"Stormy" By Emily (f/m, oral, *not* explicit, repost)
Green Onions
http://www.artandlove.org/pr/stormy.htm
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Stormy
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Fiction by Emily <emil...@hotmail.com>
No rainstorm in New Orleans is ever like the last one.
Sometimes the clouds are as dark as steel wool. At others the
haziness resembles dirty dishwater. And of course when the
Devil is beating his wife, the sun will be as bright as a summer
afternoon with the rain just coming down in bucketfuls.
Down here the afternoon rain sneaks up on you with no warning.
The breeze had been stiff against my back making this run in the
late afternoon bearable. I could feel the tension building in
the air and with the wind pushing at me, I felt as if I could
run forever. The Mississippi stretched itself by my side like
ribbon tossed carelessly away by a child, forgotten in the
summer heat.
It was on just such a day that I felt the first fat rain drops.
"Oh, Hell." I muttered to myself. Up here on the levee, there
is no place to find shelter. On one side you have the muddy
Mississippi with some scraggly cypress trees growing in the
shallows. On the other side there's River Road and then houses
and apartments. So I picked up the pace from a casual jog to
running at full steam.
The huge glossy green leaves of the streetside magnolia trees
began to shake and bend in the stiff rain sweetened gusts
proceeding the storm. I turned and looked over my shoulder and
saw black clouds racing behind me. Damn. I looked street side
and saw no where to take cover. I kept running. The raindrops
became heavier and cold. As the bend in the levee straightened
out, I saw a runner ahead of me almost off the levee and heading
for the road. I watched the figure dash across the street and
head for the front porch of what looked to be a deserted old
house. Surely if one person could stand there, so could two.
The rain turned rapidly into a miniature monsoon and I felt my
soaking clothes next to my skin as I shot across the street.
The nylon shorts would dry quickly but my drenched white t-shirt
was all too revealing.
As I got under the porch I looked down at my chest, trying to
pull away the sticky wet fabric. I looked up at the other
runner and felt my eyes caught and held.
A tall man lounged against the peeling columns of the porch.
His hair was dark and short. Skin the rich color of creamed
_cafe au lait_. Rain drops continued to stream down his large
arms and long legs. I realized a little belatedly that I had
been staring at him as if I had never seen a man before.
Quickly, I swiveled around in embarrassment.
I felt myself blushing and thought I heard him chuckle.
"Looks like we both got caught in that frog strangler, darlin'."
A rich deep southern accent rolled through the air like heavy
sweet sorghum syrup. I turned to face the stranger.
"Yes, I guess so."
I hated the way my voice sounded so breathless and hesitant.
I saw his gaze go to my chest and I looked down to see the wet
t-shirt plastered transparently across my chest. Damn. I
hurriedly plucked it away and tried to shake out the water. Of
course my efforts were futile.
I turned to look where we were and saw that it was a long
veranda. The paint on the columns and door frame was cracked
and peeling away exposing older layers and some bare wood. The
wooden porch floor was weathered and uneven and creaked as I
shifted my weight. However in the midst of such neglect I
noticed sparkling leaded glass windows made with pieces of
scarlet and azure glass arching over the door lintel. I saw the
heavy ornate brass door knocker that was suggestive of a more
pretentious era. A lit gas lamp swung slowly from the porch
ceiling, its flame flickering precariously in the storm winds.
I didn't remember seeing the house before but then again I
hadn't been in New Orleans that long.
I turned to look at the stranger and decided that I'd better
introduce myself. I stuck my hand out and said, "Hi, I'm
Josie." He had this strange little smile on his face but he put
his hand out anyway and took mine.
"Glad to meet you, Josie. I'm Remi. Do you run here often?"
He tilted his head towards the levee.
"I try to. I like to get up early and run but sometimes I don't
make it. And you?" He still held my hand, acting as if he had
no intention of letting it go.
"I run whenever I get the urge. I have the hardest time doing
it in the morning, y'know after a late night out, hm?"
He gave me a conspiratorial wink and I inwardly shook my head in
disbelief. This guy was such a leftover from another time.
Doesn't he work or something? Could be one of those lazy old
money types; the city seems to be overrun with them.
"Uh, yeah, I guess so."
He was still holding my hand. I looked down at it pointedly
and tugged a little, but he didn't seem to notice. The clouds
were growing darker as the shadows on the porch became longer.
Winds from the storm swirled around us, buffeting our bodies.
I could feel the goosebumps break out on my skin as the cool air
hit the rain drops that hadn't dried yet. Since he had one
hand, I rubbed the other against my partly bared shoulder to
generate some warmth.
I looked towards the levee and the river. The cumulous clouds
became even darker and rolled inland with a passion both awesome
and terrifying. They'd become almost black or perhaps a
greenish grey. The wind was much stiffer and stronger now and I
could see the lightning off in the distance. I wondered how
much more severe it would become.
Somehow I forgot about the stranger holding my hand--it was as
if I became caught up in the rage of the storm. The air was
thick with electricity and I wondered whether it was from us or
the storm. lightning became more frequent and all of a sudden,
it struck a cypress tree opposite up on the river bank. I
jumped and realized that I had screamed in surprise. Remi
looked at me with that crooked smile of his and I couldn't help
my answering smile at the silliness of it all. And then the
look in his eyes changed.
The air was heavy with the rain and charged with static
electricity from the storm. Thunder played a darker symphony to
the visual outbursts of Mother Nature. Remi pulled my hand and
I could no more stop my steps than I could halt the storm that
seethed around us. I walked towards him and when we were just
inches apart, he put his hands to my waist. I looked up into
those brown eyes of his, lost in their depths and let him set me
on the porch railing.
I could feel the rain pounding against my back, soaking me to
the skin, pulling my hair down from its ponytail. He stood
between my legs, as natural there as the river in the shallows
pushing against the shore. I saw his head dip down and I knew
what he wanted. His lips were warm and sweet, tender and
teasing. And then like the storm, he turned. His mouth became
almost punishing, intense and heavy. His breath fanned across
my cheek like the wind that had pushed me down the levee. And
there were no questions asked, no quarter given.
I arched my body into him, letting the rain soak the back of my
shirt and the wind blow my hair into our faces. He was standing
tight against me and his hands were everywhere. Cupping my
face, framing my shoulder bones, supporting my breasts. Up
under my shirt, against my feverish skin. He worked at the
fastenings and then I felt his long fingers. He pinched and he
soothed and he squeezed until I became like the wind, wild and
untamed, powered by the storm.
My hands held onto his shoulder, cool and gleaming in the
remaining rainwater. I let my fingers skim away the fluid,
warming the flesh, testing for any boundaries. Finding none, I
moved down his chest, to his waist and then to his hips. I felt
power there. Power in the arousal, power in the hardness, power
in my ability to make him need me.
The rain felt like cold needles against the bare skin of my
back. I peeled his sodden shirt away and he pressed his chest to
mine. My breath caught in my throat and I arched into his touch.
His hands peeled the waist of my shorts down and as the cool air
hit the skin of my tummy, I stilled. Reality dared to intrude
then and I actually wondered for one dizzy moment, what the Hell
was I doing?
Really.
What the *Hell* was I doing?
I opened my eyes, not realizing I had even shut them. Glaring
back at me was my computer screen with its ever rapidly blinking
cursor. The window next to my computer was wide open and the
rain was pouring in unchecked. I could feel the cool spray
against my cheeks.
Quickly I jumped up and shut the window, drowning out the fury
of the thunder and closing out the sizzle of the lightning. I
looked back at the monitor and saw "Remi"'s bold-faced type
shouting at me.
*"HELLO, YOU STILL OUT THERE?"*
Ah yes. This had definitely been a different kind of
thunderstorm.
(c) 1998 Emily
A&L
N
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