Cannibal 4H Chapter 14: The Eyes Have It by Eurytion
ANNELIESE SAT MOTIONLESS at her kitchen table, her eyes fixated on the
photograph in front of her. A candid shot taken outside with a inexpensive
point and click camera, the composition was amateurish. The subject was too far
to the right and part of his head was cut off. But, to Anneliese, the photo
couldn't have been more entrancing if Anne Leibowitz had taken it.
The subject of the photograph was a gangly young man of medium height leaning on
a walking stick, his left foot wrapped in an elastic bandage. His multicolored
shorts revealed thin, sinewy calves partitioned from the more muscular upper
thighs by a pair of knobby knees. A fraying yellow golf shirt covered a midriff
with just a hint of baby fat showing.
The face in the picture was nicely rounded with a sly, cherub-like smile playing
mischievously across its surface. The beginnings of a moustache sat scraggily
above the Cupid's bow of his upper lip resembling the first set of quills on a
young porcupine. A single mahogany curl drooped over the left eyebrow while a
dusting of fine freckles mottled the exposed portions of his body.
What was missing from the photo, thought Anneliese, was his intensity of his
eyes. You could see them on either side of that simous nose but the
two-dimensional shot robbed them of their vitality, rendered them flat and
lifeless. She had often lost herself in their gooseberry deeps which could
express more emotions than a knighted Shakespearian actor.
They had met in a bathroom of all places and not even a coed one. It was at a
football game. The line into the women's room was 30 people deep and moving at
the speed of a glacier. Anneliese couldn't wait any longer. It was find a stall
now or pee in her panties.
Choosing the least embarrassing option, she had bulled her way into the men's
room and, with eyes adverted from the rows of men relieving themselves at the
troughs, burst into the first toilet that became available, almost knocking down
the departing occupant in her urgency.
Her cheeks suffused with blood, Anneliese left the bathroom with as much dignity
as she could muster. Moving at a quick but poised pace she strode from the
lavatory with her head held high, a bit too high because once outside she
stumbled over an unseen depression in the sidewalk.
A pair of hands encircled her waist, keeping her from tumbling to the concrete.
As she regained her balance she looked up directly into a pair of animated
greenish grey eyes alight with good humour. Her pointed retort at being grabbed
mutated in her throat escaping as a quavery "oh, thank you."
"My pleasure," he said without a trace of irony, as his tapered fingers released
their steadying hold on her. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine thank you. I just was in a hurry and wasn't watching where I was
going."
"I know. That seems to be a problem with you today."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Hey, no need to beg. I accept your apology."
"You accept my apology?"
"Sure, for running into me."
"I didn't run into you. All I did was trip. You're the one who grabbed me."
"No, no, no, not out here. In there."
"In there?"
"Yeh, back in the men's room. I was coming out of the stall when you sailed into
me. I just wish our linebackers could get by people that fast."
"That was you?"
"That was me."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run into you. It's just that I needed to, well you
know. And I couldn't get into the women's room, the line was too long. I don't
usually, no not usually, never, I've never gone into the men's room before but
it was either that or..."
"Don't worry about it. I've already accepted your apology."
"You have?"
"Sure that's how this conversation started, remember. Any way, you're not the
first female to invade our sanctum sanctorum. We get at least a half dozen
every game. There's one who comes in twice or three times a game. The story is
she's checking out everyone's equipment to find a partner for a postgame
celebration."
A chill tone added frost to Anneliese's voice. "Please be assured that my
purpose was not, as you put it, to 'check out anyone's equipment.' My visit was
propelled by the simple need to relieve myself. Nothing more and nothing less."
The young man's smile widened, his skin around his eyes crinkling as they grew
merrier. "Believe me, I know that. I've got the bruises to prove it, remember?"
"Of course, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm embarrassed by the whole thing."
"I've already accepted your apology. You don't strike me as the cringing,
obsequious type. No need to say you're sorry again."
"So if I'm not the cringing, obsequious type, what type am I," asked Anneliese
curiously.
"Ah, a dare from the lady. Never let it be said that The Great Sebastian failed
to answer a challenge."
"The Great Sebastian?"
"Yep, that's me, Sebastian Poole. My mom named me after the Cornel Wilde
character in The Greatest Show on Earth. My dad said it was prophetic, that
somehow even back then she knew I'd be taking risks like a high wire artist."
"And do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Take risks?"
"Sure, what's life without risks? I'm taking one just now talking to you. If I
say the wrong thing, you'll turn around and walk away, dismissing me as a
buffoon. But if I say the right thing..."
"If you say the right thing?"
"Then a whole new universe of possibilities opens up for us. Who knows what
might happen. But enough procrastination, it's time to spin the wheel. Just one
question before I start, what is thy name oh fair maiden?"
"Ann. Ann Dracon."
"Buzz, sorry wrong answer," said Sebastian. "What's your real name?"
"That's it, Ann Dracon, that's my real name," she replied beginning to wonder if
he wasn't just a buffoon after all. What kind of person goes around calling
themselves the Great Sebastian?
"Nope, Dracon is your last name all right. But Ann has to be the diminutive of
your first name. I think your full first name has to be longer, more poetic but
not trendy. Angela isn't right, you'd call yourself Angel or Angie. Annette is
too Mickey Mouse Club/Beach Blanket Bingoish. You don't strike me as an
Annette. It's got to be something like Annabel, Anika or maybe Anthea. Come on,
fess up. What is it?
"Anneliese," she said unaccountably pleased by his deduction. Maybe there's more
here than I thought. "But only my family can call me that. To everyone else I'm
Ann."
"Interesting construction of that last sentence. Very revealing you know. Most
people would have said only my family calls me that. You said only your family
can call you that. Well, Ann Dracon I want you to look deep into my eyes while I
delve into your innermost secrets. But first, let's step over here, out of the
way of this crowd."
With a small start, Anneliese noticed that they were still standing almost
directly in the path of the men and boys leaving the bathroom, forcing the line
of exiting males to walk around them. Sebastian took her hands in his and gently
pulled her aside. When they had cleared the pathway, Sebastian let go of her
right hand and reached up to adjust her face slightly upwards until their eyes
met.
Regaining his grip on both hands he gave her an appraising look, his eyes
seeming to measure her very existence. Sphinxlike he continued his examination.
Just when Anneliese thought she should pull away, Sebastian gave a insolent wink
and released her hands which fell limply to her sides.
"OK, what type of women is Ann Dracon? Well, to start with Ann Dracon is smart,
very smart and she knows it. She's organized, neat as the proverbial pin,
believes that cleanliness might not be right next to godliness but it isn't too
far away. A real 'place for everything and everything in it's place' person.
And that includes people.
She's scrappy and determined, almost like a terrier in that regard. Once she
gets that rag in her mouth she's going to shake it until it gives. Very iron
willed. Resolute almost to a fault.
"The face she reveals to the world isn't always the real her. She's like an
iceberg, 7/8ths of her is below the water line where it can't be seen. She
likes people, enjoys company but doesn't like to get too close to any one
individual and doesn't let any one individual get too close to her. She's
outgoing but part of that extroversion is a role she plays. I sense she does a
lot of role playing to cover up who she really is. Inside she's a private
person, very reserved, often uncertain.
"Despite that control, I think there is a very deep and real hunger there, a
longing to experience, almost to consume her surroundings, to touch, taste, feel
everything. Any one who does break through that protective wall is going to have
their hands full."
My god, thought Anneliese, who is this guy? Is he a stalker? Has he been
following me? How does he know these things?
"I sense not quite emptiness," Sebastian went on all the while gauging her
reactions to his revelations with a penetrating eye, "but a waiting for
something, maybe a need to find a purpose in life, something bigger than herself
to believe in and to work toward. She's got real leadership qualities inside
her. If she had been a male back in the 10th century she'd have been a crusader
with the Teutonic Knights. If she did have any previous lives she was probably a
suffragette in the 1910's.
"That's not to say she's perfect. Even with that sense of restraint sometimes
she wears her emotions a little too close to the skin, gets too agitated at the
little things too quickly. She has a tendency to pigeonhole people, more of that
'everything in it's place' syndrome but she's intelligent enough to recognize
this tendency and reevaluate based on new information. She doesn't suffer fools
gladly.
"Even though she tells herself she doesn't need anyone, she knows she lying.
She's looking for a partner, someone to have a relationship with that will be as
lasting as diamonds, someone who will help her get settled in the right place
like a pillow on a sofa. As independent as she is, there's a part of her that
wants to place herself under someone else's complete control. This part of her
wants to be mastered but only by someone with whom there is mutual love,
affection and emotional trust, who knows she's special and significant and who
respects and values her and the gift of her submission."
Anneliese began to feel like she was swaying on the edge of a promontory during
a raging storm, the beating in her chest imitating the thunder of the ocean
breaking on the rocks below. He's right. I'm like a story he knows by heart.
"There's really only one more thing I know for sure about Ann Dracon."
"What's that," asked Anneliese struggling mightily to maintain that reserve
Sebastian had so rightly identified.
"Her favourite food is shrimp."
That simple statement, "her favourite food is shrimp," jolted Anneliese from her
reverie like a shot of black expresso.
"Now how would you know that?"
Sebastian beamed like a little boy who had just found a red bicycle under the
Christmas tree. He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a piece of paper
and handed it to Anneliese. It was a half off coupon for the "all you can eat"
shrimp dinner at Captain Joe's Seafood Wharf.
"You dropped this when you bumped into me in the bathroom."
A month later, in a small room whose walls danced with the shimmering bands of
butterscotch and tortoiseshell luminescence cast by flickering candles, they
made love for the first time.
Tenderly, as though dealing with a wild and frightened animal, Sebastian set out
to calm Anneliese's disquiet. With slow, precise movements he underdressed her,
matching the removal of each layer of her clothing with the discarding of his
own, inviting but not commanding her participation in the unfolding of events.
Sebastian's unhurried demeanour demonstrated the consensual nature of their
undertaking, saying without words to Anneliese that we'll proceed at your pace,
act only when you are ready, go only as far as you want to go.
Her muscles, as tense as though stricken by tetanus, had relaxed and softened
under the delicate ministrations of his hands, their gentle kneading gradually
bringing out a more urgent needing in her. The anxiety that had coursed
through her body like an electric current had changed as if it had been run
through a transformer, fear of what was about to happen converted into
anticipation.
Fingers pressed her flesh more firmly, their growing pressure communicating that
Sebastian shared in her spiralling excitement. His lips descended on her open
mouth, bruising her lips against her teeth. Their tongues duelled like a pair of
lingual sabres; thrust, parry, counterthrust, surrender.
As the kiss was broken, Sebastian ran his hands in small circles down
Anneliese's chest until they reached her upthrust breasts, his teeth nibbling at
her ears and neck. Anneliese moaned as he rasped his fingernails across her
erect nipples, their pebbled surface imitating crinkled thimbles.
The young boy lowered his mouth to her tits, alternating sucking and chewing on
their heaving surface. His hand moved down to toy with the hair above her
mound, a spicy smell emerging to perfume the air as his thumb rubbed vigorously
against her clitoris. Anneliese could feel the lips of her labia unfolding like
a chaise lounge on a warm summer afternoon.
Arousal began to overwhelm the last remnants of Anneliese's reserve. Her nails
dug into Sebastian's back, gouging their way south from shoulders to a tight
pair of buttocks, leaving bright red furrows in their wake. Then, with a move as
sudden as a salmon surmounting a dam, Anneliese body arched upward throwing
Sebastian back.
She grabbed Sebastian's face in both hands and peered intently into his eyes,
the green orbs reflecting back not only her own concupiscence , but a admixture
of compassion, concern and commitment.
"I'm a virgin," she said simply.
"So am I," replied Sebastian, his eyes growing serious as he bent his mouth
toward hers.
Releasing her hold, Anneliese laid back down on the mattress, her legs spreading
to make room between them for a knelling Sebastian. Her arms reaching out for
him as he stretched his lanky body over hers. Both bodies trembled as they made
contact.
With one hand Anneliese widened her already parted pussy, the other firmly
grasping Sebastian's pulsing manhood, hot and slick to the touch. Using her own
fingers she carefully slipped him inside her, like a boat gliding into its slip.
Gentle thrusting gave way to more forceful action as he battered against her
resistant hymen. She pushed back with equal vigour, wanting, needing to feel
fulfilment. She felt the tear as he burst through, marking her passage from
maiden to woman. Hearing her short, sharp exhalation of pain, he stopped,
unwilling to go on until her the movement of her hips reassured him, drawing him
deeper, urging faster and faster movement.
A sense of frenzy engulfed their lovemaking, the sheer eager excitement of their
first joining overcoming any clumsiness. Touching, stroking, devouring each
other, the sounds of their passion filled the air like a sensual symphony
composed for an orchestra of two.
Their orgasms came on them suddenly, an accident at the busy intersection of
their bodies. Sebastian felt as though he was exchanging his soul for another's
while Anneliese felt like her very body had burst into a rapturous bonfire, the
flames climbing to the highest heavens.
Savouring their newly created union, they came out of their mutual trance slowly
like skin divers pausing in their ascent to avoid the bends. No words passed
between them as they continued to caress each other with languorous feather
light touches. Words were unnecessary now and would even distract from the
moment. Their silence had a frequency all its own, the quiet broadcasting their
understanding of the true meaning of what had just happened.
They fell asleep in each other's arms, a pair of mummies entwined in the
wrappings of love, the true murmuring of their hearts guiding their way into
their dreams.
