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Evita's Tale Memories
He is just as attentive in his touch of us as we wash off his day, and Celeste follows under the warmth and attention of those who cherish her. The discovery of her ticklish side fills the space with her giggle. When we turn to Master he is stepping closer to us, the daunting sight welcomed when we don’t move. His fingers run across the collar of our necks when the soft touch becomes heavy.With a gentle push, we are moved, having our backs against the cold tiled wall. He stares us both down from his height with nostalgia, "I have spent days missing how you both feel." Stepping closer, he grips a little tighter, but not as hard as he would have had we not been in the shower "How you sound, and taste. Be good and hold my shoulders." His words directed to us both, so I brought my arm to his should, running against Celeste’s. His hold on our necks begins to descend, tracing my body before he runs his tub over my exposed nipple, the shower had left them stiff, and so when he brings his
Evita's Tale Wishes
Could you ever make a wish with open eyes and surprised hands because you knew your wish would come true? Something fairy-tale-like that was within your reach, and all you had to do was take it in your hands. Between fallen lashes and single cupcakes with a flickering candle, my wishes had always been with closed eyes because I knew they were as fickle as the breath needed to blow them away. Looking at the pamphlets and files in front of me, those wishes. The ones I had made behind closed eyes presented themselves in the day. I stood from my chair, the wooden frame balancing me as I looked over the details that came with requirements for admission, registration terms and conditions, fees, and the courses and classes all sat in different piles. After a night of tossing and turning, I decided to start my morning before the sun. The scent of lilacs surrounded me as I looked back to the closed door, leaving me with the memory of the bed I had left. Even steaming water left me cold when
Evita's Tale Cross
When I enter the penthouse, I am a little later than usual after taking a slight detour. Not only did I need a walk to clear my head, but I also knew only one man I deemed worthy enough for the job. I note the silence, the lack of chatter or the occasional singing that serenaded the art when she was happy. Master's soft scent, a note I realised was the result of showers he took from the gym, was also missing. Coming to that conclusion. I leave my bag on the table near the couch before heading upstairs. I note the soft dampness of a hot shower, so I go over to the closet. Using the original door, I walk into the room, and it is on the right section. The lighting is strong against the blues and greens of the closet. Standing across from a large landscape mirror, I looked at a mirage. I leave my heels at the door, giving myself a moment as I looked over her slim fingers bringing oil to her skin, running her hands by her calves to her thighs. I watched her caress the body I considered
Evita's Tale Cinnamon
The raft is plush, unable to carry my thrashing body through the rise and crash of waves intent on dragging me under. Heavy winds and unkind skies throw vicious tantrums as flashes of lightning flicker through the moments between choking on waters and trying to stay afloat. Every intention of yelling for help gulped down with sandy water while my hope began to succumb like the raft that barely held me up. Looking around me, rising waves and heavy rain pelts on my skin. Left and right, I see nothing. Despite my eyes turning back when I see it, the water, unlike the waves that crash against me. The waters are slow and calm and ripple softly against the line between the chaotic hurricane I was in. Gone is the attempt at screaming for help when the calm water turns into a thick river of red that held the back of the plush raft. Its strength has me whipping my head back into the hurricane, “PLEASE!!” I hear through the crashing waters, only the voice is a chill echo behind me, unkind as it
Evita's Tale Lifes torment
“That's why you bought this?” Confused, he reaches beside him, hidden in the shadow of his body, he pulls out a book. Black leather, its cover pressed under tense fingers before two hands hold it like an archaeological find. He runs his fingers over the gold letter stamping, the perfectly centred A. S. M. When purchasing and stamping the book, all I thought was how it would be amazing, but all I ended up thinking was if the thought of dancing shattered my soul would I want someone to bring me to a stage. Was I gifting his place to create nothing but the icy cold he left me with when I spoke of the piano? He looks down at it, letting the light dance across the letters, turning back to me. His breath runs past open lips, eyes sunken, and brows lifted, “How…did you?” His hold on the book is still firm, almost like he feared holding it loose enough that the pages would burst open, but he continued, “Your bag was on the couch when I sat. I pulled it from under me, and this fell out. Why d
Evita's Tale Passionate
I am stunned awake once again. The short breath knocked my eyes open as I held onto Celeste’s arm in sudden reflex. I’m here. I'm on the raft. I am not drowning. The tense state of my body makes me turn over to the warmth of the body next to me. Her soft features were still in slumber, lips softly parted from her lips and lashes brushing agent her skin, in a moment I could deem priceless. Her hands held onto Angel's arm, leaning into him with a familiar mould. Celeste's dress sat sparingly on her body, chest plush and pressed against the soft grey of the nightshirt. His hold on her was possessive, across her, but no more possessive than the repercussions of his teasing nature towards the woman in his arms. You would think most of the marks that litter against her skin would be when she was under him, weathering and pleading, but he liked to taunt her. With soft whispers and the exposure of her skin, all too welcoming to his attention. The one to the bottom of her neck was bold, u
Evita's Tale Mirrors
It’s hard not to feel like the feelings I had allowed to take me over in the short time since I had exposed a story to a fallen angel and the sanity that whispered through high tower walls. When I was not under breathless touches I would hardly feel a soft breeze of disturbance. They were the centre of the storm, and I had been walking around in circles. For a while, I was the storm. Chaos and destruction until I would collapse, but as I looked across the table. Angel drizzled honey over a bowl of strawberries before shifting the plate closer to Celeste, I felt like I could hold my breath just so my chaos could not destroy it in passing, "Evita..." The sound of Celeste’s questioning tone snaps me out of my distant thoughts, the morning sun bringing the golden accessories that kissed her skin."Sorry, just got lost in my head. What were you saying?" Giving me a reassuring smile, Celeste repeats, " We have this argument every year. Master gets invited to the Regina Institute for Fine A
Evita's Tale Boxes and bows
You always remember your first. How they looked at you, what you felt as you looked back with adoration. In your eyes and a little girl's optimism. Dreaming of the moment tattered cloth would become a ball gown and a man far beyond your expectations of what you deserved takes you into his arms. No one ever reminds Cinderella that the prince knew her in a fairy tale perfection, lost in her illusion of beauty. He never really knew her, the girl covered in suet and tears. I loved a prince, and when he saw me fall to the effects of the midnight hour, he didn't reject me. Like a fool, I thought he saw beyond my body, but he took it in like a carcass to a hyena. Tearing into the parts of myself I had already broken into place. My hand softly runs over a thin scar, no longer than a few cm, a little behind my ear. It was the nick that stopped my body in its tracks as his words and my suffocating tears left my spirit fighting a lost war. He held it carelessly. I knew a crowd needed to gasp,
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