Sunday, November 30, 2008

Mr. X and the Land of Waking Dreams

A friend of ours --- recently got married and went on a cruise. As Mr. X and I were curled up in our new grotto listening to the gentle falling water splash over moss colored rocks – we decided that we would get terribly bored on a cruise…. With one exception…a cruise to the land of waking dreams – to the islands in the ring of fire. We arrived at dawn. As the sun rose we stood hand and hand watching gray blue mountains rise from the sea, grow in height, massive volcanic peaks of the most lovely proportions, dominating the purest, pale-blue sky. Soft clouds floated up and clung to the summits; the blue and green at the water’s edge merged into groves and lines of palms; and over the sea and sky. Mr. X told me that the wonderland before us had all the elements of the dewy freshness of dawn in Eden. Sita smiles, he always takes me to such profoundly beautiful places. A skyline of tall areca palms, massed flame trees, and tamarinds, with vivid-leafed bougainvillea vines pouring down from one tree top and mantling two or three smaller trees filled the immediate view from the great portico hall where we sat drinking our morning tea. Suddenly a flurry of brilliantly colored butterflies flashed like tongues of flame across our view followed by scarlet minivers, and crimson and black orioles. A soft whistle from Mr. X brought a flock of azure and iris winged pigeons that settled before us in all the sheen and beauty of their plumage. Just beyond were more butterflies flashing amid the flowers with intense prismatic blues—like gleaming sapphires amid the emerald green forest that was overpowering with fresh sweetness. At that moment Mr. X gave me Nubria in Green– a sensually sheer skirt accented with delicate green lace around the bottom edge of skirt, drawing attention to finally detailed stockings. The top is made of the sheerest black silk with hints of green to keep me cool in the tropic heat. As I admired the shirt, I saw two delicately colored butterflies on each arm in scintillating greens and pinks and yellows. Turning the top over, I saw the most elegant butterfly intricate in its beauty emblazoned on the back of the shirt. Thanking Mr. X -- I looked deep into his eyes knowing that our adventure renews itself endlessly as our relationship continues to grow into an epic love that will be treasured like the fragile beauty of a butterfly.

Sita Writer
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Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Mr X and Dentelle Dream....

I have had better weeks -- in RL the flu -- whatever you do --- don't get it !! In SL, sadly, I only saw Mr. X for five minutes. It seems he has the flu as well ---- could it have been all those fabulous virtual kisses :)))) oh la la! Tonight, I think of Mr. X with great tenderness. I am lounging on the balcony of my Moroccan Palace designed by Satir DeCuir dressed in CD’s alabaster Dentelle Dream -- a delicately sensual sheer white floral fantasy. If only Mr. X could be with me now…. The sheer lace camisole – so soft against my skin, it is a form fitting floral alabaster mosaic creating images of fire ---- and luxurious indulgences. The white lace thong is delectable -- the transparent stockings are made of the finest silk accented by a border of cream white lace. When the camisole, stockings and thong are combined with CD’s exquisitely detailed garter belt the entire ensemble is transformed into an exquisite dream of textured alabaster. To pass the time until Mr. X steps out of moon glow, I will write a poem for him on a note card and drop it in his profile --- he will find me waiting for him ---adorned in a mix of textured alabaster lace – soft and alluring – Dentelle Dream….

Everyone is sleeping. Nothing wakes. The woods are motionless. The wind is down to a whisper. Sleep hums like current -- yes, audibly --- through the night. The evening star rises like a flaming wick. Hills fit into hills like lovers, their great straddling thighs clasping still greater darkness where they meet. A star breaks, arcs down the night --- like God striking a match across the cathedral ceiling. Therefore I wish: see my lips move: making your name. It is so still. I am sure that you must hear me

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