Erotic - Love in the Shadows (Part I)

After what seemed an eternity, Anne came upon the threshold of an antique double leaf door. She stood before it and for a moment, looked at me in hesitation. Her heartbeat and mine were the only sounds to disturb the stillness of the Hall. The door was partially closed but offered comfort, allowing some light to escape from within. It had guided us here in the dark, as the light of stars. Standing now in front of the door, I could also see the glow of the hearth streaming from underneath.  Darkness always accompanied us then as it does now. Under its spell, we became shadows; forced to exist amidst the unforgivable silence.  And light, whenever we did encounter it, was such a welcomed relief. Thus, like spirits, nostalgic of human nature in our search for light and yearning warmth, we finally entered the room.

The heavy oak doors creaked in protest as I pushed them open and closed the world behind them. Anne then took a few steps closer to the fireplace.  I could not help but admire her as the flames burned brighter, casting our shadows on the wall. I took both of her hands in my own and brought her close to me. Though I could not see her face, as darkness concealed it, I felt her cheeks turn crimson.  I leaned closer and traced the blush on her face with my fingers. Closing her eyes, a single tear made its way down her burning cheek.  I wiped the tear and holding her close, kissed her soft lips with reckless abandon.

Our clothes, still wet, now rendered their purpose useless.  They were a mere obstacle to satisfying the hunger that could not be ignored; a monstrous hunger unlike any other and for each other. Our hands caressed our skin in the dark as we unrobed.  Free from all that was mundane, we stood in the moonlight and bared our souls. Mortal pleasures no longer entertained us and we walked in life with one foot in the grave. Having lost the will to live, we somehow survived from one encounter to the next.  

Absences in between were filled with sighs that became a melancholy melody. And when we did meet, we fed voraciously as revenants on the only thing that sustained our existence: our love for each other.  Love is madness, if it is at all lived as it should it be; it is a fever and incurable disease. Addictive and lethal, love is the most potent poison known to man.  And the more we loved, the more alive we felt. But love’s bitter-sweet aftertaste was an illusion.  Each moment shared only brought us closer to our end as we fell from grace.