AUTHOR'S CORNER
WARNING: The following scenes you are about to read is not suitable for minors. It depicts sensual themes, foul language and violent topic. So if you are below 18 years of age, better skip this one. Or read at your own risk. I'm not encouraging anyone to graphic sensual content. So please leave if you are under 18 years old.
"Stay with me longer, Bell. I'm not ready for you to go."
I'm with Henry again as Isabelle, climbing the sloping trail that leads out of the canyon bordering his father's property. Sunshine warms the winter day. We've spent most of it outside, walking, picnicking, and sitting beneath bare-branched trees while Henry played his violin.
"I can't stay." Avoiding his gaze, Isabel remains focused on the path ahead and the scenery around us. With each step she takes, more and more colors appear to me like magic. It's as if she pushes a giant paintbrush in front of us, streaking ribbons of rust, dusty pink, and milk chocolate across the canyon wall. Throughout the day, sounds have intensified: wind-rattled tree limbs, the honks of geese flying high overhead, an occasional rustle of an animal in the brush.
"You can't stay, or you won't?" Henry asks.
"Do you realize the trouble I'll be in if Mama and Papa hear that I wasn't in school today? I shouldn't have done this."
"Really?" I can hear the sarcasm in his voice, "or was it somebody you truly worry about?"
"What are you implying?"
"Daniel." He spits the name. "He's the real problem, isn't he?" a jab of fierce anger slashes through Henry's cheekbones.
Alarmed by how easily his lighthearted mood can turn to sour, Isabel peers down at the trail again. Before my eyes, with each touch of her boots gray winter grass becomes amber and brown. "Daniel a problem? What are you talking about?"
"You're always so worried about him. Poor Daniel. What about Daniel?" he mimics in a mocking tone. "I don't want him around all the time. Not anymore. He's jealous of us."
Isabel's laugh is short and baffled. "Daniel's not jealous. He's our friend. He worships you and, lately, you treat him terribly."
"Don't be naive." Scowling, Henry stops walking and sets the basket and his violin case on the trail beside him. "Daniel doesn't like it one bit that you and I are becoming closer." He grasps Isabel's arms, and I feel his fingertips press into her flesh. "I won't let him come between us, Bell. Do you understand?"
She twists free of his hold and touches his cheek. "Daniel isn't jealous. He doesn't feel about me the way—" Isabel lowers her eyes.
"Say it." Henry lifts her chin with his fingertips, forcing her to look at him—forcing me to.
She glances at him, and Henry's grinning mischievously assures me he knows that, he's aware of the power he has over her—or is it me that he's smiling at in that self-satisfied way? Me who he's happy to be maneuvering like a character in a video game?
She finds Henry's company quite satisfying. Yet she is afraid of the unfamiliar emotions strumming inside her, afraid if she gives in to them something will go wrong and she'll not only lose Henry's love, she'll ruin their friendship, too. Still, she smiles and tells him, "Daniel doesn't feel about me the way you and I feel about each other." She whispers, and I feel the flutter of her pulse as if it's my own as Henry's lips curve into a smile. She probes her mind for a safer topic, as unnerved by the intense way he searches her eyes as I am. "You shouldn't skip school, either," Isabel says weakly.
"Don't change the subject, Belle."
She too, smiles lovingly, and tells him, "I'm not afraid of anything. You're the one who's avoiding questions."
Henry's grin slides off his face. He lowers his hand. "You know why I don't like to go to school. I might as well be a leper there."
They haven't given you a chance. Maybe if I talked to them—"
"I've lived here my entire life, Bell. They've had plenty of opportunities. The problem is, they're afraid of me."
"Henry…"
"They are." He shrugs. "They can rest easy. I've decided to quit school."
"It doesn't matter." Pulling away, he continues on up the trail. Then, Henry stares at her very intently. And I can feel the warmth of Isabel's blush. Henry went up the trail and Isabelle follows. Henry's mask of indifference slips, and I see the anguish in his eyes. "I'm so lonely when we're apart. I miss you," he says, his voice a quiet rasp.
"I know," she whispers. "I feel the same way."
Crouching again, Henry takes hold of the railing and hops down onto the bridge's wooden planks. He crosses to her. "Do you?" he asks, reaching for her arm.
"You know I do."
Henry pulls her closer into his arms. He lifts one hand to her cheek, presses his other hand against the small of her back. I smell the starch in his shirt, feel his suspenders, as Isabel's palms skim across his shoulders. Henry's lips brush hers…once…twice. So soft, so warm, his kiss. His lips taste like the fresh mint Miss Ivy put in their picnic tea. Isabel wants the kiss to go on and on and on…so do I.
But then Henry's head shifts; his mouth presses harder; he pushes against her spine too tightly. Apprehension pricks my desire like a needle, and Isabel pulls her head back quickly, a startled look in her eyes.
At the top of the trail, Isabel and Henry pause to catch their breath. Isabelle runs teasingly, she glances back hoping Henry would play with her silly trick of cat-and-mouse.
…The sun's rays weaken with twilight's approach. Henry chases Isabel up the trail. Near the top, she squeals, dodging his outstretched arms. Too late. He catches her wrist, tugs, and we tumble to the snow-dusted ground. During our playful scuffle, she manages to scoop up a handful of snow in her glove and toss it at him. Laughing and red-faced, he rolls her onto her back and pins her wrists at either side of her head.
"Let me up! It's freezing down here!" Isabel cries.
A glint lights Henry's eyes. "You look beautiful laying on snow-laden ground, Belle.'" he examines her face. From her big brown eyes, down to her chest.
"I'm not beautiful."
"You're all the more so because you don't know it." He caresses her cheek. "You're all that matters to me, Bell. You're all I have. Without you, I'm alone. I'm nothing."
"Let me up, please?"
"Say, Uncle."
"I won't!"
"I guess you'll just have to freeze then."
She glares up at him, says, "Uncle," so quietly I barely hear the word.
"Louder." He tightens his grip. "Say it like you mean it."
"Uncle!" she yells. "I'm turning into an icicle!"
"Then I'll just have to melt you." He kisses her slowly until she stops struggling and kisses him back. Then he lifts his head and looks at her in a way that turns me inside out. She pins her hard on the ground and slowly kissing her from the lips down her neck.
"Ughh... H-Henry" Belle moans. As Henry caresses her back toward her bare breasts. His fingers slip beneath the strap of her spaghetti dress. Slowly peeling it off. Even as protests arise she gasps as his teeth close sharp on her earlobe, nipping, then soothing with a melting lick.
Finally, when he undo her dress, revealing her intimate physique, regret and strange reverberating fear strikes at her. But even so, she's not surprised to find her mouth already pressing against him, as Henry takes-off his suspenders, removing his belt, and unzip his pants.
"He-Henry..." Before she could even speak, Henry removes her panty-hose. Revealing her most intimate body part. She intently at Henry, casting him a longing look. She watches as he lay down his pants to his knees. Revealing his own underwear. But her heart almost explode with nervousness —or perhaps excitement—, when Henry finally took it off. Revealing a palm length genital. Which Belle's isn't used to seeing before.
Her heart pounds. So am I.
Henry went back to where his lips once kissing. Her wide open chest. Fresh and pure like Betty Crocker and Pillsbury Cake Mix combined together. He pins both her hand on top of her head. Which motioned her cup-A sized bust upward. I watch as Henry begins ravishing her with hot, wet kisses.
Isabelle squeak so loud; thank goodness no one else is around but the two of them. Sensing her pleasurable squirm, Henry took a handkie at the side pocket of his shirt, before removing it completely. Then he began tucking the piece of cloth to Isabelle's mouth; while parting both her legs. But Isabelle has no complain. In fact, she enjoys it.
She knows she can trust Henry. And whatever he's doing, is just a simple display of affection.
He cast a heavy-yearning look at her pallid face, as if he's trying to convey a signal if he can persist or not. But he spare no time, the moment Isabelle gave him a quick assuring nod. And the rampage begin.
He pounces his manhood into Isabelle's cave. And Isabelle gives in to a pleasurable squeal. Citing, "AaaAAAHHHHHhhhhhHHH! Hen...H-...H-en...Henr-!" she can't finish her words for the handkerchief covers her mouth, haltering her cry from getting too obvious to any lurking observer. Henry tosses his thing back and forth into the un-explored cave between Isabelle's legs. And gives out a loud moan, matching his girlfriend's cry.
Tears trickle down Isabelle's cheeks and both her eyes shut. Yet I can tell she's giving in to the sensual pleasure Henry is quite adept to offer. I can't feel everything from Isabelle's body. But I can comprehend her emotions. Its as if she both love and hate it at the same time. Love the way Henry stroke his thing in and out, giving her a sense of pleasurable delight, yet hating it... for it causing her down part to ache so much.
Henry doesn't seem to notice the hurt and pleasure in Isabelle's expression, for he's lost to his own wild thoughts and his eyes filled with lust. And he doesn't seem to stop. He pounces hard and wild. Back and forth to Isabelle's stream. And spurting out faster and faster, blood begin to surge from Isabelle's inward with each thrust he make but he hardly notice. Much to Isabelle's distress.
Isabelle cries out something, but she can't make a word of it. For the handkerchief still cover her rosey lips. But I do understand what she might try to imply...
"H-h-henry, p-p-p-please...s-sto...stop! It hurts!" Isabelle moans in pain and pleasure at the same time.
But Henry doesn't get the signal at all. He just keep pressing into her. Enjoying every stroke he thinks she enjoyed.
Every touch of Henry's skin seems to invigorate Isabelle from deep within. A sense of vitality rallies through me and Isabelle's body. And as she lay down helplessly, the corner of her eyes wandered. Giving me a slight view of the surroundings; from there I notice the sky is no longer gray but blue with fluffy white clouds forming on every side, and the Canyon itself is in full color.
Henry made a hard long deep stroke that makes Isabelle's spine form an arch. Drool escapes from her delicate lips which Henry gladly licks. I watch as she roars out in pain and pleasure. Though we both know, she didn't want to stop him either...
At the present...
I wake up finding myself sitting at the velvet chair in the turret. I blink my eyes, half-squinting... 'How do I get here?' I thought to myself. Moments ago, if I remember correctly, I was in the Ladies' room, shirking on an empty stall. As Shanna and Alison made their way inside, gossiping about me and Tate; and then... (O ,O ) OH GAWD!
An announcer came and informs Alison about her infamous photograph! But how could it be? It was on my backpack the whole time! I knew it! But how on earth could it... Then realization dawns on me. I bump into Tate Hudson's back and everything I was holding fell. And I remember I took out a book before that, which was meant for our English subject right after the lunch. And I perfectly remember I slid Alison's alleged photograph in it.
It probably fell off, and both Tate and I didn't notice because we're so busy discussing about lunch. THAT'S SO STUPID OF YOU, TANSY! (V_V)! I refute myself.
I stand up, eager to make amend before things would go awful to both parties involved. But panic gushes on me like a thunderbolt as soon as I look outside the window.
The sun is no longer visible. Night has fallen. And by the sight of it, it seems that the clock will soon strike past midnight!
BUT HOW COULD THIS BE?! What was happening in this planet? (O. O) I was shock to the core. I knew I could've fallen asleep inside that dang stall, but to jerk awake in our turret, at this hour? Am I losing it? Could it be a symptom of any mental disorder or stuff? And what's this?!
I realize that I've been holding a picture in my right arm together with the crystal on the left.
Since when did I hold it? (O .o) again I ask myself.
I remember taking the crystal with me, but the picture am holding right now is quite different from the ones I brought to school. It was the photograph of Papa Dan at the mulberry tree, I took that in the hopes that I might find answers should I step through that image again. But the picture am holding isn't something I knew I captured with my camera lens. It was a black and white image of the Grand Canyon bridge, long before the reconstruction, back when it was just a simple man-made wooden bridge.
And instead of the original scenery I was hoping to get reanimated, it was to a different place where my subconsciousness were manifested.
I can feel the blood rushing through my face as I rethink of that scene where Henry and Belle went from fervent kissing to—
No, Tansy. Stop! I cut my thoughts from their very intimate scene. Although I have no recollection or actual feeling of what Isabelle might be experiencing at the moment, I understand that they're having such a sensual moment. And Isabelle can't help but welcome it despite of her initial reluctance and intolerable pain.
The thought makes me shiver.
Colin and I had dated but never did we share such intimate scene together. We satisfied ourselves through music stores and movie night out. But never did we engage in such thing. Perhaps that's why he went out with Hailey. He might have that thought in mind but couldn't execute it because he knows I might dodge him off. That's why he waited until my shadow no longer present in our community nor school, so he could proceed with Hailey. And their night at the Flirty Blue concert is his first move.
He never invited me in such event. I knew eversince we began dating that he loves their music. Yet he never invited me there once. Now I know that he's reserving it for such a special moment.
"HUH! WHO CARES!" I blurted out, all of a sudden. That's the reason why am starting to despise men in general. I hate it when they think dirty and everything. Can't they just have a sense of relationship with pure intent and without getting triggered by malice?! AAARRRGGGHH! I wonder why men are created in the first place. They are nothing but DOUCHEBAG! Girls are better with or without their presence, so WHYYYYYYY on earth are they here?!
I slammed the photo and the crystal to the velvet chair out of contempt.
Lucky for Belle, Henry loves her so much to the moon and back. No doubt with that! Unlike those dick like Colin and tramp Hailey.
I HATE THEM! GOSH! How I wish they would just disappear from this planet. POOF! Just like that! They're polluting our dear mother planet with their corrupt asses! GGGGRRRRRRRRRR! Just thinking about their disrespectful existence makes me wanna puke.
So I decided to come out of the turret and head down towards the kitchen and get something to eat.
Mom is sitting at a table opposite Papa Dan; hands are busy typing her book's next chapter on the laptop. To her right is the iPad tablet where she digs in for research material. Papa Dan is half eating his porridge. He hold a fork to his left hand playing around it. As if twirling an invisible noodle to the air. I watch them from the corner of my eye as I get cold pitcher from the fridge.
"Tansy?" Mom calls out. Her eyes and hands didn't move from the laptop. "I didn't heard you come home."
Trust me mom, I don't know either.
"I was checking your room, but you weren't there. The turret is lock, so I assume you spent the evening there. Why you didn't come down for dinner earlier?"
She floods me with questions, as expected. "I'm not hungry yet." I lied. "Just now. Do we have leftovers?"
"Get those fresh apples from the fridge. I forgot to cook any. I was hoping you could pre-order something once you get home. But then I didn't see you arrive so~"
I gave her a smirk.
Mom never cook. She can only make porridge and that's it. We rely on the power of fast-food delivery. But eversince we came here in Texas, it was my job to act as chef.
But I my mind is still wondering how the heck did I get hear from school?
Its as if I got teleport and the evidence were wash out from my memories. I don't know.
"You're friend came here earlier. Looking for you."
"Bethyl Ann? The Local Librarian's daughter?" I inquire.
"Is that her name? Oh, how sad for her." She quit tapping from the keyboard and turn to face me. "There's also another one. You know the cute guy you'd been drooling over at the Longhorn Cafe?"
I spit out the water at the mention of cute guy. "—who, Tate? You mean, TATE? The TATE HUDSON?!"
"Why are you flushing? she teases, "Now you know his name? Nice." she winks flirtatiously.
"Mom~" I scolded, "I'm not flushing okay?" "...and I didn't drool over him, EXCUSE ME!"
But I was shocked. What would Tate came to our house for? (O_O)
AUTHOR'S CORNER
I know, you guys might've felt nauseous from reading the last chapter. Coz it took a LOT loooooooong! So here, I tried to come up with a shorter one. So you won't get tired reading.
Hopefully you enjoy reading this one, save from the youngster ofcourse! Coz this chapter, especially the opening part is quite... sensitive. I hope you guys don't get disturbed by it.
I promise you that things would get interesting as the chapters go by... So please, please, please stay tuned for more.
And also, I would appreciate if you could review this story should there be any suggestion you wanted to share. (^_^)
Thanks guys! See ya next time!