strategy.” Sedona rested her head on her knees. “How about you? Are you okay?”
“My well-being depends on your well-being.” Volcano sat beside her companionably, not too close. He reached forward with the fire poker, and stirred the embers.
“Just tired. Just traumatized. Just ‘lost’ as usual. I wish that weren’t true. To be honest, I don’t feel up to being responsible for your well-being.”
“Cinnamon tea will help. It’s brewing.”
“Thank you. How do you brew cinnamon tea with none here?”
“The ethers are one big shopping market,” he joked quietly.
“Bigger than Wal-Mart?” she dryly joked.
“Much cosmic bigger. Request?”
“Strawberry shortcake with real whipped cream. Like I used to make.”
“I can bring forth the ingredients, can’t make it, though. Never learned the art of Earth cooking despite Mother and Dad’s best attempts.”
“A helpless cherub in the kitchen,” she bantered.
“Hey! I can boil water with the best of the angels.” He reached back for her tea. Handed the mug to her.
The fragrance wonderful, Sedona sipped. “You can boil water, and you do make delicious cinnamon tea.”
“I can power up the oven.”
“Anything to whip the cream with?”
“Found drawers of kitchen utensils.”
“Sure, why not give it a try?” Sedona leaned back, and kept sipping the tea.
“What type of music do you like?” Volcano stood, adding some flame essence to the fire place.
“Relaxing. Usually can’t stand that kind of music. I know. Anything new age Celtic? Harp music is good,” she half-teased. “Do you play?”
“Harp guitar with Jim Morrison’s muse. My band on the home world.”
“Bring any samples of whatever it is you put music on, or however you do it?”
“Vibrational jukebox, a frequency slot for everyone’s music. Still difficult to translate into Earth’s frequencies.”
Sedona wondered, letting her imagination run free for a moment. Just how celestially sexy did he look playing harp guitar?
She watched Volcano place his finger on the radio, and find a serene violin concerto. “I’ll show you in LA.”
“Show me what?” Sedona played innocent, and sipped.
“What you want to know, foxy lady.”
“Why? Do you know Jimi Hendrix’s muse?”
“Youth cherub crush on her. Actually he has two.”
“Has?”
“He’s on Venus currently, continuing the music he began here.”
“Darn! Trip to Venus? Does he play a national anthem there?”
“Odes. Odes to the Venutian landscapes. Persuade me, Sedona, I’ll take you to Venus, first chance we get.”
“Persuade you?” she challenged, gave him the older adult piercing eye.
“Let me make love to you just the way I want. Complete surrender, Sedona.”
She could hardly breathe. She stared at him without seeing, feeling glassy eyed. The rim of the mug touched her lips, and stayed. Finally she lowered the mug. “What does that mean in cherub terms? Or your terms?”
“My terms.” He faced her, totally man, and totally aroused beneath his celestial black leather pants.
Sedona stared, blinked. Part of her could almost feel him inside her. Part of her recoiled, in shock at herself.
“You don’t touch me in any way. I touch you, take you with my hands, your entire body. Touch you however, wherever I desire, for as long as I desire. Kiss you — ”
“I can’t!” she desperately whispered. “I can’t stand the thought of any man touching my body, the way it is now.” A void of silence except for the crackling of the fire surrounded her. “I can’t.” The whisper poured out of her.
“What if I don’t touch you?”
His very male whisper touched her, wanted her.
“What?” she softly demanded. “Total darkness. You just do it.”
“One way, one scenario.” He moved toward the kitchen.
Sedona knew why he left, his desire burned for her, hot and bursting.
“Great!” she whispered to herself. “Now I feel selfish. Dysfunction never leaves. It just becomes
“My well-being depends on your well-being.” Volcano sat beside her companionably, not too close. He reached forward with the fire poker, and stirred the embers.
“Just tired. Just traumatized. Just ‘lost’ as usual. I wish that weren’t true. To be honest, I don’t feel up to being responsible for your well-being.”
“Cinnamon tea will help. It’s brewing.”
“Thank you. How do you brew cinnamon tea with none here?”
“The ethers are one big shopping market,” he joked quietly.
“Bigger than Wal-Mart?” she dryly joked.
“Much cosmic bigger. Request?”
“Strawberry shortcake with real whipped cream. Like I used to make.”
“I can bring forth the ingredients, can’t make it, though. Never learned the art of Earth cooking despite Mother and Dad’s best attempts.”
“A helpless cherub in the kitchen,” she bantered.
“Hey! I can boil water with the best of the angels.” He reached back for her tea. Handed the mug to her.
The fragrance wonderful, Sedona sipped. “You can boil water, and you do make delicious cinnamon tea.”
“I can power up the oven.”
“Anything to whip the cream with?”
“Found drawers of kitchen utensils.”
“Sure, why not give it a try?” Sedona leaned back, and kept sipping the tea.
“What type of music do you like?” Volcano stood, adding some flame essence to the fire place.
“Relaxing. Usually can’t stand that kind of music. I know. Anything new age Celtic? Harp music is good,” she half-teased. “Do you play?”
“Harp guitar with Jim Morrison’s muse. My band on the home world.”
“Bring any samples of whatever it is you put music on, or however you do it?”
“Vibrational jukebox, a frequency slot for everyone’s music. Still difficult to translate into Earth’s frequencies.”
Sedona wondered, letting her imagination run free for a moment. Just how celestially sexy did he look playing harp guitar?
She watched Volcano place his finger on the radio, and find a serene violin concerto. “I’ll show you in LA.”
“Show me what?” Sedona played innocent, and sipped.
“What you want to know, foxy lady.”
“Why? Do you know Jimi Hendrix’s muse?”
“Youth cherub crush on her. Actually he has two.”
“Has?”
“He’s on Venus currently, continuing the music he began here.”
“Darn! Trip to Venus? Does he play a national anthem there?”
“Odes. Odes to the Venutian landscapes. Persuade me, Sedona, I’ll take you to Venus, first chance we get.”
“Persuade you?” she challenged, gave him the older adult piercing eye.
“Let me make love to you just the way I want. Complete surrender, Sedona.”
She could hardly breathe. She stared at him without seeing, feeling glassy eyed. The rim of the mug touched her lips, and stayed. Finally she lowered the mug. “What does that mean in cherub terms? Or your terms?”
“My terms.” He faced her, totally man, and totally aroused beneath his celestial black leather pants.
Sedona stared, blinked. Part of her could almost feel him inside her. Part of her recoiled, in shock at herself.
“You don’t touch me in any way. I touch you, take you with my hands, your entire body. Touch you however, wherever I desire, for as long as I desire. Kiss you — ”
“I can’t!” she desperately whispered. “I can’t stand the thought of any man touching my body, the way it is now.” A void of silence except for the crackling of the fire surrounded her. “I can’t.” The whisper poured out of her.
“What if I don’t touch you?”
His very male whisper touched her, wanted her.
“What?” she softly demanded. “Total darkness. You just do it.”
“One way, one scenario.” He moved toward the kitchen.
Sedona knew why he left, his desire burned for her, hot and bursting.
“Great!” she whispered to herself. “Now I feel selfish. Dysfunction never leaves. It just becomes
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