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~~~ Tryst ~~~
~ Tryst ~
Her flaxen mane of choux pastry consented with tumbled concertina, plummeting foxy jumbles of ripened barley grains, slipping down the alabastrine escarpment of her persuasive nape. Caramel and semolina coalesced, to infuse adulterated blends in commingled, swanky braids, dancing upon a silken fichu, as she capriciously sashayed in youthful disregard, to grip thy conquered senses with aromatic raids of aloes and peach melba.
To consign her embrace to the oblivion of forgetfulness would invite nought but catastrophe, yet unencumbered recollections starkly refused to inform who had held whom under a diffused porch light that rainless eve, as the festooned verandah reflected her swollen moon, dining upon our feverish ardour.
Smouldering, henna eyes, furnished by convivial mystery, twinkled as evening luminaries, in hazel tinctures of lustrous glance, likened to yoked looking glasses of melting fudge on clotted cream, left a tantalized beau ravenous for her look, which careened nocturnal, lunar silvers, and deflected new tinges of her delicacy, to saturate a palpitating quiver with simpering expressions of Olympian-gilted countenance, bearing yearnful suggestions from beguiling, heart-shaped keys of those beckoning iris.
She was everything a spirited suitor could ever want; perhaps this delectable damsel had escaped a dream to mysteriously creep into reality; perchance, appeared from the smoking chibouque of a whimsical will o’ the wisp drifting through fanciful chimaera, to enact allegiance through a crusade of adulation.
Unrelenting lips of softened tallow, that ruckled like ruby clasps of ruffled compress, felt like Christmas, and each tender finger-tip brushed traces of collision, like ten birthdays, all at once - delicate candles, whose lights had been blown, only to bring forth wishes of more passionate flame. The sheer force majeure of undeniable chemistry, sizzling in crackling electricity held us fastened, one to another, at the behest of a tropical blitz, hotter than streaked lightning, shooting firebolts through a kiln furnace. Two quaking beings refused to be abated without the violence of exploding passions, never pacified, until, lo and behold, the reveille of alarm sounded, as a dazed, but happy boy reached across the bedside cabinet to thenceforth hit the claxon, drawing a blank as to what enigma had just transpired, to hold him so spellbound in such luscious slumbers of tranquil solitude.