Love, Sex, Art, Music and Architecture

filling station

Buffalo NY – She would have never seen herself here. A whole three years had passed since she spoke to him, but the inspiration had been long engrained in her soul. An artist, a musician, a writer, she always believed in her work. She had a shitty job, and she needed to break free, so that rainy October night she did it. She woke up and instead of going to work, she packed all her belongings, took her savings and headed for Buffalo. That’s where she belonged. That’s where the all great artists and the genius of Frank Lloyd Wright were at. She would be a part of that. She would make her dreams come.

He waited. Three years had passed. Doing well in his job, concentrating on his music, and basically keeping to himself, he found solace in peace and solitude. There would be the occasional socializing in the chat that they met in, but he would never see her again. He had checked her blog from time to time, but there was no new entries. He was on Skype every day, but she was nowhere. His pet, his love kitten, his caramel goddess, was nowhere to be found. How could she ghost him? What had happened to her? It’s been three years, he told himself, get over it already. But no one, not in chat, not in life, was anything like her before. Etched in his mind forever, he wondered what had happened to the girl with the juiciest caramel ass he had ever seen. He shakes himself. Yeah, enough of that thought. So without rhyme or reason, he was scrolling through some articles on his favorite American architect. They had a tour going in Buffalo, NY, maybe it was time to take a trip……..

October, 2020 – Three years ago they had a fling. They met, they parted, they met again, and had amazing sex. But then she vanished and he was left with questions. Unknown to them was the fact that their worlds would be colliding. That art, music, and architecture would finally bring them together, after so long.

She just celebrated her 40th birthday not too long ago, but no one could tell. She was always a heartbreaker, and no man could ever keep her attention long enough.

In his late thirties now, he makes bald look sexy. Freshly shaven on top, with a little bit of stubble on his beard, no one can match him. Those proud powerful eyes have no equal anywhere else. They twinkle and sparkle with the confidence he commands.

Buffalo NY – Late October 2020 – Halloween is just around the corner. Many tourists have travelled up here to visit the museums after taking a trip to Sleepy Hollow a few miles south of there. She was a tour guide, but today was her day off. She didn’t make much money. During the past three years, she published and sold three sci-fi/fantasy novels, that were a great hit among young people. There was even a movie deal brewing. Life was good. She had a simple job at the Pierce-Arrow Museum with a season ticket to all the local art museums in the area. Sometimes the tour guides would all swap locations. She would be around art and architecture all the time, in the thick of it, right where her heart desired. But there was still that missing piece……

He walks up to the Wright Filling Station Exhibit, circa 1927, and he sees her there. White collared shirt, pencil knee-length skirt, stockings, heels, her long dark locks done up in a bun, with her glasses at the tip of her nose as she sketches the outlines of the exhibit on her little notepad. They exchange glances. A faint recognition? No, it can’t be. He stands there looking at the exhibit as she continues to sketch. She is quite caramel, he says to himself. I recognize that face, she says to herself. Finally he walks up to her. “I am sorry, but you look quite familiar.” She stops pauses and glances at him. “So do you.” She licks her lips. Those lips. He has seen them before, he knows it. “Would you happen to drink Honey Jack Daniels?” he asks, with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, hoping this woman doesn’t think he’s crazy. She smiles brightly. Complete Recognition. “Did my pillowlips give me away?” she asks coyly. A sly smile crosses his face. And so it begins.

Soft kisses. Orgasmic pleasures. Brushing his fingertips at the back of her knees. Her legs gripping him over his shoulders. Hushed whispers. Chaste glances. Fire. Wetness. Hardness. Crinkled Sheets. Hands, fingers, legs all intertwining. Flesh on flesh. Skin on skin. Hardening nipples against ice. Passionate love-making. Heavy breathing. Groping, intermingling of savory juices. Tongues dancing all over each other’s bodies. Sex beyond sex. Love beyond love.

Take a breath.

She sips her Honey Jack Daniels with her pillowlips at the edge of the bed. He looks at her in his nakedness and traces his fingers along her bare back. She turns around and says, “In those three years, you never left my mind, you never left my thoughts. I had to find myself and I am sorry I left you behind. Do you forgive me?”

He smiles and says, “Yes, my pet.”

And then they lay, spent and sweaty. Hot and juicy. Two lovers that found each other again, in which a silly thing like time never mattered.

And with that, for the rest of their lives, it was only, love, sex, music, art, and architecture.

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