Ahem...
Isn't
she so fair, so fine?
And
what about her mind!
Lover,
overleap the wall separating her in ignorance of your glory.
To
whom do you speak? I spy no accomplished scholar, no brave knight, no
wealthy merchant, nor bard with wondrous story.
Put
me down!
But
unhearing ears aided unheeding hands, and slung him above elegant
masonry, tumbling upon rough arrival into the beloved's yard.
Who
calls from the bushes as an errant bluebird?
The
lady sings like a nightingale from her bedchamber's balcony. I spring
from my berth, and maneuver out of the shade of a rosebush.
Sighing,
she shades her eyes, but I spy her gaze left and right, and shush...
A
sound, a jealous cousin, a watchful maid, a wrathful father?
She
beckons? And I clutch a handful of ivy, another caressing a stone in
the wall, as I mount, in all appearances like a robber.
With
thorny blush held between pearly orbs I lean towards her...
Is
this how the tale begins?
Sir,
this is how their relationship began.
I
do not believe it is as you say.
No?
Let
me recommence this epic at its origin.
Ahem...
In
the dawn of the Golden Age, she danced on the dewy ground and
serenity was her only attire. From above, the Majestic spied her on
the virescent vegetation. Though unconstrained by ocular inhibitions,
He maneuvered through celestial substance and stratospheric sky to
obtain a superior view.
Should
I come to her in Majesty, myself unclad, or transmuted into less
threatening form, a shower of silver, a colossal bison, or a docile
dove?
It
matters not, for my matter remains me, and she shall know my
substance on sight. I shall approach, crossing this hedge within
which she frolics.
Hark,
who is there?
She
hears my approach, I perceive her cry, and as I observe, tranquility
fades from her face, replaced by a terrible mixture of new knowledge,
unfelt anxiety, and a wonder at the glory to be born of our union.
For
a moment she stands as still as the doe, but then she flees, and her
playfulness, urges me onward, with mounting ecstasy.
A
steep slope, she stumbles, I hear her shout, and I exclaim in
response.
Reaching
the climax, I see her wade a river, and enter a glade of trees...
Hey,
Hey, hold up.
Why
do you dare disturb my narration?
Because
it's totally not the truth.
It
is how I knew her.
Give
me a shot to tell my version
If
you must.
Ahem...
Standing
in the sole street light, on a lonely cul-de-sac, he thought he could
see her moving behind the curtain of her bedroom window. Exiting his
circle of light, he stole across the asphalt street and up the low
stone wall which accentuated the manicured lawn, while also
delineating the boundary between one property and another.
Her
room is on the second floor, above the two car garage, and he
wonders, how will I reach her?
Tiptoeing
over the accommodating grass, he spies the gutter drain glinting,
illuminated by a waxing gibbous moon. Though flecked with rust, he
grips it tightly, and mounts the garage's crumbling asphalt tiles.
A
flicker of the curtain paralyzes him with apprehension, endearment,
and wonder. In such a state, he overhears a phone call.
Hey
Kendra, yeah, I know, she's been acting so strange, and personally,
I'm not sure she's ...
My
angel speaks, and her voice is sweet and sexy simultaneously.
With
the sash of the window level with his navel, he places his hands upon
its smooth exterior, and leans inward, nose pushed up against the
cool glass, within holds his delight.
Oh...
you know... he's coming over to study chemistry tonight for Ms.
Jackson's Calculus exam … Just don't tell my parents.
I
gently rap upon the outward entryway to her bedroom, and she turns...
How
can you stand to tell this story?
What
do you mean?
It
drips of pretension and insincerity. Why pretend it was anything
other than it was?
And
what would you say about their relationship?
When
I tell it, I conceal nothing.
Ahem...
There
is an eagerness which crescendos as one waits for the approaching
indulgence. I sway gently in my chair, barely listening to the hushed
music, which sets them at their ease better than silence does. Across
the lot, packed with cars of those residing at the hotel, there's the
bustle of the city, which doesn't cease even as midnight approaches.
With the shades open and only a table lamp lit, I let the lights of
the city's opulence run across my body, caressing every unclothed
fold.
I
like it better when they come to me, and there's the notification, a
knock at the unlocked door, the insubstantial barrier which she must
cross to enter her humiliation, and once inside, becomes as solid as
a cage, trapping her here with me.
I
don't answer immediately, imagining I can hear her labored breathing,
and salivating at the thought of her conundrum. Should she leave and
pretend she was never there, or enter and entertain? There is no true
choice, and the hinge creaks ever so slightly, the tread on the
threadbare carpet like a mouse, imperceptible.
I
sigh deeply, and the footfall pauses, but I do not intend to usher
her inside. At last, down that short corridor, I see timid toes, and
then a single shamed eye...
Gross...
Undignified...
Brute....
All
our stories exhibited difference without a distinction, after all who
said, I unclad myself? I'm just unrobing.
My
adventure contains a sacred element a swine can't appreciate.
Ha,
what a blowhard.
A
proper education, and a proper examination illuminate for the amorous
mind, the disparity between romance and subjugation.
That's
your interpretation...
Young
love, reciprocal and respectful, is the seed of hope, joy, a stable
modern society, and....
...Unwanted
pregnancy.
I
know you can see as clearly as I. Your pitiful plots are as devoid of
truth as any pointless play, idiots all. A cloak to aid modesty here,
an embroidery of innocence there, and it all amounts to a the last
breath of an old man.
Yet
it's unclear whether you are a bull in a bawdy house, a slithering
snake, the King without clothes, or some combination of all three.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Perhaps you'd like to hear my version.
Ahem...
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