Agnieszka
If she could pull down all the mortared brick and concrete in her mind the creature that rages there would still be powerless to save her from the black water and its black monster. It could warn her though, and might turn her aside from this path and send her towards safety. Whether it actually would is another matter, the dark thing had not been so different from tonight’s Eszka. It too might have craved Stillwater. For different reasons.
There are walls though, closed and so strong and fast that only cold whispers, like echos in a tomb, escape only to go unheard. She is beyond heeding even a shout from the shore at this point, beyond yielding to any power.
Agnieszka lets herself be drawn, coaxed slowly into deeper water that breaks over the dip in her short back. It’s not so much of a following, but a pressing. As he pulls she pushes, returning caress for caress and forging further, asking for more with each breath and lingering touch. The painted woman leans into the pinch and pressure of his teeth, drags her own against the too smooth skin of his black shoulder. Her need for more is as loud as the crash of the dark waves, behind them, beyond them, against them.
She picks his words out of the din, and in her fog a dark, languid smile drifts across her lips, which linger inches from his midnight pelt. Sultry laughter that matches that twist of her lips in character meanders up from her chest because he is not the first to ask her such a question. It is a knowing without knowing, another lover’s words come out of her dreams. Ghosts repeating through all her numbered days, echoing on and on the words that proceed the fall of her gossamer gowns to stone floors, or into black seas, as again and again through her lives she bares her breast for one dark man who could tear her throat out. She has been here before and she will be here again. The laughter is not her only reply. She slides along his oil-slick side, lips roaming first along his withers and then tracing her way down the slope of his back.
There is danger here and she does not comprehend to what degree. He might turn the surf red with her blood, but not before she takes a corner of him for herself.
an unequaled gift for disaster
@[Stillwater]