An Angel of Ashes - Parts 4 & 5

Their own interest and the emotion of the tale were enough for Barbara and Maria to keep quiet and not laugh at their friend’s deep red face.

“That’s cute!”

“Isn’t it?” added Barbara.

An impish and triumphant grin appeared on Freya’s features. This seed of victory granted her the drive to make it through five minutes of relentless interrogation about even the smallest detail on that meeting: time, place, witnesses and almost wind direction. Every answer was given with an anxious and giddy tone; this was one of the only times where Freya could share so much about herself, though every now and then she withdrew back into her usual shy self.

The bell rang, meaning it was time for the next class. The girl in question took notice and excused herself to go to the bathroom, promising further tales of sappy romance to her loyal audience. Meanwhile, Maria and Barbara shared gestures of vicarious pride and curiosity, just like mischievous sirens. The latter of them was going to say a couple of jealous words, but they got stuck in her throat after she caught a glimpse of something odd out of the corner of her eye.

It was on Freya’s desk. Whatever it was, she pointed a finger at it to draw Maria’s attention. Both of them looked at this enigma for a long time, appearing to be a trail just like dust.

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“Where are you supposed to be today?

“At somebody’s house, working on a school project.”

“Right. How much time do you got this time around?”

“I’d say enough.”

“I don’t believe you.”

A young unshaven male lied in bed, enthralled by the lady who crawled over his naked torso with a passionate and sensual demeanor. Her face was an omen of feminine and kindhearted mischief. The fall of her hair on his skin gave him goosebumps, putting just about each and every fiber of his body in alert for further wild sensations. She wore nothing else except a school shirt and her underwear, a fact that didn’t bother her at all as she straddled the lucky gentleman’s waist.

“How come you don’t believe me?” asked Freya, digging her fingers into his ribs with a lot of care. The tickling forced him to groan. “I didn’t know I was a liar.”

“Nevermind that.” Marco answered, taking her hands and sliding them about two inches down. “There just isn’t enough time. There never is.”

“True; but that’s why you go and make the most out of it.” she said with a great deal of practical philosophy. Her index crawled up one more time, drumming the spot where Marco’s collarbones met. This made him tilt his chin down so that he could look both at her finger and into her eyes. The sheer simplicity in the depth of her thinking amused him to the point of arousal.

“My, have you gotten smart!” he joked. His hand reached out to stroke her cheek, which drew a brief and playful purring from her.

“I know, right?”

His thumb began to absently massage the side of her face. He focused on her cheekbones until she moved to kiss his hand. The embrace of her lips turned into a whisper from his.

“Freya…”

A light from distant stars shone from her already womanly smile. Freya held Marco’s face with both hands and, exhaling his name, planted on his forehead and mouth kisses of divine commitment. Both would become one that night, joined by links forged in love alone.