Quiet Garden in Ar

It was over a hand now and the woman known as Bela, the one that did not care that Max was gone, good riddance! or was it.. Yes, anger possessed her and her not care attitude but then the days began to pass and while she was sure she would not feel a thing that he had left, he had so many times before... Bela began to feel the walls close in on her.. she felt she could not breath, after all, he was her very breath. But he was gone.. he would not be seen again so now what, where did the woman pick up after a dozen years loving one man so much.... Would she begin to die? He did take her heart.

Now just a woman of loss often found in this quiet garden in Ar... dancing the pain of love lost. The blooms and fragrance her saviour... a talendar in full bloom picked and slid behind her ear, the vibrant red standing out to accent the woman dark of hair, so green of eyes and so fair of skin. So feminine yet of Port Karian blood and known to be vibrant, vicious and aggressive. Yet now in that lovely garden of Ar, the slow twirls as hands lifted, fingers drawing up her hair to let it fall in slow release of silky locks, eyes closed and the soft smile as she let her mind drift to happier times. The pause in her step and a look behind her over shoulder, leading foot stilled in step, toe pressed into the soft grass and as her heel lifed, it was him that she saw.. he stood looking at the woman who he had made so beautiful, after all how more beautiful can a woman be than one submitted to her love for him. He smiled, she turned slowly, arched and statue like, the body of woman in perfect display, fingers drifting along her sides, framing the loveliness that he gazed upon as the roll back of her head brought on a dance of love. Before his eyes she came alive, hips in slow gyration... calling to him as the flush of skin, and subtle turn of her hip spoke volumns more than a common slut grinding herself to orgasm. Gorean dance and art of emotion and this woman danced .. love.

Turns perfection.. sleek body of toned muscle, the flat of belly easing out to tempt him as she drew so slowly that silk garment up to give a tease... that shadowy patch barely seen and the flicker of eyes that held a smile as one hand lifted, letting go of the silk, beckoning to him with a curl of finger, her lips whispered... "come see, come see what you do to me..." The lead of hip, the turn as she moved into a slow spin, the soft moans needing to be heard because within his eyes, she was helpless... so helpless. Fingers crawled.. the silk lifted in such a slowness, temptress.. seductress as she rolled her hips feeling the heat spread through limbs.. centered in the pulse of her belly. More loose her movements, liquid and without effort as that hem of silk allowed the wink of gold belly chain resting there... hips thrust, the turn bringing the kick up of one foot, she, Bela, such a flaming tease.. that silk touching over sensitive nipples and he could see how he affected her. There was nothing more than a slave.. a woman.. knowing where she belonged, how her body begged, how deliciously she moved... those sounds now the softest of whimpers. Silk, crimson, shimmering, fell from her body to land to the manicured grasses of the garden. She, breathtakingly needful, chest lifting as her breaths were more labored and not from the dance but circumstance... of her.. being a needful slave within the eyes of the man that loved her.

What would he have done with her that very moment as she danced herself toward him... so needful.. His. So vibrant... His. So devoted... His. Eyes opened.. it was she laying in the grass of the garden, in that quiet corner that she had come to call her own. Her dream over and she didn't even look.. he would not be there. She dared herself to glance... just maybe his being gone was just a bad dream and she finally did sit up and look but it was as she thought, the garden was empty.... Her hand set down to the grass as she half turned with lowered head, beneath the fall of hair the woman.. Bela, wept.