The Pixie, The Imp and The Devil

            We strolled into the bar last night feeling like a million dollars. The girls were together, dressed in graceful backless dresses, long waved hair falling about their shoulders. We took a table and ordered drinks. I took another look at Sharona and noticed that her dress was made of black velvet, and that she wore a single white rose pinned to it. I leant across to a passing waiter and ordered drinks for the girls who hadn’t yet noticed us. On receiving the drinks they came across.

            Ed and Miranda embraced, while Sharona and I stood apart, looking at one another.

            “Does the rose ever blossom?” she asked me, at length.

            “The answer to your question is but a dream away.”

            “But what if the rose stays closed, the petals too scared to unfold?”

            “Then we’ll know that black velvet is as choking as the unknown it portrays.”

            Sharona smiled prettily and nodded to me in deference. We turned to the others and noted their slack jaws with amusement. I took Sharona’s hand and drew her back from the table, before bringing back the chair and seating her. The other two sat too, in silence, watching us. Sharona winked at me and normality resumed.

            After a short time the girls went to perform. Miranda accompanied Sharona on the piano. The two of us watched them with real pride, basking in our circumstances. We barely needed to exchange a word. When Sharona returned to me at the end I again wondered ‘why’, but put it to the back of my mind this time.

            I asked Sharona about Miranda. She simply said they’d been best friends for years, since they met playing music at an early stage. Sharona then asked me about Ed. I told her I couldn’t back him for fidelity but she thought that was just fine. I hoped that opinion didn’t reflect her own attitudes. After a moment’s knotted brows I got a grip and bought another round. In a moment of madness I then invited Sharona to dance. I think perhaps she was surprised that I could, but we moved gracefully enough and soon she was laughing.

            “You know what they say about a man who can dance.” she said.

            And before the others could blink we were outside in the alley, Sharona on her knees before me, my cock in her mouth. It was a hell of a kick, seeing a girl dressed like her, so classy, in that scene.

            She stopped after a few moments and left me burning. She pushed me back against the wall and stepped away, running her fingers slowly half way up her thigh, showing me just so much, then leaned in.

            “Come with me,” she whispered. She led me to another graveyard in the city, magnificent and gothic. We could barely keep our hands off each other as we jumped over the fence and penetrated the dark depths of the place. Sharona moved with direction and took me to a crypt. She opened the stone doors and we actually entered the place. Down below we found an altar and she lay upon it, legs paired together and flexed at the knees. Her black velvet dress slipped down her smooth thighs and I went to her then, at that moment. Just as though I were falling from a great height I couldn’t pause for thought; I fucked her as though the laws of physics demanded it.

 

*

 

            I woke gently this morning to the smell of bacon.

            “My turn,” she said, smiling. I ate and she watched me. “Why did you come to me?” she asked, at length.

            “Why is your name Sharona?” I replied.

            “How did you know my name before I gave it?”

            “It’s written in our story.” I laughed.

            “What story?”

            “The story of us in the infinite library of Babylon.”

            She smiled. “What’s the story called?”

            “My Sharona.” I stopped eating for a moment and looked at her. “Why is your name Sharona?”

            “My Papa gave it to me. He wanted me to have a distinctive name. He told me that with a name like mine…” I began to gently caress her exposed midriff, the soft flesh between the ribs and the hips, “…I could always expect fate to come and mix up my life. He said that fate is a Pixie of no alignment and that she would as easily shower me with fortune as misery. He told me he could wish for nothing more than experience for me: good or bad. Anything more than ordinary…” my hand began to wander further up, and further down, “…and so he named me Sharona as a siren call to the Pixie.”

            “But is the Pixie in your mind? Is she your own Pixie, or is she Pixie to us all?”

            “Both!” She giggled.

            “I like that. I believe in your Pixie Sharona. It was in fact your father’s siren call that brought me here. Your very name, Sharona, called me from England on the wings of the Pixie, just as your father predicted.” I explained the adventures.

            “So a song told you to find me?” she said, at the end.

            “Yes.”

            “When you hear the lyrics, how do you know what to do next?”

            “Ed tells me, once the Imp of the Perverse in his mind has given counsel.”

            Sharona gently drew in breath as my finger traced the outlines of her breasts.

            “That’s very trusting of you.”

            “Very. Sometimes I doubt the wisdom.”

            “And what did Ed tell you to do with me?” she asked, playfully, and the whole thing broke down. We submitted to the Devil of Lust.

            Some time later she lay on top of me, the length of her body pressed into mine. She leant over me and her hair fell about us, shielding us from the world outside. We lay in mingled breath and gaze.

            “What now, Tom?” she whispered.

            I was destroyed.  I had to bite my lip. I wanted to ask her to come back to England with me. I was frightened of the idea.

            “Come with me,” I choked, and whispered.

            “Again?” she replied, and winked. Then her eyes softened slightly and she kissed me tenderly. I knew it was an acceptance of my meaning.

            And so much more.

 

*

 

            Sharona packed in less than two hours. I dared not ask how long she planned to join me but she declared straight away that she would let the flat go. She resolved to leave the remainder of her stuff with Miranda around the corner and so we left to speak to her.

            Miranda let us in and it became apparent that Ed was there, the sly dog! We told them our plans and they both looked mortified. I was worried about Ed’s reaction to the news: I’d thought he’d have been happy for me.

            An awkward moment followed in which Ed and Miranda looked at one another, each apparently wondering if they ought to follow our lead. The tension held for a few moments until they comically broke down in shared relied, agreeing that they were just fine on their own.

            The afternoon progressed. Ed and Miranda helped us move Sharona’s stuff into Miranda’s storage cupboards though they both displayed a kind of unspoken resentment.

            “Is everything okay, Ed?” Sharona asked, after a while.

            “Just fine,” he muttered.

            “You must tell me,” she said, “if I’m coming with you I’ll do it on your terms, as well as Tom’s.”

            “Alright,” he replied.

            Sharona called her employers next, requesting time off and refusing to be drawn into specifics of it. She lost the tour guide job completely; I could hear the guy yelling down the phone. She didn’t appear the least bit fazed by it.

            By early evening the three of us were standing in the low sunshine, with our boots and packs on. We were ready, but amusingly enough hadn’t worked out where to go. In the end we went back to the hostel, booked transport for the following day, and another night’s stay.

            We’re about to go to bed now. The evening’s passed peacefully with a few shared hostel games and beers, Ed and Sharona getting to know one another.

            On the morrow a new chapter of my life begins.