Eryn's Abyss

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                              Snapshot #34
                              Eryn's Abyss
                       	(or Lilac and Cut Grass)
                                  (F)
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                  (c) June 2012 - All Rights Reserved
                  Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)
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Insomnia insistently claimed her.
A trickle of perspiration appeared under the cascade of her crimson
hair where the first fine strands met the silk of her neck. The
droplet rolled languidly over her bare skin, travelling unhurriedly 
across her shoulder until it reluctantly parted from her body to splash
silently to the warm wooden slats beneath her naked toes.
She exhaled silently, contentedly. The oppressive heat and humidity
stressed her less than the raw inability to embrace sleep. The sauna
of her bedroom surely contributed to the lurking insomnia, the sand
scratching with every laboured blink, but the sticky air could not
solely shoulder the blame. No. Not solely.
Eryn.
Extending her arms, the girl leaned gracefully upon the sill of the
open window, her damp palms supporting her against the cracked and
tortured paint of the frame. Her breasts swayed easily between her
arms in synchronicity with her rhythmic breathing; the motion
reminded her of departed gentle fingertips, and promises of more.
Outside, nothing stirred, the world asleep, absent even a whisper of
a breeze to relieve the unyielding torridity of the night.
Streetlamps pooled voiceless light upon the stark sidewalk below,
where no intruders braved their nocturnal tranquility. Beyond, no
vehicles capered through the darkness; no harsh candles flickered
behind thousands of darkened windows. Only moonlight blanketed the
plains of the cityscape, casting muted shadows across the earth. But
for the everpresent song of crickets and the hovering molten face of
the moon, she possessed the night. Hers. Alone.
Alone.
Grainy eyes closed. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the night,
absorbing it, integrating it, a fundamental segment of her soul. The
fragrance of lilac and cut grass saturated her senses, caressed her
very lungs.
Even here, far from the tangled bed clothes, she could sense Eryn's
heady perfume, her intoxicating passion, her impulsive laughter. She
could feel the touch of velvety fingers slipping through crimson
curls, painted toes sliding up her naked calf, hardened nipples
pressing into the burning skin of her bare shoulder. Lips tingled
where she'd kissed Eryn goodnight, Eryn's fingertips lightly tracing
her jawline. She watched silently from the bed as Eryn, aglow in
moonlight, haltingly dressed, stealing from the steamy bedroom,
swallowed whole by the oppressive night beyond. Flaxen haired, a
beautiful ghost, a nymph of the night, possessing only the promise
of more.
"Until tomorrow," Eryn had softly whispered, before she disappeared
with merely one fleeting glimpse of an upturned heel.
Vivid memories ebbed, like a river rushing to the sea, as the
girl opened her eyes. She half expected to see Eryn or at least a
ghost of her. Desperately, she missed Eryn's gentle presence, her
glimmering promises. Sighing softly, she pushed herself upright,
swaying slightly. Another droplet of perspiration trickled down her
back, a cooling tributary tracing the lush valley of her spine.
Silently, she padded to the kitchen, the uneven floor boards
welcoming her bare toes. The light in the freezer failed to
illuminate, but her fingers found the tray easily by feel. She
extracted two cubes, the icy chill seeping, dissolving into 
refreshing puddles upon her upturned palm.
Eryn's scent infused more deeply near the bed, her perfume
intimately merged with the fabric of the pillows. The sheets
remained wonderfully twisted and damp from earlier pursuits. Parting
her lips, she absently slipped one ice cube into her mouth, the cold
welcome as it melted against her tongue and teeth, trickling down
her parched throat. She lay back atop the sheet, head cradled on the
pillows, unable to bear the thought of covering herself. The other
cube, she placed between her breasts, shivering as the frozen water
absorbed the ambient temperature and her own burning heat; temporary
respite. She breathed in sharply, perfume lingering, impetuous,
intoxicating. Fingers slipped down her ribs, bumping as they
journeyed past her taut abdomen to the smoothness of her mons. She
gasped serenely as her index finger traced her silky lips, only once.
Only once. Her body yearned for more, but the heat, the perfume, the
memories stayed her hand.
The ice in her mouth faded. She delicately touched each nipple once
with the remaining cube, then parted her lips again, aching as it
moistened her tongue.
Outside, an early car crawled up the street, its headlamps dancing
sprites across the faded ceiling. She lazily watched the shadows
tumbling, a kaleidoscope of faeries. Missing Eryn; wanting her to
share in the vision. And then the sedan passed, the quiet rumble of
its tyres dwindling into the evening, swallowed whole, like her
nymph, like her ghost, like her Eryn. Only the moonlight remained,
shimmering through the open window to cast sentinel shadows,
mourning the abrupt exit of the frolicking faeries.
Unable to resist longer, her eyelids gradually lowered; moonlight
diminished into blessed darkness. The night at last embraced her.
Indistinct images of Eryn flit and danced behind her closed eyelids.
And insomnia irrevocably released her claim.