

Brushing past a wide-eyed Kris, Rj put a comforting hand on the shoulder of Dave.

“The substance of ones body fuels both mind and spirit.”

Dave squinted suspiciously at Rj while Kris and Torina did their best to hold back a fit of giggle that tickled their ribs with light fingers.

“Seriously, what have you been smoking lately?”

One epic meal late…..

Carl Marx, or “Mad Marx”, was a moving portrait of an aging, decrepit, and repulsive man in his mid forties who reached his peak long ago. His cheep corduroy suit reeked of the discount alcohol he would drown himself in every night. His once shiny and greasy hair has mostly fallen out, leaving only enough to comb over his balding dome.

Carl’s dull eyes now shifted from his young brownnosing assistant, who is also his nephew, to a group of young punks that looked to him as if they had just been shitted out of the deepest recesses of the educational system’s diseased and dying bowels. The smooth talker throwing around the most words surprisingly reminded Carl of himself at that age, except extremely handsome and actually good at sweet talking. It made Carl a little envois of this charismatic youth.

To the youth’s right was some tough guy wannabe that seemed too typical in this generation of teenage men. On the left was some negro boy with bloodshot eyes and neat cornrows pulled back into a ponytail. Great, another pothead. But then he noticed the top of a fourth’s head from behind the group. When he finally caught a brief glimpse of the teenager, he saw one of the pretties young Feligen he had ever laid eyes on. She quickly shied away from line of sight like a scared little child.

Though first impressions usually said everything, Carl now had to ask:

“And just who the hell are you guys supposed to be?”

Dave’s face lit up like a Roman candle under a midnight sky.

“Well sir!” He did his best to sound dramatic as his voice filled the dirty and dank office. “We are the one band that has the sound to surely get the audience on their feet and roaring with excitement! We are the enigmatic, fantastic trio of four know as RAG MEAT!”

In Dave’s mind, he heard the mountain crumbling call of golden trumpets singing out to the farthest reaches of the heavens and echoing in the eardrums of God. But in reality, there was only an intensely awkward silence that left everyone else feeling very uncomfortable.

Carl blinked absently before looking at his reddened face nephew.

“Tim, this was exactly the reason why I did not want you to buy that fucking ad space! When you offer two-hundred dollars just for schmucks to make some noise, all kinds of asinine acts will come crawling at my office door!”


Posted by WritingThot - September 17th, 2013


The Works of TheInnerScience: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/857803

The epic story continues here: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/873609

The mouthwatering smell of blueberry waffles and microwavable sausages filled the air of the small and bland kitchen. So delicious it smelt, that it had attracted the attention of a devious nomadic fly that happened to be crawling along on the bleach white wall. His thousands of eyes pinpointed and locked in on the glass plateful of brown fluffy wonderfulness.

After a few minutes, the fly decided it had stalked it’s prey for long enough. Tiny wings flexed as took off as if readying itself to pouncing. The starving insect soared at lightning speed with it’s prize reflecting his mirror like eyes. Closer and closer still! Till finally he was so close that the smell drove him into an intoxicated frenzy! He could taste it! It was the most wonderful thing he could ever have dreamed off! The bug’s essence was changing into a form of true divinity and peace that only the highest monks who have spent years of meditation in faraway monasteries have achieved. The fly had finally found it’s meaning in life!

When suddenly, it’s life ended with a thunderous crash of green plastic that fell like the wrath of God. It hit struck with the force of a tumbling mountain and the precession of a bird of prey’s lunge. In one instant the fly went from feeling the very cosmos turn and sway around it, to feeling every part of his innards painfully explode forth from his small body and splatter against the chemically treated page of the days current newspaper.

Wielding the flyswatter like a saber that had vanquished a fierce enemy was a thin boy of nineteen years with bedraggled brown hair and a face that was still puffy from sleeping on it. He wore a white wife beater that had belonged to one of neighbors and plaid striped boxers that came from the same place.

“And that my dear friend!” he roared triumphantly. “Is how a future samurai protects his sacred temple!”

Lifting the flyswatter to survey his kill, he found the dark mark were the mutilated fly now rested, almost liquefied. Yep, deader than a seventies porn stars career. He smiled maliciously, not ashamed of expressing his hatred for household pest.

But just then, his keen eyes narrowed onto the spot where the fly’s remain lay splattered about. It was an article he had not noticed before.

The article read:
Mad Marx’s demolition derby!
Come all this Saturday!

Suddenly his mouthed dropped into a gape as a marvelous revelation struck him aside his head. His heart raced as his imagination started running rampant within the twisted black bars of his mind. But no, this was not the time for day dreaming. Certainly not!

Hey scrambled for the pink house phone that sat comfortably on the wall of the kitchen, not noticing another fly had arrived to desecrate his sacred waffle shrine.

30 minutes later……

The Garage was indeed a true fortress of youth and rebellion, with it’s dusty sofa laid in the center of the concrete floor, posters of head banging rockers plastered over the wall, a makeshift dining area with a miniature refrigerator and wooden cabinets nailed above the fridge, and most importantly, musical instruments ranging from brightly colored electric guitars with fancy decals, to amps stacked carefully in a corner along side a drum kit.

Laid across the sofa like a comatose couch potato was a skinny boy in a black ball cap that shielded his face from the perpetrating light above and a red t-shirt that read “Rightful Dead” in bold white letters. In one hand, he supported a girly magazine so that it sat straight up on his chest while the other slowly massaged his denim covered crotch like a long lost lover. An erection teased him with an itch he could not scratch. This pile of lust crazed hormones was Kris Cornhill.

The loud ding of a microwave stirred Kris from the deluded fantasy that he was alone. The magazine fell flat to his chest as he raised himself on angled elbows to look over his shoulder. His thin lips curled into a snarl.

“What are you doing now?” He asked with poetic annoyance.

Carefully removing a steaming plate of old French fries was the muscular and dark skinned Rj. A light blue hoodie jacket covered massive biceps that were toned from years of lifting weights. His dreads had been pulled into a short ponytail to keep from getting in his face as he ate, plus it made him feel like a heartthrob at times. He paused to give Kris an apathetic glance before returning to his job of making the best batch of Freedom Fries he ever made.

“I felt a sudden emptiness in my gut, like sinkhole consuming my satisfactory until I finally give it something to feast upon. A parasite inside me you could say.”

Kris only stared at Rj with an expression of exasperation, the snarl turning into a frown.

“You’re stoned again and you got the munchies, that is all you had to say, brother.” Kris stated as he flopped back down to study the tan half-naked girl sprawled out across a desert backdrop.

“I find that the simplicity and bluntness of the straightforward truth drains what little artistic value we have left in life.”

“As stoned as you are, you could find artistic value just by watching MTV.”

Well, that brought about a debated that lasted for the next five minutes or so. The conversation never really went anywhere. But as they conversed, a silent person could hear hushed voices rising slowly from the corner of the large garage.

This was indeed the most exotic oddity of the pack. She sat crossed legged, with her back to the boys, as her tawny colored eyes ogled at the pale faced porcelain dolls dressed in fine tiny garments before her. Nimble fingers lifted their small arms while a gentle tongue muttering in playful tones. A tan sweater, that was much too large for her, draped over and hid a voluptuous hourglass figure, and a pretty pink bow held back her long glassy black hair in a neat ponytail.

Lush lips curved into a crescent smile as imaginary visions flashed inside her mind, each one an average day quest starring her little dolls. She tilted it one way and then the other, pretending the doll was a living being. This poor wonderful girl is Torina Baylor. As you might have observed, Tori is not all together psychologically. She suffers from a few mental disorders, most of them brought about from a rather abusive childhood. To sum up her condition, she has the mind of a little girl trapped amidst the body of an eighteen year old young lady.

With Kris and Rj deep in pointless conversation and Torina lost in her own world, none of them noticed when the door that connected the garage and the house flew open and slammed into the wall of the garage. Flying out of the door’s threshold like a bat on fire was the energetic and charismatic leader of our troop of youthful heroes.

Short and untidy hair lay in an almost mess as frantic green eyes looked from each of his friends to the next. The puffy face had now became narrow and handsome with an enchanting smile that seemed to radiate goodwill and joy. Where he once worn a wife beater and boxers, now was a dark blue shirt with sleeves that reached out yearningly to his wrist and jeans that had enough holes to seem as if the lower section of the legs had been put through a blender.

To make his presence known, He walked with a quickened pace and heavy steps in front of the sofa that Kris now occupied with his wasteful mass. Kris and Rj’s conversation ended immediately as they curiously looked to the young man, who appeared to be bubbling over with a contagious amount of energy that emanated from the pores of his skin like a cloud.

“Dave,” Kris said with slight apprehension hanging to his words. Kris knew Dave was up to something devious, and if Kris had not known better, he would have guessed that the plot was already afoot.

As his name was spoken, Torina looked back to conform she heard the truth. She had only saw the back of Dave’s shirt when her heart started to flutter like a rousing caged bird. Her breath suddenly rushed from her lungs and a subtle kitten like “mew” escaped her lips. A quick hand flew to restrain her lips and silence the unexpected rise of longing emotion, but it had already flown forth from her mouth. Luckily, the guys were too busily with their own matters to hear her small cry of passion.

“What are you up to?” Kris asked warily.


Posted by WritingThot - August 14th, 2013


They say inspiration comes in illuminative waves that absorbs into the mind like a sponge. Well, for me.. IT COMES AS A FUCKING BRICK TO THE FACE. Because when I see something that inspires me so greatly to create a masterpiece of monolithic proportions, the idea usually claws at the inside of my skull like a starving rat while I persist to go into anaphylactic shock over the magnitude of my creation!

But once I am done tripping balls over the pure amazement of my genius and come to my senses, I find myself in a type of creative hangover. Anything I try to write or draw or fuck just hurts my head and makes me lay in bed where I spoon with my pillow like a bunny in heat. WHY? Because I am a procrastinator, plain and simple.

My mom is a procrastinator, my dad was a procrastinator, my step-dad was a procrastinator, and my friend is a prostate examiner! It seems to be one freaking cycle! Procrastination must be a non rare blood disease or something. I find the biggest way to fight it is just to force myself to WORK! I turn off my phone, put in some headphones, lock some ravenous stray dogs in my house that will tear my throat out if I leave my room and have to call animal control a few hours later when I have to use the restroom. As mom used to say, whatever got the job done.

Anyway, this vent has been fun.

Stay beautiful people!

My Library of fun stuff: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/857803


Posted by WritingThot - July 28th, 2013


Well, I haven't been too hard at work lately since I completed the June writing contest. I guess you could almost say I have been a short hiatus, although I know it is technically too short to be a hiatus. Just felt like the right thing to do with some of the heat building at my home and the creative rut I was in. But the writing contest helping out a lot with that damned writers block. I will be picking my pen up again soon, I know that doesn't mean a lot since I don't upload that often. I would upload more short stories, but I just don't write them that often.

I have been mainly taking so much time to plan out this novel mess I have gotten myself into that I haven't even been writing as much poetry either. And I know I have a HUGE personal collection of poems, but most I am not ready to upload yet. Hopefully I will be getting into swing of things. I may even upload scenes and notes from my novel, should I ever get them down. Well, I felt like blogging, now I feel like kicking zombie ass of Resident Evil 6.

Stay beautiful people..

TheInnerScience Upload Library: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/
857803


Posted by WritingThot - July 28th, 2013


My collected works on Newgrounds all in one place. Please, browse at your leisure. 

 


 

All we wanted was coffee...(Short Story): http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/954115

Description: Young friends, Rez, Tyler, and Nile, start off their normal day with a normal trip to go get some hot coffee from their favorite cafe. However, the trio themselves are far from normal and have quite the tendency to attract trouble. They can only sigh at the bloody event that soon unfolds.

 

Sessions [Poem]: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/932623 

 

Lonely Ramets: Dealings and MisDealings (Short Story): http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/873609
Description: The first story arch in a quirky tale about four friends in search of fame and fortune in the ruthless and surreal city of Paradise.

 

Lonely Ramets (Short Story): http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/866942
Description: A quirky tale about four friends in search of fame and fortune in the ruthless and surreal city of Paradise.

 

Twist of Sensation (MWC entry): http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/
852560

Description: My answer to the call of duty for the writing forum's June writing contest. The topic was to write the story from the perspective of a blind character. Won second place.

 

Parricide [Poem]: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/
849979

 

Death of a Poet [Poem]: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/
844241

 

The Library (Short Story): http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/
833090

 

Episode 1 (MWC entry): http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/
829616

 

Devil's Phallus [Poem]: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/
828103

 

Death's Cousin [Poem]: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/997249


Posted by WritingThot - July 2nd, 2013


Twist of Sensation 2634 words

Cool sheets of silk pressed gently to my back as I lay upon them, gazing serenely into the personal void that surrounded me. With long strokes I smoothed a crease that had formed, much to my annoyance, on the tight surface of the fitted sheet. Even after the irritating wrinkle had disappeared, I found myself still massaging that one spot lovingly. It was something that could not be helped. The silk felt like water sliding against my warm palm, leaving behind tiny fracture like crinkles instead of moist droplets.

From deep inside my darkness I heard the loud banging of cabinet doors, or at least it sounded loud to me. Instinctively, I raised my head slightly to hear better and indeed I did. I heard the soft and quiet rhythm of bare feet treading lightly across hardwood flooring. Then there was a high pitch clink as glasses were being lifted and shifted.

As I was listening to the stirring of the vivacious vixen that shared my company and my utter darkness, I began to notice a number of scents and odors that had somehow found their way to clinging to my body. The first and most pronounce was, of course, that of my favorite cologne which I had lightly rubbed onto my neck hours before.

There were very few fragrances I could stand to have on me, and of course, the one I enjoyed the most would be a gift from my Ember. It was our first Christmas together when she gave it to me. With most of the cologne I have tried on before, either the power of their musk was too strong or there would be an overpowering flowery scent that would leave my eyes watering. But this, it was the perfect mixture of masculinity and subtleness. And out of preservation for such a precious thing, I wear it only on the finest of occasions.

The second belonged to her. It was rather faint, but it still seemed to touch my senses strongly. The scent was sweet strawberries, and my, how it made my mouth salivate. More than likely the perfume found its way onto me as we hugged tightly together in the back of the taxicab that brought us home. Speaking of the taxi, that is where the third odor came from.

Hidden lightly underneath the other two seductive aromas was the repulsive smell of cigar smoke. Even though Ember said he did not actually light one up, the whole vehicle reeked with that god-awful stench. Once the car came to a stop at our destination and the doors opened, fresh air poured in and washed over my senses like a fresh shower of rain. It was cleansing and pure, or least as pure as city air could be.

My head slowly rested back down on a feathery pillow, and my thoughts drifted farther and farther away until I was surely on the brink of sleep. As I teetered on that brink, I was suddenly pulled as those footsteps changed directions and came nearer until they were surely at the foot of the bed. A few more steps and the balance of the bed shifted as she sat carefully at my side, the backside of her dress touching my hand lightly. With the sound of bedsprings groaning in protest, I heard her sit something on the night table which sounded just like a couple of glasses.

The texture of the dress was soft and smooth, almost like the bed sheets. But I think was something close to cotton. Suddenly her gently grasp took hold of my wrist and raised it until I felt her hand slid into mine, each finger interlocking like a thread of lace.

``Have you already winked off, my dear?``

I smiled, and for a moment, I thought I could feel her smile back to me. Long ago, there was a sorrow that would plague my heart whenever I thought about never being able to look upon the smiling face of my beloved. Such a sadness sank into my heart like black tar that corrosively ate me. But it was moments like these when I could feel her love and happiness, not through words or sensations, but a silent bond that bound us together in our journey through life.

``Not at all, I was simply deep in thought.``

I felt her fingers squeeze lightly against mine until I could feel the steady pulse that lay hidden under her pleasant flesh. I am not the only one with keen senses. She knows when something is bothering me. It is amazing how only after three years she knows my mind almost better than I do.

``Something is troubling you.``

``No,`` I tried to sound as reassuring as I possible could. ``I honestly was just thinking.`` She remained silent for moment or so, as if contemplating my response. I felt her skepticism as the gears of her mind turned, but she asked nothing more of it.

``The glasses?`` I asked. Her fingers curled slightly in my hand and began to tickle my palm.

``I thought a nightcap would be a nice way to end the day. Hard to believe it was only three years ago when we first had lunch in the park, do you remember.``

``Yes, we had finished semester finals early that day and the park was full of the buzzing voices of an obnoxious family reunion.``

``Is that all you remember?``

``No, I remember that it was your tender voice and intellectual words that kept me sane. It was a tonic for pained ears. I remember that was the day that I knew I could not go a single day without hearing at least three words from you.``

She was silent again. It weighed my heart down dearly that I could not see what expression was upon her face. Her hand slowly slipped from mine, leaving it hanging frozen in air, and I heard a very light scrape of glass on wood as the glasses were lifted. I placed my hands on either side of my waist to push myself upward. Now sitting, I knew I was eyelevel with Ember because I could feel her warm breath light blowing against me.

My hand lifted up again and it was a cold glass cup that my fingers wrapped around. I could tell that from the strong aroma that it was rum, which she knew had been my alcohol of choice ever since I stole a sip from the bottle my father kept hidden so many years ago. And from the glass she held, I smelt strawberry wine. My Ember had a curious love for strawberries that I found rather delicious.

I held my glass high and she met me halfway in the toast. The ring that permeated from our glasses as they collided hung in the air for almost thirty seconds. It was not till the ringing had died that I raised the rim of the glass to my lips. The strong alcohol was already running down my throat before I could even taste it. A small blaze started mid esophagus and continued down till my entire core was heated with warm intoxicated pleasure.

As Ember slowly sighed, the scent of strawberries told me she had finished her glass too. She took my glass from me and I heard her set both on the night stand once more. I would have done it myself, but I knew I sat out of reach.

We sat motionless and as quiet death itself, but I knew that the cold space between us was begging to be filled with the coming together of two young bodies. I raised a longing hand, hoping to find something of her to feel. But it was her who found me. Her hand, cupping the outside of mine, guided my hand through the darkness till finally it found her warm and tender cheeks. Now knowing, my other hand was capable followed suit without any assistance.

The longer we sat together, the more my hands felt and studied the delicate features of her face. It was something I have done many times but never tire off. My palms pressed against the corners of her lips while careful fingers touched the edges of her eyes.

As details flowed through my hands like Braille on a piece of paper, there was something else I noticed. Makeup smeared and rubbed off onto the skin of my palms. I guess I never could sense it over her perfume and other invading odors.

``You went through all the trouble putting makeup on,`` I started. ``Just for tonight's occasion? Just for me?``

She did not answer, but her silence said everything. Suddenly my palms were moist and the blush she had on was smearing horrible as my palms moved back and forth. It was tears.

My hands quickly released her so that my arms could wrap around her and bring her closer to me. As her body pressed to mine, she returned my embrace with arms like steel traps. Her hair tickled the flesh revealed from an undone button of my shirt as she buried her face into an open shoulder of mine.

She wept lightly as fresh tears soaked through the thin material of my shirt. Each time a sob shook her body, I found myself holding her that much tighter. What else could I do? I knew of nothing comforting that I could say.

After a minute or so, I felt her head rise slowly.

``You do not think my selfish for shedding these tears, do you?`` She asked in a low and hoarse voice.

``Or course not`` I answered almost immediately. She laughed, almost forcedly, and tightened her embrace around me. How could she think I would hold such a thing against her?

``Just know,`` She said laying her head back down against me. ``I have felt nothing but pride and delight when I stand beside you. Because I know that not only do we have each other, but we have love. And we do not need vision for the sort of love we make together.`` The last of her words echoed in the recesses of my mind as I felt the darkness around me grow warm and damp. As I was laid back down, my clothes seemed to liquefy and dissolve into beads of sweat that I felt rolling across my bare skin.

Then as precise fingernails traced circles around the middle of my chest, my fists clenched as I felt goose bumps prickle along the hair of my forearms. After the third cycle, her hand paused for a moment before slowly making its way up to the base of my neck. As the hand of Ember reached the soft flesh of my throat, her hand began to caress and lightly massage that side of my neck.

The gravity of the bed shifted as one leg slid across my waist and the rest of her body followed as she straddled my centerline. I felt her posture shift forward right before her soft lips pressed to mine and her vicious tongue danced vicariously between my teeth. The flavor of strawberries and wine spread across my palate as her intoxicating and heated breath permeated down my airway.

The longer we laid like this, the more the fabric of our beings intertwined as we tossed and turned together in my perfect darkness. The only sensations I felt was that of every inch of her body that was wrapped and contorted around mine. With ecstasy writhing in our veins and spasms of relief shuddering through our muscles, sighs of pleasure became long and drawn out songs of agonizing passion.

As this spiraling ride of love reached the peak of its ascension, it paused only for moment. Then it fell into a thunderous descent of cries and whimpers of almost rapturous pleasure. I felt her nails digging into the nape my neck as we spun and twirled, each gasp of her breathe felt almost as hot as flames against my exposed flesh. We continued in this state, with bodies clenched close, for what felt like forever.

But once the high had passed, our muscles relaxed as our breathing became shallow and calm. It felt as if we were rag dolls, drained of energy and only able to lay tangle together. With her chin resting on my chest and the rest of her body limp upon mine, the rise and fall of her breasts against me became slow and steady. It seems that sleep has slipped upon her like a heavy veil.

I must confess that I was not far off myself from joining her in sweet slumber myself, but once I started to drift something wafted in front of my nose. It was a new smell that could finally be noticed by slowed and tired senses. It was the adrenaline induced stench of sweat and strong body odor. With our old scents long faded, these new ones ate at the very air I breathed and choked my lungs. I had to force back the realization and try to just ignore it. To just go to sleep so that this tender moment would remembered and cherished between us for years to come.

However, I could not just fall asleep. I had lain as long as I could, and finally found myself suffocating. Carefully and gently, I pried myself free from the unconscious grasp of my sweet Ember. Whether or not it had awoken her, I had yet to find out. I sat on the corner of the bed and reached out to find my trusted cane, but stopped as soon as my index finger had touched the cold polished wood. Only six steps straight ahead of me, I can handle that just fine without my old friend.

Handling the doorknob as if it was fine china and entering as silent as the Red Death, I took three more steps and found the sink. A shaking hound turned the knob and twisted slightly. The pipes released the stream and the sound of a crashing waterfall rang in my ears. Damn, I had opened it too far. The noise lessened as the knob turned back in the opposite direction. It seems that the damage was done, however. I had heard a stirring from behind as a sleep stricken Ember spoke in a slurred voice, which at any other time I would have found adorable.

``Jake?`` She called out. ``You alright?``

Shame and guilt tugged and pulled at the strings of my heart, for I could not bare to face her now. This is part of the curse that has plagued my senses and twisted my life into an almost humiliating process of learning and training; not much unlike a very young child being taught how to walk and speak. And what is the cause, you ask? A simple drop of poison to the family gene pool is all. It may be my pride and youth speaking, but I learned early that life can truly be cruel and heartless.

But then again, can I really think such a cold thing about life and not count the blessings it has bestowed upon me? I have a blessing in honest friends that treat me no different because of my condition, I have a blessing in a job that I have been more than prosperous in, and I have a blessing in the form of a loving guardian angel that is slowly rising from bed to see if something is wrong with me.

I guess life is too short to remain angry at every unfairness. So all in all, I have come to the realization that it is best to enjoy what we have while we have it.