playgoer

Playgoer;;

      It was not very crowded the large hall of the theater, while the lights went out and the red velvet curtain opened up, bringing to the scene, while the classical music began to be played, slipping into his ears, delighting him softly. A rapturous smile had formed on his luscious lips, and his fingers tapped on his knees, while the soprano entered the scene, stating notes and words that mingled like a mosaic made entirely of soft wonder that planted in the present like a thorn, or a seed, generating beauty and amazement. How not to be in awe before such a great song? How not to be totally enchanted before the greatness of the genius of an artist who had lived two centuries ago? The raven was overlooking from a small private grandstand, peering down, trying to observe every detail of that first act of the divine art event, and yet created by human hand.

      A velvety sigh came out of his mouth while was stroking the black silk of his trousers. An elegant clothing was necessary, because the etiquette of a prestigious theater like this one demanded it, in fact they were at Kungliga Operan, whose history dates back to 1773. The theater had been demolished in 1892 and in its place was built a new building designed by he architect Axel Johan Anderberg and inaugurated by King Oscar II of Sweden in 1899. Munin spun around and his sanguine eyes rested on the woman who was sitting beside him, on the black silky hair and those big golden eyes–she seemed the Venus de Milo. The raven licked his lips, as if to enjoy the young girl herself, as he wanted to devour her piece by piece, letting the blood slip down his throat, giving him new life. A wonderful feeling, that was also able to emerge from the ephemeral imagination.

      The raven bit his lower lip, drowning his teeth into his own soft flesh, almost as if he were tasting that of the woman, while a flush had colored his pale cheeks. He sniffed, inhaling the fragrant smell of Mari… Why such thoughts were born at that time, at the Kungliga Operan, where there were many people and among them also the king and queen. A chill ran down his spine, because he would once again defied the impossible for biting into the forbidden fruit, that was just a few feet from him. A hand slipped between the legs of the shapeshifter, just under her skirt, touching the soft stockings, then the languid soft skin, as he climbed slowly, pointing to the trophy, which was nothing but the fragrant hairy orchid. A finger touched the soft panties, slipping on the small pistil, which was wrapped in the cloth, as he felt a slight movement in his lower abdomen, as if horses were galloping within his own stomach.

      The burning desire echoed in him as something sublime and immense, spreading like a wildfire, creating a mosaic of lust and lasciviousness, that seemed to wrap Munin in all its glory. A gasp slipped from his mouth when he realized that change was almost finished, and the trousers became slightly tight, slowly choking him. A feeling that rose along his chest, burning and turning him into a heap of ashes. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, while the heart was pounding like a madman in his chest, looking like a canary that wanted to escape breaking through the rib cage. How could he hold out for an hour in that place? Munin leaned toward Mari and kissed her cheek, while he moved a lock of hair, revealing parts of her long neck, resembling that of a graceful swan. His mouth lined with perniciousness, down to the clavicles, going up towards the ear, leaving a slight trail of kisses.

                                “——I could die on your lips.”

@enchantedcrimsongrace