Self's Blossom by David Russell Book Tour and Giveaway :)
Self's Blossom
by
David Russell
Genre:
Adult Romance
A
romantic, erotic tale of a vivid portrayal of the quest for the inner
truth, empowerment and sexual liberation of Selene, a woman searching
for primeval abandon and reckless adventure.
Intelligent,
a university graduate and a successful careerist, Selene became
emotionally scarred by unhappy relationships. Riled and taunted
through the years by her former college roommate Janice, Selene gave
in to the long-term desire to ‘get one back’ at Janice by having
a passionate holiday encounter.
Immediately
drawn to the sea and enthralled by its brutal yet sensual waves,
Selene seduces a young boy on a deserted beach. Once she comes to
meet the mature and powerful Hudson, Selene finally begins to claim
her sensual destiny.
Through
a slow process, accentuated by Selene’s shyness, introspection and
circumspection, she embarks on a long and elaborate interplay of
leading on and rejection. The volcanic passion builds until there is
a blazing row. A possible drowning, the final ritual undressing at
long last, leads to the ultimate flowering of the woman Selene was
meant to be.
Six-thirty
p.m. in the lounge – the prearranged rendezvous time if things had
been normal. Selene was first to arrive. Would Hudson now feel
inclined to turn up? Would he be in any state to turn up? She noticed
on her way that his key had not been returned to reception. In fact,
he arrived at seven, looking incredibly coy, bashful and apologetic –
just like Selene felt. He was carrying a gold lacquered gift box. She
gave him a nod and a smile, beckoning him to sit down beside her.
They kissed tentatively – reticently.
“Oh
Selene, I really am sorry I got carried away like that. It was
dreadful of me.”
Selene
patted him on the knee. “Darling, I should be apologising for
getting all hysterical like that.”
He
put the box in front of her. “I went diving, wanted to come to my
end in the depths; felt I couldn’t live with myself, but I was
obviously called to find something. I guess I realized one of my
ambitions.”
He
opened the box. In it was an oyster containing a huge pearl. Selene
gave him a hug, tearful in her appreciation of his courage.
“I’ve
had to reflect an awful lot on my past experiences, you know. I’ve
had to study feminism, and I really feel that if both sides – both
sexes open up more, accepting more of each other, then life will be
so full and enriching. I know that an awful lot happened between us .
. .” he hesitated. “And?” A dreamy glow came over Hudson.
“We’ve got so close, taken plunges together; you were so magnetic
in that costume.” A lump came to his throat.
Selene
was now a quiver with suspense. They were at the point of that final
something for which she had yearned so desperately for so long.
Selene took the words out of his mouth. ” Let’s make everything
perfect – the absolute right time, the absolute right place, and in
the perfect way. Let’s take the bridal suite together for our last
night here!”
The
final overt proposition synchronized absolutely with Selene’s
memory tensions. A split second before her utterance, she had a
vision of being at a ceremonial hair shearing before becoming a nun,
and then of a mythical white wedding (the reality of which had never
come near her). She thought of the flying buttresses of a cathedral,
stained glass tinted in the morning sun, angled to the light of
daring love, lifting to heaven. Hudson had at last uttered the key
word to the elusive combination of the ideal seduction! This just had
to have one fragment of impulse and spontaneity in the context of
everything else being utterly premeditated. The peak of experience
had been rehearsed to the finest detail. True seduction was total
theatre. To hell with all those ‘ideals’ of ‘naturalness’!
She had seen through them in that turgid forest. The true ideal lay
in laced artifice! Here was the final trigger. Ages ago, they had
talked away all thought of marriage and domesticity. But Hudson’s
superb artistry in taking hold of the last remnant of conventionality
for the final act of defiance against it. The flouting, the inversion
of all the oppressive concomitants of a straight wedding night, was
genius. They went into a torrid clinch nearly upsetting one of the
tables in the process.
“Oh
darling,” said Selene in a half-whisper, “you’ve done
everything right; let’s go!”
*
* * *
The
suite was, of course, available, and the deposit no problem for
Hudson. The labyrinth of corridors in the hotel did not slow them
down. Having located the apartment, they rushed back to their
separate rooms for their belongings. Selene was the quickest to pack,
but had a little delay with the lift. They arrived at the suite door
simultaneously. What a scene of luxury for the denouement.
Selene
now took firm control. “OK Hudson, you go and take a bath while I
get ready, and get fully dressed again when you’ve finished. I’ve
got some special things in store for you!”
Now
all of Selene’s fantasies came flooding in to her. Tonight she was
the greatest actress, singer, ballerina, priestess-demagogue. She
would dazzle the universe in the visual sphere, and then go on to the
realm of touch. Her mastery of the lovely art of dressing and
undressing would now be shown to the full. In a flash, her clothes
were off. As she fitted her cap, she got a tingling premonition of
what was to come. When one had meditated on the art of love as deeply
as she had, one knew that the extra precautions, far from detracting
from the experience, could enhance it, by stretching the partner’s
anticipation.
The
outfit to replace her casuals was all in order in her expanding
suitcase. First, her brief white satin underwear, then a pale blue
body stocking, easy to confuse in the half light with a bathing
costume, over it her diaphanous slip, then three petticoats –
crisp, archaic, Latin and lusciously provocative, sheer white
stockings, and then the purple ball gown in all its splendour. She
stepped into a pair of white, lacquered high-heels. A touch of eye
shadow and lipstick completed a breathtaking work of art. Hudson had
seen her in her other gown, in a bikini, and a variety of outer
garments. Now he would know all the stages in between, and then
beyond, as she would of him. The bath water lapped mutely in the
background.
“Ready
now, darling.”
The
waste pipe gurgled for a few seconds, then Hudson entered. Crisp,
white suite approached purple gown, as moon to tropical night sky.
They embraced, near-chastely. Then Hudson drew back, a suspicion of
anxiety on this face.
“Darling,
are you . . .?”
His
question needed no verbal answer, for Selene had left her packet of
pills conspicuously on the dresser.
“Shall
we?” Come on.”
So
now for that languorous, full-drawn-out unrobing, decelerating to the
depths of frenzy. For a few seconds, they both felt an adolescent
shyness – quite naturally, for this was to be an
eighteen-year-old’s dream brought to fruition. They tiptoed. For
all their obvious freedom, they each had a slight twinge about the
hazard of being overheard. Selene’s wardrobe planning had been
right; something would have been lost if Hudson had started the
encounter in a bathrobe. After Selene’s hips propelled a last,
tantalizing, elevated swirl of her gown, the grand undress began.
Knowing
their beauty and proud of it, they matched each other’s motions
with caresses of sight. Shoes, stockings and socks peeled gracefully
off to open the gambit. Hudson’s jacket broadened his shoulders as
it left his body. The buckle of his belt harmonised with the front
clasp of Selene’s gown as they were both undone, then the zip of
his trousers with the back zip of the gown. Hudson’s fine, tapered
legs were now revealed. His torso was bared in two stages: shirt and
vest thrust back, and pulled over his head without a struggle,
revealing gleaming white briefs – or were they bathing trunks?
Selene loved those half way garments. She lit up. Great minds had
thought alike about foundation garments for this occasion! Hudson had
led in one stage of revelation. Selene was transported by his
wonderful body control, with ballet assurance – this smooth, eased,
arched shedding of reticence. The dream had come to roost. Who rules
love, if anybody? The one who strips first, or the one with more
finery to shed? But what did rules matter now anyway? The loose gown
was ready. Gentle touches on the shoulder straps lowered it,
shimmering, to rest. After that departure from simultaneity, action
embroidered the first dream. Selene stepped out of the gown, cast it
in the corner, and moved towards Hudson, holding him tightly in her
beaming, commanding gaze – him with legs astride, deep chest out,
briefs gleaming in the light from the open window. At his deft touch,
petticoats flowered, rose and fell, floating to make a crest upon the
gown. With a ripple of biceps, and lissom forward thrust of legs and
hips, the cloudy slip came up head high, and was suspended for a
second in the suspicion of a breeze, then, too, wafted to rest. Now
they faced each other, almost as if for a first swim. Selene thrust
her breasts forward, and tossed her head, making her hair cascade.
Hudson took her hips and swung her round. With an almost
imperceptible stroke, the zip of the one-piece parted. Hudson swirled
her round to face him again, and slid the garment down the front.
“Bikini
belle,” said Hudson, with a giggle.
He
sensed the precise moment when his briefs were redundant, enhanced
his looks no more for her, or for himself. They dropped, with a
thrust of thighs and swing of hips. By being deferred, prepared so
well, Hudson’s nudity, for Selene, now became suffused with total
beauty.
“Undo
me,” she half-sang, raising her arms.
Hudson’s
unerring hand tended the clip of her bra, which tumbled asunder and
fell on the chair. A breeze kissed Selene’s rising breasts as they
were bared. Her own hands removed her briefs, finalising her own
nakedness. The execution of those actions had been faultless on both
sides. “What a fantastic sense of timing!” cried Selene. Each, to
the other, became universe god and goddess. After so many times in
their pasts when the brakes had been applied, when both had been
frozen by reticence, or had their yearnings derided, the soul’s –
the universe’s currents now galvanised their bodies. Now words
could be uttered in acceptance of total immersion. With their slow
speed they generated maelstroms, their every part revealed with deep
exuberance, two bodies showing themselves as two complete presences.
Now there was a full, tight-clinched embrace – thigh to thigh,
torso to breasts, groin to groin. Hudson, a bit taller, took Selene
round the shoulder with his right arm; his left beneath her buttocks,
as he swung her on to the bed.
“Now
for the real backstroke” cried Selene. She pulled Hudson on top of
her, thrusting her breasts alternately in his armpits.
Gradually,
Hudson hardened, as if with muscle and bone. He entered Selene
delicately. When he had penetrated to full depth, he made a clockwise
rotation. Fully erected, fully aroused, Selene responded to him
anticlockwise. Slowly the two built up, using all their bodies, legs
and groins, repeating the motions of their past swims. Bodies were
kneaded, relishing their stately, relentless build-up, making love
total in its depth, undulating, higher and lower alternately. Then
full and strong it reared! There were two sighs, a lunge, slow
whirlpools, swimmers’ wakes. Hudson paused, then put all his weight
on his torso. Then, recharged by Selene’s breasts, now fully
swollen, build up his speed and depth of thrust, had a body-absorbing
struggle through some moments of near-exhaustion. Then the knowledge
of certainty shone, flooded on them both, hips in friction – dams’
swinging sluicegates, volcanoes’ glows and thunder’s shudders,
glands pumping to fire’s, water’s synthesis, all metaphors blown
by that endocrine cataract! At the end of the flow, Selene held
Hudson in, turning him again on his back. Sleep claimed them,
breathless, riding over their peak.
*
* * *
Sweating
and still clinched, they arose as a maroon dawn unveiled the night
skies, lending a mellowed rosiness to their tanned bodies. With
restored light, passion revived. Being two, they had to enact their
fulfilment’s wholeness twice. Tempered by one satiation’s level,
they went smoothly and took their time – finally to outbrim the
first flow. After this, the bed could afford no further comfort.
Selene
got up. “We need to freshen up a
bit.” She took two bathrobes from the wardrobe, pulled one on,
jerked Hudson up by the shoulders and draped the other one around
him. “Come on.”
The
bathroom curtains had not been drawn. Water now gurgled into the
capacious bath from both burnished antique brass caps. They held each
other, half-draped, until it filled up. Hudson had almost begged
Selene not to cover herself, but saw that, as a last delight, that
extra robing and unrobing would complete the idyll – cap the
euphoria. Selene thrust the robe from his shoulders; it sank down his
arms to collapse on the floor. “You may assist me,” said Selene,
holding her arms apart. Hudson’s hands ran down her back as he
pushed off the robe. Once more they matched each other in nakedness.
The bath (designed for a bridal suite after all) was ample for them
both, to soap each other over, put legs to hips, massage, and laugh
amidst the bubbles. What an element! With seawater they had started;
with bath water they ended.
Born in the UK, 1940. David has been writing erotica since the mid-1980s. Published extensively in magazines and anthologies (including anthologies from Forward Press in Peterborough UK.
Book
Publications 'Prickling Counterpoints' (Selected Poetry & Prose),
Deadline Books 1998, 'Romantic Undress' (Erotic Poetry & Prose)
JazzClaw Publications 2000. Current romantica/erotica publications
are 'Self's Blossom' (novella), and 'Explorations' (short story),
published by Devine Destinies; 'Therapy Rapture' (poetry,prose and
artwork) published by Rose Dog Books. Forthcoming are two short
stories, 'My Dream of Madonna/An Ecstatic Rendezvous', to be
published by XoXo Publishing.
Also
recorded singer-songwriter: vinyl album, 'Bricolage' recorded by
Billy
Childish
for Hangman Records 1992; CD albums 'Bacteria
Shrapnel'
and 'The Burglars of
Britain'
(1998)
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