Hello everyone, I finally managed to bring the second chapter of this story. Last month was awful in college and the final exams are in full swing, but it's a very good semester and that's all that matters. The chapter is not what I wanted it to be, I didn't manage to focus enough to express what I wanted it to be, so it may change at some point. Anyway, as it turned out so far, I hope you like it.

SO, enjoy reading it.

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Chapter two

"Maybe the world wasn't made of universals that could be summed up in neat little packages. Maybe there were just people. People who were tired and hurt and lonely and kind in their own way and their own time."

-Clare Vanderpool, Moon Over Manifest

She was amazing.

She sat in front of me, completely naked, beautiful as a goddess, letting me admire the perfection of her slender little body, which curved provocatively with each step she took. With her cat-like green eyes, staring at me, she overflowed with sensuality and emanated sexuality through every pore, drawing me to her like a magnet.

"Do you see anything you like, my lord?" she asks me playfully, her hands moving freely, in a slow, dizzyingly slow rhythm, over her underdeveloped chest.

She had a dominant attitude.

"Hm ... maybe you should come closer!"

And she approached. He approached me and, with the innocence of a child, held out his hand to me, wanting to touch me. She caressed my face, stroking my hair and cheeks, then descending to my shoulders and pectorals, letting me get lost in her touch. She was gentle and her hands were warm. And her soft skin smelled of spring and a new beginning and of all that is best and most beautiful.

"My Lord, do you want to touch me?" she purr in my arms as she bites my earlobe lightly.

Caught in her spell, I detached my hands from the old perch of the bed, moving them on her full and firm thighs. And she shuddered, and her skin became like goosebumps. I began to tenderly kiss every particle of her velvety skin, on her shoulders, then climbed up to collarbone and neck, kneading her small, naughty breasts in my hands as she moaned melodiously in my ear.

"Ah, please ..."

Now that I had the chance to have her so close to me, I could really look at her. She was taking your breath away. Her green, glassy eyes, which penetrated your soul, were now closed, feeling the moment, with a calm and quiet face. She had small imperfections that defined the strange beauty. She was something indefinite, an almost woman, still a child with visible signs of maturity.

I was so lost of myself, caught in the nets of this face, mesmerized by her beauty, that suddenly I felt space and time begin to expand and I am transposed into having a warm summer night with the full moon, loving her, as I now love the stranger in my arms. I caressed and caressed her, and then, as now, and she smiled charmingly at me, responding with love and warmth, and receiving me on her chest.

My greedy tongue passed over her hardened nipples, which I occasionally bit lightly, and she whimpered sublimely in my arms. My hands were firmly lowered to her femininity that was full of pleasure. It was wet, hot, and so ready for me, and when I put my two fingers inside it, my green eyes opened wide, looking at me pleadingly. His greasy cheeks had turned pink, and his breathing had become heavier and heavier.

Adorable.

"Please ..." she begged me like a child, while her whole body trembled with desire.

Ghostly, almost imperceptible, her light touch like a warm spring breeze aroused unknown sensations in me. Tenderly, she pressed her forehead to the hollow of my neck, letting her tousled pink hair fall like a waterfall. Her insecure fingers ran down my body as she placed small wet kisses here and there along my neck.

It was wonderful.

"Would you mind if ... if I ... kissed you?" I heard her whisper, shy as a teenager.

But she did not wait for my answer, because, suddenly, her pink lips rushed hungry, in a kiss full of passion and desire that burned like a flame within her. She was fiery and full of life, but still clumsy and insecure. She had rushed upon me like a storm, putting her whole soul on the tray. It was like a force of nature, unleashed on me like a tornado. Her desire grew and grew and I felt like I couldn't stand it anymore.

So I made her mine, over and over again on this miserable bed, with time-dull bedding, yellowed by the sweat of those before me, in a cheap brothel in the suburbs of the city. The whole room smelled of sex and sweat, and the wooden furniture was peeled and broken in some places.

When things calmed down, I lay back on my back and tactfully lit a cigarette. I exhaled calmly and carelessly into the dim air of the room, the gray smoke, as she sat shyly as far away from me, on the other side of the room.

Did I hurt her?

She sat sadly in the old backless chair at the end of the bed, staring at the screened wall of the room. His shoulders were brought forward, in a pitiful position, who didn't remember of the fatal woman I had in bedding until recently. She obsessively wrapped her black silk robe around her body in a desperate attempt to cover her nakedness.

Something had really changed about her.

Her eyes, which until a few minutes ago shone full of life, now hid a deep pain among the tears that were dripping down her cheeks. A pain that was grinding her inside. I deciphered a set of complex, contradictory feelings that had made its presence felt in her soul. I could read in her disgust at herself, absolute shame and anger at her position.

She was a fallen beauty.

I could have sat there, staring at her for hours, without getting bored, without feeling the passing of time, but something in her was like a silently warning to me that it was smarter to leave the room as soon as possible. It was obvious that she needed intimacy, a little space and time for herself, to put her thoughts in order. I gathered the clothes scattered on the carpet, in all the corners of the room, including hers, which I folded nicely and left at the edge of the bed and dressed as fast and quietly as I could. Then I took out my wallet, leaving the money we owed her for ... her services tonight.

"I will leave. Your money is on the bedside table next to the bed ... "I wanted to let her know before I left.

"What ... wait! It's too much ... I can't ... "

"You don't have to worry ... they're yours."

"Sir, please! I don't need anyone's mercy ... I ...! "she stirred beside me, gesturing briskly.

"It's not about pity..."

That being said, I left the small room, heading for the exit of this hut that seemed to be falling apart. I was walking quickly down the miserable corridor, where the smell of urine had remained impregnated in green walls, which had not had a new coat of paint for years. The light bulb with an improvised installation fluttered annoyingly and kept falling from moment to moment.

"This place is a bomb that's about to explode ..."

Finally reaching the outside, I came out on a side alley that forks towards the two main arteries of the city, feeling for the first time something more than usual and the inevitable pain that had anchored in my chest, a little above the loneliness with which I had surrounded myself. I could feel the heat. Strange feelings begin in my chest, feelings I feared. The city itself seemed as old and yet newer than ever, as if the whole world had taken on new meanings. The stars shone brighter, guiding someone's path, and yesterday's wind, which was cold and hostile, was now warm, bringing with it the scent of spring.

I walked slowly down the street, giving myself time to notice all the things I had ignored before. I noticed the faces of those we passed by, all burdened by their own sufferings, all bitter and subject to the imminence of fate. It was an unusual bustle, a strange breath of life that had gripped the entire city.

I was no longer alone.

But when I arrived in front of the same damn house, that feeling of well-being that had clung to me for a while dissipated, leaving me just as empty and cold inside. Cold chills run down my spine as I step on the wooden porch that moans sharply under my weight.

Nothing.

I walk on, deeper into the heart of the house and notice that the lanterns were off and the whole house was bathed in overwhelming darkness. The kitchen table was still chaos, as I left it - packed over chaotically tossed packs, empty bottles of alcohol, an old, moldy rice dumpling that not even the cat wanted to touch. The tea was cold in his cup. It looked like a headless nest.

I hated this place. It was my oasis of memories, every corner of every room was special to me, there was something that brought her back. This house was a praise of her existence - it still keeps her memory alive, and it slowly suffocates me, kills me. Her absence from this place is heartbreaking. But she's not here anymore. She's nowhere. I can't see her anymore, I can't call her anymore, I can't dream that I will hear her crystal clear laughter like a bell for the last time. Time for her stopped. And it's all my fault. I sat and watched as the last piece of life dripped from her small body, crying over her body like a child. She had blood in the corner of his mouth and her eyes were covered with fear. It was far too late for her.

I was too late for her ...

I was too late for me too.

…...

Well, that was all for today. Thank you for your attention and stay safe.