Luc
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Everything posted by Luc
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And He Love Me I lay there looking up at the ceiling, thinking. My head felt cloudy, foggy; my thoughts seemed disjointed. I wasn’t all that sure I was actually awake. But that was how things felt sometimes, almost like a dream…surreal. I closed my eyes and felt memories rush in and out of my head—veiled, shadowed in mist one moment, and the next so real I could smell his hair, taste his skin. But were they memories? Or were they dreams? Or fantasies? If they were
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In Eternity Our Souls Entwine I stepped off the elevator into the lobby. The bright lights assaulted my senses. My head ached. No amount of ibuprofen seemed to help. But I was almost becoming used to it these days. And I had better drugs if I wanted to use them. I looked around. It had been a long time since I had been here. My job didn’t take me out of town much anymore. Which was good, in a way. Sarah and Jess were at that age when a father really needed t
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I'll Be Seeing You Her touch on my arm was filled with electricity. I almost pulled away. It made me feel…itsy. Like I always felt before I had to do something new, go somewhere I had never been before, talk to someone I didn’t know. Was a bit like butterflies in my stomach, but worse. No, not worse because it wasn’t a bad feeling, just…itsy. “Deirdre, where are you?” I could hear the smile in her voice and I knew it would be in her eyes, as well. She had beautiful eyes.
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Until Our Bodies Touch Again I don’t know how long I lay in his arms. Time had stopped for me. It had stopped the moment I had spoken his name. “Andrew.” I said it again, and it caressed my tongue as it slipped softly through my lips. I pulled away from him, left the warmth and comfort of his chest and lay on my back. I stared up at the ceiling. “I’m married, have two daughters.” He hadn’t asked. Who was I really saying that to? Maybe I was reminding myself. He p
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Not Even Death His hair smelled of spring rain as it fell forward over his eyes as he pressed his lips against mine. His tongue tasted faintly of the sweet red wine we had shared moments earlier. I slid my tongue along his, savoring that lingering taste as it combined with the even headier taste of him. I entwined the fingers of one hand in his hair. It was still damp from the sudden shower that had caught us as we had stood on the balcony, watching the lightning on th
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Many Times Before I felt cold as he removed his hand from mine. I didn’t like the sudden feeling of separation from him. It felt wrong. I could feel myself frown. He smiled and raised his hand and ran a finger along the line of my cheek. The fingers of his other hand still lingered on my temple, gently massaging my skin, as if trying to erase any last traces of pain from my head. He brushed his thumb lightly over my lips. My eyes had still not left his. I could feel my heart
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Until Eternity Ends I laughed as the water hit my face. He was usually so serious. But he was in a playful mood now—and that made me happy to my very soul. Of course, much of his mood probably had to do with the fact that it was such an unbearably hot day. Well, that in itself would hardly cause mirth and merriment! But we had come across a stream with a deep hole… Actually I had found the hole accidentally. He had thrown back his head and nearly roared with laughter as I
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Déjà Vu My head was pounding. I opened my eyes slowly, fearing what I might see. My dreams had left me with a vague sense of unease, left me feeling as though I had received bad news but could not recall what it was. I turned my head and saw the bright red lights of the digital clock. I reached for my glasses, cursing the day I had given up contacts, missing the feeling of being able to actually SEE as soon as my eyes opened. I slipped them on and winced. God! My face actually hu
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A Heart Enslaved He pressed his lips against mine. There was no gentleness in his kiss, no tenderness, no softness—only passion and hunger. My body responded to his hunger, desire rippling through every nerve. There was never enough time for subtleties. No time for whispered words of love. But we both knew that, accepted it as part of our reality. But we also knew the words were felt if never spoken. He was a slave in my father’s house. Born of a slave taken in a north
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The Precipice of Eternity I just stared. I couldn’t do anything but just stare. It was an unreasoning moment. A moment of pure reaction, no thought. I just stared. It was as if a flash of light had blinded my eyes. I saw nothing. I saw only him. It was as if he were surrounded by an aura, a glow of light that rendered my eyes blind to everything but him. I felt sweat form on my brow and a wave of fear sweep over me. I was having some sort of cerebral hemorrhage! A strok
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I lay there looking up at the ceiling, thinking. My head felt cloudy, foggy; my thoughts seemed disjointed. I wasn’t all that sure I was actually awake. But that was how things felt sometimes, almost like a dream…surreal. I closed my eyes and felt memories rush in and out of my head—veiled, shadowed in mist one moment, and the next so real I could smell his hair, taste his skin. But were they memories? Or were they dreams? Or fantasies? If they were dreams, they lingered long after I wa
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Sometimes the connection between two souls is so deep that it transcends time and gender. This is a story about two such souls who are joined and then torn apart—and go on to seek and find each other through time.
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I leaned against the wall. I leaned because if I had not I would have fallen. My head was spinning a bit and I felt for all the world like I was going to just go to sleep right where I stood. Needless to say, I had been drinking. I had been drinking a lot. I had no idea how much I had drank, or what I had been drinking. People just kept handing me glasses and I kept drinking what was in them. I looked down the hall toward my bedroom door. It was just there, no more than 10 feet away. Bu
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An unexpected kiss has an unexpected result. You never forget the first time
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Detective Finch was true to his word. On Friday, December 24th I stood in front of the judge in the county courthouse. Papa Doc had been picked up the day after I had given Detective Finch the information. They hadn’t wasted any time. Hadn’t thought they would. His operation had turned out to be a nice juicy one. And they had found more than enough evidence at his house to be pretty sure of a good solid conviction—without the need for any testimony from me. The judge had everything in fro
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I am still amazed at the hold Dale had on me. Here I was, sitting in a jail cell seriously believing I would be spending the foreseeable future in prison—and when they offered to dismiss the charges against me if I gave them information on Dale and his supplier, I told them to go fuck themselves. I had reasons why I didn’t want to talk. I suppose I had conscious reasons and subconscious ones. At the time, I thought my reasons were based on sanity. If I told them about Papa Doc—I didn’
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Dale was waiting for me at the door. I could barely manage getting out of the car. Every inch of my body hurt and I was feeling sick, like I was going to puke at any minute. The sick was the withdrawal, the rest was courtesy of Tyrell, Ramon and Papa Doc. And I needed a hit so badly. I knew the hit would help. Would take away everything-—he pain, the words, everything. But I took one look at Dale’s face and just knew nothing was going to go away. Dale didn’t give me a chance to spea
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I think the full force of my life, of my addiction hit me that night. I needed the heroin to be able to function—not just “normally” but pretty much at all. Without it, aside from the physical reaction—which could get bad, but which I could deal with—I felt less than nothing. While it was in my body, I felt good. I felt like the world had hope. Felt like I was not nothing. It was what made me feel alive and significant. Without it—even early in the stages of withdrawal when it was just be
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I’d been with Dale nearly a year. I won’t pretend it was all good. But it wasn’t all bad either. All in all, life had settled into a comfortable routine for me. But the nightmares were starting up again. I would wake up in the night more often. Dale was getting impatient with me. “Fucking Christ, Luc, just take a bigger hit before bed!” He would growl at me. Of course, once he was awake he wanted to fuck. It was the last thing I wanted when I was still shaking and still feeling that
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The drive home was a long one. No longer, physically, than usual. But it seemed it would never end. I just wanted to get home and take another hit. I really needed one. Needed to block the voice from my head. Needed to put everything away behind a locked door. I needed to forget everything that Papa Doc had made me remember. It is a strange feeling to feel both numb and like an exposed, raw nerve at the same time. Part of me still felt that detachment. No, that wasn’t quite true.
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Dale thanked me for helping him out. Made a big deal out of how I had helped him out of a bind and how he wouldn’t forget that. He kept telling me how glad he was that he had run into me that night at the bar. How fate had brought him something nice for a change. Dale was never one for saying nice things. Always more quick with a criticism than a compliment. And on the rare occasions when he did say something nice it felt like a treat, like I was being given something I hardly deserved—but
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It wasn’t long afterwards that I noticed Chris hadn’t been around in a few days. I asked Dale about it. I tried to make it sound casual, like it was just something I had noticed but really didn’t give a shit about. But Dale pounced on it. Did I miss her so much? Miss that pussy? No, of course not, I was just curious. A quick cuff to the side of my head reminded me that curiosity had killed the cat and wouldn’t do me much good either. But then he smiled so sweetly and told me he and she w
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At first, my hands used to shake when I mixed the heroin on the spoon. I was afraid of getting it wrong, afraid of spilling it, afraid of just about everything about it. Dale was real casual about it. But then, I found out he had been using for years. Since he was 19. He was 28. That amazed me—that he had been using so long. If you looked at Dale, you might think many things about him. You would think he was rough, a bit crude, a little slippery, and you might even suspect him of crimina
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Started right off spending a lot of time with Dale. I had no job then—I had lost it when I went on the three-week binge after Paul had left. Never “moved in” with Dale. Somehow that never came up. Probably was not what either of us wanted. Moving in would have implied commitment. There was nothing even remotely implying commitment in our relationship. But still, I spent a LOT of time with him. Mark kept up the expenses for the apartment. He had a good job and told me not to worry about
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I hated that part. Hated tying the band around my arm. Hated sticking the needle in my vein. Always had a vague fear of doing it wrong, of sending a bubble of air to my heart or breaking the needle off in my arm. But I loved the feeling of the heroin as it moved from the syringe through the needle into my arm. Loved the hot feeling as it hit my blood. Not everyone feels it like that, I’m told. Dale never did. But then, I don’t think Dale ever felt much of anything. But to me it was a s
