ROMEO FAILS Excerpt - The Prologue
A thousand stars twinkled in the midnight blue Midwestern summer sky, their reflections in the lake below like diamonds tossed carelessly across velvet. In the distance, the women's music festival crowd screamed and cheered for the headlining band, but all was serene and quiet on the cool sandy shore of the lake. Ten feet from the water's edge, a leather carpenter's belt with a hammer in it sat atop a loose pile of clothes. Other clothes were randomly strewn about. A half empty wine bottle reposed in a much used yellow suede work boot. Strategically placed citronella candles kept the mosquitoes at bay. In the center of their gentle glow, a young woman sat on a blanket. Twenty-six year old Dorsey Larue peered into the darkness, straining to see the girl with whom she had just made love.
A muted splash caught her attention. Another splash followed, then the dim figure of a nude woman emerged from the shadows of the lake.
And what a figure, thought Dorsey, deeply inhaling the warm night air. The anonymous girl's quiet charm, coupled with the sardonic, intelligent gleam of her piercing blue eyes behind stylish glasses had first attracted Dorsey. The discovery of the lush, soft curves augmenting the slender form beneath the tattered jeans and festival tank top had been like unwrapping an unexpected and wonderful gift.
Drops of water, silver in the moonlight, slowly and sinuously snaked their way down the girl's naked body as she strode, unhurried but sure of foot, back to their blanket. She had a distinctive heel-to-toe gait, slow but oh so confident. She looked more like a goddess than a girl in the luminous glow of the moon and stars, Dorsey thought--a Naked Silver Lake Goddess.
She found herself holding her breath as the other woman gracefully sat down next to her on the blanket. Dorsey reached for her favorite old flannel shirt, the one with the sleeves cut off, to dry off her companion.
"You're wet!" she exclaimed. An obvious, even fatuous thing to say, she knew, but what else do you say to a dripping wet naked girl? Even if you're naked too. She dabbed the flannel against the smooth fair skin of the girl's back, trying her best not to seem rushed or clumsy, though her heart was going a hundred miles an hour. The Goddess smiled at her over her pale shoulder, then raised her strong slender arms to run her hands through her dripping short black hair. When she shook it out, though, she only showered the both of them with a cascade of mercurial droplets. Laughing, they wrestled playfully for a moment, then lay panting together, entwined on the soft fleece blanket.
"Now we're both wet," the girl said in her low, throaty voice, with a secret little smile that made Dorsey's heart jump in a manner both alarming and exciting. The Goddess's fingertips traced a path down the taller girl's well-defined stomach. Their lips met for a kiss still tingling with the passion of their first embrace. As Dorsey's hands slid down to the girl's hips to pull her in tighter, she heard the far off singer say, "Thank you! Good night!" The crowd roared one last time, then the sound faded to a dull, happy rumble as they started packing up to leave, the concert over.
The Goddess's hand was between Dorsey's legs now, her fingers seeking and finding a particular spot they had so recently learned.
"Oh, God," said Dorsey. "Oh, God..."
"Oh, God," said the Goddess, but in a completely different tone of voice. She suddenly stopped what she was doing and sat up. Listening intently, she said, "Do you hear anything?"
"What? What's wrong?" a bewildered and unsatisfied Dorsey asked, reaching for the other girl's hand. Anything to get that hand back where it belonged.
But the Goddess sprang to her feet, scrambling for her scattered clothes. She pulled on her tattered jeans at high speed, saying, "Shit! I'm going to miss my ride!"
As a stunned and open-mouthed Dorsey watched, the girl crammed her feet into sneakers, grabbed a shirt off the ground (Dorsey's, as it turned out) and sped off topless toward the tree-lined forest path leading back to the festival.
"Sorry!" she called over her shoulder.
"Wait!" Dorsey cried as she disappeared from sight. "What's your name?"
But the Goddess was gone, into the night.
copyright Amy Briant 2012 all rights reserved
A muted splash caught her attention. Another splash followed, then the dim figure of a nude woman emerged from the shadows of the lake.
And what a figure, thought Dorsey, deeply inhaling the warm night air. The anonymous girl's quiet charm, coupled with the sardonic, intelligent gleam of her piercing blue eyes behind stylish glasses had first attracted Dorsey. The discovery of the lush, soft curves augmenting the slender form beneath the tattered jeans and festival tank top had been like unwrapping an unexpected and wonderful gift.
Drops of water, silver in the moonlight, slowly and sinuously snaked their way down the girl's naked body as she strode, unhurried but sure of foot, back to their blanket. She had a distinctive heel-to-toe gait, slow but oh so confident. She looked more like a goddess than a girl in the luminous glow of the moon and stars, Dorsey thought--a Naked Silver Lake Goddess.
She found herself holding her breath as the other woman gracefully sat down next to her on the blanket. Dorsey reached for her favorite old flannel shirt, the one with the sleeves cut off, to dry off her companion.
"You're wet!" she exclaimed. An obvious, even fatuous thing to say, she knew, but what else do you say to a dripping wet naked girl? Even if you're naked too. She dabbed the flannel against the smooth fair skin of the girl's back, trying her best not to seem rushed or clumsy, though her heart was going a hundred miles an hour. The Goddess smiled at her over her pale shoulder, then raised her strong slender arms to run her hands through her dripping short black hair. When she shook it out, though, she only showered the both of them with a cascade of mercurial droplets. Laughing, they wrestled playfully for a moment, then lay panting together, entwined on the soft fleece blanket.
"Now we're both wet," the girl said in her low, throaty voice, with a secret little smile that made Dorsey's heart jump in a manner both alarming and exciting. The Goddess's fingertips traced a path down the taller girl's well-defined stomach. Their lips met for a kiss still tingling with the passion of their first embrace. As Dorsey's hands slid down to the girl's hips to pull her in tighter, she heard the far off singer say, "Thank you! Good night!" The crowd roared one last time, then the sound faded to a dull, happy rumble as they started packing up to leave, the concert over.
The Goddess's hand was between Dorsey's legs now, her fingers seeking and finding a particular spot they had so recently learned.
"Oh, God," said Dorsey. "Oh, God..."
"Oh, God," said the Goddess, but in a completely different tone of voice. She suddenly stopped what she was doing and sat up. Listening intently, she said, "Do you hear anything?"
"What? What's wrong?" a bewildered and unsatisfied Dorsey asked, reaching for the other girl's hand. Anything to get that hand back where it belonged.
But the Goddess sprang to her feet, scrambling for her scattered clothes. She pulled on her tattered jeans at high speed, saying, "Shit! I'm going to miss my ride!"
As a stunned and open-mouthed Dorsey watched, the girl crammed her feet into sneakers, grabbed a shirt off the ground (Dorsey's, as it turned out) and sped off topless toward the tree-lined forest path leading back to the festival.
"Sorry!" she called over her shoulder.
"Wait!" Dorsey cried as she disappeared from sight. "What's your name?"
But the Goddess was gone, into the night.
copyright Amy Briant 2012 all rights reserved
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