9. The shell on the sea.

Deep, strong meditation was excellent for him to restore his forces and making them growing, if it was possible.

Aiolia sat down, cross legged. Not he likes particularly inactivity. Having a fight, even for training, was better.

But also meditating had its own advantages.

For example, contemplating what was going on.

An image began to surface at his eyes' mind.

The tall, slender girl was walking along the beach, her bare feet kissed by a gentle wave.
Strangely, she was dressed in a white linen peplum caressing her ankles.
She had high heels sandals in one hand, and in the other some harvested shells.
When she found some beautiful specimen, she stopped and got down to collect.

She had this such intense shade of sadness in her.
And dressed like a woman, with the breeze which made adhering the peplum to her curvaceous hips, and high heels in hand, she was really sensational.
And no mask.
She rested for a moment, looking at the sea lied down in front of her.
She admired the stars.
Then, she did something more exciting than a daring caress on the lap.
She reclined herself on the warm sable, abandoning the shells and the high heels sandals near her face, her hair fan- spreaded like ocean algae.
Her eyes were dreaming of some strange reveries, of some strange sorceries, and he could quite smell the brackish maritim air, and taste the gentle salty flavour on her disclosed lips.

An epidermic sensation overwhelmed Aiolia, unable to penetrate her inner thoughts, and suddenly jealous of them.

' Ah, an hard on...' he breathed, pouring back the head and feeling the blood strain going wild. The image became more intense, if it was possible. It took some instants for him to return in control.

' You' re not sleeping neither tonight', he said, loudly involved in listening to her soft heartbeat, ' Difficult decision. Kill him, or kill me. Or kill both. But someone has to die. I' ll wait for you, because I know you will come here to try to take my life.'

She was softly abandoned on the beach, lost in her reflections, the shells taken back by the touch of the water which lapped her ankles, revealing her beautiful slim legs.
A more stronger wave threw a violent shot at her siren' s body.
Something occurred in her head, something assigned to rest unknown to Aiolia, and she moaned, getting a bit laid.
' Shells...', the Saint said, smiling slowly, ' ... And the most beautiful shell is wooing by the sea. Fucked by the force of the sea. Hm.'
He envied the Sea.