The Gigolo Chronicles V Cherrie
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Tomasz is cold. He shouldn’t be. It’s mid-morning, summer, and the city is in the middle of what the voice on the radio had described as a heat wave. On top of that, the air conditioner mounted on the bedroom window had conked out two weeks earlier. Yet. a creeping chill trickles like icy fingers up and down his back. Despite how cold he feels, he wishes that he had been able to fix the air-conditioner.
He sits in the corner of the bedroom, hidden in the dull shadows beyond the reach of yellow sunlight breaching the window. He’s aware that he doesn’t actually need to “hide”. He prefers to shroud himself in shadow, however, as he silently looks toward the bed.
Lying on the bed is Rachel, splayed across the mattress, pillows and blanket hanging off the edge. She wriggles and twists in fits, hot and uncomfortable, even only in her bra and panties. Her eyes are pinched tight, evidence of a mind too busy, too strained for a peaceful rest. Perspiration pastes strands of her rusty auburn hair onto her glossy face. Her alabaster skin is covered in a sheen of moist heat. Every few minutes, a soft gasp sighs from her lips after she swallows. It’s chased by a mournful, hushed murmur that makes Tomasz’ heart ache so much that he has to look away from her toward an empty corner of the ceiling.
A modest black dress is crumpled at foot of the bed, matching black shoes already kicked aside by the door to the bedroom. An open-bottle of Cabernet sits on the bedside table, tepid and souring, a garden of scrunched tissues scattered around it. The windows remain shut; she didn’t bother to open them, preferring to keep the world out as long as she could. It’s stifling in the room.
Tomasz really wishes he had fixed that damn air-conditioner.
He rises up from the chair and looks towards the door; it’s a door he’s been unable to pass through. Despite how much it hurts to see Rachel this way, he is unable to leave her at peace.
Though his feet are unnaturally heavy, like anchors dragging down each heel, he walks as softly and lightly across the room as he can. He doesn’t want to cause Rachel anymore unrest. He drags along his shadow from the corner with him.
He comes to the dresser; there’s a powdering of dust along top of the almond wood grain. He allows himself a smirk. Dusting had always been the bane of their cleaning chores. Amongst the combs and brushes, the spare change, and half-empty bottles of perfume and cologne, sits a couple of frames. Mismatched, one is a simple, blue-stained, wood rectangle, while the other is much more ornate, the intricate silver and glass details capturing and reflecting the light in the room.
The photos match their frames. The one in the blue frame is slightly out of focus, underexposed, and poorly composed. The photo in the silver frame is beautiful and perfect, painstakingly retouched and enhanced to draw out whatever the photographer’s eye saw in it. It doesn’t matter. The couple in the photos look exactly the same to Tomasz. He sees through both the roughness and the gloss. The pictures complement each other like the sea and the sky.
As he looks through frozen memories, another icy wave suddenly sweeps through him, enough to send a shudder along his spine. It feels like a desolate wasteland in his gut, barren and frozen. He has never felt so empty. He winces and squeezes his eyes shut, a sobbing gasp breaking in his throat like a burst gasket.
Suddenly, Tomasz realizes that it’s not the sound of his voice he hears.
“Rachel?” he breathes.
He turns and looks back at her on the bed.
Rachel, lying on damp, perspiration covered sheets, baking under the sunlight blanketing her upon the bed, is shivering. Her breathes shudder up from her throat and rattle her teeth. Cool, wispy tendrils of breath gather at her nose and pale lips. Her puffy eyes squeeze tighter, pinching out single tears that roll down past her temple.
Tomasz steps to the foot of the bed, anxious. “What is it?” he asks.
She doesn’t answer, doesn’t awaken. Instead, she starts to tremble. She’s cold, just as he is. Freezing like him. It’s enough to put the sunlight in retreat. Then he realizes the shadow he carries with him seems to drift over her like clouds over the desert.
Tomasz leans over her, further and further until he’s practically hovering above her face, yet he doesn’t touch her. He searches her strained expression for an answer. “What is it?” he asks again, pleading with her.
He watches the motion on her lips. As if struggling through the chill that has enveloped the room, her lips quiver. “Please… Tomasz,” she whispers, then gasps, spiking another cold needle through Tomasz’ heart.
He pulls his head away slightly, shaking it. He knows what she’s asking. It’s something he has longed to do but resisted, unsure if he was able, unsure of the consequences.
As her body trembles, she breathes again, “Please… "
Hold her.
Tomasz stares back at her, caressing her beautiful face with his eyes. His beating heart pulls him closer to her with each pulse. He fights it, but he’s a twig in the swell of a whirlpool. Before he realizes it, his hand is outstretched, reaching for her. He touches the shiny edge of a tear on her cheek.
It’s warm.
So small and insignificant, but it is so... warm. This warmth races through his finger, up his arm, and curls the hairs on the back of his neck. The relief is overwhelming and so welcome, driving away the cold chill in his spirit.
Gently he cups his palm along Rachel’s soft cheek. Instantly, she stops shaking. Her breath steadies and she inhales deeply like a baby taking her first breath. Colour returns to her face like a blushing rose.
Her eyes still shut, she turns her head and gently kisses his palm.
Tomasz shudders once again. It's not because he feels cold, far from it. He feels the sensation of life surge through him. “Oh, Rachel,” he sighs with longing and relief.
A warm, soothing wave sweeps him up and takes him into Rachel's arms, into her dreams. He settles into his lover's embrace once more.
Tomasz holds her close. The chill he had been feeling earlier is instantly chased away. As his arms and hands sweep along her back and through her hair, there's no lingering clammy sensation from the heat between them. Her skin is soft, smooth, and supple; he can't get enough of how wonderful she feels in his arms.
He raises his head up and looks down at her beautiful face. Still reveling in her dreams, Rachel's eyes remain closed. Yet her plush lips part invitingly and Tomasz readily accepts. He covers her mouth with his with a tender kiss. As he touches her lips, for a brief moment he freezes, pausing to fight back a sudden, painful ache throbbing in his heart. His whole body tenses as he buries the sensation as deep as possible, for as long as possible, before he can appreciate the feel and taste of Rachel's moist lips.
They pour into each other, embracing, kissing. Remnants of clothing are pulled off and tossed aside. There's not a breath of air to spare between their melding flesh and their busy lips. Their hungry gasps creak and ache each time their mouths part. They are caught in a spiral of sultry delight.
Tomasz covers her cheek and chin with nips and licks. He laps up the sweet perspiration at her neck and runs his tongue along her attractive collar bone. Rachel's back arches, thrusting her breasts upward towards him, and his face sinks between her luscious bosom.
Tomasz takes his time savouring her taste and touch. The sensation is not something he has ever experienced before in all the times they had made love. He feels as if he's moving within her, completely swaddled in her skin, taking part in her radiant warmth. It fills him with energy and vigor and he is compelled to share it with her.
He rises above her once again. Her silky thighs latch onto his hips with her heels gently massaging the back of his legs, urging him on. He shuts his eyes, saturates his lungs with the sweet, warm air, and slowly thrusts into her.
Rachel softly coos her appreciation as he eases his length forward. She gathers him into her arms, securing him in the soothing caress of her lips.
As they kiss with tongues entwined, Tomasz' arms coil around her back. He holds her as close as possible as he fills her with steady strokes of his hips. He feels her tenderness around his burgeoning shaft, clenching down upon him. Rachel has never felt so good.
Their passion builds, stoking the flames they each had ignited in the other. Their desire burns, but doesn't manifest itself as sweat or thirst. It's their spirit that is set on fire. It's a raging wildfire, yet they control it like a flame on a candle, focusing it on one another.
The meaningless minutes of time pass. Tomasz' thrusts reach an urgent apex. He feels Rachel's fingers digging into his back, gripping him against her plush breasts. She breathes hot breath against his ear with endless aching moans and sighs. Each time she calls his name, it drives him on, faster, faster. An intense, bright glow engulfs their entwined bodies.
As he feels her twist and tense beneath him and listens to her succulent groan electrify the air, he braces for his own release. When she shudders and trembles against his body, he takes one last exquisite thrust forward, surrounding himself with Rachel's inner flesh, and lets go a swollen stream of desire. He groans and calls out her name as if it were single word prayer of thanks.
As he fills her with his gratifying bursts of fire, he is charged with an impossible warmth. It fills every fiber of his being and illuminates his spirit. His skin glows from the inside out, and the splendid light pours over Rachel. He feels light and buoyant, and he doesn't resist as he slowly drifts upward.
Awash in his afterglow, Rachel finally opens her eyes. Filled with joyful tears, they sparkle as she smiles, looking up towards Tomasz. He knows that she's never been more beautiful than she is at this moment.
It's an amazing gift he'll take with him.
Rachel lifts her hand towards him. He returns the gesture, and as the tips of their fingers brush, he nods his head and mouths a silent promise to her. He watches as her eyes slowly close once more, and he finally leaves his beloved to the solitude of her dreams.
As he floats above her, away from her, filled her warmth, he smiles knowing he will never be cold again.
He sits in the corner of the bedroom, hidden in the dull shadows beyond the reach of yellow sunlight breaching the window. He’s aware that he doesn’t actually need to “hide”. He prefers to shroud himself in shadow, however, as he silently looks toward the bed.
Lying on the bed is Rachel, splayed across the mattress, pillows and blanket hanging off the edge. She wriggles and twists in fits, hot and uncomfortable, even only in her bra and panties. Her eyes are pinched tight, evidence of a mind too busy, too strained for a peaceful rest. Perspiration pastes strands of her rusty auburn hair onto her glossy face. Her alabaster skin is covered in a sheen of moist heat. Every few minutes, a soft gasp sighs from her lips after she swallows. It’s chased by a mournful, hushed murmur that makes Tomasz’ heart ache so much that he has to look away from her toward an empty corner of the ceiling.
A modest black dress is crumpled at foot of the bed, matching black shoes already kicked aside by the door to the bedroom. An open-bottle of Cabernet sits on the bedside table, tepid and souring, a garden of scrunched tissues scattered around it. The windows remain shut; she didn’t bother to open them, preferring to keep the world out as long as she could. It’s stifling in the room.
Tomasz really wishes he had fixed that damn air-conditioner.
He rises up from the chair and looks towards the door; it’s a door he’s been unable to pass through. Despite how much it hurts to see Rachel this way, he is unable to leave her at peace.
Though his feet are unnaturally heavy, like anchors dragging down each heel, he walks as softly and lightly across the room as he can. He doesn’t want to cause Rachel anymore unrest. He drags along his shadow from the corner with him.
He comes to the dresser; there’s a powdering of dust along top of the almond wood grain. He allows himself a smirk. Dusting had always been the bane of their cleaning chores. Amongst the combs and brushes, the spare change, and half-empty bottles of perfume and cologne, sits a couple of frames. Mismatched, one is a simple, blue-stained, wood rectangle, while the other is much more ornate, the intricate silver and glass details capturing and reflecting the light in the room.
The photos match their frames. The one in the blue frame is slightly out of focus, underexposed, and poorly composed. The photo in the silver frame is beautiful and perfect, painstakingly retouched and enhanced to draw out whatever the photographer’s eye saw in it. It doesn’t matter. The couple in the photos look exactly the same to Tomasz. He sees through both the roughness and the gloss. The pictures complement each other like the sea and the sky.
As he looks through frozen memories, another icy wave suddenly sweeps through him, enough to send a shudder along his spine. It feels like a desolate wasteland in his gut, barren and frozen. He has never felt so empty. He winces and squeezes his eyes shut, a sobbing gasp breaking in his throat like a burst gasket.
Suddenly, Tomasz realizes that it’s not the sound of his voice he hears.
“Rachel?” he breathes.
He turns and looks back at her on the bed.
Rachel, lying on damp, perspiration covered sheets, baking under the sunlight blanketing her upon the bed, is shivering. Her breathes shudder up from her throat and rattle her teeth. Cool, wispy tendrils of breath gather at her nose and pale lips. Her puffy eyes squeeze tighter, pinching out single tears that roll down past her temple.
Tomasz steps to the foot of the bed, anxious. “What is it?” he asks.
She doesn’t answer, doesn’t awaken. Instead, she starts to tremble. She’s cold, just as he is. Freezing like him. It’s enough to put the sunlight in retreat. Then he realizes the shadow he carries with him seems to drift over her like clouds over the desert.
Tomasz leans over her, further and further until he’s practically hovering above her face, yet he doesn’t touch her. He searches her strained expression for an answer. “What is it?” he asks again, pleading with her.
He watches the motion on her lips. As if struggling through the chill that has enveloped the room, her lips quiver. “Please… Tomasz,” she whispers, then gasps, spiking another cold needle through Tomasz’ heart.
He pulls his head away slightly, shaking it. He knows what she’s asking. It’s something he has longed to do but resisted, unsure if he was able, unsure of the consequences.
As her body trembles, she breathes again, “Please… "
Hold her.
Tomasz stares back at her, caressing her beautiful face with his eyes. His beating heart pulls him closer to her with each pulse. He fights it, but he’s a twig in the swell of a whirlpool. Before he realizes it, his hand is outstretched, reaching for her. He touches the shiny edge of a tear on her cheek.
It’s warm.
So small and insignificant, but it is so... warm. This warmth races through his finger, up his arm, and curls the hairs on the back of his neck. The relief is overwhelming and so welcome, driving away the cold chill in his spirit.
Gently he cups his palm along Rachel’s soft cheek. Instantly, she stops shaking. Her breath steadies and she inhales deeply like a baby taking her first breath. Colour returns to her face like a blushing rose.
Her eyes still shut, she turns her head and gently kisses his palm.
Tomasz shudders once again. It's not because he feels cold, far from it. He feels the sensation of life surge through him. “Oh, Rachel,” he sighs with longing and relief.
A warm, soothing wave sweeps him up and takes him into Rachel's arms, into her dreams. He settles into his lover's embrace once more.
Tomasz holds her close. The chill he had been feeling earlier is instantly chased away. As his arms and hands sweep along her back and through her hair, there's no lingering clammy sensation from the heat between them. Her skin is soft, smooth, and supple; he can't get enough of how wonderful she feels in his arms.
He raises his head up and looks down at her beautiful face. Still reveling in her dreams, Rachel's eyes remain closed. Yet her plush lips part invitingly and Tomasz readily accepts. He covers her mouth with his with a tender kiss. As he touches her lips, for a brief moment he freezes, pausing to fight back a sudden, painful ache throbbing in his heart. His whole body tenses as he buries the sensation as deep as possible, for as long as possible, before he can appreciate the feel and taste of Rachel's moist lips.
They pour into each other, embracing, kissing. Remnants of clothing are pulled off and tossed aside. There's not a breath of air to spare between their melding flesh and their busy lips. Their hungry gasps creak and ache each time their mouths part. They are caught in a spiral of sultry delight.
Tomasz covers her cheek and chin with nips and licks. He laps up the sweet perspiration at her neck and runs his tongue along her attractive collar bone. Rachel's back arches, thrusting her breasts upward towards him, and his face sinks between her luscious bosom.
Tomasz takes his time savouring her taste and touch. The sensation is not something he has ever experienced before in all the times they had made love. He feels as if he's moving within her, completely swaddled in her skin, taking part in her radiant warmth. It fills him with energy and vigor and he is compelled to share it with her.
He rises above her once again. Her silky thighs latch onto his hips with her heels gently massaging the back of his legs, urging him on. He shuts his eyes, saturates his lungs with the sweet, warm air, and slowly thrusts into her.
Rachel softly coos her appreciation as he eases his length forward. She gathers him into her arms, securing him in the soothing caress of her lips.
As they kiss with tongues entwined, Tomasz' arms coil around her back. He holds her as close as possible as he fills her with steady strokes of his hips. He feels her tenderness around his burgeoning shaft, clenching down upon him. Rachel has never felt so good.
Their passion builds, stoking the flames they each had ignited in the other. Their desire burns, but doesn't manifest itself as sweat or thirst. It's their spirit that is set on fire. It's a raging wildfire, yet they control it like a flame on a candle, focusing it on one another.
The meaningless minutes of time pass. Tomasz' thrusts reach an urgent apex. He feels Rachel's fingers digging into his back, gripping him against her plush breasts. She breathes hot breath against his ear with endless aching moans and sighs. Each time she calls his name, it drives him on, faster, faster. An intense, bright glow engulfs their entwined bodies.
As he feels her twist and tense beneath him and listens to her succulent groan electrify the air, he braces for his own release. When she shudders and trembles against his body, he takes one last exquisite thrust forward, surrounding himself with Rachel's inner flesh, and lets go a swollen stream of desire. He groans and calls out her name as if it were single word prayer of thanks.
As he fills her with his gratifying bursts of fire, he is charged with an impossible warmth. It fills every fiber of his being and illuminates his spirit. His skin glows from the inside out, and the splendid light pours over Rachel. He feels light and buoyant, and he doesn't resist as he slowly drifts upward.
Awash in his afterglow, Rachel finally opens her eyes. Filled with joyful tears, they sparkle as she smiles, looking up towards Tomasz. He knows that she's never been more beautiful than she is at this moment.
It's an amazing gift he'll take with him.
Rachel lifts her hand towards him. He returns the gesture, and as the tips of their fingers brush, he nods his head and mouths a silent promise to her. He watches as her eyes slowly close once more, and he finally leaves his beloved to the solitude of her dreams.
As he floats above her, away from her, filled her warmth, he smiles knowing he will never be cold again.
Valentina
- 27.01.2023
- 5
- 0
- Category:
- Love Stories
