From: douglee@netcom.com (Douglas Lee)
Subject: NC-SF 10/06 She returns

Once again, all I have to recall the night are fevered notes scrawled 
on...well, a computer.  I'd try to say something more of the excesses 
which left me delirious and bedridden for three days, but I can no 
longer distinguish the mad excesses of my own imagination from 
reality.

I arrived along with Sir Real at about 9:30.  It's not my fault.  I 
watch Meagan dance on stage.  ALS informs me of their evolving 
relationship.  Mia comes over.  "I'm *never* going to sit with you 
again!" she cries, and then proceeds to ignore me to preen for ALS.  
Was that a storm?  Just a funny little cloud, I think.  And it is 
funny.  ALS confides that she's mad at me because of my comments and 
review of her in the "Little Black Book."  Ce la vie.

Ava's back. Ava...

I can't think of anything else.  I'd only seen her that one night, an 
unforgettable one.  Her disappearance was a torture.  Discovering the 
why's behind it came much worse.  But here she was again.  Alive.  And 
still so beautiful.

I'm rambling.  Well, here are my notes.

----

I'm tired now, delirious.

I don't always feel, don't always see much of anything in the world 
around me.

I don't know what I'm trying to say.

She was still beautiful. Still matchless.  It's not even close.  I'm 
caught again in the flames of her sensual fire.  Her hair was long, 
dark.  She looked like an elf of sorts.  A Tolkien elf.  A Noldor.  
Tall.  Majestic.  Beautiful.  Eyes and hair, dark like tarnished iron.

Is she in danger?  Is she dying?  I can't face that so I just believe 
her denials.  Heroin.  Used needles.  Signs of jaundice.  Hepatitis.  
Worse things.
(V:  "No.  She's not lying.  And you're a fucking idiot!")
She kissed me.  Seriously.  Oh no.
(V: "Are you out of your fucking mind?!")  
She's so beautiful.

Please.

She's purring.  Wow.  She does it well.  Her cuts.  Boyfriend thinks 
he's a vampire.  I should fucking drive a stake through his heart, cut 
off his head, and burn them on separate pyres.

What am I saying?

Please.

I'd be her shield, shed my blood for her.  Shes destroying herself.  I 
can't let myself die like that.  No sense.  Her name is...I can't tell 
you.  An old poem made it immortal.  We spoke its words together.  
I...I can't be without her.  Yes.  No.  I can.  What am I saying?

Now I'm lost in this rambling fable.

Please.

I missed her.  She said she read my post three times.  She told me it 
made her hot, to think of me masturbating about her.  She was so hot.  
She sweat profusely.  I tasted the salt on her chest and back.  I 
nibbled her ear.  She gasped.  I held her face.  Close.  She cleared 
away my hair and told me I had beautiful eyes.  She stroked my face, 
praised the softness of my skin.  I worshipped her and dwelt for 
awhile within that worship.

I gave her $190.  $5 stage tip.  $10 + 10 for a couple lap dances.  
$120 in the playpen for a couple hours.  Then I gave her my last $45.

Now all I can hear is her husky voice whispering "I could fuck you all 
night."  All I can feel is her frantically trying to bring herself to 
climax against my body.  I don't care what the rules are.  I need her.  
My desire escapes its bounds.  It rages out of control.  What I'm 
feeling is destructive.  It comes, departs and leaves me with 
something less than what I might have had.  More gibberish.  
Halloween.  Oh God I need her.  What is Ava?  How do I defend her and 
save her, protect myself?

Damn, what is this?  Shut up.  She kissed me.  Several times.  With 
her tongue.  Dangerous...

I'd kill you all for a glimpse of her.  Fucking vi.

My goddess.  You are that.  Do you believe?  No, I have no doubts.

Water.  May I have some?

Please.

Fatigue.  Poor darling.  I need to rest.  Need to remember her.  She 
wanted me to be the only one that night.  Might have been.

I'm so tired.

---------------