Vivienne suddenly awoke from what seemed like a rather peculiar wet dream, still full of joy from virile endearments. “Brisingamen” – the name emerged in her mind – sounds like something really precious. But does it even exist? She opened her laptop and searched for the word, and came upon a lot of mentions of Freya, Odin and Loki as well, which left her numb with surprise. Loki. A Norse God. Then she remembered that Ashton often mentioned the Vikings and their Pantheon. „I should share with him this bizarre, yet sweltering dream“ – she presumed and imagined sitting next to Ashton with their heads close to each other, sharing a sweltering dream, while he is merrily clarifying the politics of Norse Gods and their Brisingamen. What could be a better spent Christmas?
But then with the first sip of coffee, a happy thought crossed her mind – August’s name…That made her prostrate on her huge bed again, and sigh a lot since she suddenly felt so faint that her knees might knock… Tonight she would see him again and hours would pass like ages…she would stare at the computer screen trying to write, but her head would be compote of ardent excitement. She would listen to songs about the magic there is in dreams come true…and about loneliness…and about the hunger for his touch, and about the love she needs…and music would only make her feel even more heated and sentimental. She would relish in the Jacuzzi, daydreaming, her vision a little blurred from intoxication. And after the hours and sighs would have rolled on, she would finally be seated at the bar, staring at the door, in the loveliest of expectations.
Good that she wasn’t among the shy, for once he entered she couldn’t take her eyes off his form. She never cared about what everybody else was thinking. Everything about him felt so pleasing to her senses: she loved the sound of his voice and his laughter, and the funny faces he made while he danced. In fertile adoration of the air he breathed, the floor he stepped upon and the girls he danced with, she followed with eyes his movements on the dance floor, and that instilled happiness in her heart.
As delirious as it was to watch him, touching him felt even better. They had a silent, mutual agreement that they would not move while they danced unless it was absolutely necessary. She closed her eyes in full devotion, which sometimes led to touching his face instead of taking his hand, and he laughed in his pleasant way. “You are insane…” she kept thinking as he held her close in the perfect imitation of a dance, which was indeed something else.
When they danced angels spoke softly to her heart, and their entire behavior promised intimacy all the time. Oh, if he could hear the melted rapture in his voice when he thanked her for the dance…after which they became two forms again, and if he knew how hard for her was to let go…but she didn’t dare to admit it lest she should spoil anything. Vivienne was closer to happiness and magical moments than she had ever been before.
That happened regularly.
After the dances, Vivienne went home, and she lay in bed reminiscing every moment with him, and her happiness grew stronger. He of all men, will not try to diminish or manipulate her. He was spiritually grown, he wouldn’t hurt her knowingly or otherwise, and she had reasons to think he was so interested in her, but then…Ashton saw them together, and soon that would be the freshest news in the neighborhood. Her fame would reach her…and again… there was this weird plot against her, soon he could be a part of it…and she will have to gather her heart, which will be flying in millions of pieces. For he will explore her like an interesting specimen, he will try to make her jealous or doomed, however, this man will most likely take into consideration the limits of his noble and loving heart.
Then a vile thought stroke her mind: “You will not make love to him for at least six months unless you own Brisingamen.”
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