That's it. My heart. It is locked away, deep in the confines of my Prince's desire. She's reached it somehow.
     Or am I as twisted as the Balseraph, lying to myself to make my lies truths? Does it matter?
     Making love to her comes so easily to me. I could whenever she asked. Whenever it rises up within me. That is the difference. Intellectual desire as opposed to genuine.
     I have been over this before. Age upon age. And whenever I seem at my most distressed, I climb out of it. I remember what I am, what I want, what I am to do. I find peace again. Tonight is no different.
     She has restored me. My essence, my energy, my purpose. She reminds me. And as I touched her in a thousand different ways, as she took me on as best she could, as I fulfilled what I am through her, I become powerful. And she? She sleeps. The exchange...is lopsided. She receives pleasure untold from a Knight. And I...become stronger.
     Strong enough to leave her side, to leave the bed that knows us. To leave the expresion of desire that we wallow in. But my departure will not be for long. There's just something I want to see to...
     "...in here." The room is warm, this one. The altar upon which I sometimes give myself. There...glass panels sparkle in the dim light. Another bed, this of softness unknown on this plane. Concealed panels hold items within. For some reason, I need to walk in here, to look. To breathe and sigh. Just a moment. "And then I'll go back to Samantha..."

     You set off flares tonight. There was a colossal burn in London. A flicker of Sodom and G, and then it was gone. In another world just on the other side of this one, fingers and faces pressed to the membrane of the separation. You had some voyeurs. You got attention...
     Your party turned to an orgy. People were fucking in the cages, fucking on the floor. Some were careful, some were wise and ran to their own cars. Barely made it in the door before. Even if their clothes were on, and this is the secret. They were doing it. They were all wanting it.
     Your glass panels sparkle and the pillows are caressed by the warmth and the promise and the want and the darkness. But there isn't a bell, there isn't a chime. There isn't laughter. There is silence.
     Were you expecting Him?
     You were expecting him...

     Julian stops, glancing at the glass. Something. An acknowledgment. He did not hope for much more. Violet eyes spy the door leading back to his bedroom, wondering if she heard it too. Perhaps not. Such noises are often meant for only him.

     See, everyone else thought it was... well, business as it should be. Business as usual. There is only one -- only me in fact -- who knows otherwise. Oh sure, I've tarted it up a bit, given a line. We're masters of that, aren't we? But when I caught light of the beacon of Sin. Well, I figured... what the hell... if he were going to be anywhere, he'd have to be here...
     Right?
      But you weren't at your club, so... I'm having to...
     Knock. A tapping of finger on the sparkling glass. And then you see the reflection. You hear the murmur of Former Angelic.
     Is this thing on???
     The face? Gorgeous. You know it. It's Pharzuph. Sometime companion. Fallen Brethren. Golden and sparkly but hollow. He was once quite gifted and smart, such an Intellect. It was he who scribed the Word of Love into the first love ballad. Now? He's a wanton, vacuous, dimwit who can't write a country-western tune and is only really good for one thing. Well... two things. Fucking and His Unwavering Loyalty to his Word.
     "Hello hello hello...olly olly oxen free...." His voice isn't loud -- and even if it were, she couldn't hear it.

     What?
     Julian peers at the glass, knowing nothing but plaster is on the other side. "Nice," he sighs, hands on his naked hips. There is a difference between not expecting and not wanting. This is not wanting.
     "What in the Hell are you doing here?" he wonders. His semi-tether is not a general access point. Hand lifts and runs through his hair -- he still smells of himself and his lover. It bothers him not, but he's only just now realized it.

     "I would say: on a wing and a prayer. But that would be lying. I can't fly and I haven't prayed in ages," Pharzuph sighs. "I've really sort of played through my hand, Jules, and am out of ideas," you can imagine it didn't take long. "See... I can't seem to find Andre. I've had wall to wall copulations, popes, ministers of finance, bodies stacked nigh ten-high with every possible portal filled and yet... " He whistles and makes it echo. Quite a neat trick.
     "So... I was passing about, saw your big party, lots of naked breasts, people shagging under and on the tables, oh! Did you know your bar makes for a lovely cuffing area," along with being rather vacuous, Pharzuph is also rather scatterbrained. What he does manage to have, he seems to misplace from time to time.
     "Anyway, long story short, have you seen him, yes or no?"

     "When I see him again," Julian says, "I'll let you know," his hands at his stomach now. Instinctively. How's that for an answer.

      The eyes reflected in the glass go down along with your hand. "Well... see... it's just not as easy as that, Julian Kane. Andrealphus is missing. He's gone. His temples are empty... no one's seen him in ... "
     Weeks are years and years are eras to you both. How long has it been?
     "He would never leave without telling me," Pharzuph whispers and his eyes lift. There is genuine worry. "I fear our Chief is having... a Moment of some kind. He hasn't been the same since he returned from the ruins of Babylonia. Sure, he had an orgy, but I could tell... he just wasn't.. into it. Didn't even want to be with me..." Utter disbelief at that, as Pharzuph is the genius of fornication. He would have been the demon of bad music, but that was already taken by someone in the media department. Oh. Well.
     "Look...say... can I come in for a moment?"

     Brow arches, but Julian nods. So few know my real name. Sometimes, I forget too. He motions you within, padding over to close the door to where Samantha lies. "What is going on?" he asks in tones diabolic now. Easier to make the point.

     Well, even if he knew it... he'd have forgotten it by now...     Pharzuph steps past the glass, glittery as a jewel, dressed in the finest of fabrics, all with sort of Eastern accents. A touch of Persia here. A touch of Babylon there. A little Sumeria. A dash of Morocco.
     "Well, okay," the diabolic crashes softly from his pierced tongue, "... a few earth months back now, I guess... I saw him at an orgy in Tunisia. Some leader's harem and daughter's coming out party blah-blah-blah," his hand waves. Loosening his garments and settling on your altarbed, he sighs and sits Indian style. "He said They had replaced Lucifer. It's all he said and then he popped off. I thought it was rather a bizarre thing to say when someone's giving you head, but then he pulled off the lord's daughter and walked away. That's the last time anyone's seen him. He's eluded everyone. Including me. But I thought..."
     No, Julian... the word is not Thought. It is Hoped.
     "... he might be with you. He favors you. I mean, I know I'm his favorite," he makes a wave, as if everyone knew that, "...but he genuinely doesn't thoroughly hate the sight of you." Which is as much as anyone may say that Andre loves anything. By degrees of not hating it. "He likes to be in your bed. He talks about you, he praises you. He makes others Want you..."
     There is a little glimmer behind the eyes. A moment, however brief, of clarity. "You haven't seen him either. Have you."

     He'll not answer that so directly. You can guess and probably accurately. But he'll not offer much. So is the way of Kane. Friend to Humanity, Wall to Celestials.
     But boy, is he spending good Forces on that vessel he's in.
     A turn, and Julian walks a bit away, thinking. "They have a new false idol," he shrugs, "I can't imagine that would upset him," he murmurs, turning around, fingers at his chin. A glance to you, Pharzuph. "Maybe he has found something interesting."

     Pharzuph flickers with flame, until his face is orange and wavering. "Fine. Let it be on you, then." Diabolic tongue hissing like fire. And he moves to the mirror. To go out the way he came in. Strangely respectful. But there are many strange things in hell of late...
     The reflection in the mirror glowers at you. "Perhaps that is all there is. Perhaps it is nothing. Go ahead. Summon him. You're his favorite, Julian. He'll come to you. You always know best, don't you..." Pharzuph flickers and is gone in the next moment.
     Afterwards, a tapping at the glass...
     And some ancient Babylonian rude finger gesture is reflected back at you.
     But Pharzuph is endlessly, strangely forgiving. It was an unexpected blessing when God addled his Mind...

     "Give me a fuckin' break," Julian yells, "I didn't say leave. I was pondering." You stupid shit. He sighs at the gesture, but decides not to call him back just yet.
     Julian stands in the quiet again, looking around the room. He reaches up and scratches his head, sighing afterwards.
     "What's going on, my Prince?" he actually asks aloud, but softly. What is going on with Us. All of us. You and I. The party was to be a great coming out, as it were. To remind the Order of what is important. And instead? It's been anything but.
     He turns around in his spot, among all the adornments. You're not here. Are you listening out there, somewhere? If you need me, you know where I am...

     You can hear crickets chirping. Pins dropping. Nada. Bupkus...
     Now, think back, Julian Kane. Your Master, while extraordinarily difficult a good deal of the time, is one who is... almost always at hand. As much as he would be omnipresent in Love, so has he been omnipresent in Lust. That old adage: God is Love, God is Everywhere. He used to live by that. And when covered in the ashes of The War, when he devised a new Word, a new World, he was magnificantly everywhere. In every heart, mind. The empires of the world rose, and behind it. Lust. Burning Drive. Unquenchable Desire.
     There has never been a moment when he was called that he did not come -- usually coming as he did, but still...
     Andrealphus, Without Compare. To... not bask in the delight and desire of his servitors? Has he been captured by another Prince? Who could hold him?
     There is a tapping at the glass again. Is this thing still on??
     "I'm sorry, Julian," flickers the voice and then the face of Pharzuph. Among being a genius of Fornication, Pharzuph is also the demon of low self-esteem...

     Julian spins to look at the glass. Pharzuph. A relief and a disappointment simultaneously. "It's alright," he waves, motioning for you to come in again. "I was not trying to dismiss you...just...thinking." Whatever. It sounds good. Who wouldn't believe the sweet Impudite?
     Still naked, Julian moves to take a seat upon his own second bed. Foot extends, and elbow comes to rest on his taut thigh. Upon it? His chin cupped in his hand. "I haven't seen him in a while," he admits, sizing that the information doesn't mean anything on the surface. "But that's not unusual. But after tonight?" Who knows. Who knows what should have transpired.
     "So, I think I misunderstood you before," his violet eyes smoldering now. Brows narrow. "Explain the bit about replacing again? You meant more than just...as a god to those people?"

     "No, I mean heaven, Julian," Pharzuph whispers. "They have replaced Lucifer. After..." After so many years of not replacing him. The act of it. He presses through the glass, glimmering for a moment and then looking around. Nice room. Nice and intimate. "Soon, they will replace all of us and we won't matter." What happens when a war becomes... irrelevant? What makes us work, what makes this all work is that somehow it means something...
     "Andrealphus' visage was darker than I have ever seen it. When he moved away from that girl, it was like he was in a void. I followed him, I mean of course I would follow him...but he didn't say anything else..."
     Or, worse yet, Pharzuph has forgotten it. He sits cross-legged on your bed, pierced tongue swiping at his mouth. His eyes focus on your groin. "Maybe... you and I...joined could call him. Maybe he could not ignore that..."

     Julian laughs, a burst of sudden, raucous delight. "Oh!" Julian sits up, hand at his chest. He continues to laugh, turning red. "Oh, that was a scream," he looks at you, slanted grin upon his lips. "I fell for that one. Right smack..." he waves said hand.
     "I'm not so vain, though," he looks up, "I'm pretty fuckin' vain," a chuckle following, "...to think that you and I," Julian leans over to your shoulder, "...could even raise a muster that he might care about. However," he smiles honestly, wickedly, "I'd have considered your suggestion ... even without the hope of our Prince seeing it as a beacon."

     Pharzuph also laughs, although you are smart enough to know that he is laughing because it is better to laugh with than to be laughed at. "So! You see the difficulty! But... well..." Pharzuph grins then, confidence returning and he leans in. Golden eyes sly and smile... deliciously poised. "...it couldn't hurt, right?"
     And maybe the significance is lost. Maybe, really, it's only Andrealphus who cares. God's heart has healed and with it, from Love, there is Brilliance in the universe. With Love, anything is possible. Maybe that only matters to one Being. Maybe it doesn't mean anything...
     Pharzuph lowers his eyes, oh seduction's child, and yet looks at you, golden curls gleaming shorn short. "You know, we make a powerful pair you and I. Remember...?" The golden Impudite seeks your mouth...

     "I remember," Julian smiles, shaking his head already at what will follow. The Knight and Captain drawn into another tussle. When was the last time you were seduced by a celestial, Julian Kane?
     His lips kiss, then fall away. But not so far. His arm encircles your neck, dear seducer, and he draws you with him as he reclines upon his bed. "And what of your search? Do you not have things to do right now that are more important?"
     He's just checking.

     "What is more important than this. Right here. Right now," sayeth the Captain. The Eastern garb is but an elaborate wrapping. No buttons, no ties. No zippers. Just... unwinding. And they fall away, dissolving at your fingertips...
     You know, Andrealphus would agree. If he were himself. Especially with delightfully vapid Pharzuph. Look for me? Are you insane? See, that would be the Andrealphus you know. And maybe he is lying in wait somewhere. Waiting for something glorious to enter upon. A tangle of Impudites. If Pharzuph had any guile whatsoever, you might well wonder...
     Gold and burgundy, orange and blue and violets and whites unfold, pooling at your bed, your cushions. The silver ball that lies upon his tongue chimes as it slides against your tongue, jingling as it is wiggled on purpose. Maybe this is Andrealphus' sign, Julian. Maybe his reward. His very own chamberlain, his Captain. An old flame of yours...
     Wouldn't that just be so.... him...?

     It would explain Julian's closing eyes, the giving over of his body. Relinquishing though there seems something else to do. Someone next door. So much to see about.
     Forgive me my past transgressions. My annoyances. My melancholy, my Prince. I do miss you. Need you. I feel you in Samantha, I feel you even now. And in doing so, I gratefully experience this moment, glad in that you have still given us this...      A prayer, of all things.
     "Don't leave us..." Julian whispers from nowhere, a burst of the essence that stirs within him. Even he did not expect it, eyes opening to see the ceiling and blonde strands.
     Don't leave us Archangel...

     Somewhere in London...
     A platinum haired man steps up to a microphone, and fast-paced western pop music with a Middle Eastern flair fills a crowded pub. He closes his eyes and when he sings, the smoke from his last cigarette catches the purple and blue lights that ring the pub's small stage...
     "The light will turn dark, the evil word will flow. The wicked get more wicked, watch the poison garden grow. Makes me wanna drink all the blood from the Lamb. Goddamn."
     There's a smoky tinge to his voice and as he sends a prayer to mecca out over the catchy tune, the crowd is drawn in...
     "I'm sick of the millennium, bored by the pain. I waited for the gospel, but the gospel never came. Prophets and pimps working for the man. Goddamn..."
     "Blessed are the fools. Blessed are the fiends. I'm lonely as a Bible, beat like a tambourine. Ain't you gonna let me hold your other hand? Goddamn."
     So much electricity, it pops at the downbeat and upbeat of the quick moving tune. Platinum hair drapes forward as he looks to his hands...
     "Hail Mary, Hail Mary what happened to you? My dreams were just dreams and they never came true? I'm going back to the womb, back to the van. Goddamn."
     And by the time he gets to the chorus, the band of four and the audience are connected in a symbiotic rhythm. Fast hands strum the guitar, they move in their chairs...
      "Praise the lord, shake your ass. Kingdom come... coming fast. Praise the lord, shake your ass...You're in God's Hands..."

     "Julian..."
     "Jules..."
     Burgundy painted fingernails sparkle against a pillow, her hand seeking you. And mussed hair of the same tint shifts in the raising of her head. So delectable when first waking. A full blush of innocence waiting to be spoiled. She is her most angelic at this time...
     As much as she's ever going to be...
     Her makeup is gone and still, she is beautiful. Perhaps moreso. Natural. Her breasts, more than a handful and augmented -- as very few of her profession would be without -- perfect. Samantha James sits up and stretches, eyes seeking you...
     Fingers brush against nipples as the conclusion of a stretch. "Jules? Is everything alright? Mmm... thirsty..."

     "Yeah," Julian calls, softly padding towards the bed, a glass in hand. "I'm here," he murmurs, slipping against you once more, his skin rather warm. "You're up too early," he observes, "...it's not even seven yet." But how can one tell? There are no windows in this room.

     "Hmm..." she eases back to the bed, smiling with a dreamy warmth. Dreamy, hmm? When she closes her eyes, do you wonder if she belongs to some angel somewhere? Is it a nightly, daily battle to claim her, Julian? "I missed you, I guess. You know how the bed gets cold. Get in here, beautiful...you're going to sleep in with me..."
     Who could say no? And isn't that the point? Another cat stretch in the silk and she sighs. "You were amazing tonight...I just ... can't get enough!" God! What is it about you? "Oh good," she purrs, "you brought something to drink... water?"

     "Plain old, plain old," Julian grins, letting you have the water while his hands grasp you to him. Immediately, his mouth lands at the back of your neck, and his hands mimic earlier. "You know me, I can't sleep," he smiles, confessing the truth. "No more than a couple of hours and then I have to be up at sunrise." In time to receive his daily dose of Essence. "You're the sleepyhead," he teases, fingers tickling at your sides while the rest of him presses firmly at dancer's backside.

     "Thank god," she whispers, grinning. Propped up on a delicate elbow, she cradles the glass to her. A healthy swallow and, twisting, she offers it to you. Do you want it? Even as her body responds to you. Blush flaring where you meet, a little sigh. You know what that means...
     And a wiggle...
     "So... since I'm up..." Samantha closes her eyes and her smile pulls broadly, warmly to the side. "God... I love it there... the back of my neck..." Curling into you, she sighs again. "I'll sleep later..."

     He laughs, taking the glass and twisting to set it behind him on the nightstand. "Don't you think of anything else, Miss James?" Julian chuckles, having made his point directly. "You have work to do, dancers that have a debrief, a club that needs your attention?"

     Laughing, blushing. Caught. "No." And she lies back against you, nestling back into the warmth of the bed. If you want her, she's here. If not, sleep will find her again. "Hmm... I suppose you're right. But I have until noon. We don't open until after tea..."
     Was that pleading?
     Samantha reaches back, her hand curling over your hip, patting the round of your rear. A little spank, well... more like a pat. "I guess I shouldn't try to keep up with the master, hmm?"

     Julian looks to the ceiling, shaking his head. "Ah, that's not me," he grins. "I won't take that title." His hands massage gently, a question pending. "Sam...if you and I had not met...what...would you do?"

     That stops her a moment. "I'd probably be dancing somewhere. You know. I don't know. I started out when I was seventeen. Who knows, Jules. I might be dead by now. Drugged up or used. I'm so lucky to have found you. Or that you found me." However it happened. "So many get caught up in some bad stuff. But you really care. You take care of your girls. And now your boys..." She grins at you over a shoulder. "I'd probably be back in the Midwest... how sad is that? Now I'm in goddamned London and I don't lack for a thing. You take such great care of me."
     In every way, say her hips...

     "You're sweet," Julian speaks, stating a fact. He kisses your cheek and pats the hip. He is quiet a moment, then asks. "What do you want, Sam?" violet eyes returning to you. "What...sort of life...do you want?"

     "The one I have," she replies easily, without thought. "Being with you. Taking care of them. Being able to travel and to do things I never would have been able to do back in Milwaukie. See the world. Hey," she whispers excitedly, "...maybe we can go to Paris in the spring. Just for a quickie," she grins. "You know... couple of days, nights. Wouldn't that be great?" she warbles.
     Snuggling back against you, Samantha closes her eyes. "A nice hotel, maybe a penthouse. Soft robes, a great view. Champagne..."

     A girl's dream. A midwestern American girl's dream. It's all she knows. How long have we been together? What is to become of her...if...something happens? Why should I care? Silly question. I just do.
     "We'll go to Paris in the spring," he whispers. "We'll close the deal on the penthouse soon and you can decorate it however you like. It'll be great," he whispers, Julian closing his eyes too.

     "I love you," she says it again. Twice in one night. What is it with this night? Love and Lust sent topsy-turvy...
     "Mmm... Paris in the spring. Soho in London. God, what a great time, what a great life we're having, Jules. Thank you. It's all because of you." And it is. She just doesn't know how much. "Hmmm...all this and you're so amazing. I must have done something right back in Milwaukie." Soft, the laughter. Laughter that trails off in a soft moan, a gentle stretch before sleep takes her. It won't be long...

     For you, he is all smiles. A half-grin of agreement. But once your eyes close, dear Samantha, his glow fades. Julian looks at the wall across from you both and begins silently to cry.

Posted by rowan at May 09, 2003 10:06 PM