A tepid solace surrounded everything. By tepid I mean, sort of, luke-warm. Right. So. A tepid solace surrounded everthing except my longing. My desperate longing.
Well, I suppose I should have said that right off...I hate trying to blog here. So many distractions! But I meant to say, right off, that a tepid solace surrounded everything except my longing. Which was desperate. My desperate longing.
Let me start over.
A tepid solace surrounded everything but my desperate longing.
That's better!
Oh, come on! Tepid? WTF?
Ok.
A lukewarm solace surrounded everything but my desperate longing.
I had caught his scent and like some entranced insect I followed in the wake of its wafting for a block or two, staying just out of sight. Aged gymshorts and sweated sneakers' chic! A lulling hum carried on the wind to my waiting ears played a pathos of passionate drumbeats. A black college stomp group on a romp. A million individual feet beating a pattern of passion for yours truly! I followed.
In the thick of the night...wait, is that copyrighted? There was a show? something? who cares? In the thick of the night a glistening of early dew wetted the lips of the lapping weeds, the reaching grasses and low-lying trees of the path past the elementary school through the wooded burbs. Ah, the bliss of silent streets lit up in festival fashion by so many street lights, yard lights and floodlights - as though the sleeper would awaken! I pass beyond the gaudy pastiche of middle-class nightlights, the full-coverage new car smell from each garage tainted by virgin skin-scent and gang rape, the stench of failure here and there where mortgages were falling behind, the stain of sin on back yard pools and sassy barbecue sets with expensive floral pattern pillows on cheap hand-me-down wrought iron patio chairs...
I digess...
His scent. I followed. As he lay fast asleep within the warm and welcoming cocoon of his vile dreams I raised myself up upon the pedastal he had erected in his mind and preached upon the heart of his soul that which would best serve me, Lillith, demon of Eden, Succubus of the West Side...
Of course, he awoke in a great heat, desperate to do my bidding. Unsure of what my bidding might be (for he had slept only a few moments before the heat of passion roused him) he stomped out of his own room, checking each of the next rooms. He found his sister; young, sleeping, her silent, curly blond locks baffled him. He stumbled away into his parent's room, finding them deeply delving the sort of coitus that waits until the kids are fast asleep. They did not stir to the disturbance of their peace nor the noises of quickly backing away from their sanctum. Rushed steps led the young one from his front door, down the walkway and into the night. Moist with the newness of the world at such an hour, damp with the sweat of anticipation. He followed the few blocks to the abode of the Succubus, led by the fingers of fate weighted heavily with my own silver rings. He came there, to that place, and so he entered.
And Gods! What a night! For a low-brow sort of valley boy I must say he sure could...
Again, I digress.
Though the night was not without its bounty, I did but pay in full. A tally by the Gods of some $6,275.77.
For he awoke from this engagement in somewhat of a stupor.
He found himself much...suffocated...by his immediate environs. breaking free (and costing me a pair of my very best silk stockings, some $50.95 in value) he sought blindly in his rather overblown panic for some egress from my darkened rooms...
$3,025.00 to remove and replace with new the interior drywall and exterior vinyl siding of my humble abode after he launched himself at a convenient point far from the lental of any load-bearing structure and beat with his fists a means of escape...
$1,250.82 in lawyer fees, proving the young rogue had entered quite of his own accord, without any forknowledge of my own, attacking me in my humble sleep, in my humble home...
$300 in court costs...
$1500 in payoffs to the local media...
$149 to wine and dine Dionysus before he agreed to attack the kid's parents in a noble but ill-conceived attempt to distract them from the case at hand (instead, a long and rather disturbing divorce proceeding distracted them, all in all, the typical example of overkill employeed by my buddy Bacchus).
In the end, it was but a cry for help.
What is an old succubus to do, trapped here in the city? Stained by the stench of the modern world? Invade the dreams of the young. Tempt that which has been left to the disdainful eye of fate. Type another fucking blog amongst a million-billion blogs.
What am I to do but wait? And hope. If you can hear me, perhaps you can find me. If you can find me, perhaps...there is some other fate that awaits me. Some surprise, or secret. Something more than one such as I should hope for?
Or maybe your lame ass will giggle and move on, and so...
There are always more good-looking boys in the burbs.
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