SUMMARY: two other friends talk. fervently. I'm dumb. but I have a good time.
    WARNING: giggle. not really.
    NOTES: of all the sequel requests, I pay attention to this one. go figure. it's a followup to "Crush". thank you to everyone who fed me on the last one (bizarrely enough), and thank you, always, to Poi.


    Crush II
    BY:Alestar



    "Remy?"

    "Oui, Jean?"

    "You kind of . . zoned out there for a moment."

    "Sorry. Happens sometimes. I *am* in front of a mirror, aft'all."

    "Good point. So, um . . "

    "Where did Warren go?"

    "Warren?"

    "Yeah, Warren. He was here a minute ago."

    "Warren who?"

    "What?"

    "Um . . Warren who? The name sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it . . describe him to me."

    "Jean, what y'talkin' about? Is sometin' wrong?"

    "No, I'm just . . I . . Just do it."

    "Do what?"

    "Describe him to me. Warren. Whoever that is. I want to hear you describe him. So I can place the name."

    "Um, Jean, chere . . maybe we should go see Hank . . You remember Hank, right?"

    "Yes, I remember Hank. Look, just-- this is a special training thing. So just do it. Sit down. There, good. Now, here I am-- I don't know this Warren fellow, you have to describe him to me so I can tell you if I've seen him. So tell me about him."

    "Alright. He's a blue man wit' wings."

    "Is he a . . handsome blue man with wings?"

    "You've seen more'n one blue man wit' wings around?"

    "Yes, I have. There are lots of blue men with wings around here. This is . . Sedona. So you're going to have to be specific. Tell me everything."

    "He's . . a blue man wit' wings, and . . eh . . "

    "What does his hair look like?"

    "Blond."

    "'Blond'? That's it? Come on, Remy, you're French; you can be more descriptive than that."

    "Eh . . il est blond."

    "Remy . . "

    "What? He's blond."

    "Remy . . we're not talking about shoesize or wheatbran here. We're talking about hair. Rooted deep in the head, in the innermost mind, spreading out in a fiery mane, framing the face, whipping in the wind . . so sacred that without it Samson fell from grace! You can't describe it in one word! Hair! Hair!! Warren's hair!! Help me out, Remy!"

    "Hair!! Warren's hair . . is, um . . spun gold! Whipping and weeping from de air around him in bright torrents of sunlight! De angel's halo! It, um . . "

    "Shines!"

    "Oui, it shines!! It shines as it spills aroun' his shoulders . . "

    "'Shoulders'?"

    "Broad shoulders! Formidable shoulders! Invincible shoulders!"

    "Yes! And his ass!!"

    "Quoi?"

    "I mean . . his eyes. What about his eyes?"

    "His eyes! Dey are . . dey are delicate pools of . . dey . . Jean, I don' know what color his eyes are."

    "Oh. They're blue."

    "Blue! Like de deepest ocean or de brightest sky!! Sweepin' over de world from above, de eyes of divinity-- perfect and indifferent, gentle and vehement!"

    "Exactly!"

    "And de mouth of a fallen saint, so prepared for wisdom but cursed wit' a sensuality it can' escape! Soft lips stretched tragically over a hot cavern of need!"

    "Oh, yeah . . "

    "And his ass!!"

    "Yes!!"

    "De second skin of his uniform glides tightly against de press of his firm ass, juttin' from de smooth lines of his body like a petulant child stickin' his tongue out!"

    "Yes yes YES!!"

    "Every part of him begs for worship, for a willing sacrifice on an altar of satin, and frantic friction! For a pliant body to bend in submission to his holy demands, in deference to his divine, moist needs!! He is an angel!! He is Adonis!! Warren is . . ! Warren is . . !"

    "In the kitchen."

    " . . What?"

    "In the kitchen. When he left, he said he was going to the kitchen. I bet you could still find him there."

    "But I . . I t'ought you said he was in Sedona . . "

    "Nope. He's in the kitchen."

    ". . . "

    "Well, aren't you gonna go find him?"

    "I . . don' really t'ink I should stand up right now."

    "Oh, but that's perfect, Remy. You should definitely go just the way you are."

    " . . . "

    "Remy? Are you going?"

    "Oh, right. Sorry, Jean, zoned out again. Mirror, an' all."

    "Right. So go, already. 'Divine, moist needs'."

    "Oh, oui . . "

    "My thoughts exactly."


    ==end==


    [[back to mind dance]]