Copyright© 2006 by Wolf Goddess
Sharing stories is by far the closest one will get to making love to another person's mind. You might wonder how, or you might have already done it. Just in case you may not be getting my point, I see writing stories as my arousal creating a sensual atmosphere, a tool of seduction. When you come along, you are drawn into it.
As you read, my words slide their way into your subconscious, igniting a sensuous impression within your mind, which in return, arouses you. If you continue reading, chemical changes ripple around and you begin to feel what I have created. Those sensations travel the length of your body, kindling the need to make love.
After you have reached the end of my story, you will probably exhale and release the inevitable mind orgasm. If you send your thoughts my way, explaining how much you enjoyed it, how much I turned you on. By the time I have read these comments, the process repeats itself within me, making it your turn to make love to me.
With that said, I would like to share a story... since the atmosphere for it is surely forming.
As most of us know, Jamie Lee supposedly beheaded some poor soul in that forced sequel of a movie. No disrespect, but that simply was not the Michael Myers we all dreaded some decades earlier. It was an impostor, I tell you, for Michael has very wide and very strong shoulders, that man did not.
The producers wanted to end the film due to the fact that they could not find the real Michael. Which reminds me, I need to run downstairs to my apartment, but don't fret, I shall return. Michael can be quite the hulk when he's aroused, but we're working on taming that a bit... though not too much, you'll see why. I am, though, in need of a new computer, which is why I am using someone else's to write this to you. Michael made the mistake of thrashing it to the floor when I told him to catch me.
Oh, I notice that I'm digressing, and that is a no-no when writing a story, my time is limited as it is. Though let me inform you that the new Michael is in no way broken in the weaker sense, but actually... let me just tell the story, shall I?
A hushed alertness draped the entire neighborhood the day Michael Myers slipped into town. Word had spread, and his presence was felt. His intentions were feared, however, no one knew of his whereabouts. Every one's hair was at a constant stand on the back of their necks, frustrating the poor town. Several times I imagined spotting him in the shadows, but when I looked again, the scenery had changed and the eerie feeling was gone.
No one really led on to how anxious he or she had been; but later, the darkness always answered all the questions one needed to know.
Throughout the day, many people panicked when friends or family went missing for long periods of time, and sighs were heard once their whereabouts were discovered, although, that did little to quell the fears circling the atmosphere that morning.
An hour later, I left my apartment. I made the mistake of ignoring Michael's absence, entertaining the idea that we were all hear-llucinating from recycled gossip. Old men sitting around generating enough fear to cause a state panic. I concentrated on work the first half of that morning and left a little early to run an errand for a friend, only because I was headed in the same direction for lunch.
I skipped up the stairs, pushed through the front doors, and jumped into the elevator once it opened. When I reached the top floor, there was nothing but silence. The silence wasn't too frightening, but soothing in a way, I had been uptight since the mention of Michael Myers and was not in the mood to talk. Then I remembered. The chairman was having an office party and it was probably just getting started downstairs.
So why would Trey ask me to pick up material while the offices were empty? I had wondered. If I was trespassing, he was going to pay dearly for this. He would understand the meaning of deep tissue massage that would last for weeks. Before walking away from the window, I caught a glimpse of someone briskly walking through the parking lot, toward the building.
"Oh, SHIT!" My breath caught and it was all I could say.
It was Michael. Suddenly, he stopped and looked up. His unseen gaze paralyzed me where I stood. So this was what true fear was like. To think I figured I would be cool under this kind of pressure. I counted on my instincts and will to kick in when faced with death.
I only thought to run once he started for the stairs, but my legs would not comply. I stood there like a helpless ass, spinning in circles, trying to remember how to walk. How to run. I wondered if the neurotransmitters in my brain had begun to back up and crowd each other, because the messages weren't being received. I immediately forgot how to breathe, I could not comprehend what I was doing there or what was happening, but my visual senses still worked.
A little deductive reasoning didn't hurt either: Michael likes to kill people. Knives are deadly when in motion. Michael is in the building, with a knife. Of course, that did it, and I bolted through the desks and searched for something. Dammit! I shouted. I had forgotten what I was looking for and my unstableness had begun to grate on my nerves. At that moment, I could not remember that I was indeed searching for the elevators.
My anger at behaving like a frightened bitch reminded me of why I was running, which was not my character at all. However, I am not a stupid frightened bitch. I heard footsteps as I headed for stairs and by that time, my stomach was in the wrong place... maybe down by my ankles somewhere.
Quickly, I changed my mind and finally ran to the elevator. A door at the end of the hall slammed shut with a loud thud. I almost sprained my neck turning his way, and only when he turned my way did I see the huge blade, glistening in the semi-darkened hallway.
The doors had not opened as he started his journey in my direction. As always, my eyes noted his attire, always so fully dressed. Delirium had probably settled in by this time, because I recalled a story I had written about him as a horny, young teen. What did he look like naked? I would always ask myself.
More forbidden thoughts caused my walls to throb; my thighs trembled more from a secret desire than from fear, however I was thoroughly relieved when the doors finally opened. The doors took their time closing in, I could feel his impending aura, his evil intentions pushing through, closing in on me before he even walked up. That slow, methodical walk that always gave someone the chance to live just a few minutes longer.
The oddest thing happened then. Instead of reaching in, he allowed them to close tight as he stood there intimidating me with that shadowed stare. The goddess in me stared him right through those dark holes, daring him to enter... praying that he would not. Michael's head jerked to the left before he was out of sight and I silently prayed no one was in that hallway with him just now.
My anger grew over the next few hours and I intentionally at my lunch outside, surrounded by many people, but intentionally. The hairs on the back of my neck reached up and I knew he was watching me. Skin certainly had a way of coming alive when being observed by another soul. Silently, I beckoned him to come to me, my brain was misinterpreting my fear and anger; my arousal was heightened because of it.
I was in no hurry to get back to work just now, but headed there anyway. The walk was slow, deliberate. Michael had decided to borrow a vehicle and coasted along the street behind me. I focused on my surroundings then and for some unimaginable reason, I crossed the street and walked in the direction of my apartment. Some people call me crazy, but I sauntered along that sidewalk as if being a mere object of some one's affection.
It took a few minutes to reach my apartment. With a bright sun, a few clouds, and a dangerous stranger following close by, it was an intoxicating mixture. So I reminisced. I certainly was not the only girl in town, but the name Goddess was not given to all the ladies just because of their moist petals. I did not tell anyone about my secret desires, my appetites, but there were a few who looked into my eyes and discovered just what I was. It either frightened them or called to the secrets that lay dormant within them.
Auburn curls on a slender and tanned body attracted attention everywhere I went. The curves that sculpted my body held the gazes of many admirers. I never did like to reveal so much naked flesh, that was meant as a reward, but I do like to dress in a way that my clothes are envied for the way they hug and move against my body. If my intense, green eyes didn't stop them in their tracks, my walk certainly did. I flowed gracefully through the city, not being so obvious, although my movements are hypnotic, seductive, and easy.
On a day like that day, fear was like an aphrodisiac, which saturated my nerves with a drugging effect. When that happened, I was liable to do impulsive things like, lead Michael Myers into the direction of my little abode.
Wispy clouds slid in front of a soft moon the moment I laid my head on the pillow. Michael had stayed out of sight until the dawn disappeared. I tossed and turned in bed, but never fell asleep. By the window I heard a sound and sank further beneath the feather comforter.
.... There is more of this story ...