Suggested Audio Candy:
Cloud Nine You Got Me Burnin’
I’ve forever had a perverse fascination for the naked flame. There are few things so utterly honest, proud, strong and graceful all at once. It generates warmth, the most comforting tepid glow. Its passion is always evident, it cowers from no man. That also makes it a most formidable foe if wrongly handled or allowed to run amok but its mesmerizing flicker is hard not to be seduced by. Ask Willem Dafoe, he was struggling to rise to the occasion when Madonna straddled him in Body of Evidence, until she pulled a roman candle from her ass. Suddenly, he was simply crying out for a hot waxing and little more than malleable putty in her hands. You see, if Dafoe can’t resist its charms, what hope is there for a regular suggestion sponge like me?
Let’s just stop for a picosecond and study its numerous advantages shall we? I’m speaking of telling scary anecdotes round a campfire, feeling the icy pinch of Mr. Frost on your spleen and, all the while, feeling secure basking in its presence. Waiting for that heater to fire up and warm your hands after hours of braving sub-zero conditions. Or watching an inanimate object become steadily overwhelmed by its persistent endeavor and turn ashen before your very eyes. Even when it dies it does so with such beautiful poise; knowing well when the time has come and ceasing existence on its own terms. There are just so many reasons to fall for its glowing charm and the next pictorial gets it pretty much bang on the Washingtons as far as I’m concerned.
You would right? You see, its stark beauty I also find deeply erotic, naked flames spit their erogenous warmth and dance with such seductiveness that its hard not to feel that burning desire in your intimate centre. Cold showers are commonly regarded as the best way to douse the flames in your loins and, on the flip side, ten minutes in a hammam and even the doddery old man replenishing the towel rack begins to look sexually appealing. Burning passion, flaming desire, you don’t hear folk talk about icy lust with concise reasoning. For the record, Kings of Leon’s sex was on fire, if you needed any further convincing. Mind you, if it had been on ice then perhaps radio stations wouldn’t have played it beyond death and it wouldn’t make me shudder every time I hear it.
At some point during my memoirs I have touched upon some involuntary arson which I unwittingly participated in when I was on the cusp of adolescence. My motley crew and I, all around ten years old if I recall, left a run-down liquor store a blazing mass of cinder through no malice whatsoever but more than a dash of stupidity. Knocking over a candle was foolish enough but pouring alcohol over the blaze in an attempt at damage limitation was potentially the most mind-numbingly stupid act I have ever partaken in. I think it was then, as the inferno raged around our ripening hormones, that the deal was sealed for me. My sexual awakening followed soon afterwards and ever since then fire has quite simply made me fucking hot.
If I was an Atronarch I’d be a Flame Atronarch; resistant to ice and using fiery necromancy to smoulder my quarry. In intimate affairs of my heart, as those who truly know me will attest, I generate a lot of heat, a backdraft of passion inside which presses against my sternum, patiently but with ferociousness. There is a fire which blazes inside of me every time I pick up the quill, I burn to create and exhibit my warmth through prose and this grows ever stronger and is spreading within me every day of my mortality. It is being fanned in the most delightful of manners; the passion we share ignites and exhilarates, whereby I’ve spent so many years of my existence cold.
You fight fire with fire, the rivers are ablaze now and the furnace of grue that we have created is truly combustible. Make love to those flames, feel the burning in your mind, your heart, your soul, your deepest sensual centre and dance with them as we do so together. Is it just me or is it getting hot in here? I feel like loosening some clothing, feeling my skin smoulder and allowing that thin film of sweat to ignite every nerve-ending. Light candles and incense, allow yourself to become engulfed by it. It really is delightful. The flames we create can never be extinguished, they’re passionate, true and spreading without procrastination. Trust that feeling, own it and love it and together we shall dance in these flickering flames perpetually.
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
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Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2013