herself for the drama and cheesiness. For whatever reason hearing “Love Lies Bleeding” shouted over and over helped focus her mind on her short term task, find her Andrew.
As Lillian lived her double life in the Capitol, a life of no consequence when it came to sex, no threat of judgement, pregnancy, or disease, she gained tremendous power and pleasure. However, over the years, much of what most people in the Capitol would consider amazing anonymous sex turned routine. Only Andrew and Ellen's house provided real thrills for Lillian. Letting her magic take control she lost herself in the song and subconscious probabilities. Tapping her index finger on the steering wheel whispering "Andrew" over and over she turned off the noise in her head and let her magic and his signal guide her.
He was a beautiful man. Her mystery man. They had never spoke, just hooked up together using his magic and her deep beauty as their attraction. Their liaisons were getting more frequent and her thoughts about him more intense and confusing. Still she pushed on, looking for him was like looking for a drug. He was that powerful to her.
Finally, today she found him sitting on the picnic bench under a massive oak tree at Ferguson’s BBQ. “Voted Best BBQ in the South!” proclaimed the sign. Apparently that’s true she noted silently looking at the line of people stretching out the door. The line snaked through a series of mostly empty picnic tables. A canopy of Spanish moss hung from the oak tree shading her, Andrew, and the several dozen strangers from the afternoon sun.
She sat down at the empty table opposite him, giving her a full view of his beautiful face, his almond colored skin, the one brown-eye, the other grey, and his short overly groomed dreads. His body reminded her of the mixed-race European professional soccer players she’d seen before in the sports highlights on the lobby TV at her hotel near the Capitol. Although much slimmer and shorter than the men in the Colony, he was still physical perfection to her. Just looking at him was intense and exotic. All the other faces, the ones in line behind Andrew stood paled in comparison.
The backdrop of the ‘Puffy faced pasty men of the Capitol’ as she so often described them to herself, began to fade. Her vision now tunneled across the tables and bored into him. The last sound she heard was one of the puffy faces in the line chatting wildly about about techniques for cooking brisket. “Cooking cow meat all night is just weird,” she mumbled to herself. A final check-in with her surroundings. Then one glimpse her watch, 12:36PM.
She couldn’t maintain her grip on the her reality anymore. The only thing that mattered was watching him. Untethering now, she gave herself to him as she had so many other times.
He could feel her stares, her energy, and knew they were ready. He moved his fingers across the top of the book and slipped two of them between the pages. Covering them up with words. Uncrossing his legs he leaned back slightly in his chair and rhythmically tapped his foot. After just seconds of watching him, she was lost in his spell.
With all her senses struggling, shuffling to keep up, running over and into one another, almost as if merging into something special, something supernatural. This was the fleeting prelude of being with her Andrew, a short in her senses; the muffling of sounds, the feeling of touches, the smashing of lights together, taking breaths of air from some deeper place and letting it cycle into her veins and travel into her heart, her brain.
Now the familiar immediate connection to him began its migration from within her sex. Rising like steam out of her depth, the low hum of orgasmic warmth was broadcasted throughout her whole body. Looking directly at him, penetrating him with her eyes. She could feel the waves of his magic fluttering across her skin.
As Lillian lived her double life in the Capitol, a life of no consequence when it came to sex, no threat of judgement, pregnancy, or disease, she gained tremendous power and pleasure. However, over the years, much of what most people in the Capitol would consider amazing anonymous sex turned routine. Only Andrew and Ellen's house provided real thrills for Lillian. Letting her magic take control she lost herself in the song and subconscious probabilities. Tapping her index finger on the steering wheel whispering "Andrew" over and over she turned off the noise in her head and let her magic and his signal guide her.
He was a beautiful man. Her mystery man. They had never spoke, just hooked up together using his magic and her deep beauty as their attraction. Their liaisons were getting more frequent and her thoughts about him more intense and confusing. Still she pushed on, looking for him was like looking for a drug. He was that powerful to her.
Finally, today she found him sitting on the picnic bench under a massive oak tree at Ferguson’s BBQ. “Voted Best BBQ in the South!” proclaimed the sign. Apparently that’s true she noted silently looking at the line of people stretching out the door. The line snaked through a series of mostly empty picnic tables. A canopy of Spanish moss hung from the oak tree shading her, Andrew, and the several dozen strangers from the afternoon sun.
She sat down at the empty table opposite him, giving her a full view of his beautiful face, his almond colored skin, the one brown-eye, the other grey, and his short overly groomed dreads. His body reminded her of the mixed-race European professional soccer players she’d seen before in the sports highlights on the lobby TV at her hotel near the Capitol. Although much slimmer and shorter than the men in the Colony, he was still physical perfection to her. Just looking at him was intense and exotic. All the other faces, the ones in line behind Andrew stood paled in comparison.
The backdrop of the ‘Puffy faced pasty men of the Capitol’ as she so often described them to herself, began to fade. Her vision now tunneled across the tables and bored into him. The last sound she heard was one of the puffy faces in the line chatting wildly about about techniques for cooking brisket. “Cooking cow meat all night is just weird,” she mumbled to herself. A final check-in with her surroundings. Then one glimpse her watch, 12:36PM.
She couldn’t maintain her grip on the her reality anymore. The only thing that mattered was watching him. Untethering now, she gave herself to him as she had so many other times.
He could feel her stares, her energy, and knew they were ready. He moved his fingers across the top of the book and slipped two of them between the pages. Covering them up with words. Uncrossing his legs he leaned back slightly in his chair and rhythmically tapped his foot. After just seconds of watching him, she was lost in his spell.
With all her senses struggling, shuffling to keep up, running over and into one another, almost as if merging into something special, something supernatural. This was the fleeting prelude of being with her Andrew, a short in her senses; the muffling of sounds, the feeling of touches, the smashing of lights together, taking breaths of air from some deeper place and letting it cycle into her veins and travel into her heart, her brain.
Now the familiar immediate connection to him began its migration from within her sex. Rising like steam out of her depth, the low hum of orgasmic warmth was broadcasted throughout her whole body. Looking directly at him, penetrating him with her eyes. She could feel the waves of his magic fluttering across her skin.
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