SORI Snippets. Enjoy!

Greetings, One and All.

This week took me by storm and allowed me not the necessary time to elaborate on my soon to be released, “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity”. Therefore, today I have decided to share mini-excerpts with you in the hopes that it might entice your imagination and prompt you to possibly pick up a copy of “S.O.R.I” which is due for release tomorrow, July 7th, 2017.

Enjoy!

Blurb:

Winter Sensations …

Spring Overtures …

Summer Ruminations …

Fall Inhibitions …

The Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity is four seasons of discovery, lust, love and eroticism. A compilation of short stories that are sure to make you swoon in delight. Through a collection of erotic shorts drenched in whimsical prose, Adonis Mann takes us on a trip through a thrilling and provocative year. Stimulating the reader with stories like “Tyronian Rapture”, “Prismatic Slumber” and “Metamorphoses”, Mr. Mann brings sensual delight to every season. A jewel of an anthology for the LGBTQIA community, Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity is a must read for the lover of Erotica. Covering winter, spring, summer and fall, with one story for every month, Adonis gives you the gift of powerful diction and titillating tales. Come, sink in to SORI.

 

 

 

Excerpt: Wanton Wonderland

The air was cold and damp. The snow seemed to flow from right to left, instead of from top to bottom. The breeze made it so. Tiny, a not so tiny man slowly but surely made his way to the rented log cabin, he’d leased for the weekend for he and his lady love. A curvy girl, by the name of Raquel. This weekend Tiny and Raquel had ventured to try something new. Something they’d never tried before.

Sharing.

Excerpt: Prismatic Slumber

I dream in color. Like a vivid, luminescent prism, everything comes to thriving life, and then there he is with me.

Sleigh bells dangling from the edge of the bed jingle whenever I slide deep inside of his scrumptious cleft.

Silver tinsel, tangled around our feet.

How did it get there? When did we play with it? It doesn’t matter.

Only partially covered by a Santa Claus fleece blanket, our skin touches underneath—intense heat emanating from it. In the background Bobby Helms “Jingle Bell Rock” plays, only loud enough to drown our elate moaning.

Excerpt: Jet Tresses and Snow

Long, black hair that grazed my face as he swayed atop me. It smelled of shampoo and sweat—a sweet combination. His arms wrapped tightly around me, and all I could hear was his breath, my moans and his sighs as he pulsed inside me.

Unable to contain myself, I grabbed a fist full of his hair, tugging it ever so softly—just enough to make him groan in delight. Pulling his head back, my lips and tongue devoured the curvature of his neck, inhaling his scent.

 

 

 

Excerpt: Shy Torrents

Supple, soft skin glided under my fingers. Speckled with downy like hairs which electrified whenever my hand’s heat swept over them. My body heat was a magnet. A magnet which had the power to beckon wantonness and yearning. Shy shivered, unable to contain the reaction. I smirked.

Shy lay there, belly down, arms tucked under his chin and completely undressed. I thought of how much I wanted to take my finger, which traced his form, and insert it directly to his tight opening. I yielded the desire because my biggest wish was to savor this moment. This moment right here.

Excerpt: Metamorphosis

I am a butterfly.

The beauty of life is found in the mundane matters of evolution. Therefore, I am a butterfly.

When I was an egg, the shell kept me from breaking free. It prohibited me from being whom I was meant to be. Yet, there was a miraculous event occurring; I was developing. Readying for the inevitable exodus which was about to transpire.

I suppose the world was not ready for me then. Perhaps, preparing for the spectacular event which was about to unfold.

Excerpt: … and she: The Short Story of Constance McBride

He shared me, my Ronin. Yes, he did. That much is true. Withal, I minded not. I’d learned to appreciate the wonders of two men and I. It was a pleasantry that not all knew of.

Many speculate on my consent of being divvied between two.

So, I ask that you allow me a moment to share my story—my truth.

I am Constance McBride.

I was brought up with hard-handed structure and unwavering beliefs. My father, a Baptist Preacher. My mother, the epitome of a Preacher’s Wife—contrite, obedient and supportive.

I never fit in. I never could.

 

 

 

Excerpt: Timeless Daze; Reimagined

Footprints on golden sand lined the expanse, perfectly positioned, making a lovely pattern down the shore—some being washed away by the waves. The tawny hue of the sun bounced off the waterfront creating currents of various yellow pigments, drenching the entire domain in the same colorant.

It was a sight to behold. A beautiful, wonderful vision. And with all of its wonderment, the one thing that held my attention the most, was the individual making the impressions. His tall, strong fame, blotted out the brilliance of the seascape wherever he stood and created a silhouette of gray.

Excerpt: Mystical Nights

A gust of wind caused the white, sheer curtain on the only window in my room to dance. The light from the new moon permeated the room causing blue-gray rays to cross its expanse. Yet, there she was. A phantom. A phantasm of desire and wantonness. Real and surreal. A combination, though inexplicable, also intoxicating. The way she swayed her hips. The way she used her hands to lift the thick tresses of her hair just enough to allow her figure to come into focus. Black against pale gray. The rhythm of her movement seemed natural yet mystical. A temptress, a jezebel.

Excerpt: Tyronian Rapture

I was captured by my dear Regina’s beauty. Her full lips longed to be licked, while I imagined that her smooth skin and voluptuous curves yearned to be caressed.

From a distance, I basked in her allurement, secretly—watching as she picked the wild flowers from the field in order to prepare a centerpiece for our dinner table for tea. If I could walk through the window ajar as a phantom, then as a phantom I would delight in her existence.

The impasse, my predilection. The penchant to fancy the reprobate. And, whilst my heart and mind remained enthralled by my point of desire, my body lay captive inside of this wretched place.

 

 

Excerpt: Her Seductions

Silence is suffocating. Dense, even. Yet, it is in the silence of the night when my true love comes to me. She whispers in my ear that she loves me, running fingers through my long blonde locks. The effect is a rush which causes my hairs to stand on end and my femininity to pulse with desire.

The arid autumn air squeezes through a tiny sliver in the window ajar. The small attic apartment window, scarcely patulous, does little to cool the ardent vapors of our combines bodies. Nor does it quell our thirst for one another.

Heat rises; silence falls.

Excerpt: He & She

Her reflection was a stranger, always had been. Looking at her mirror image, Yehanna considered that she’d been born with the wrong face. Perhaps the Fates had misrepresented what she was really supposed to look like—gotten it wrong somehow. She was a foreigner to herself, usurped the body of another, or at least that’s what Yehanna told herself on a daily basis.

Grazing her finger across one check in the dimly lit bathroom of a tattered old apartment, which was falling apart at the seams, Yehanna moved her face from left to right, then back again.

Excerpt: Reckless Abandon

Convinced that life had to be grander at some scale, I threw carefulness to the waste side and opted to live life as I would have it, and not as others would impose. What good were people’s opinions anyway? Look where they’d gotten me. Having recently lost my job to a series of unfortunate events, I knew that it was now or never to take the proverbial bull by the horns and do with my life as I wanted. With reckless abandon, I would enthrall my every emotion and thought, not to be withheld by naysayers.

That was it. My mind was made up. Now, if I only knew how to accomplish said feat.

There you have it, my esteemed followers.

To obtain your copy of “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” visit:

Thank you again for visiting. And, once more, I am highly grateful for your unending support.

May blessings rain upon you all.

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My “Syncopation” Is Being Released

Greetings, Dear Followers.

I do hope that you have all been doing well. 🙂

 

With that said, I have a wonderful announcement to make.

After over a year of waiting and working, I am so happy to reveal that on July 7th, 2017Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” will be released!

The short story line up will be as follows:

Winter

  • Wanton Wonderland
  • Prismatic Slumber
  • Jet Tresses and Snow

Spring

  • Shy Torrents
  • Metamorphosis
  • … and she: The Short Story of Constance McBride

Summer

  • Timeless Daze: Reimagined
  • Mystical Nights
  • Tyronian Rapture

Fall

  • Her Seductions
  • He & She
  • Reckless Abandon

Stay tuned for a 7 day blog celebration where I will be sharing excerpts and tidbits about the inspirations of each story.

 

I can hardly wait. Until next week, my friends.

 

Regards,

Where Have I Been?

Greetings,

 

It has been far too long since I’ve graced my blog with my presence.

You, my esteemed followers, were probably wondering what had happened to me. In a few words, I was amidst my very own love drama.

Permit me a bit of your time to catch you up on the happenstances, which, I hope, will ultimately explain where I’d gone off to.

 

Back in January I met someone. We will call him N.

He was fire and ice. All consuming. He was, in a word, everything.

A dream come true. Handsome—as fine as aged wine. A smile that could kill a man dead. A body like a Greek God, and a sense of humor that would make even the most unimaginative person crack a smile. Long, jet-black hair. He smelled of sandalwood and pheromones. Intelligence that shined like the sun.

Everything, I tell you. A fashion model incarnate. The beauty of it all was that he was not a made up character. He was real. An actual person, and, as unbelievable as it was, N was into me. Modest, humble, introverted me. I was shocked, truth be told. Utterly shocked that this God-of-a-man was attracted to me of all people.

Needless to say, I fell.

I plummeted head first into the ravenous pits of love. Or hell, whatever you prefer to call it.

Honestly, I had never been in love before. I had been in lust far too many times to count. But love, no. Not ever. This was my first time. N embodied perfection, and in his mind, I too was perfect. It started off so quickly—a marathon of seduction and wantonness. I was in a whirlwind and N was the eye of the storm. He rocked me to the core and I was content to let it transpire as long as I knew that N was the reward.

Suffice it to say that for the first time in my life, I lost myself willingly. This raven-haired vixen was, in no time at all, the navel of my universe. And, the icing on the cake was the coition. He lacked in nothing. I was powerless against his wiles, and it mattered not.

In retrospect, I find myself considering; how can one lose oneself so completely that things which would normally matter are no longer processed by rationale. All things become acceptable so long as love is the ultimate bounty.

At first it had always been hard to find time to spend together as both N and I were hard working individuals who had little time to spare, but we made the time nonetheless. When we were together the world fell off to the sides and it was just us. The first few months were phenomenal. Perfection. Nothing could be better. I knew one thing, and that was that I wanted N and no one else. Period. He, in turn, apparently felt the same way. We had some rough patches, as all couples do, but always seemed to work our way through them. All was good.

I would be lying if I said that I knew what happened or why. All I know is that in time, time was no longer available. And, while N was always at the forefront of my mind, it felt as though I’d become his afterthought. Slowly but surely the little time we spent together became less and less until all I got from him were pictures sent to my phone and a less than convincing, “I miss you.”

This hurt.

It hurt because I was more than willing to make time to spend with N but the sentiment was reciprocal. Whenever I contacted him and said, “I have this and this day/time available.” his reply was, “I don’t know if I can make it.” This brushing off became routine. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, I do not know. But, what I can say for sure is that it was not enough. The scant remnants of his affection and dedication were no longer acceptable. I needed to see that N was making as much as an effort as I was, but he was not.

We had been together for six months now, two of which were questionable, to say the least. So, I talked to him about it. He gave me no response. Next thing I know, he disappeared altogether. Just, poof. Gone. I never heard from him or saw him again. It has been 3 weeks. A very long and agonizing 3 weeks. I miss him very much every day. I think of him still. I can’t let his memory go.

I wonder, does he feel the same way? Did I mean so little to him that he could just fizzle away into the stratosphere? I am, for the first time in my life, heartbroken. I’d never felt this before. I never want to feel it again. So, I’ve decided to continue to do what I do best. Direct all of my energies, thoughts and desires into my stories. My imagination has never hurt me, nor will it ever.

Now, looking back, perhaps N was a figment of my imagination.

So, if you were wondering where I had gone. I was living my life for a while, outside of the pages I write. Since that did not pan out so well, I suppose you’ll be seeing me again on a more frequent basis.

 

Until Soon my lovelies,

Wonderful Book Release

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Greetings, and thank you for joining us in the phenomenal yearly celebration, that we call, “Concordant Vibrancy’s Book Release”. Every year, thus far, we’ve had an amazing collection of authors collaborate in narrating their interpretations of that year’s theme question.

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The very first Concordant Vibrancy revolved around the theme of Unity, represented by the element of earth. In that collection we had amazing talents come together to bring us stories like “Butterfly Mask”, “Lester’s Release” and “Coalesce”.

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The 2nd installment of Concordant Vibrancy, called Vitality, was focused the question, “What moves your spirit?” This was embodied by the element of wind. In this remarkable collection we had the combined components of literature and essays, some of which were, “An Ocean of Questions”, “Arvum” and “Letting Inspiration Take The Wheel”.

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Today, we present the 3rd installment of Concordant Vibrancy, called Lustrate, which is exemplified by water.

Blurb:

What embodies the composition of fluidity?

This is the query of the third installment of the Concordant Vibrancy collection, presented by All Authors Publications & Promotions, entitled “Lustrate”.

Nine incredible writers unite—through a combination of poetry, essays, and short stories—to produce unique responses flowing with vitality.

Works include:

Unsui” by Harmony Kent
Exiled” by Carol Cassada
The Satiationship” by Synful Desire
Twin Planets” by Y. Correa
Threes” by Queen of Spades
Luster Lingers” by Adonis Mann
The Boo Thang Convention” by C. Desert Rose
Overcome (Holy Water)” by Beem Weeks
and
The Bunny” by Da’Kharta Rising

You can go out and get your copy today!

With Concordant Vibrancy there is something for everyone.

cooltext225596051439232On Kindle

Or Paperback

Y Correa’s Cover Reveal

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Hello and thank you for visiting!

Today, the members of All Authors P&P bring you a spectacular cover reveal for a phenomenal story. But to know more about this story, you must first understand its origins.

dividerIn 2013 Y. Correa brought you a Historical Romance for the ages. It was called “MarcoAntonio & Amaryllis”.

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Within its pages you found a compelling story that could leave on mark on the soul of those who read it. Many compared it to “Tristan and Isolde” as well as “Romeo & Juliet”. However, “MarcoAntonio & Amaryllis” was much more than that—it was a love story AND an adventure. Riddled with magic, mayhem and drama, “MarcoAntonio & Amaryllis” was a story to be reckoned with.

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The year 1585. The Anglo-Spanish War. England’s greed for Spain’s crops, land, and supplies gives birth to the inertia of intolerance on both sides. Yet, even then, Love surges forth.

MarcoAntonio, a Spanish gentleman and knight, defied all boundaries of color and culture, when setting eyes on the English lady Amaryllis. Although to others, he may be a bit reserved, he dares to lower his defenses solely for her.

Amaryllis is an English lady. One with an open heart, gentle spirit, and shining eloquence. She knew that she should not desire MarcoAntonio. Still, a love feeling so right couldn’t be so horribly wrong!

Travel with MarcoAntonio and Amaryllis as they duel with internal and external forces threatening to tear their powerful love apart. In the midst of troubles the likes of which have no compare, MarcoAntonio and Amaryllis find themselves having to fight the most unexpected of adversaries, just for the right to love each other.

Discover why their LOVE is the result of ALL things conquered!

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Now, three years later, Y. Correa brings you the story of their son, MarcoAntonio Jr. and the legacy that their story left behind.

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What happens when the Legacy of Love intersects with Legend?

For many years, legend spoke of two instruments—a sword and a shield. Together, they would act as catalysts to destroy the indestructible. At one point, all elements were in play, with the end result being a substantial sacrifice, along with the ultimate personification of love. That symbol is MarcoAntonio Junior—the Legacy of MarcoAntonio & Amaryllis.

With the legend seemingly at rest, fresh starts are on the horizon. A decade has passed, and Aishe and Damon—serving as caregivers for Junior—choose Borinquen as their new stomping ground. MarcoAntonio Junior is still haunted by the loss of his mother and father, but his budding friendship with Taino youth Yarisneth offers a shine of promise to counteract the sadness.

When fulfillment of legend is unsatisfactory to some, forces emanate to deliver their own resolution—affecting a positive present and blossoming future for all involved.

Will the Legacy show that Love is still the result or will these tenacious energies—antiquated and modern— give proof that the legend is a farce?

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“The Legacy of MarcoAntonio & Amaryllis: Mother Haydie’s Revenge”

Coming Soon!

Concordant Vibrancy 3 Cover Reveal

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Hello!

Thanks for visiting.

In celebrating a new tradition, All Authors Publications and Promotions is rejoicing in the forthcoming release of the 3rd Annual installment of “Concordant Vibrancy”.

First there was “Concordant Vibrancy: Unity”, the first book in this multi-genre anthology collections.

Then there was “Concordant Vibrancy 2: Vitality”, the second book in this unique series.

Today, we celebrate the Cover Reveal of “Concordant Vibrancy 3: Lustrate”.

First a little about the book …

The Blurb

What embodies the composition of fluidity?

This is the query of the third installment of the Concordant Vibrancy collection, presented by All Authors Publications & Promotions, entitled “Lustrate”.

Nine incredible writers unite—through a combination of poetry, essays, and short stories—to produce unique responses flowing with vitality.

Works include:

“Unsui” by Harmony Kent
“Exiled” by Carol Cassada
“The Satiationship” by Synful Desire
“Twin Planets” by Y. Correa
“Threes” by Queen of Spades
“Luster Lingers” by Adonis Mann
“The Boo Thang Convention” by C. Desert Rose
“Overcome (Holy Water)” by Beem Weeks
and
“The Bunny” by Da’Kharta Rising

Now, without further ado, All Authors Publications & Promotions presents you, our precious readers, writers and precious patrons with the cover of the upcoming “Concordant Vibrancy 3: Lustrate”.

Learn …

What embodies the composition of fluidity?

SORI Samples

Greetings, Beloveds. How long have I been speaking of my upcoming solo anthology? For far too long, to be sure. However, I am highly pleased to announce that the official release is less than 2 months away.

cool-text-syncopation-219617772239910cool-text-of-219617890536010cool-text-ravishing-intensity-219617820840820Is soon to be on its way to you, my dear readers and followers.

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People often ask me what sets my writing apart from other contemporary LGBTQIA authors. That is a complex question to answer. You see, it is not just one thing, it is many. First and foremost, I do not consider myself contemporary.

To me, “contemporary literature” implies tending, mainstream, like most; those are three things that my writing and stories are not. Not that there is anything wrong with contemporary works. As a matter of fact, I enjoy many contemporary authors. However, if I were to classify my writing, I would call it antiquated and whimsical. I realize that my writing style is as unusual as I am, and with that, I am perfectly content.

I once asked a fan what was her analysis of my writing, and her words were humbling and honoring. She said, “There is something about the way you write about sex. You don’t write about sex as if it were just sex, but rather it comes across art.”

If I were to be completely candid, THAT is exactly how I see it. To me, sex is an experience, not an action. Every experience should be surreal and otherworldly, it should stay with you forever. Experiences should be something far from mundane or redundant. So should sex be. Intercourse is a merging of hearts and souls, what is more magical and unearthly than that? Not many things. However, when sex is defined as a carnal act, all of the magic is expunged and so is all of the beauty.

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Why, you must be wondering? Why must sex be so appealing if it is simply an act that should appease our carnal need? Well, while that might be true for some, to me, sex and love go hand in hand. What is not beautiful about love? Love transcends the vulgarity of corporal wantonness. Love is an ethereal, tactile sensation that run deep and is paramount to everything and anything.

The fact of the matter is that love is love. Love eclipses gender, age, ethnicity, and boundaries of any kind. And if sex is love enacted, then it should be just as influential.

With that said, allow me to share tidbits of the “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” with you.

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Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” is divided into seasons, with winter being the first in line. Also, I decided to use a variety of writing styles; first person, third person, past tense, as well as present. One thing they all have in common is the sensual intense element. Here are some excerpt from each season.

Winter

Excerpt of “Prismatic Slumber”

I dream in color. Like a vivid, luminescent prism, everything comes to thriving life, and then there he is with me.

Sleigh bells dangling from the edge of the bed jingle whenever I slide deep inside of his scrumptious cleft.

Silver tinsel, tangled around our feet.

How did it get there? When did we play with it? It doesn’t matter.

Only partially covered by a Santa Claus fleece blanket, our skin touches underneath—intense heat emanating from it. In the background Bobby Helms “Jingle Bell Rock” plays, only loud enough to drown our elate moaning.

Yet, I want more. I pine for more than just his body and skin, I thirst for the intimacy of his presence; for the puissance of his soul. More than that, I endeavor to monopolize it. Make him, in every sense of the word, mine and mine alone—for the keeping.

Droplets of perspiration trickle down my chest as I drift my manhood in and out of his dewy cavity, then land on his backside and slowly stream onto the blanket.

Even in my state of deep dormancy I can smell the mustiness of our combined scents and it entices every fragment of my being at a cellular level. Every hair on my body stands on end.

Perhaps, it’s the ferociousness of our intimate encounter, perhaps the fact that I’d been longing for this moment for quite some time. Either way, he is mine now, and I am relishing in the satisfaction that only he can bring—my night time companion.

Why is he only with me in my dreams? When did he start visiting me here? Where did he come from?

All inconsequential questions. They had no place here in my Holiday Repose.

Spring

Excerpt of “Metamorphosis”

Metamorphosis, definition:

The process of transformation from an immature form to an adult form in two or more distinct stages. A change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means.

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I am a butterfly.

The beauty of life is found in the mundane matters of evolution. Therefore, I am a butterfly.

When I was an egg, the shell kept me from breaking free. It prohibited me from being whom I was meant to be. Yet, there was a miraculous event occurring; I was developing. Readying for the inevitable exodus which was about to transpire.

I suppose the world was not ready for me then. Perhaps, preparing for the spectacular event which was about to unfold.

I was being born. Born anew. Born from freedom, from evolution, from self.

My development came in stages—each one in the form of a man—every one more powerful than the last. Making me stronger, until it eventually transmuted me into the man I am today.

A Pieridae. Mystical, magical and powerful.

Summer

Excerpt of “Tyronian Rapture”

Summer 1841

Victorian England

Cherry Blossom petals from a tree procured in Japan carried adrift with the breeze, the smell of humidity and grass rode past, wafting across beautiful Regina’s face and all I could do was sit and stare. She was lovely in every sense of the limited word, for her resplendence was akin to a celestial being. An angel, to be sure; like none I had ever laid eyes upon. She took my breath away, and I was content to let her.

Her large eyes, chocolatey. Her skin, like the finest grade of caramel. Her unwieldy, black curls pulled to the back of her head in a bun. And the conundrum lie in my desire to see them lose and entangled in my hands. A coveting more trenchant than my knowledge that it was ungodly. I was captured by my dear Regina’s beauty. Her full lips longed to be licked, while I imagined that her smooth skin and voluptuous curves yearned to be caressed.

From a distance I basked in her allurement, secretly—watching as she picked the wild flowers from the field in order to prepare a centerpiece for our dinner table for tea. If I could walk through the window ajar as a phantom, then as a phantom I would delight in her existence.

The impasse, my predilection. The penchant to fancy the reprobate. And, whilst my heart and mind remained enthralled by my point of desire, my body lay captive inside of this wretched place.

“Meredith,” Mother called, startling me from my hypnosis—Regina. Such was the effect she had on me. In my dreams I touched every inch of her exquisite dark sheath, then kissed every fraction, ensuring to not miss a spot.

Autumn

Excerpt of “He and She”

She looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person she saw. A stranger in the absolute. A woman who loved the hustle and bustle of the nightlife but was full of regrets in the morning. A woman who longed for the attentions of an outsider to fill the voids of desolation that she’d come to know as her closest ally.

Yet, it was more than that. Her reflection was a stranger, always had been. Looking at her mirror image, Yehanna considered that she’d been born with the wrong face. Perhaps the Fates had misrepresented what she was really supposed to look like—gotten it wrong somehow. She was a foreigner to herself, usurped the body of another, or at least that’s what Yehanna told herself on a daily basis.

Grazing her finger across one check in the dimly lit bathroom of a tattered old apartment, which was falling apart at the seams, Yehanna moved her face from left to right, then back again.

As a teenager she’d be diagnosed with Depersonalization Disorder, DPD for short. However, what the psychiatrist failed to realize was that Yehanna wasn’t depersonalized—as she knew who she was—she was just living inside of a supplement. A loaned body, that was not her own. One, that she often did not identify with, plain and simple.

Perhaps her true body had been left behind in some previous incarnation of herself, and this one was provisional. Either way, it didn’t matter. Yehanna had grown tired of the monotonous nature of her ever questionable existence, and the night was the only thing that offered her solace.

With the tip of her finger Yehanna brushed her nose from bridge to point, then across her top lip as if to check and make sure that her features were her own.

From her bedroom emitted the voice of a man whom was just now waking up and preferably sobering from Yehanna’s late night feat. “Yo! Umm, umm …” he stammered.

“Yehanna.”

“Yeah, Yehanna,” he cut in as if he’d known her name all along, but Yehanna knew that he didn’t. “What time is it?”

“11:10.” she replied, her entire disposition displaced, and dejected.

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There are nine more stories where these came from and they will all be available to you on January 27th, 2016. So, my dear readers, stay tuned for the release of “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity“.