Glittering Green, Glowing Gold

Diana couldn't remember when she'd met a sweeter guy. He had actually fought off a rapist to save her, and he didn't want to take the guitar? She smiled to herself. She couldn't wait to hear him play it... or to see him again. To see those deep, deep brown eyes, that strong chin, the strong arms and muscular chest, teasing her with just one more button undone....

Her hands ran along her body. Gently she caressed her breasts, gave each one a squeeze. She teased her nipples, which had already begun to poke up through the fabric. With one hand her fingers teased a nipple, and the other slid along her gentle curves, eventually coming to rest between her legs....

Parker arched his back, stretching, as his hand fondled the lump that was growing beneath his jeans. He undid his belt, slid the jeans off, and began to work at his growing erection, gently squeezing and stroking with all five fingers.

Diana had removed her jeans and she was ever so gently stroking herself in a particular spot. Sensation began to course steadily through her as her motions became more rhythmic. She closed her eyes. There she saw him, shirt removed, muscles gleaming, as he wrapped those big arms around her....

His hand stroked up and down his cock, which he had pulled out of his boxers as he rose to his full size. Images steadily passed before his mind's eye: her round, perky breasts, the way her jeans hugged her ass, the way her eyes smiled with her mouth and seemed to draw him in....

She slipped a hand inside her panties, which had begun to soak through. With two fingers she began to massage her clitoris, gentle, rhythmic, her juices making her fingers slide, wet and slick, over her flesh. She saw him, felt him hold her near, felt the pressure of his body as he lay down on top of her. Her hips rose into the air....

He saw her in the yellow sundress she'd been wearing that fateful night. Her breasts, round and beautiful, were visible from above. She beckoned him closer, lay down, raised the dress to reveal bare flesh, no underwear. His motions quickened....

She slipped her middle finger inside herself, thrusting more and more quickly. She began to utter soft moans as the man in her vision held himself over her with his strong arms, thrusting into her with the same rhythm as her hand. She held her breath....

His hand moved its ministrations from the shaft of his dick to the head, the strokes becoming shorter and quicker. The young woman in his vision spread her legs, revealing a slick, pink, tight pussy. He imagined himself sliding inside of her. His breathing quickened....

Rational thought began to disappear as she felt her climax building....

He could think of nothing else as sweet fire accumulated inside him....

"Parker," she whispered....

"Diana," he whispered....

They climaxed, together, miles apart. She continued to finger herself as the wave fell, hearing the wet schick-schick-schick sound and her finger slid in and out, in and out. He continued stroking, his penis now inside his boxers to catch his seed, grunting softly. They slowed, they stopped, their heads fell back, they panted as the afterglow swept over them.

They sighed. They smiled.

They fell asleep.

The rumble of the northbound Brown Line train woke Parker. He tried to recall his dream. It had been the most pleasant of dreams. Like dreams do, though, this one disappeared quickly, as water through one's fingers, leaving naught but flashes of green and glimmers of gold.

He opened his eyes. It was still dark. What the fuck? He looked at his clock: 6:09am. That must have been the first train of the morning. He settled in and closed his eyes, but found that he was far more awake than perhaps he ought to be. He sat upright. He felt awesome, wide awake. He saw his guitar and his heart lifted, then lifted again as he remembered the night before. He stood, stretched, pulled a pair of pants on. He grabbed his keys and stepped into his shoes, leaving his apartment and venturing into the still-dark morning.

He guessed it was about quarter after 6, which gave him about an hour before the sun really started to rise. He walked down Wellington the short way to Sheffield and turned left. He strolled down the sleepy street, almost silent except for the rumble of the train in the distance. Residences and storefronts were dark, shadowy in the deep blue. A chill breeze wrapped around him as he reached Fullerton and turned left, heading west. He passed more dark stores and restaurants, and the early morning breeze rustled the leaves in the trees in front of the houses. Like this he walked for about 45 more minutes, savoring the cold, sweet touch of the April morning air.

The buildings began to grow taller, then suddenly there was a park to his left. He walked under an overpass, then over a bridge. He turned to look south over the Chicago River. His breath caught in his chest. This truly was the best view of downtown. The sky had turned from deepest blue to a soft, velvety navy. Some straggling clouds clung to the tops of the buildings, some of the taller ones like the Sears Tower appearing to stretch endlessly, endlessly upward. There was nary a soul around; from time to time a solitary car would drive by on the nearby thoroughfare, but this was a rare occurrence.

Parker sighed to himself, smiling. This was a spectacular view, but not the one he had come for. He turned left and continued to walk.

Suddenly there it was, spread out before him like a silver-blue mantle. Soft, silvery mist still clung to the waves as the lake rolled out to meet the horizon. Right at the meeting place of water and sky a soft orange glow had just begun to emerge. Parker sat on a low wall and gazed, his eyes wide, absorbing the spectacle. The only sound was the waves as they lapped softly, insistently against the shore. The sharp smell of the water filled Parker's lungs in a deep sigh, and the cool air chilled him inside and out. He felt himself smile, softly.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, selected an application, and began to speak. "Water," he said, "soft. Blue, silver. Cool, sweet, filling, satisfying. Moving, changing, brighter, darker, deep and resolved. Calm." He sighed. "Diana," he whispered. "Soft. Green, gold. Cool, sweet, filling, satisfying." He smiled. "Beautiful, strong, deep." He suddenly felt a great emptiness in the space next to him.

Just then the sun breached the horizon, casting a great gold ribbon across the water. The clouds swirled with pinks and oranges and reds and yellows, then began to dissipate as the sky warmed from navy to azure. Parker gazed at the colors, mouthing words quietly to himself. In the air next to him, his left hand was moving, fingers shifting, forming chords and melodies on invisible strings.

The sun tracked its entire journey across the blue arc of the sky while the Second City bustled beneath it. Minutes turned into hours, hours blew by like the omnipresent wind. Soon it was quarter to 7 in the evening, and Parker strolled up to the Daily Grind, guitar across his back.

He entered and sidled up to the bar, ordered a green tea latte. Linda nodded and smiled at him. He looked up at the stage. A poetry slam was occurring, and the girl at the microphone was very familiar.

Diana's golden tresses bounced with her gesticulations as she spoke with intensity, ferocity. Her eyes were closed, so absorbed in her craft was she.

...Dark hands, clawing, grabbing, tightening, feeling,

Trapping me, slapping me, touching me

In places forbidden, dark, off-limits, homey.

Suddenly my minutes are numbered, you shake me, hit me,

Wanting my body, wanting your body

In my body,

To take it by force. Take it! Why don't you take it?

It's not yours, but take it, you want it,

Your reasons dark and lustful,

Dark and lustful like your hands.

Here she paused, took a deep breath, opened her eyes. Her glittering green ones locked onto Parker's endlessly deep brown ones. She smiled softly.

Soft hands, they hit hard,

Sacrificing love and blood to save me.

Wood splinters, steel snaps,

Heart breaks,

But there you are, hands bloody with vengeance.

I can't see you, but if not for you

I'll never see anything again.

Hands, not dark, soft,

Can they cradle like they can slug?

Show me, hold me in those saving hands,

Light hands, soft hands.

Over the last few lines Diana had gotten softer until she was almost whispering, her lips brushing the microphone, her eyes closed. Silence hung in the room until she opened her eyes and stepped back, smiling when applause broke out.

She left the stage, still smiling demurely, as Linda took the stage. "Thank you Diana," she said as the applause backed away, "and thank you to everyone who participated in or came out to see tonight's Spoken Word Slam. In about ten minutes we'll have Parker Herzlich, rejoining us with his new guitar. Take a break, buy more drinks, we'll be back about ten." The crowd began to mill, conversation rumbling about like a distant train.

Diana sidled up next to Parker at the bar. Parker regarded her. She wore a beautiful knee-length cotton dress in a deep green that beautifully complemented her shining eyes. "Fancy seeing you here," Diana said, nudging him playfully with her shoulder.

"Yeah," Parker said lightly, "it's good to be back. You're some spoken word artist, that was awesome."

Diana giggled. "I mostly do poetry," she told him. "I'm a creative writing major at Roosevelt. But I'm also head of the spoken word club at Roosevelt." She smiled. "It's fun. And what happened the other night was so... violent, so raw... I thought that would be a better medium."

"I think you were right," Parker said. "Okay, I'd better tune up." He smiled at Diana.

"Okay," Diana whispered, looking coyly up at Parker and smiling.

Parker slung his guitar off of his back and took his place on the stool that had been set up for him on the stage. The body of the guitar shone, a glistening green, freshly polished, brand new strings. He strummed each of these strings lightly, listening, twisting pegs this way and that, until he was satisfied.

He played and sang his hour-long set with fervor he had not felt in what felt like ages. The up-tempo songs were rhythmic and dancing, the slower songs were heart-wrenching and gorgeous, the lyrics shone with a veritable light, his voice was smooth and deep and lovely. Many times he looked up and locked eyes with Diana, who sat watching him raptly, eyes wide. She watched his hands moving, fingers dancing, she watched his mouth as he sang, she watched his eyes as they would stay with hers, longing, searching.

The last chord of his last song rang into the air as it had that night, even more brilliant and shimmering. There was applause. Parker smiled, thanked them, shouldered his guitar, and moved toward the only person he wanted to see. Their eyes met, brown and green, and she held a hand out to him. He took it. His fingers slid between hers, her skin soft and smooth and cool to the touch. "Walk me home?" Diana asked, gazing into his eyes, a small smile on her lips. She squeezed his hand, gently.

Parker smiled his cool, confident smile. "'Course," he said.

Four blocks west, one block south, a twenty five-minute westbound Blue Line ride, five blocks south, one block west, and Parker's hand never left Diana's. There was much squeezing, caressing, a multitude of touches between two hands.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye they stood together in her kitchen, Parker's shimmering green guitar lying once again on her kitchen table. They stood, gazing at each other intently, as if trying to absorb one another. Despite each one's prowess for using words, no words were necessary. He stepped towards her, his hands wrapped around her waist. He bent his head, she rose up slightly on her toes, brown eyes closed, green eyes closed, and they kissed.

One kiss turned into two, which turned into five, into ten, until the count was lost. Parker's touch was firm but gentle, holding Diana's body against his but stroking her skin with the lightest touch. His kisses were deep, thorough, strong but not suffocating. He ran his fingers through her shoulder-length, golden hair.

She reveled in his touch, goosebumps rising along every inch of her skin. His strong arms cradled her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head closer to hers.

His hands began to move, slowly, feeling with every inch of palm and fingers. Along her slender neck, across her shoulders, down her back, achingly slow. He cupped her face in his left as his right began to sink, resting on her hip. Then he moved it, letting it alight gently on the curve of her ass.

She gasped through her nose, but she squeezed him, holding him to her as they kissed, making it abundantly clear that he was not to stop. His hand was gentle, caressing, lightly squeezing, subtly pulling her hips toward his.

Her arms unraveled themselves from around his neck, she laid her hands flat on his chest. She moved her hands slowly, feeling deeply into the muscle. Her finger caught under the fabric between buttons and she felt his bare skin.

In that moment they stopped kissing, preferring once again to gaze at each other. Their looks were intense, excited. Slowly, pain-stakingly, she moved her hands on his chest until her fingertips rested on his top button. Never moving her eyes from his, she undid the button. Parker's gaze softened and he smiled tenderly at her, then he kissed her gently on the forehead. He released, drew his head back, and they both smiled just as softly at each other. Then they kissed again, still passionately, and she began to undo each button of his shirt.

Soon the shirt hung open on Parker's body and Diana began to kiss his chest, gently, gently. Parker savored the feeling, breathing deeply as her kisses rose to his neck line, fell to just beneath his pecs. He kissed her head gently as his hands both moved to her back. The right hand as it rose pulled the fabric of her dress upward a bit, but then it fell. His hands roamed along her back as she kissed his chest, eventually finding their way to her shoulders. He teased under the straps with his fingertips, then pulled them down over her shoulders.

Diana stood back, shrugged her shoulders, and let the dress slide down over her body, falling in a pile around her ankles. Her feet bare since they'd entered her kitchen, she stepped out of it, toward him. A black silk bra, trimmed with just a bit of lace, cupped her round, grapefruit-sized breasts, and below a matching pair of panties ran between her legs, around her waist, covering her round, soft buttocks.

Parker reached behind him, pulled the sleeves down, and tossed his own shirt on top of her dress. She stepped toward him again, their eyes locked once more, and he put his hands on her upper arms, feeling the soft, smooth, fair skin, up and down. She came close again and once more began to kiss his chest. As she did so, her hands began to fumble with his belt. In a moment it was loose, and in another moment his jeans had slid down his legs. He stepped out of them, now clad in just a deep green pair of boxers. In the front was a very distinct lump, growing ever larger.

They began to kiss again, still with the deep, searching fervor. Diana's hands found this lump, and they began to feel it, stroke it, caress it, squeeze it gently, while Parker's hands did the same thing to her ass. Separately, each moved by its own stimulation, both of their hips began to gyrate, slowly, gently. Their kisses became faster, and Parker tasted the sweetness of Diana's tongue darting into his mouth. He chased it with his own, sending his tongue deep into her mouth and feeling all of the surfaces within.

Soon his hands left her butt and found their way to her hips, creeping their slow way up her deeply curving sides until they came to rest on the round of her breasts. She stepped back slightly to allow him better access, laying her head back as he fondled her. They were soft, supple, perky, and just bigger than what would fit comfortably in his hand. These he squeezed a bit harder, using all ten of his fingers, and this elicited the first quiet moans from her throat. They stood there together in the kitchen and she allowed him to do this for a rather extended period of time. For a while he felt them through the soft black silk, then he reached around her and undid the hooks, let the garment fall to the floor, and recommenced his ministrations on bare skin, feeling the warm flesh, teasing her erect nipples with his fingertips.

This ended when Diana once again opened her eyes, looked at Parker, and smiled. She grabbed his wrists, turned him and pushed him, prompting him into the chair. She then dropped to her knees in front him and, hooking her fingers under the waistline, pulled his boxers down his legs and off of his feet. There he sad, naked in the black wooden chair, his penis fully erect. Smiling at Parker, Diana wrapped her hands around the large shaft and began to stroke, gently, rhythmically, up and down. Parker watched her do this with some interest: not only was the sensation sweet, smooth, inimitable, but her movements were so fluid and so calming that he could not take his eyes off her. Her fingers barely came together around his shaft as her hand continued to stroke. He reached toward her face and began stroking her cheek, ever so gently, and she had to pause a moment to close her eyes and lean her head against his hand, her smile soft and happy.

A gentle kiss to the head of his cock, then another, then it disappeared inside her mouth. This elicited a sigh from Parker as he savored the warm, wet feeling of her mouth sliding up and down. As she moved she flicked her tongue in a gentle, quick, rhythmic way that Parker just adored. He ran his fingers through her hair as she closed her eyes, as much of his length at one time. After a time she raised her right hand and wrapped it around his shaft again, stroking in the same rhythm. Parker's hips began to move slightly, irregularly, twitching with his pleasure. He saw after a bit that her left hand was between her own legs, inside her underwear, making rhythmic motions of her own. "Hey," he said, gesturing toward her left side with his head, "you know I can do that for you right?"

Diana giggled. "That's okay," she said, "I think I'm pretty much ready anyway." She smiled brightly at him as she stood. He watched her slender, curved body rise, stretch out, then she bent over and removed her underwear, sliding it down her brilliantly curved ass. She tossed them aside onto the pile of clothing still on the kitchen floor and stood before him, naked from head to toe, her bare body seeming to radiate with energy.

"Shit," Parker breathed. "You are so damn beautiful."

Diana blushed, the flush reaching all the way down to her upper chest. "I haven't heard that in a while," she said. She began to approach him and he felt a wonderful sort of anticipation building inside him. "I get hot a lot, sometimes sexy. Beautiful... almost never."

"You're all of those things," Parker said, his voice musical. "Right now you radiate with beauty."

Diana giggled again. "Right now," she said, coming right up to him and looping her arms around his neck again, her breasts in his face, "you radiate with desire." She smiled radiantly at him, mimicked his sweet gesture with a kiss on the forehead, then she swung her right leg over him.

He brought his legs together to give her more support, his member pointing straight up. She straddled him fully now, her vagina slick, no pubic hair save for a golden strip running upward toward her stomach. He took his penis in his hand and positioned it for her as she lowered herself onto it. The head poked just between the lips, parting them, then, in a sudden motion, slid up inside her.