Look at you. Leaning there against the smooth finish of the brass and glass bar, you're sipping the last of your vodka and lemon. You pretend not to care who is watching you, but you know that we are. Your eyes dart about and you see all that is happening, but you think it seems like you only care about getting your next drink.
That guy that was just standing next to you for so long? He wanted to say something, but never had the chance. Well, he may have had the chance, but he never took it. He never made it happen. Phhht! Loser. He arrived with a full drink, stood there staring at shit he didn't care about and drank his beer while the gears in his head turned so slowly I could hear them squeak from over here. You weren't giving him any answers unless he asked the questions. Yeah. You're as cool as a minty ice cube. I like that.
“Hey, Tito,” I call to the bartender when he is near enough that I have to do little more than whisper, “Who is that girl over there? What's her story?”
“Never saw her before,” he answers, “but she came in by herself.”
“Is she waiting for someone?” I ask.
“Not sure. Seems like she's waiting for something though, doesn't it?”
“Yeah, she's waiting for you to get her a fresh drink,” I reply. “Send her one on me, but don't mention me.”
“You sure?” he asks
“I'm never sure, but there's no sense in second-guessing things. What could I get done if I had to be sure all the time?” Tito reaches to the top shelf, and pours the clear liquid from a beautifully-sculpted bottle into a fresh glass. He squeezes a lemon slice and drips the yellow juice, then tosses the slice away. Hanging a fresh slice over the glass' lip, he begins walking toward you.
I watch as he hands you the glass. You seem surprised that someone has bought you a drink. Bullshit! You've been there wondering the whole time why no one has sent a a gift to you already. Taking the glass, you hear the little voice in your head grumble 'why has it taken so long.' Sweeping your hair behind your right ear, I can see you mouth the words as you ask Tito who has sent it. This is the moment where my plan falls apart or works as I had hoped. I've got back-up plans in my pocket if this doesn't work, but I know Tito and his short-comings pretty well. I can read Tito's lips as he declines to answer your question - and he plays the part pretty well - but as I had predicted, he glances toward me for a fraction of a second as he turns from you. You catch his little mistake, follow the direction of his eyes and you see me there watching you. I can always trust Tito to mess up and make a plan come together.
You don't look at me for long – just an instant – but a hint of a smile appears and then disappears just as quickly as you look away. I turn my head away as well just after you. I swirl the ice in my emptying glass as I think about the next few moments. “What does a girl like this want to hear?” I ask myself. “What has she not heard yet?” I light a cigarette to help me think.
Taking the occasional drag from the smoldering cig, I let it mostly burn away in the ashtray as I call Tito for a refill. He pours me my Scotch on the rocks, and I take one last inhalation of tobacco as I reach for the glass. Out of the corner of my eye, I barely catch a glimpse as I see you walking past the crowd of nameless patrons lined at the bar. You approach me and I can feel my heart pump a little harder. I make as if I don't even notice you and you pass behind me so closely that I can feel the cool draft of your presence sweep along me. You don't stop. You don't say a word. You don't care that I am there. If you do, you don't let on anything to me. Striding confidently toward the door, I am relieved that you make the last possible turn and enter the ladies room instead of going those few steps further toward the exit.
It's not like me to check the restroom door every few seconds, but I do it anyway. I don't want you to just step out and slip through the exit without my notice. There are plenty of women here, but I've seen them all before – at least I've seen women just like them many times. But you; you I have never seen anywhere. I may never see you again. I don't want to take any chances. I despise a missed opportunity. The first half of my glass empties quickly.
From the corner of my right eye, I see you step out – the moment of truth. My breath lightens when you come back my way and wash me in your cool presence once again as you step only inches behind me then go to a now-empty table-for-two in a corner of the darkened bar. The deejay's music pumps beats made for such moments. Throbbing rhythms fill the room so loudly they drown all words except those spoken very near to the ear.
Acting quickly, I have Tito send one more 'anonymous' drink to you. As it is delivered, you once again look my way. This time, there is no smile. This time, there is only an unspoken question written on your face.
Answering your question, I lift my drink and begin approaching your table. You turn away from me, but I don't care. You saw me walking to you and I am now committed. You like control, don't you? I can work with that.
Without asking, I take the seat across from you and look directly into your eyes. They are stunning. I've seen eyes many times, but few have ever made me take a deep breath. Your eyes, so close to mine, make me gasp a gasp I try very hard to conceal. You smile a bit impatiently. Pointing to your drink, I say, “Fashionable Renaissance ladies used lemons to add more of a red coloring to their lips.” It's a blatantly miserable line and my heart sinks as I say it, but I follow with a sly smile of confidence. Despite my smile, all that I am truly confident of is that no one has ever led with that line to you before.
You smile now at me, and wrap your own ruby lips around the straw as you sip your vodka slowly. Placing your glass on the table, you look back to me and ask, “Do you think that is why I ask for lemon in my drink?”
“No,” I reply, “I think you just like the taste.” Again, I am amazed at how you trip me up.
You take the lemon slice hanging from your glass, and place it between those lips, lightly sucking the juices from it. “You're right. I do. And do you like the taste of a lemon?” you ask as you pull it away seductively.
“I do very much. I like the tangy, edgy bite of a lemon,” I reply. A devious grin now grows across your cheeks as you push the lemon into my mouth. I savor it not for its own tastes, but for the intimacy of the experience. I have never tasted a sweeter lemon in all my life. You pull the slice away and giggle girlishly at your success. I chuckle sheepishly at being so easily conquered.
My mouth and throat feel dry, though not entirely from the lemon's juiciness. “Tasty,” I say. “It goes well with my Scotch.”
“Have you never been fed fruits before?” you ask in a voice above the music.
“Never so sweet,” I say.
“Well, that is a shame,” you reply. “Life is full of all types of tasty fruits and we need be sure we taste them whenever they are ripe. There is nothing worse than a beautiful fruit wasted and left to rot on the ground without being savored.” Your words seem to flow from you in so many colors and textures that I am unsure if I have grasped all of your meanings. I now know why I see only you.
An awkward but pleasant silence fills the space between us. Somehow the pulsing music seems more distant now as our energies cut through it – creating a momentarily peaceful place for the two of us. I drink from my glass and, through the suggestion of my actions, you do the same. We smile once again. “Why have I never seen you here before?” I ask.
“You say that like you monitor who comes in and out quite regularly,” you state.
“Well, I am here often enough that I should have seen you by now, I'd think.”
“Well I have only been here once before. The last time I was in town. It wasn't anything like this back then.”
“Yes, well, they have made a few changes and...” you interrupt me before I can complete the thought. “That's not what I meant,” you correct me, “I thought you understood me better than that.”
I have missed an important clue to solving your puzzle and you have caught me flat. This is not like me at all. You have flustered me like no other has. 'Am I up to your challenge' I ask myself. 'She is beyond even me' I think; my ego bruised like an apple which has crashed to the earth abruptly. I am walking on shaky ground now and so, I decide that I should walk no further. I stretch my hand across the table to you, and begin to stand just slightly as I watch for your response. To my delight, you accept my hand as you stand as well.
I escort you to the dance floor and find enough room for us to move and celebrate our encounter. The pulsing audio fills us as we can feel the lowest of the vibrations move gracefully through us both. Thanks to the several drinks I have taken in, I am moving well, but not nearly so charmingly as you. Your head thrashes left and right in time with the beats as your entire body flows like a rippling wave. I have no idea who else is on the floor, and I don't care. You - the one who I had only been desiring and admiring from afar a few minutes ago – are now sharing a special time in my life with me.
“Julijana” you call into my ear above the music.
I look at you in surprise, not totally understanding what you had said. “My name is Julijana,” you say. “You never asked me my name.” We keep dancing without missing a step, but I know you are right once again.
“Theo,” I say, “and I am very, very, happy to meet you, Julijana.”
“I know,” you reply, giggling once again and grinning knowingly. You now dance even more seductively – more confidently than before. We dance for what seems a very long time without speaking another word. Our eyes meet often and they say so much of our shared experience. Our bodies meet now and then, but say even more. Body language can be the most expressive language of seduction when spoken by the gifted and your “words” bring out the poet in me. When finally the music slows, I clutch your waist to mine – drawing you in with such a force that I fear I may have hurt you. Rather than put you off, though, your eyes tell me that you enjoy the primal way I crave you. Holding you close, my lips trace along your neck and find the soft, fleshy place behind your ear's lower lobe. My tongue flicks softly from my parted lips and presses in just there. You respond by pulling me at my lower back toward you - forcing my slowly-growing manhood firmly into your gracefully-sculpted body.
I pull my head back and kiss you wildly without any further thought. I am no longer the man I was a while ago. I am no longer a man at all in many ways. I am a wild-man in my heart, and an animal in my mind. In the darkest corners of my deepest thoughts, I feel as if I am growing hair all over my body and my hands are morphing into claws. By the way you return my kisses I can sense that you are changing in much the same way. The people we appear to be every day are becoming the beasts we truly are beneath our civil disguises.
As the song ends, I take you by the hand and lead you hurriedly away from the dance floor to a small hinged segment at the end of the bar. I lift the “door” of the bar and lead you behind it very near to Tito. Tito calls out, “Hey man you can't come behind here, Theo!”
“Fuck you, dude!” I reply as I throw some cash at Tito and take you through an open doorway that leads us to a narrow hallway and then another door and a small room with a couch that the bar once used as a lounge for the bands which used to play here.
The room is compact but comfortable. Aside from the couch, there is a table with two metal chairs, a painting on the wall of some awful landscape and an end-table with a tiny lamp. I turn on the lamp and turn off the ceiling light. You have said nothing since we began kissing, and you say nothing still. I pull you close to me as if we are dancing once again, but this time as I kiss you, I slide the zipper of your soft dress all the way down. As I slip your dress from your shoulders and allow it to fall gently to your feet, you pull my shirt from me in what seems like one fluid motion. You undo my belt expertly and my pants fall to the floor and mingle with your dress.
Your bra seems to remove itself and your breasts point to me as if indicating exactly what they want. Your panties and my boxers are gone in the blink of an eye. While we both are taken with the visions before us, we take no time to admire one another. I lift you slightly and lay you on the sofa – your long, slender legs spread wide to reveal the most exquisitely-flowering orchid I have ever seen...your nectar flowing freely and being high-lighted in the glow of the lamp's faint shine. Like a hungry bee, I sip your nectar and coax even more to flow for me. You run your hands through my hair; grabbing at it in clumps to form handles as you pull me to you. The sounds emanating from your inner soul guide me as I search for more to eat.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
The Story of Giuliana (excerpt from The Chroniclers Tale)
CAUTION: Sexual Theme
Giuliana
She never performed these acts in public, fearing she may be called a witch, or something even worse. She would not be offended to be called a witch at all - for that is who she felt that she indeed was - but it would mean her death if such a thought were to be spoken into the wrong ears.
She was born with a perception that others seemed not to have. As a girl, she learned none of her friends or siblings saw many of the people that she indeed could see. She had conversations with people that her father could not even hear. She knew things before her grandmother did – and her grandmother was said to know everything.
Through trial and error, she learned not to mention many parts of her world to others. She came to understand that her world encompassed the world of her family and friends, but hers was a bit greater.
On her ninth birthday, her grandfather asked her to join him on a short walk so that he may give her his present. He asked her how she felt to be a year older and made small talk in other ways, but seemed preoccupied – as if he were avoiding what he really thought. “What did you get for me, grandfather?” she asked in an attempt to lead the conversation down a clearer path. In response, he fell silent - walking straight to a fallen log and sitting on the barky perch. She took a place next to him, looking to his face which was set straight forward.
Holding out his hands, one cupped above the other, he gently massaged his palms back and forth. Lifting his right hand, he reveals a simple, yet exquisite golden ring lying in the left. “It is not a complete circle, so that it may grow along with you, Guiliana.” She was amazed by the simple trick, and stunned by the beauty of the ring. ‘But how can he afford such a gift?’ she wondered. “You must have saved all your life for this ring!” she said admiringly.
“I could never afford such a ring, my dear, even if I had saved all of my life.”
“You stole it then?” she asked, hoping that this was not the case.
“No, Guiliana, I did not steal it. One should never steal even a bread crumb.
“Then where did it come from, grandfather?”
“From a magic place, Guiliana. I wanted, so badly to give you a real gift. This may be your last birthday I share with you. I am very old after all and these things can not be known. I wanted it so badly, that it was given to me to give to you. Go ahead Giuliana. Please put it on. It is very real, my dear.”
Placing it on her right hand, she squeezes it to a proper fit. “It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, grandfather. I will never take it off, I promise. But where did it come from, really?”
“Do you still see the people that no one else seems to see?” was his response.
This was an odd question, she thought. Had he not noticed that she had been pretending that such things no longer happened and that she had been a foolish, mistaken child? “Yes, always,” she replied. He seemed to know that already, though.
“And how many others are here with us?”
Her eyes dart about as if counting. “Seven.”
“Seven? Really? I see two men, a boy, a woman, and a lovely girl over there. Where is the seventh?”
He sees six people? Was he only guessing to play along? She didn’t think so. “There is another girl, Henrietta, with red hair hiding behind that tree. She is scared of you.”
Looking over to the tree, he sees a freckled girl peeking out and quickly retreating behind the heavy trunk. “She is wearing such a pretty dress, can she not step out so that I might see it better?”asked the old one.
Henrietta, hearing this, steps out cautiously and quietly. He CAN see them, thought Giuliana. This excited her and angered her simultaneously. Why had he said nothing when all the others would chastise her for making such claims? Why had he not supported her when she cried? “Why have you never told me this?” she asked of him accusingly.
“I thought you might not keep my secret,” he admitted. “As you have learned, our abilities must be kept a secret for our safety. You are very young, Giuliana, and you have been aware of your magic since your first days. I was not in touch with our secret until I was much older and gained what I have only through hard work and practice. Your gift is strong, little queen, and it will only grow stronger…”
For several years, Giuliana and her grandfather allowed themselves to live in their world on long walks alone and through sly nods when others were about. When it came that he passed from this world, he continued to visit his granddaughter in her dreams. Death had changed their relationship little. He mentored her as she explored her abilities.
She grew very strong in her unique capabilities – secretly lifting cattle and other livestock with her mind alone. She could produce a fistful of dust from the air. Her specialty, though, was her work with mirrors. She began with simple mirror tricks. Conjuring ancestors and reaching into the mirror then pulling something from the reflection were easily accomplished. She advanced quickly. In time, she would cup her hands together and manifest in her palms anything from the mirror’s reflection which might fit. Even bigger at times. If she captured the reflection of a figurine, she produced a twin. She was remarkable, yet her heart remained pure. She was a loving girl who was simply fascinated with her abilities. And who could blame her?
A candle flickered it’s light delicately as she held her palms together. Giuliana connected with the world in the mirror each time she conjured this way. She felt that her energies were especially strong this day as she mingled her world within a world without depth. Pulling for the candle top, she glimpsed her own reflection. This time – the first time - however, her image smiled at her, though she had not. Standing frozen, Giuliana had seen many strange things in her practice, but this is unexpected.
She no longer breathed as she stood motionless except for her eyes which widened as she viewed her reflected self step back and sit at the corner of the bed – her self image now only half visible within the edge of the mirror. Giuliana chased her thoughts like fireflies in a field and placed them back where they belonged as she slowly stood more upright, yet still held a defensive crouch. Moving for a new angle, she could now see her image self in full. She sat staring at Giuliana, obviously trying to comprehend what she was taking in as well.
Examining one another carefully, looking for the differences, there were none except for being mirror images of oneself. She had always parted her long dark hair down the middle, and, so there was little difference between the Giulianas – even in reflection.
Hours passed as the two experimented with movement Each took repeated turns at stepping out of the room and returning to see if the other did the same. Only occasionally. They were independent beings to be sure, but an unmistakable union was shared. It was a knock on the door – Giuliana’s mother – which distracted the pair. Startled, she threw a robe over the mirror. She was not ready to explain such a thing or to scare her mother to her death. “Are you joining us for dinner dear?” her mother called through the sealed door. though it was far more of a notice than an actual question.
“I will be there in just a moment, mother,” Giuliana replied. As the older woman left, Giuliana pulled the robe aside on the glass; hoping to see how her doppelganger had occupied herself. Part of her wanted to know if she still existed. Peeping behind the heavy robe, she saw her image sitting on the bed, brushing her hair and creating a part on the left. As the image looked to her, Giuliana waved a hand and made a few gestures to indicate that she liked the hair style and would return in a bit. Her reflection seemed to understand.
Stepping into the cramped hallway, a small mirror lay at the end of the hall. In it, her reflection was merely that. A normal reflection. It responded to all of her movements and was dependent on her own actions alone. Her experience near the window, was much the same – a translucent portrait reflective of her every action. Giuliana ate with her family, making no mention of her day. Finishing her meal quickly, she scrambled to her room shortly afterward and remained there for the night, saying that she felt in need of rest.
Returning to her room, Giuliana pulls aside the robe and sees that her twin is sleeping. Sitting on her own bed, Giuliana uses the time for contemplation. She had read nothing about her situation in any of the books Grandfather had hidden for her in the hollow log. She drifted off easily into slumber. When her grandfather visited that night and learned of the unusual mirror, he had no answers for her. In fact, he could not even see the new Giuliana – only the expected reflections. Both his and hers. “Accept her. Until we know more, though, do not approach too closely,” he warned as he left. Waking suddenly, Giuliana rose and pulled the robe once again across the face of the mirror – separating her world from her twin’s. The robe she wore dropped fluidly to the floor as she felt her lush dark hair brush her right breast. Giuliana knew that the stresses of the day could be eased from her body and mind – tracing and pinching her nipples in anticipation of a release. She lay facing the ceiling, her feet drawn toward her smooth bottom and forcing her knees outward. Her exposed genitals salivating at the thought of what would soon arrive. Touching one finger to her tongue, she held it to her budding clitoris – causing her to arch her back almost immediately. Her labia glowed a dark red as her dew made it glisten. Her orgasm came suddenly, surprising even her. She thrashed back and forth as silently as she could maintain the presence of mind to do – all the while stimulating and propelling herself into further tremors. Catching her breath, she gasped as sweat ran along her entire length. With a heightened sense of prurient interest, she wondered how her twin had spent the time. One finger tracing her belly, she walked to the mirror and peeked behind the robe. There in a room lit only by a candle, her twin lay prone on her bed, another candle plunging in and out of her reflected womanhood. Her twin convulsed often, as Giuliana could only stare. The new Giuliana caught a glimpse of the gawking Giuliana yet did not miss a single candle stroke despite the prying eyes. Her rhythmic insertions, in fact, increased in both frequency and intensity. Giuliana could see the familiar sparkle of her twins’ juices running freely along the creases of her buttocks.
Giuliana looked upon her twin with desire – seeing her image self as someone else entirely. Her own fingers delicately traced her labia, as her middle finger delved deeply into her space. Though she had never been fully aware of her own beauty, she now recognized it in her reflected self. Their eyes were fixed upon one another as they achieved their peaks in unison. They watch one another as their mouths open to reveal seductive tongues which slither across their ruby lips – themselves merely impersonations of the labia they both fondle so eagerly.
Following uncounted orgasms and delight-filled rumbles, the reflected Giuliana drags herself from the tangle of blankets knotted at her feet and approaches the mirror as a tigress approaches a prey paralyzed by fear. The mirrored twin presses her perspiring figure fully against her surface, leaving a dewy, hazy, perfect print of her form. Giuliana, enticed by the impression of her mirrored breasts, licks the surface of the glass – first along the foggy nape and then sliding to rendered nipples centered within the flattened impressions. Her hand glides along the glassy surface to the area where a slight bump indicates the vagina’s image. Gently, she slides a finger in mimic of intimate touch. Lying on the floor before the mirror, Giuliana’s reflection splays open her thighs and masturbates fully-exposed and without restraint – stimulated as much by the obvious attention cast upon her as her own endeavors. Her hair is soaked in sweat and falls across her face; sticking there like musky seaweed. Though Giuliana cannot hear the moans and cries, she can more than imagine them as she herself succumbs to the floor. Kneeling before the mirror; her knees are spread wide as she keeps her back erect for a clear view of her quivering twin. Pressing her left palm against the frame of the glass, her right hand serves her with unquestioning obedience. Droplets form drops as drops form streams running down her body; dripping from the hairs of her pubis and puddling into a musky tea on the hardwood surface beneath her.
A single candle burns in the reflection’s room. It casts its yellow light across an exhausted young woman with a newly discovered sense of self and of passion lying on the floor and staring into the eyes of an equally beautiful and understanding young woman. Giuliana for her part falls to the floor and rests, too tired – too far into her own eroticism – to move. Several minutes go by as her breaths slowly resume the heaving rhythms of a restful fulfillment. When finally she rights herself to look into the glass, she sees her other self still on the floor, yet now leaning against the bed, too spent to climb upon it. Holding two fingers to her lips she tastes and inhales the aromatic sheen which covers them both – envisioning these sensual stimulations as those of her reflection and not at all her own. Giuliana wishes a kiss and returns to her bed, leaving the glass uncovered for the night. Turning to her bed, Giuliana falls asleep quickly, however she twice awakens to peer through the mirror, pleasuring herself delicately at the sight of the beautiful maiden sleeping there in a bed so very much like hers.
In the following months, Giuliana spent more and more time in the confines of her room. Outwardly, she was a bright, genuinely happy young woman. Inwardly, she was happy as well – though no one knew the nature of her joy. She had found a kindred soul and a companion interested in her for who she was. They dressed wildly for one another and invented games only they could understand. Through trial and error they invented a code between themselves yet still communicated through occasional written notes.
They were best friends. They understood one another more intimately than even traditional twins. There was a oneness of soul between them which no woman or man had ever shared with another being. They were the Giulianas. No longer could one be considered separate from the other – joined both spiritually and emotionally. Eternally.
The Giulianas spent their private hours privately. Her grandfather could see how she spent her days and chastised her often. She had obeyed and heeded her grandfather – partly because of her respect for her elders, but also because she knew him to always be right. But when he warned her of her relationship, she dismissed him without a second thought. No one can understand, she thought.
Though no shortage of interested men lived in and about the village, none interested her like the woman in the mirror. On several occasions, mostly while in her twenties, Giuliana accepted suitors with whom she would sit in her family’s garden and chat. Only once did she grant a peck on the cheek; giving that only in pity for the sweet butcher’s son’s ill-fated overtures. She was cordial, friendly and well-liked by everyone, yet she never formed long-term, intimate bonds with anyone but herself and to her family to a lesser degree.
In her mind, she was not in love with herself. Vanity had little to do with her emotions. She saw her mirror self as a distinct person. One could argue the point both ways, but her perception was of another woman. This simple truth, of all the truths involved, she had struggled with for some time; having always believed love to exist only between man and woman. In the end, she felt her attraction to be real and that which was intended for her experience. She accepted this of herself, yet acknowledged it only to her grandfather; one who could never accept it.”
One night, following years of magical experimentation, Giuliana steps cleanly into the mirror. Joining her doppelganger – her love – in her world. Giuliana touched lightly at the skin of her twin – the twin responding in kind. To their delight, each of them is real in every sense and sensation. The once-reflected Giuliana pulls a dark heavy robe across her mirror, where it stays for an eternity.
Giuliana
She never performed these acts in public, fearing she may be called a witch, or something even worse. She would not be offended to be called a witch at all - for that is who she felt that she indeed was - but it would mean her death if such a thought were to be spoken into the wrong ears.
She was born with a perception that others seemed not to have. As a girl, she learned none of her friends or siblings saw many of the people that she indeed could see. She had conversations with people that her father could not even hear. She knew things before her grandmother did – and her grandmother was said to know everything.
Through trial and error, she learned not to mention many parts of her world to others. She came to understand that her world encompassed the world of her family and friends, but hers was a bit greater.
On her ninth birthday, her grandfather asked her to join him on a short walk so that he may give her his present. He asked her how she felt to be a year older and made small talk in other ways, but seemed preoccupied – as if he were avoiding what he really thought. “What did you get for me, grandfather?” she asked in an attempt to lead the conversation down a clearer path. In response, he fell silent - walking straight to a fallen log and sitting on the barky perch. She took a place next to him, looking to his face which was set straight forward.
Holding out his hands, one cupped above the other, he gently massaged his palms back and forth. Lifting his right hand, he reveals a simple, yet exquisite golden ring lying in the left. “It is not a complete circle, so that it may grow along with you, Guiliana.” She was amazed by the simple trick, and stunned by the beauty of the ring. ‘But how can he afford such a gift?’ she wondered. “You must have saved all your life for this ring!” she said admiringly.
“I could never afford such a ring, my dear, even if I had saved all of my life.”
“You stole it then?” she asked, hoping that this was not the case.
“No, Guiliana, I did not steal it. One should never steal even a bread crumb.
“Then where did it come from, grandfather?”
“From a magic place, Guiliana. I wanted, so badly to give you a real gift. This may be your last birthday I share with you. I am very old after all and these things can not be known. I wanted it so badly, that it was given to me to give to you. Go ahead Giuliana. Please put it on. It is very real, my dear.”
Placing it on her right hand, she squeezes it to a proper fit. “It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, grandfather. I will never take it off, I promise. But where did it come from, really?”
“Do you still see the people that no one else seems to see?” was his response.
This was an odd question, she thought. Had he not noticed that she had been pretending that such things no longer happened and that she had been a foolish, mistaken child? “Yes, always,” she replied. He seemed to know that already, though.
“And how many others are here with us?”
Her eyes dart about as if counting. “Seven.”
“Seven? Really? I see two men, a boy, a woman, and a lovely girl over there. Where is the seventh?”
He sees six people? Was he only guessing to play along? She didn’t think so. “There is another girl, Henrietta, with red hair hiding behind that tree. She is scared of you.”
Looking over to the tree, he sees a freckled girl peeking out and quickly retreating behind the heavy trunk. “She is wearing such a pretty dress, can she not step out so that I might see it better?”asked the old one.
Henrietta, hearing this, steps out cautiously and quietly. He CAN see them, thought Giuliana. This excited her and angered her simultaneously. Why had he said nothing when all the others would chastise her for making such claims? Why had he not supported her when she cried? “Why have you never told me this?” she asked of him accusingly.
“I thought you might not keep my secret,” he admitted. “As you have learned, our abilities must be kept a secret for our safety. You are very young, Giuliana, and you have been aware of your magic since your first days. I was not in touch with our secret until I was much older and gained what I have only through hard work and practice. Your gift is strong, little queen, and it will only grow stronger…”
For several years, Giuliana and her grandfather allowed themselves to live in their world on long walks alone and through sly nods when others were about. When it came that he passed from this world, he continued to visit his granddaughter in her dreams. Death had changed their relationship little. He mentored her as she explored her abilities.
She grew very strong in her unique capabilities – secretly lifting cattle and other livestock with her mind alone. She could produce a fistful of dust from the air. Her specialty, though, was her work with mirrors. She began with simple mirror tricks. Conjuring ancestors and reaching into the mirror then pulling something from the reflection were easily accomplished. She advanced quickly. In time, she would cup her hands together and manifest in her palms anything from the mirror’s reflection which might fit. Even bigger at times. If she captured the reflection of a figurine, she produced a twin. She was remarkable, yet her heart remained pure. She was a loving girl who was simply fascinated with her abilities. And who could blame her?
A candle flickered it’s light delicately as she held her palms together. Giuliana connected with the world in the mirror each time she conjured this way. She felt that her energies were especially strong this day as she mingled her world within a world without depth. Pulling for the candle top, she glimpsed her own reflection. This time – the first time - however, her image smiled at her, though she had not. Standing frozen, Giuliana had seen many strange things in her practice, but this is unexpected.
She no longer breathed as she stood motionless except for her eyes which widened as she viewed her reflected self step back and sit at the corner of the bed – her self image now only half visible within the edge of the mirror. Giuliana chased her thoughts like fireflies in a field and placed them back where they belonged as she slowly stood more upright, yet still held a defensive crouch. Moving for a new angle, she could now see her image self in full. She sat staring at Giuliana, obviously trying to comprehend what she was taking in as well.
Examining one another carefully, looking for the differences, there were none except for being mirror images of oneself. She had always parted her long dark hair down the middle, and, so there was little difference between the Giulianas – even in reflection.
Hours passed as the two experimented with movement Each took repeated turns at stepping out of the room and returning to see if the other did the same. Only occasionally. They were independent beings to be sure, but an unmistakable union was shared. It was a knock on the door – Giuliana’s mother – which distracted the pair. Startled, she threw a robe over the mirror. She was not ready to explain such a thing or to scare her mother to her death. “Are you joining us for dinner dear?” her mother called through the sealed door. though it was far more of a notice than an actual question.
“I will be there in just a moment, mother,” Giuliana replied. As the older woman left, Giuliana pulled the robe aside on the glass; hoping to see how her doppelganger had occupied herself. Part of her wanted to know if she still existed. Peeping behind the heavy robe, she saw her image sitting on the bed, brushing her hair and creating a part on the left. As the image looked to her, Giuliana waved a hand and made a few gestures to indicate that she liked the hair style and would return in a bit. Her reflection seemed to understand.
Stepping into the cramped hallway, a small mirror lay at the end of the hall. In it, her reflection was merely that. A normal reflection. It responded to all of her movements and was dependent on her own actions alone. Her experience near the window, was much the same – a translucent portrait reflective of her every action. Giuliana ate with her family, making no mention of her day. Finishing her meal quickly, she scrambled to her room shortly afterward and remained there for the night, saying that she felt in need of rest.
Returning to her room, Giuliana pulls aside the robe and sees that her twin is sleeping. Sitting on her own bed, Giuliana uses the time for contemplation. She had read nothing about her situation in any of the books Grandfather had hidden for her in the hollow log. She drifted off easily into slumber. When her grandfather visited that night and learned of the unusual mirror, he had no answers for her. In fact, he could not even see the new Giuliana – only the expected reflections. Both his and hers. “Accept her. Until we know more, though, do not approach too closely,” he warned as he left. Waking suddenly, Giuliana rose and pulled the robe once again across the face of the mirror – separating her world from her twin’s. The robe she wore dropped fluidly to the floor as she felt her lush dark hair brush her right breast. Giuliana knew that the stresses of the day could be eased from her body and mind – tracing and pinching her nipples in anticipation of a release. She lay facing the ceiling, her feet drawn toward her smooth bottom and forcing her knees outward. Her exposed genitals salivating at the thought of what would soon arrive. Touching one finger to her tongue, she held it to her budding clitoris – causing her to arch her back almost immediately. Her labia glowed a dark red as her dew made it glisten. Her orgasm came suddenly, surprising even her. She thrashed back and forth as silently as she could maintain the presence of mind to do – all the while stimulating and propelling herself into further tremors. Catching her breath, she gasped as sweat ran along her entire length. With a heightened sense of prurient interest, she wondered how her twin had spent the time. One finger tracing her belly, she walked to the mirror and peeked behind the robe. There in a room lit only by a candle, her twin lay prone on her bed, another candle plunging in and out of her reflected womanhood. Her twin convulsed often, as Giuliana could only stare. The new Giuliana caught a glimpse of the gawking Giuliana yet did not miss a single candle stroke despite the prying eyes. Her rhythmic insertions, in fact, increased in both frequency and intensity. Giuliana could see the familiar sparkle of her twins’ juices running freely along the creases of her buttocks.
Giuliana looked upon her twin with desire – seeing her image self as someone else entirely. Her own fingers delicately traced her labia, as her middle finger delved deeply into her space. Though she had never been fully aware of her own beauty, she now recognized it in her reflected self. Their eyes were fixed upon one another as they achieved their peaks in unison. They watch one another as their mouths open to reveal seductive tongues which slither across their ruby lips – themselves merely impersonations of the labia they both fondle so eagerly.
Following uncounted orgasms and delight-filled rumbles, the reflected Giuliana drags herself from the tangle of blankets knotted at her feet and approaches the mirror as a tigress approaches a prey paralyzed by fear. The mirrored twin presses her perspiring figure fully against her surface, leaving a dewy, hazy, perfect print of her form. Giuliana, enticed by the impression of her mirrored breasts, licks the surface of the glass – first along the foggy nape and then sliding to rendered nipples centered within the flattened impressions. Her hand glides along the glassy surface to the area where a slight bump indicates the vagina’s image. Gently, she slides a finger in mimic of intimate touch. Lying on the floor before the mirror, Giuliana’s reflection splays open her thighs and masturbates fully-exposed and without restraint – stimulated as much by the obvious attention cast upon her as her own endeavors. Her hair is soaked in sweat and falls across her face; sticking there like musky seaweed. Though Giuliana cannot hear the moans and cries, she can more than imagine them as she herself succumbs to the floor. Kneeling before the mirror; her knees are spread wide as she keeps her back erect for a clear view of her quivering twin. Pressing her left palm against the frame of the glass, her right hand serves her with unquestioning obedience. Droplets form drops as drops form streams running down her body; dripping from the hairs of her pubis and puddling into a musky tea on the hardwood surface beneath her.
A single candle burns in the reflection’s room. It casts its yellow light across an exhausted young woman with a newly discovered sense of self and of passion lying on the floor and staring into the eyes of an equally beautiful and understanding young woman. Giuliana for her part falls to the floor and rests, too tired – too far into her own eroticism – to move. Several minutes go by as her breaths slowly resume the heaving rhythms of a restful fulfillment. When finally she rights herself to look into the glass, she sees her other self still on the floor, yet now leaning against the bed, too spent to climb upon it. Holding two fingers to her lips she tastes and inhales the aromatic sheen which covers them both – envisioning these sensual stimulations as those of her reflection and not at all her own. Giuliana wishes a kiss and returns to her bed, leaving the glass uncovered for the night. Turning to her bed, Giuliana falls asleep quickly, however she twice awakens to peer through the mirror, pleasuring herself delicately at the sight of the beautiful maiden sleeping there in a bed so very much like hers.
In the following months, Giuliana spent more and more time in the confines of her room. Outwardly, she was a bright, genuinely happy young woman. Inwardly, she was happy as well – though no one knew the nature of her joy. She had found a kindred soul and a companion interested in her for who she was. They dressed wildly for one another and invented games only they could understand. Through trial and error they invented a code between themselves yet still communicated through occasional written notes.
They were best friends. They understood one another more intimately than even traditional twins. There was a oneness of soul between them which no woman or man had ever shared with another being. They were the Giulianas. No longer could one be considered separate from the other – joined both spiritually and emotionally. Eternally.
The Giulianas spent their private hours privately. Her grandfather could see how she spent her days and chastised her often. She had obeyed and heeded her grandfather – partly because of her respect for her elders, but also because she knew him to always be right. But when he warned her of her relationship, she dismissed him without a second thought. No one can understand, she thought.
Though no shortage of interested men lived in and about the village, none interested her like the woman in the mirror. On several occasions, mostly while in her twenties, Giuliana accepted suitors with whom she would sit in her family’s garden and chat. Only once did she grant a peck on the cheek; giving that only in pity for the sweet butcher’s son’s ill-fated overtures. She was cordial, friendly and well-liked by everyone, yet she never formed long-term, intimate bonds with anyone but herself and to her family to a lesser degree.
In her mind, she was not in love with herself. Vanity had little to do with her emotions. She saw her mirror self as a distinct person. One could argue the point both ways, but her perception was of another woman. This simple truth, of all the truths involved, she had struggled with for some time; having always believed love to exist only between man and woman. In the end, she felt her attraction to be real and that which was intended for her experience. She accepted this of herself, yet acknowledged it only to her grandfather; one who could never accept it.”
One night, following years of magical experimentation, Giuliana steps cleanly into the mirror. Joining her doppelganger – her love – in her world. Giuliana touched lightly at the skin of her twin – the twin responding in kind. To their delight, each of them is real in every sense and sensation. The once-reflected Giuliana pulls a dark heavy robe across her mirror, where it stays for an eternity.
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