Patti D’Arbanville’s Writing Assignment in Portland-for my webdolls to read!

My darling girl, I wish there was enough time in my life to truly describe her beauty, to be close enough to her to count every beautiful red hair on her head. She is a cherub, small and fey, with barely enough room on her back for her little wings. She has a true rosebud mouth that she makes more perfect with vermillion rouge a levres that always matches her hair perfectly. Her eyes are a soft powder blue, but crisp and sharp when they flash smiles which are many and radiant. Her long fingers look as if they should be tickling piano keys and are festooned with tiny gold rings, each one a memory and one a 14 carat gold tribute to the king.  Every once in a while, when we’re out to lunch, or just waiting for a tram to somewhere, she’ll reach one of her cool beautiful porcelain hands over to me and grasp my usually hot little one, squeezing a quiet, “I’m here and I love you” that only we understand. The days pass too quickly when we’re together . . . I want to stay and be able to laugh that laugh that I had only had with my mother before now, before I met her, my flame haired best friend, my angel.

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I usually woke up with my nose nestled into his right armpit, snug as a kitten, smelling his man scent, stretching into awake as we disentangled from wet dreams that were mostly real. Morning slitted through the blinds this morning though and I found myself alone, my nose nestled into nothing more than the sweet sea smelling wrinkled with love pillowcase that had at one point late last night been under my fanny making my tiny body easier for his big one to get at and into . . . wet dream indeed. Yum.
This morning, already different, I did smell a familiar odor, toast toasting on the other side of the big red room. He brought the crispy browned pieces of toast over to me, dripping butter, reeking of strawberry heaven jam just like his mama used to make and still did. He went back for my tea and brought that over to me in bed as well . . .  this was special, this normal morning was already tingling with something that we hadn’t had before. He said I want you well fed and all tead up . . . I have a surprise I want your ears for. I sat up in bed and crunched at my toast and sleepy eyed him over the rim of the hot mug of tea, he looked like he was steamimg from where I sat. My legs stretched out to meet the floor, it was cold and I thought maybe we should just snuggle back in and pick up from where we left off last night all warmed to hot in that soft cuddly bed with the perpetual wrinkled shhets, never made and always ready to jump back into. Come on, you! Up now, come listen. I wrapped the top sheet around me toga-esque and followed him up the stairs.
The big white room had a slick and regal baby grand piano in it, a big cushy armchair that you can sink into and a bench behind the piano . . . the light filtered through the curtains, shafts of light on Shaftesbury Avenue, he looked at me his big brown eyes melting into mine, his mouth curled into a smile and said listen, this is for you, my love and he started to sing in his strong sugar voice . . . ”Now that I’ve lost everything to you, you say you want to start something new, and it’s breaking my heart your leaving, baby, I’m grieving, but if you want to leave take good care, hope you make a lot of nice friends out there , but just remember there’s a lot of bad And beware. . . Oh baby baby it’s a wild world.

Baby, I love you, he lied.

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One Response to “Patti D’Arbanville’s Writing Assignment in Portland-for my webdolls to read!”

  1. jackie blue Says:

    Wow. Beautiful description of your friendship.
    Really fun insight to her romance with CS. I always thought that she lost interest in him.
    Thanks for sharing.

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