One of us is an addict..one of us is a fraud. One of us is haunted. One of us is a monster, one a killer, one a liar. One of us is a predator, one of us a prince. One of us is a seductress. One of us is damned. All of us are killers.
Some secrets sh...
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Julien adjusted the string of pearls and grazed my neck with his warm fingers. An electric shock peaked my breathing. The smell of rum on his breath and his musky cologne was evocative. I nestled my cheek into his welcoming palm and the exploration of his fingers on my naked body dazzled me.
He lowered his forehead to mine forcing my honey-brown eyes to look into his blue ones, light brown copper locks dangled in his face. My fingers tangling into his thick dark blonde hair and I coaxed him closer. He slid both his hands down my sides, the tickle surging a giggle from me. I caught my breath when he slipped the feather boa, my only piece of covering during the photoshoot, from my thighs.
"Tu eres bonita." He lifted my chin and pressed his warm wet lips to mine. A powerful kiss had me gasping for air, believing every sweet word he whispered to me. 'You are beautiful', were words I longed for and needed so much.
"Gracias Señor." I touched his smooth shaven face as I whispered into his mouth. I know I had to stop, I was married. But he was so intoxicating.
He lightly ran the feather boa across my bosom and stomach and moved in behind me. I closed my eyes as he carried me to a world of ecstasy I barely entered with Luis. His touch and taste was strong yet sensual, urgent yet patient.
A click and a shutter sound brought me out of my semi-daze. When I opened my eyes I saw him behind his Brownie shooting the next photo.
***
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Along the usually dark beach hundreds of bonfires littered the seashore. As far as I could see people were singing and dancing to the music of the festival. Guiltless children were running around the bonfires and others were playing in the receding waves not knowing what the actual meaning of the festival was.
The waves broke on the beach and then ebbed away. I wish my secret would ebb away like that. Then I wouldn't need to go to that foolish party. Gripping a locket in my hand I was opting into which fire I was to throw this memorabilia to burn, and leave behind the bad spirits from the past and start a new phase.
Still in his death, Julien Jean Bouvier haunted me. I thought after his death me and our child would live in peace. After many attempts to get out of the relationship, many times I tried to buy myself out of this affaire, his answer only tormented me 'I fancy nary a murmur or complaint.'
I was relieved. I felt joy again for the first time in five years. It was all over the news. 'Wealthy bachelor, Julien Jean Bouvier dies at age 29. Cause unknown.' But then... the invitation arrived. I was shocked beyond belief. How could it be? How could he still be alive? Because of his voracious appetite for drugs I assumed he would have used it. The words on the invitation still haunted me, 'I want nary a murmur or complaint if you want me to keep your secret'.
