The endeavor of Eb;s labor had subsided to less strenuous days and the hangover of weekend getaways was sure to be the foreplay in the late company of etiquette for this occasion embossed with the crest of more days that would be spent with each other. Fermented sheets entombed the magic of the atmosphere liken a ripe harvest that they ate amongst each other’s company as Emystary lay with Eb as they dispelled the load of weighted days past the days of romance were calling. As Eb lined Emystary’s lips with the tips of his fingers, helloing the peak of their conversation, she breathed a smile and the allure of watching her movements across the suite to the Jacuzzi was arousing enough to know that this was a day’s keepsake and no intrusion would break the seduction. Emystary broke the air with the smell of a rose scented candle that made Eb smile at her trained efforts to appease the hour and him. Yes, this was the union of days that they been rehearsing in erotic scripts apart. The warm rush of the water was like wine to Emystary as she sipped on Eb’s shoulders and smiled in between the doses of therapeutic drops that came from Eb’s bowl, hand and shadow, which made for the realness of a bouquet coupled with the scent of the candle that burned wayside the portrait of the two. The light of the candle burned and Emystary smoothed the liquefied soy of the candle that remained on the heavy glass plate with her fingers into a circle, as she echoed Eb’s previous touch across her back, she caught Eb’s attention and eased deeper into their night’s passion. The craft of the evening broke a longing of two sensuous souls.
WATER’S FLESH
by Jocelyn
HANDS HOLD SIGNED
HIS FIRM JAWLINE AND CAROUSELED
ACROSS THE DEEP OF HIS BREAST PLATE
WITH TIPS OF TONGUE DAMPENED FINGERS
DOWN HIS HALF UN-BUTTONED SHIRT
UNTIL HER HANDS UNWRAPPED
THE THICKNESS OF HIS SPINE
LOOSENING THE STIFFNESS OF HIS WHITE SHIRT
AND THE REST OF THE BUTTONS
WHILST HE SAT PATIENTLY.
SHE STOOD STRADDLED BEHIND HIM,
HER FRAME COMPLIMENTING HIS HANDSOMENESS
THAT ENVELOPED THE REMAINIING
SCENT OF HIS COLOGNE INTO
THE LATENESS OF THE HOUR’S HANDS THAT FELL.
NIAGRA SPRINGS WAS
THE WARMTH OF HER BLOODLINE
FLOWING DOWN HIS SKIN
NOW DISTANCING THE MORN FROM
THE CHILL OF COLD PIPES.
OF NO LABIRHYTHS MYSTERY WAS
WHERE THE KISSES DRAINED
PORTIONING THE SHEETS,
INK, THE BLOOD OF THE BREATH OF PAGES
UNTIL COMMUNICATION WAS UNDERSCORED
AND DISAPPEARING ACTS
ENVAPORATED THAT PRECEDED LUST...
Excerpt from upcoming audio book
CHAIR DE S DE L'EAU'…
...
...
LA PRISE DE MAINS A SIGNÉ
SON JAWLINE ET CAROUSELED FERMES
À TRAVERS LE PROFOND DE SON PLAT DE SEIN
AVEC DES TIP DES DOIGTS AMORTIS PAR LANGUE
EN BAS DE SA DEMI DE CHEMISE D'UN-BUTTONED
JUSQU'À CE QU'ELLE DES MAINS AIT DÉROULÉ
L'ÉPAISSEUR DE SA SPINE
DÉTACHANT LA RIGIDITÉ DE SA CHEMISE BLANCHE
ET LE RESTE DES BOUTONS
TANDIS QU'IL S'ASSEYAIT PATIEMMENT.
ELLE S'EST TENUE ÉCARTÉE LES JAMBES DERRIÈRE LUI,
SON ARMATURE COMPLIMENTANT SON HANDSOMENESS
QUI A ENVELOPPÉ LE PARFUM
DE REMAINIING DE SA COLOGNE DANS
LE RETARD MAINS DE S D'HEURE LES' QUI SONT TOMBÉES.
LES RESSORTS DE NIAGRA ÉTAIENT
LA CHALEUR DE SON BLOODLINE
COULANT EN BAS DE SA PEAU
DISTANÇANT MAINTENANT LE MATIN
DU FROID DES PIPES FROIDES.
SANS LABIRHYTHS LE MYSTÈRE ÉTAIT
OÙ LES BAISERS ONT VIDANGÉ
PARTAGER LES FEUILLES,
L'ENCRE, LE SANG DU SOUFFLE DES PAGES
JUSQU'À CE QUE LA COMMUNICATION AIT ÉTÉ SOULIGNÉE ET LES LOIS DISPARAISSANTES
ENVAPORATED QUI ONT PRÉCÉDÉ LA CONVOITISE
Emystary exited the water towards the chair sitting adjacent the bed. She sat for a moment admiring Eb, then he came toward her to embrace her. Emystary stopped Eb just short of their embrace and turned him about face. “Eb, just for a moment, I’d like to ease the tension a little more and relax into a subtle caress”. Emystary embraced Eb below his midriff from behind as she sat in the chair, wrapping her arms below his knees. Emystary began to run her hands up the front of his legs from behind along his muscles, collecting the remaining water along the way towards his thighs, then his waist, as she held him tighter by the waist and then joined her hands with the warmth of her lips and breast up his spine until she too was now standing and Eb turned to capture a blissened moment of foreplay and he smiled. Emystary’s focus had been a little more intense than what Eb had anticipated as a cue towards their break of the serene water which now they somehow made their way back across the floor into the fallen deep that broke floor of the suite. The water seemed to hold the perfect affair of the evening a little longer as they continued by candlelight.
as if Aladin had stolen the carpet beneath them ,
The rest of the furniture in the room seemed oblivious to the content of the two’s love scene, as Eb
and Emystary eased into the master suite’s canopy that hung from the ceiling, The sheer cascade of fabric haloed above the the large pillowing cloud of silk linens that stroked the skin and now breathed the life of the two bodies. Racing with the aroma of the love scene was the morning's hours slipping away. Emotions finding their way, surfacing like the dawn of the day to be found by each lover's touch,the embrace of the day welcomed and began its journey
Artology excerpt;
Artology
The canvas was blind
Down the corridor she peeked in the room
finding the antique closet
It read
“Subjective”
Open
Intrigue garments to try on
To take on subjective
She sat down in between the double doors
peering into him
She began to turn the pages
Trying on verses
She looked up into the mirror
to start the feeling
Then to listen slowly trying on the shoes
The loose lace high heeled straps he loved
did not mirror the worn pathed shoes
A road that carried his dreams, his years,
his mother’s advice
His years of learning,
his fears and chances,
his loose change
She slipped her thighs into his trousers
That once straddled his masculinity
Her arms into his once buttoned cologned
shirt that still bellowed his masculinity
His heavy cologne chased the girl of her
essence tailoring a man’s bareness,
still breathing the lines of his boyhood
The tie she departed from the drawer,
she opened the flower of the collar and
chased her feminine scarf of a woman’s
neckline with the close of his fantasies
or remembrances of the last time a
woman untied his tie with
dante hands of femininity,
nights before his profession buttoned
She pinned her hair under his brim
then polished her hairline
Looking into his reflection
to see him again
Slowly she patterned his double breasted
jacket across her waistline, smoothing the
feminine edges of a man’s world with the
hands of his maker, maybe once his mother,
his wife, his body
The double mirror gazed back at her
Still holding a subjective thought
She picked up an old photograph,
an old letter and an old pen
She began to write what she saw in the
reflection, the photo, the man
The canvas began to fill
Maybe it was the artology of what she
wanted to seem hear, maybe it was the
truth, but maybe this ghostwriter could
address how he really felt about the
leaves of
The branches that closed the closet
She exited the room.
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