by T. S. Ryder
The stylist, a lean guy with gray and black hair, nods.
I close my eyes as he works on my eyes, plumps my lips as he paints them and then Fred barges in.
“Listen,” he says, “your hair is beautiful. But you need to get it cut shorter so we can focus on the clothes you display.”
“No one touches my hair,” I say. “It’s non-negotiable.”
“It is in your contract,” he says. “We own you.”
Yael looks nervous, flitting about, trying to speak but remaining quiet.
“Like fuck you do,” I say, knocking my mug, spilling the coffee on the makeup table. Yael rushes to find tissue papers to clean up. The stylist goes slow-mo in an Oh-My-God way.
“We will sue you, take you to court,” Fred yells back.
I ignore him and walk out, my make-up half done.
Chapter Eight - Take Me Away
Dell
The bell rings. I answer. She stands there leaning against the door. With a cigarette in hand, she is looking beautiful, dangerous and fragile. She looks like a bomb about to explode. Her face is red like chili, caked with powder, hiding her features with a plastic facade. Her eyes are brimming with tears, her head cocked up. She juts her lower lip and exhales lightly.
“Cyrene,” I say, happy to see her.
“I can’t do this,” she says.
“Can’t do what?” I ask. She looks away, not trusting herself to talk.
She raises her hands in resignation. “This, with you. Anything. Everything.”
“Come on, come inside,” I say. She follows me into the living room and leans on the couch, her legs on the table.
“Wine?” I ask. She nods. I get two glasses and pour red wine, hand one glass to her. She downs it in one go and pours herself another.
“You are the weirdest witch I have ever seen,” I tell her.
“Join the club,” she says through gritted teeth. “More power to you.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
“What does it matter?” she says. “Everything I do always seems to go awry, blowing up in my face. I fuck everything up. I don’t know where my life is headed, what I am doing and nothing makes sense anymore. It never did.”
I refill her glass and sit next to her and put my arm around her neck. “I am not in the mood for sex,” she says. “Not everything is about sex,” I say. She remains stiff for a minute, lights another cigarette, takes a sip of her red wine and then leans back with her head on my chest.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” she says.
“Can you hear what it says?” I ask. She turns around, straddles me again and slowly pushes her cigarette into my mouth.
“I don’t smoke,” I say.
“Just this once,” she says.
I take a drag, blow it out. “Just for you.”
“I need to get away,” she begins. “If I continue, I will fall apart.”
“You are stronger than you know, Cyrene.”
“Wow,” she says, coughing as she laughs suddenly while blowing out smoke. “You sound just like Minerva…that bitch.”
“Want to get out of here?”
“Yes, please,” she says, her eyes literally begging me to take her away.
We walk out into the empty street behind my house.
“Have you ever rode a dragon?”
“I am about to, ain’t I?”
I nod, shifting into my dragon. I see her eyes widen as I shift, marveling.
“Hop on,” I say.
She walks to my outstretched wings and clambers up.
“This could be more comfortable,” she says.
“Hold tight,” I say, as I feel her arms around my back, her fingers tightening for a better grip. I lurch forward, batting my wings, picking up speed. She leans her head back as I take off, her hair loose and free, flying wildly, like her spirit.
“I can show you the world…” I begin.
“Don’t fuck up the moment,” she interrupts.
We break out laughing.
“Take me to your world, take me away,” she says.
***
The night smells like a potpourri of jasmine and roses, as I slowly descend over a glade by the river in my kingdom. The sky is mirrored in the river below. The stray clouds, stars and the moon glisten in its murky stillness. We circle around the glade, descending slowly and land on a patch of Irish grass.
She slides off my wing. “So, this is your world.” I shift again, back to human form.
“This is where my father met my mother,” I say. I see acknowledgment in her eyes. She nods, gives me a hug without speaking and then looks into my eyes.
“Your eyes,” she begins. “They are burning. The irises are dancing like flames.”
“That’s how they are in my world. No disguises here.”
“Cool,” she says and lights another cigarette. She walks to the river, “I can’t even tell which one is the real sky—this, here,” she points to the river, “or that, up there,” pointing to the sky.
“This is a magical place,” I say. “The Kingdom of Dragons.”
“And you must be a dragon prince looking for an eligible princess,” she says, blowing rings of smoke, leaning against a jacaranda tree.
“No, I am not a prince.”
“Too bad, that won’t do for me.”
I grab her hand and pull her up. “But I do belong to the dragon nobility, one of the oldest lines of dragon blood. Would that do?”
She takes a step away, her hand still in mine, “Maybe.” I pull her back to me.
“I want to know you. I want to give us a chance, Cyrene. But you…you are unpredictable. You are tantalizing to my heart, my soul. If you are fooling around, just let me know and I will save myself from the heartbreak.”
“The moon looks so beautiful,” Cyrene says. I look into her eyes and see the giant pearl reflected in them. We get down on the floor and lie in the grass, cuddling, looking at the moon.
“I am serious, though, about what I said,” I reiterate.
“I don’t know, I have never done this stuff before. I have always used a love potion,” she says. “I don’t know how things work or how to make them work.”
“Is that a no?”
“I didn’t say that,” she says, rising on her elbows, propping her chin in her hands. “I just suck at being an adult. I can’t do what people…”
“I like you just the way you are,” I interrupt. “I wouldn’t want you to change.”
“Everyone says that in the beginning…”
“You have been hurt before, haven’t you?”
She doesn’t respond.
“Whatever happened to you, Cyrene, forget it. Leave it behind. Stop taking it everywhere with you or you will never be able to move on.”
She smiles wistfully.
Chapter Nine - The Moon Dance
Cyrene
I smile at him. He knows—or understands—way more than he lets on, but he only has a vague idea of what I am about. I have always thought of myself as a rare bird, an exotic species who was sent to earth for a limited time. Right now, in this glade, when it is just me and him, the possibilities seem endless. But I know I don’t belong here. Soon, I will have to wake up from this dream.
He fingers a long curl in my hair and pulls me closer into a warm embrace. His hands run up my shirt, his fingers massaging my back. I hold his face in my hands as his embrace tightens and he kisses me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.
I roll up his shirt, revealing a perfect six-pack. His bronze skin bathed in moonlight, his muscles rippling. I go lower, planting kisses and pecks in my path, and unbutton his jeans. I unzip his pants, pull them down along with his boxers and he kicks them off. I look around and he assures me that “No one will bother us here.”
I take a moment to just admire his cock, as it stands erect, slightly curved, almost nine inches. Its girth is more than any I have ever seen, its head slightly purple. I plant a quick kiss on the tip of his co
ck, his hands reach into my hair, pushing my mouth gently toward his stiff member. I part my lips and take the head inside my mouth, sucking on it like a candy. He tastes like cologne and musk, his skin smooth against my wet tongue.
“Ah,” a moan escapes his lips. I lick his cock like a lollipop, moistening it from base to tip with my tongue, then I wiggle my tongue on its tiny slit.
“Go deeper,” he says. I look him in the eyes as I take his entire length into my mouth, inch by inch, till his tip is deep into my throat. He holds my head in his hands, his cock still inside my mouth and turns me around. Then he fucks my face, thrusting slowly, going deeper with every thrust. I slobber over his cock, its thickness filling my mouth. He forces all the way in and his cock reaches a new level of depth in my throat, my nose pressed against his pubes. He holds still, enjoying the warmth of my mouth, till I push him back so I can breathe.
His eyes light up, flaring. His pupils turn into slits and I feel his dragon take over him. Something shifts in him.
“God, I want to fuck you so bad,” he says in a deep, masculine voice. He undresses me and takes off his remaining clothes, then starts kissing me again, hovering over me, my back against the grass. He straddles me and pushes his cock between my breasts, its tip reaching my lips. He pushes my knockers closer together, squishing his massive cock in between, thrusting. Then he goes down on me, his tongue wiggling against my wet clitoris, pushing inside me.
As he grabs me by my protruding hipbones and eats my pussy, I run my fingers through his head and massage his shoulders. He spreads my legs apart and then positions himself in between them. I look into his dragon eyes, his massive frame towering over me, ready to enter me. He looks at me for approval and I nod.
He spits on his palm and lubes up his cock.
“I think it is going to take a bit more than that,” I say, looking at his wet cock. He brings his head closer to my pussy and spits again. Lubing it up with his finger, he gets back in position.
I feel his cock touch my pussy, pushing slowly, trying to squeeze in. He continues pushing as pleasure turns to pain, yet I don’t want him to stop. He grabs my shoulders and pushes halfway in, a relief spreading on his face as I scream with pain, placing my hands on his chest, holding him back. When I remove my hands, he pushes all the way in as our bodies become one, intimately connected. My boobs press into his pecs, my nails dig into his back as his teeth reach for my neck. He holds my hands in his, our fingers intertwined, as he begins fucking me.
He thrusts slowly, letting my tight pussy adjust to his massive girth. Then he starts pounding me harder and harder, going all the way in and pulling all the way out, continuously making me beg for more. He pulls me up and we are on our knees together, facing each other, his serpentine length still inside me. He cups my ass in his hands, as I wrap my fingers around his neck, my other hand around his back for support. Then he starts fucking me again, pulling me closer, slowly falling onto his back. I start riding him as he holds me by the waist, going up and down his shaft.
“Higher,” he says. “Go higher.”
I go all the way up till only the tip of his cock is inside me, then push myself down, taking it all back in. He holds me again and pounds me harder than before. His eyes start glowing supernaturally, getting brighter as his body tenses and he comes closer to climaxing. I lean my head back as my own body tenses. Then he shoots inside me, spurt after spurt, a fountain of warm, thick, dragon cum inside me.
Chapter Ten - In Love With You
Dell
I feel her juices flow as I shoot inside her. She comes at the same time as I do, then collapses on top of me. I am still inside her as she lays her head on my chest and listens quietly. Both of us are panting.
“Can you hear my heartbeat?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Can you hear what it says, the name it takes?”
She nuzzles her head close to mine but doesn’t respond. “If you listen closely, you will hear your own name. I am in love with you, Cyrene.”
“I know,” she says.
“So…”
“So what?”
“So where do we go from here?”
“Don’t ruin the moment,” she admonishes, wiggling her body slightly, enjoying the feeling of my cock inside her.
I let her be. I understand that she is young and needs time. There is probably a lot going on in her life. About half an hour before sun breaks, I nudge her gently.
“We should get going, Cyrene.”
“Yeah, eh, okay,” she says and gets up. We get dressed, I shift back into my dragon and she climbs on again. As we reach the human world again, I feel her head against my back as she falls asleep. I don’t want to wake her, so I take her back to my home, tuck her into bed and fall asleep next to her. I feel myself already growing possessive about her and wrap my arm around her protectively as she sleeps.
***
When I wake up in the morning, she is gone again, leaving a bare outline on the bed. Did last night really happen or was it all a dream? I close my eyes, not wanting to wake up and find out the answer. But then my eyes wander toward the bedside table and I find a note scribbled in terrible handwriting.
“Dell,
Sorry, I have to go.
My show is today, my debut. You have the pass.
I will wait for you.
Cyr,
xoxoxo”
Her number is scribbled on the back of the note. So it was real, I think aloud, satisfied. I send her a message, telling her that I got her note and look forward to seeing her, but I get no response.
It is already afternoon by the time I get out of bed. I make myself lunch and watch TV till the evening, and then take a shower and get dressed. “Casual or formal?” I wonder and then go with the latter. I know it won’t matter to Cyrene, but I still put an effort to look dapper. After all, she is going to become a model now. I have no qualms about her success. I know she will make it in the field. It is a hotbed for her species: exotic, rare, wild, and free. As the clock strikes seven, I head out for her debut.
***
As I enter the hotel, I follow a series of turns till I finally end up at a red carpet buzzing with people that seem to be of a different breed. They are dressed flamboyantly, their hairstyles in ways that are bizarre and unique, like a motley crew from the future. I follow the line into an exclusive area and my eyes search for her on an exclusive red carpet filled with models, designers, actors and actresses, familiar and unfamiliar, new and old. But Cyrene is nowhere to be seen.
I wonder if she had a change of heart and whether or not she is going to come. I make my way into the area of the show early, scoring myself a seat in the first row, right in front of the ramp. A voice echoes through the speakers telling people to get seated that the show will begin as soon as they are all settled. There are projector screens on both sides of the ramp, displaying faces of known models wearing new designs, logos of designers and brands. The background is all dark, the ramp stark white against it. There are headlights fixed above the ramp, turned off.
Music blares in the speakers as the show is about to begin, then turns down to a soft hum as the lights go down, becoming softer. The headlights above the ramp turn on, the music picking up pace, booming through the speakers. And then I see her.
She is the first one to walk in. All eyes on her, on the new face. She walks confidently, strutting in high heels, wearing a blue dress made of net, the same material all over, half the design is see-through. As she walks, a small train trails behind her, puffed up. I can see her long beautiful legs as they step one in front of the other, stop, pose, then walk again.
She stops in front of me, at the end of the ramp, two or three feet away. Her head is cocked up, as usual. Her auburn hair all tied up in a tight chignon. Her lips are jutting out, dark red, too glossy and brimming heavy with indifference. Her eyes are painted glittery blue, her eyelids heavy with long fake lashes. But her green eyes are all natural. She doesn’t look at anyone as if e
veryone is beneath her. She is looking at something else, something beyond. Her body looks perfect, her big breasts held firmly in the tight dress. She is glittering in the lights, her eyes and her dress sparkling in the constant flashes of the cameras. Her expression is haughty, her face tight, her eyes filled with contempt.
She strikes a pose in front of me, pushing her sweet derriere to the side. Then she turns around and walks back. The crowd gawks, wanting to see more. A man or two with cameras lean out of their seats to get another photo, but she disappears in the smoke. The other models come and go, the cameras flash, but the enthusiasm of the crowd and the paparazzi isn’t the same. She raised the bar too high, nothing else came close; no one was good enough after her.
As the show nears its end, the lights on the ramp go down and a spotlight turns on, waiting for the showstopper. Then she steps into the light again. A few people clap awkwardly as the cameramen leap from their seats and the overhead camera zooms in on her.
She is wearing a stunning dress: a simple, black suede skirt falling to her knees; a golden belt at her waist. The top is sleeveless, made up of tiny diamonds and precious stones, held together by a sheer material. It is see-through, but the precious stones and diamonds shine with blinding light. Her hair now straight, puffed up. This time, she looks at people and smiles, getting the crowd to stand up and clap. Then the remaining models join her along with the designer, Erin Vam.
Chapter Eleven - Erin Vam
Cyrene
The crowd gets up and claps as I close the show. My earlier meeting with Erin Vam was canceled due to her busy schedule, but I know I am finally going to get to meet her now. This isn't just my debut, it is Erin Vam’s debut collection as well. I saw Dell the moment I stepped on the ramp and then saw him again when I stopped the show. I am about to acknowledge him with a smile when the designer, Erin Vam comes out.
Dressed in a fuchsia tea dress, wearing three-inch heels, I see Erin come out. Her hair bounces behind her back, the bright green neon streaks standing out in the light. She is wearing cat eye glasses, and her face looks oddly familiar. She smiles as she glides down the runway, waving at the crowd. She places her hand in the small of my back and pushes me forward along with her.
